#was this based on the hands and neck? yes

[makeitworse]

boy is mine

── he’s a little shy for his first relationship. good thing that’s just your type.

ෆ ͜ ̩͙ f!reader x daeho. praise. body worship(?). virgin / subby bf dae. dryhumping. 18+

in the month that you’ve known daeho, it hadn’t dawned on you that you’d never seen his arms.

he usually opts for an outfit layered with a baggy jacket or long-sleeve hoodie. it’s not like he’s covering up because he’s out of shape, you can tell that much.

you’ve gotten quite acquainted with his body, in fact. particularly in this past fortnight that you’ve been dating. nothing more than just some light touches or accidental grazes — but enough to make out what he keeps under the covers. and god, do you want to rip them off.

but patience is a virtue.

daeho’s been nothing but sweet to you — being raised in a home with four older sisters will do that.

you don’t want to scare him off by escalating things, not when he’s the first man this attractive to not guilt trip you into his sheets. the first man to blush while asking you out, stammering about how there’s no pressure and if you’re not interested then he can leave you alone and pretend like—

the smile that spread across his face when you told him yes has been permanently etched into your brain. you replay the memory when you miss him.

you’re his first girlfriend, as you’ve learned. the thought of holding his hand as you show him past first base gets you all excited, but you really hadn’t done anything past kissing, and daeho hasn’t shown interest in doing anything more.

was he catholic? perhaps secretly an obsessed gooner? maybe he’s closeted. maybe a girl’s never liked him back before.

it had you a little frustrated. pent up, maybe.

you’ve tried pushing his buttons here and there: flaunting your skin with low-cut tops and watch him fight a war with himself, sitting on his lap just to feel him tense up beneath you.

daeho wouldn’t dare go further than you’re willing to. his sisters would clip him ‘round the ears for rushing a girl, and it’s not like he knows the steps past kissing anyways.

it embarrassed him. and maybe he was subconsciously covering up his body because of it — how could someone as gorgeous as you want him, when he doesn’t know the first thing about how to handle all that?

he couldn’t have been further from your actual thoughts.

one day, he showed up to your house in a coat thrown over a tank top. he’d been in bed when you had called, and changing his shirt slipped his mind in his rush to see you. he walked through your door feeling a little sheepish at the amount of bare skin showing — but it couldn’t have been more in his favour.

once your eyes took notice of the top fitting tight on his chest, your hands moved with minds of their own.

it’s how you both ended up on the bed: you straddling daeho’s lap, kisses breathy and desperate, hands eagerly shrugging the jacket from his shoulders.

your lips popped off of his so you could crane your neck back, taking in the view of his exposed arms. you nearly fucking drool.

“you okay?” he breathed, hand hovering off your waist. not touching, in case you’ve changed your mind. but he gasps when your palm closes tight around his bicep, muscles involuntarily flexing at your touch.

“fuck, dae,” you sighed. his throat bobs with a gulp. “you were hiding this from me?”

he lets out a nervous chuckle. his brain’s short-circuiting from your palms trailing up his arms, ass pressed warm against his lap — pupils swallowed in black with pure want.

your fingers ghost over his tattoo, nails lightly tracing the ink. he’s not quick enough to suppress the little noise that leaves his throat.

you’ve kissed before. hugged. held hands. but you haven’t touched quite like this. it took daeho days to recover from each move you had made on him — pulling him into your first kiss, planting his hand on your waist for him — but maybe you’d been holding back until now, because his mind could not keep up with how quick you were moving.

bless his heart, he had no clue just what you’ve wanted to do to him.

your hands gently glide over his skin till they reach the back of his neck, where your fists curl into the hair scruff. you give a light tug, just to test the waters, and you know you’ve hit a goldmine when daeho whimpers.

your mouth wastes no time crashing onto his, all teeth and tongue. you haven’t kissed him so crazed before — daeho’s got trouble keeping up.

you pull away for a second, just to pant: “you thought about this?”

you don’t wait for an answer since your lips are immediately back on his, but he’s got time to think as you practically eat his face, but your impatience gets the better of you when your hips roll against his. daeho’s soft moan into your mouth might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

you want to hear it again, out loud this time. your lips come off his, craning his head back by the fist in his hair to watch his face twist as you rock into him again.

“have you thought about me? like this?” you repeat.

daeho’s lashes flutter as he glances down, too shy to meet your gaze — but instead seeing where your bodies were pressed firm together. you snicker when you feel the pulse of his dick, even through all the fabric layers.

he shakes his head, lips parting breathlessly. “i’ll sound like a pervert,”

“you wouldn’t. and i wanna know.”

he can’t just turn you down — not when you’re sat on top of him, making his fucking eyes roll back from just a few sways of your hips onto his already embarrassingly hard erection. so he lets out a shaky exhale.

“yeah, i did before.”

“when?” you smile, thumb caressing his cheek.

he closes his eyes when he says it. at first, you think he’s recalling a pinpoint moment.

“all the time.”

your jaw falls to the floor. as does daeho’s stomach. he thinks he’s fucked it all up, that he’s made a creep out of himself and you must be about to slap him—

you suck the air right from his lungs when your mouth mashes with his. it’s desperate and you can’t stop thinking about how he’s only getting more perfect.

“you’re so cute, dae.” you coo, encouraging him by grinding down on him hard. his hands shoot out to hold you by the hips, a breathless moan falling from his lips.

“and you’re so big, too. my handsome boy.”

your rocks pick up a steady pace, and you lean down to press a kiss to daeho’s bicep — mouth opening up to latch onto the skin, tongue swirling hot on his arm. daeho jolts at the sensation, hips twitching further up into you. he’s all compulsion right now. it’s why the words come tumbling out his mouth before he can think them.

“wanted you so much,” he sniffles out, all worked up from all the sensations you’re giving him. “i always jerked off after hanging out with you. felt like such a gross asshole,”

you raise your head to face him, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. “you’re not, dae. can’t you feel me right now?” his eyes trail down, a shaky whine leaving his lips when he watches you rut against him. “got me all worked up,”

his eyes flutter shut, focused on the feeling of your heat riding over his length. he’s so hard it fucking hurts. it’s pure luck that he didn’t cum the second you sat in his lap. he’s so sensitive, and he’s never finished as quick as when he fucks his fist with your face in mind. his imagination doesn’t do you justice — he’s leaked way too much cum in his boxers to be considered pre.

his throat’s raw from moaning shamelessly. if he’s this fucked out from clothed grinding, you cannot wait to actually feel him skin to skin. the thought makes your core pulse.

daeho’s hands start fumbling at your back, a desperate and whiney string of words falling from his mouth. you can make out enough to know he’s close, and he’s panicked.

“gonna cum for me?” you coo, giving a sharp tug of his dark locks.

“ah— don’t wanna yet,” he stammers out, palms holding your sides tight like he’s not sure if he wants to pull you closer or push you off. he groans when his dick twitches, mumbling something about how embarrassing it is that he’s close this quickly.

“dae, you’ve got me soaked.”

“really?” he pants out. you almost laugh — did he think you were just grinding on him for shits and gigs?

“i wanna feel it.” you tell him, voice breathless. “i want you to.”

but just as he nods his head, letting the balloon inside him pop — you’re hovering up off of him.

except he doesn’t have time to think before your hand is closing around his crotch, palm tight around the outline of his erection. and when you stroke him through the pants, just once? he’s gone.

daeho cums just like that: your hand closed tight on his dick, mouth coming to suck on the spot below his ear. your canine grazes the skin, and his hips buck up from it.

you give one last squeeze of his length, just for fun — grinning when he keels over, freshly sensitive. but he still whines when you retract your hand, already missing your touch.

you curl a strand of his hair around a finger, smiling at your work as you watch him catch his breath.

“we can go again,” you tell him softly. “wanna take your pants off this time?”

it’s adorable how his head ducks, blush creeping across his cheeks like he didn’t just make a mess of his pants for you already.

he nods. “please.”

mlist · taglist 〃 note. requested (kinda). wrote instead of sleeping

@lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @ttturnitup @rafesbunniebby @nicaeno @orphicarchive @vix3e @ferrarifinnick @loveesiren @madebybec @avsarchivez @frontwomann @szonyix6277 @namgyooner @thanosspills @retiredpieceofshits

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Nothing Between Us

Summary: Bucky losing his mind when you stop him and take the condom off mid-sex

Warning: Unprotected sex (intentional), condom removal mid-sex, creampie, emotional smut, possessive!Bucky, degradation + praise kink, overstimulation, soft aftermath implied.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Bucky was trying-really trying-to hold it together.

You were already moaning beneath him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, your body slick with sweat and your cunt squeezing him like a fist with every thrust. He’d been taking his time, keeping it controlled, steady, even though he was right on the edge. Even though every part of him wanted to ruin you.

He was close. So close.

And then your hand slid down between your bodies.

At first, he thought you were going to touch yourself, chase your orgasm with him still deep inside you--and fuck, the idea made his hips jerk.

But then he felt it. The shift. The drag of your fingers at the base of his cock.

And suddenly--

Your hand pushed his hips to still and the condom was gone.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, he ripped away from the crook of your neck, where he planted himself to stay grounded, his rhythm faltering, heart slamming into his ribs as you tossed it aside like it didn’t matter. He stared down at you, stunned, panting. “What the hell are you doing babydoll?”

Your voice was soft, breathless, a little ruined. “I want you.”

“I’m already inside you,” his brows pinched as he growls, but it came out shaky, unsure.

You pulled your legs up higher around his hips and looked him in the eyes. “I want all of you,” you whispered. “I want you to come inside me.”

That was it. That was the moment he fucking lost it.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t give himself time to think. He slammed back into you--bare, raw, thick and hot--and the sound he let out wasn’t human.

“Christ, baby, fucking--I--” he groaned, the stretch hotter now, slicker, real. “You feel--God, you-- you--this has to be heaven.”

Your mouth fell open in a moan, hands digging into his back, pulling him down until he's practically laying on you. Your cunt clamped down around him like your body was begging to be filled, and Bucky fucking snapped.

His head was spinning, ears ringing as he started moving again, but there was no control left. No rhythm. Just need. “You want this?” he growled, breath hot against your jaw. “Want me to fuck you like this? Fill you up ‘til it’s leaking out of you?”

You couldn’t even form words. Just nodded, already trembling underneath him. “You’re mine,” he snarled. “My good girl, taking it raw. You don’t wanna stop me, do you? Don’t wanna go back?”

You whimpered, “Never.”

That's what did it.

His thrusts turned frantic--deep, punishing, desperate. You were crying out, clinging to him like your life depended on it, and Bucky was unraveling above you. Every time you clenched around him, it pulled him deeper, wrecked him harder. He was ready to start sobbing at the sensation "Baby fuck you're milking this cock I---" his head falls forward resting against your forehead.

You whine and whisper against him, "You're gonna make me cum Jamie"

His eyes glossed over completely, “Cum for me princess, cover my cock with your cum before You make me cum” he panted. “You want that? You want my come inside you?”

Your legs tighten around his waist as you moan louder from his words your breathing gets caught in your chest as your tremble against him, “Yes, Bucky--I James...James please.”

He slammed in one last time and came hard, buried to the hilt, cock twitching as he spilled inside you--thick, hot, so much you could already feel it dripping out around him.

He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead pressed to yours, both of you shaking with the aftershocks.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Then your fingers brushed his cheek. “You okay?” He blinked. Let out a breathless, wrecked little laugh. “You just broke me,” he whispered. “Fuck completely broke me baby.”

And when you kissed him-soft, slow, full of everything you couldn’t say-he realized you’d meant to.

You wanted him wrecked. And you’d get that side of him. Every. Night after this.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

Tagging:

@luannastylinsonlupin

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[the-librarby]

IN THE RING II

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

Jealousy brews outside the ring.

Part I

The blaring alarm was hell on earth to hear first thing in the morning. Exhaustion was a severe understatement for how you felt as you trudged through your morning routine, and threw yourself out the door before the ideas of skipping class took over.

The brisk air was a harsh wake up on the walk to campus which encourages you to duck deeper into the scarf around your neck. The only grace is that the grounds and surrounding streets are still empty due to morning classes being severely unpopular. You quickly step into the coffee shop neighbouring the building of your first class and step into queue. It's still remotely empty, the crowd being those few students that got stuck with a morning class, and workers that belonged to surrounding offices.

With the line moving quickly you find yourself back out the door in no time. You look down to check your phone out of habit while you walk, cautiously taking a sip of your coffee as you do. Out of your periphery someone walks up the opposite side of the footpath, narrowly you avoid smacking straight into them but your elbow clips theirs causing your coffee to spill.

You lean your arm out to keep it from splashing against your clothes, "Shit," you curse, turning around to apologise when you see Ghost of all people standing there, equally confused at seeing you, "Ghost?" you whisper unsure.

He's not wearing his skull mask today, its been swapped out for a black surgical mask instead, but the way he responds in recognition to the name makes it undoubtedly him.

He shoves his hands deeper into the front pocket of his hoodie, "Careful sweetheart," he warns, "Sure you want to be seen in public 'round me?"

You pause at the out he's giving you, you suppose the smarter option would be to take it and move on, I mean if someone you knew were to see you how would you explain this?

"Christ you really are a student," he comments, judging based off the backpack hanging off your shoulder, "Didn't believe it at first,"

You roll your eyes and suck the excess coffee off the side of your thumb that spilt, "Yes, a mature age student," you defend, "Do you live around here?"

He drags in a lazy inhale and thinks for a moment, “No,” he eventually settles on, “Job in the area,”

You frown, wiping your hand on your jeans, “What you do at night isn’t your job?” You ask quietly, looking around in case anyone is within earshot of the conversation.

“What I do at night?” He repeats, leaning in closer in mock of your own careful movements, “Makin’ me sound like a whore darlin’,”

Blood rushes to your cheeks in an embarrassed flush, immediately you backtrack, “No!” You shout, stepping back, “No,” you repeat quieter, “That’s not what I meant,”

The way he’s looking at you in amusement makes you squint in accusation, “You’re an asshole,” you shake your head in disbelief, “Teasing me like that,”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Funny to see you squirm,” is his explanation.

You scoff but shake it off, “If that’s not your job then what is?”

“Nosy,” it’s almost chiding, “Security.”

The alarm blaring from your phone cuts the conversation short, when you fish it out of your pocket you can see it’s your warning alarm reminding you that you have ten minutes to get to class.

“Fuck,” you silence the alarm, “I’ve gotta go—class and all,” you explain.

“Don’t let me keep you,” he mutters.

You smile politely, “Well,” you say, slowly stepping back, “I would say it’s been nice, but then you had to open your mouth,”

He chuckles, a satisfying sound that makes you internally beam, “Off you go, back to school with you,” he waves.

“Oh fuck off,” you spit, but lack venom, “I’ll see you ‘round.”

He watches you for a moment longer before turning on his heel. He’s got his sight set on you and it’s not going anywhere.

It’s hard to keep your eyes open in class, not even the coffee you bought—now cold, can keep you awake. It’s clearly evident by the way your friend elbows you more than once to stop your head from smacking against the table. Thankfully you managed to make it the whole way through without making a fool of yourself, but with minimal content learnt.

While packing your bag your phone buzzes with an unknown number flashing across the screen. You shut it off, dismissing it as some scam call and continue on, eager to get home and sleep. But then it calls again.

“Fuck me,” you mutter, silencing the ringtone once more.

“Avoiding someone?” Your friend asks.

“Scam caller,” you huff, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “Let’s get out of here.”

Your friend follows behind, filling in the silence with small talk about all the assignments she’s barely started and convinced she’ll fail this time.

“You never fail,” you comment, looking at her knowingly, “Too anxious to and we both know it,”

She clutches the straps of her bag and throws her head back with a groan, “But there’s just so many to keep up with, I hate end of season assessments. They’re always due at the same time,”

You nod in agreement, equally unexcited to get through this, “Yeah, agreed.”

You’ve barely stepped out the building when your phone buzzes again from your back pocket. When you take it out of your pocket you can see it’s the exact same number from before.

“Maybe it’s not a scammer,” your friend muses and then gasps, “What if it’s someone contacting you for a job? Answer it!”

Your eyes widen, immediately your stomach drops and you hurry to answer it, “Hello?”

“Jesus Christ girl, do you want this job or not?” Mark’s irritated voice filters through.

You close your eyes and sigh, of course, how did you not consider that? “Sorry, Mark, I was in class and couldn’t get out,” you lie.

Your friend tilts her head in question, curious as she mouthes the name Mark. You hadn’t told her about the job you accepted, yet.

You turn on your heel to face away from her, pressing your phone harder against your cheek to hear Mark’s muffled voice, “I need you in tonight,”

“Tonight?” You repeat, “I thought it was next week?”

“Yeah, well, things change,” he huffs, “In or not? Need to let James know,”

You soften instantly, “Yeah I’ll be there, eight?”

“See you then.” The line hangs up.

You clench your phone in your hand, immediately trying to map out what time you could put aside for a nap and some assessment time before leaving. Then there’s a tap on your shoulder, you turn around seeing your friend looking at you expectantly.

“Uh?” She draws out, “Who is Mark?”

“My boss?” You reply, unsure of yourself.

“Your boss?” She repeats, “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me? That’s great!”

You laugh, scratching behind your ear, “Yeah, I know. Finally landed something,” you agree, briefly thinking back to the way you had to yell at Mark for a trial, “It just happened last night. Bartending gig,”

“Bartending? Do you even have a licence to serve liquor?” She inquires.

Oh. You hadn’t actually thought of that, and you doubt Mark had either, “Yeah, duh,” you lie, “Wouldn’t apply if I didn’t,”

You fall back in step on the footpath, walking towards your apartment, “Well that’s exciting, maybe I can come visit you, what’s the address?”

“No,” you cut in too quickly, “I mean, it’s not that type of venue,” you explain, laughing nervously, “There’s no hot guys, the crowd is older and kinda gross,”

Except Ghost, but he doesn’t exactly count as a customer does he? More like the entertainment of the night.

Makin’ me sound like a whore darlin’.

Everything he says sounds filthy in a way you can’t quite place, “It’s also kind of further out,” you tag on, “Not really worth seeing,”

Your friend deflates a bit, “Oh well. Maybe you can just make drinks for me some other time, I’d love to see what cocktails you learn,”

The mental image of serving the men there cocktails almost makes you laugh, “Yeah, sure, some other time.”

Once you stop in front of a local cafe you bid goodbye to your friend, usually you two will study together for a couple hours but you’re way too tired, you explain as much and thankfully she lets it go with minimal concern.

When you make it through the door of your apartment you collapse on the couch and fall asleep instantly.

It’s just ticked over into evening when you arise drowsily from your deep nap. Your hair is askew and plastered to your face, and your pants have somehow rolled way up your leg. You blink several times waiting for the dizziness to dissipate in the falling dark of your apartment. Instead of closing your eyes again like you want to, you reach over and flick on one of the nearby lamps in your lounge room.

Hands scrub at your eyes, clearing away the crusted sleep. You take one last deep breath and sit up properly on the couch, looking around as you try to collect your thoughts. The clock display on your oven tells you it’s 5:30 pm, much later than you’d like it to be but with the hours you now work you know it’ll just have to be a rough adjustment.

You rummage through your bag for your laptop and hoist it onto your crossed legs, might as well try to squeeze in some kind of research for your assignment before you head off.

It’s about 7:30 when you leave the apartment, rugged up more than usual against the cold wind. When you make it to the venue, it’s already busy with men idling around with smokes and drinks in hand. You make a beeline for the bar where James is already serving others, you make quick work of shoving your things down somewhere safely before jumping into service.

When there’s a moment for downtime James takes a deep breath and leans back against the bar as you put glasses away, “Don’t scare easily do you?”

You smile and laugh, “Nah, nothing to be scared of really is there?”

James shrugs, “There are some questionable characters here, if Ghost wasn’t a clear indicator already,”

The mention of his name makes you perk up, you hadn’t seen him yet and the fight had already started, “Not on tonight is he?” You try to inquire carelessly.

James looks over at the ring, “Nah,” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest, “Unpredictable that guy, never know what he’s thinking, does what he wants,”

You frown at that, “He’s not a regular?” You ask, “But so many people talk about him,”

James tilts his head from side to side as he mulls over your question, “He’s here often,” he settles on, “But it’s on his terms, can’t give him a time slot because he only comes round when he wants,” he scoffs, “Mark always makes space for him because he brings in the money.”

You nod and think over the information James just dropped. You’re more curious about the clear distaste he has for Ghost than anything else, it builds a curious picture in your mind. Ghost clearly keeps this place open for business, that you can tell, but he doesn’t seem to care about it judging by his willingness to be flaky. James thankfully announces he’s going on a smoke break before you can ask anything else and ruin your air of carefully built nonchalance.

With the fight on, you finally have space to breathe and catch up on the prep work. You’re crouched down in front of mini fridges below the bar top stocking it with drinks, when you hear knuckles rap against the surface alerting you of a customer. You quickly abandon the box of beers and stand up, before you is Ghost once again, sitting at the same stool from last night.

“You’re here,” you frown.

He raises an eyebrow, “That a problem?”

You quickly shake your head, dismissing your initial shock, “Sorry,” you start, “I meant— I’m surprised is all, you’re not meant to be on tonight are you?”

“Who said that?” He questions.

You hitch your thumb in the direction of the door behind the bar that leads to the alleyway outside, “James,” you readily give up, and then point to the ring where the current fighters are, “And clearly you’re not in there,”

“Clearly.” he agrees.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, unsure if you’ve touched a nerve or not. After a moment of awkward tension, his shoulders seem to deflate.

“Beer, please sweetheart.” he asks.

You nod and grab the same one from last night, when you hand it to him he hooks the top of his surgical mask and drags it down under his chin giving you a full view of his face. He’s got a blooming bruise against his cheek and two noticeable healed scars, one is a small one that cuts through his top lip, while the other runs from his jaw well into his cheek on the other side of the bruise. His nose is crooked in a way that has been reset one too many times.

“Here to watch the fight then?” You ask, snapping yourself out of your staring.

“Fuck no,” he grunts, picking up the bottle, “Pickin’ up my pay,”

You tilt your head with a teasing smile, “No sportsmanship for your fellow fighters?”

“Don’t deserve it,” he mutters, “Condescending pricks,”

The slap from the opposing fighter last night plays clearly in your mind, “I’m sure you’ve bruised lots of egos.”

The swig he takes of his beer is response enough, you shake your head and continue about your work. Can’t afford to slack off, no matter how tempting the distraction is. Ghost fills the space with small talk every now and then, asking about your classes, despite his initial teasing about you being a student, it becomes a quick talking point that draws you in.

Fifteen minutes flies past and James makes his way in, stopping mid step when he sees the scene of you and Ghost before him, “Ghost,” he greets with a forced laugh, “Still here? I thought Mark already gave you your pay,”

Ghost lifts his drink, “Pit stop,”

James nods, “Right,” he replies and then turns to you with a grin, grabbing your upper arm in an overfamiliar gesture that makes your eyebrow raise, “Great job getting everything ready, fight has about five minutes left, let’s finish stocking the fridges.”

You nod and look back at Ghost, he’s watching the way James grips your arm. Instinctively you shrug him off with a polite smile and follow his lead, stocking the fridge he points out to you which is furthest away from the bar top and facing away from the crowd. What you don’t see is the way Ghost and James stare down each other for a moment longer until the bell of fight rings out, signifying the end.

Ghost lifts his mask back over his nose when men start to file around the bar, you meet his eyes one last time and smile apologetically before serving. Ghost takes that as his signal to leave, bitter taste left in his mouth that’s not from the beer.

James doesn’t speak to you until after service is over. Despite your attempts at starting conversation or sharing a quip like you usually would, he shuts you down under the guise of being busy with customers.

“Have I overstepped?” You finally ask when the venue is empty.

James hums questioningly, “What do you mean?”

You cross your arms over your chest, “You’ve been standoffish all night—actually since Ghost left,”

The mention of his name makes his shoulders tense, he sighs and puts the glass he was drying down, “Does he talk to you often?”

“No,” you lie, “That was the first time I’ve seen him,”

You’re unsure where the urge to protect him came from but you stick by it. Your response seems to put him somewhat at ease.

“Good,” he nods, “Be careful around him alright? Nothing but bad news that guy,”

You frown, “Has he done something in the past?”

“Just got a bad reputation,” he explains vaguely, “Nothing good about him.”

It’s not enough to deter you like James surely wants but you drop the conversation before your favour starts to show through. Mark sends you home about about two thirty, it had been quieter than when Ghost was in the match the night before so you left with a bit more energy than last time.

One the way home you think James’ weird behaviour against Ghost. There’s something there that you haven’t seen, an argument or maybe just a bad taste in James’ mouth. You can see why Ghost wouldn’t be very popular amongst others, he’s got a prickly edge that is off putting, especially at first glance. But he’s been nothing if pleasant towards you.

Is it favouritism? The idea makes you laugh as you get undressed for bed, it seems far fetched that a guy like him would show preference for a server. You try to dismiss the thoughts altogether as you lie in bed.

You’re getting in way over your head.

[lafortezasboy]

SPORTS CAR.

tate mcrae

— summary: after a late date night with your girlfriend, she ends up pulling over into an empty parking lot to have fun with you and your new look in her new sports car.

— warnings/tags: tmasc!reader, dom!dani, sub!reader, riding, strap, dirty talk, praise, slight aftercare, use of yn, use of “mami”, cocksucking, groping, tit sucking, not proofread

— a/n: we all know how dani does NOT play about her car…right? she don’t gaf if it’s messy now!! it’s you and her who’s making it messy in all the right ways!! :3

tiny update: based on this ask…

“god, you look so handsome tonight,” dani gushes over you as she tugs the collar of your white button up. it’s been about a few months since you two went out on a proper, fancy dinner date and about a year since you’ve came out as trans masc. this was dani’s first time seeing you in a fancy suit.

you blushed nervously at her words. because this was her first time seeing you like this, you didn’t know how she’d react. dani looks up and smirks. she pulls you down to kiss your lips gently before pulling away.

“i’m still me, baby,” she assured you, tussling your hair around. “no need to get nervous.”

“but it’s the daniela andrea avanzini that i’m dating,” you teased her. she scrunched her face up and gently slaps your shoulder.

“shut it, yn,” dani shot back playfully.

“do you wanna have dinner tonight or not?” she asks, letting her hands slide down from your collar to your torso before grabbing your hands. you hummed softly, interlocking fingers with her.

“i do indeed want to have dinner.”

dani bites her bottom lip slightly and tugs your hands as she began to walk.

“so stop wasting time,” she stated, as if she wasn’t the one who stopped the both of you so she could admire your look.

during the whole dinner date, you two were absolutely full by the end. it was fancy, expensive, but worth it…sorta. as you both split to pay the check, you brought your phone out and dani took it out of your hands.

“uber?” she questioned, clicking your phone off. “i have a car that could take you faster to your house than an uber.”

you looked at dani and leaned closer towards the table.

“you wanna show off your new sports car,” you stated knowingly.

dani smiled a bit cockily and hums with a nod, handing your phone back.

“it’s fast and fun! it’s cozy, too,” dani adds in as the waiter comes back with their cards. you took yours back and hummed gently.

looking back up at dani, she gave you the tiniest puppy eyes and you sighed, rolling your eyes slightly. dani knew that this was an automatic yes and she stood up, taking ahold of your arm again.

“you’re my passenger prince tonight,” she told you as she guided you to her parked car.

“why can’t i try the new car?” you asked her, following behind as the cold air helped you. the restaurant was quite stuffy, you couldn’t lie. with the fresh cooked food and the heat of other people, it made you sweat. you loosened your tie with one hand, letting it hang around your neck.

“because i don’t let anyone drive my car. not even you. you know the rules, yn. don’t be silly,” dani replied as she tugs you closer to catch up.

you knew she was right, and you shouldn’t have tried to ask. dani doesn’t play about her car. if its hers, she’s driving it and no one else gets to drive it. no one gets in the passenger seat unless it’s close friends and you, no one eats in the car or even drinks — she’s strict.

you enter the passengers seat and dani heads towards the drivers. once she’s in, she closes the door and revs the engine before buckling herself in.

“show off,” you stated with a smile.

“can’t i show off my baby?”

you pouted slightly at her words. “is your car your baby or me?”

dani looks over and squished your cheeks.

“you’re my baby boy,” she corrected. “this,” dani gestured to the car, “is my baby.”

you rolled your eyes slightly before buckling yourself in as dani began to ride. she drove a bit fast, the speed in her car quick as she entered the highway. you turned your head towards her.

“are you dropping me off? or am i staying over?” you asked her. dani took a glance at you and hummed in thought before her eyes trailed a bit more down. you were man spreading just the slightest bit and it made her push her thighs together a bit.

“we’ll see where i go…” she murmurs.

“so, it’s a matter of where the wind takes me? or…us?”

dani let out a small and breathy laugh. “sure,” she said quietly, knowing exactly where she was going. she moved into another lane, entering a freeway before driving into another area. it was unfamiliar to the normal route she’d take you or her home to.

“dani…” you called her name out softly. she hums in question before turning into an empty parking lot. you sat up a bit more straighter and your face flushed.

“it’s going to get messy,” you added on nervously as she parked the car.

“who cares?” she asks.

“you do.”

“not if it’s us making the mess.”

she climbs over to you, pushing your seat back so it’s much more comfortable before reaching into the compartment between the two seats. you watched as her hands rummaged and you blush.

“why do you-”

“exactly for this predicament, baby boy,” she stated, holding the harness of the strap before her hand runs down the base to the tip. your breath hitched at the sight of her hands running down the strap, your hips twitching under her body. she bites her bottom lip and lets out a giggle, her fingers teasing the tip of the toy.

moaning softly, your hands moved to her hips.

“inside,” you pleaded silently. dani chuckled and she hums, tilting her head as she looks at the silicone toy in her hands.

“want your cock in me, baby?” she asks teasingly, one hand moving to gently unbuckle your pants.

“wanna be a good boy and bury yourself deep in me? fuck me in my car? make me messy?”

“you’re teasing me — just let me fuck you!”

dani puts the strap down between your bodies, one hand still toying with the buckle while the other moved to your hair before gripping it tightly.

“that’s no way to ask me,” she purred out, nails gently digging into your scalp. “can you be a good boy and ask me, yn?”

you whimpered slightly and tilted your head back for her when she gripped your hair. it hurt, but hurt good.

“dani…”

“not my name.”

“mami,” you stated firmly, feeling her fingers loosen slightly. “let me fuck you. let me make you messy and sticky…”

dani hums softly, leaning close. “there we go,” she whispers, her lips a few centimeters away. “there’s my good boy i know.”

she leans in and kisses you softly and slowly, purposefully making the kiss slow and passionate. you whined, wanting it to be more firm. you grabbed her hips and brought her closer, her dress riding up her thighs a bit. she pulls back and gently kisses your cheek before lifting your head up by your chin to kiss your neck.

her fingers gently pulled your belt off and tossed it into the backseat. you felt her fingers hook in between your dress pants and boxers. you pulled back from the kiss reluctantly to help her, doing it all yourself for her.

dani looks at your fingers taking your pants off and she hums.

“good boy,” she praises as she lifts herself up a little for you to work. “doing all this without me having to ask you? i might just let you go crazy on me tonight,” dani teases as she watches you.

you looked up, eyes filled with hope. “really?” you asked.

dani looks down at your hopeful eyes and she laughs slightly, tongue moving up to lick her upper teeth before helping you put the strap on.

“we’ll see where the wind takes us tonight,” she comments quietly, recalling the small conversation from before.

as soon as the strap lays on your body, she wraps her hand around the base and pumps the toy on your body, making you moan relentlessly under her.

“i don’t have any lube with me, baby,” she murmurs, carefully maneuvering between the small and tight spot between the seat and the car. she manages to get on her knees, her body flexible enough to fit in the space.

“i guess i have to do it myself, hmm?”

keeping her eyes on yours, she slowly wraps her lips around the tip before carefully swallowing you whole. small gags and moans came from her lips, but she did it all for you.

“dan- mami…” you called for you, your hand moving to her curly hair. she grabs your hands and holds your palms before pulling her head back.

“don’t do that…” she rasps out, a string of saliva connecting from her tongue and lips to your strap. she moans at the sight of the now wet cock before running her hand up and down on it again.

“what a good boy,” dani praises you, coming back up from the floor of the car.

she moves slightly before lifting her dress, taking her panties off of her legs before positioning you right at her entrance.

“wanna fuck me silly or let me do the work?”

you looked up at her, wanting to tell her that you wanted to before she sunk down onto you and immediately latched her teeth onto your skin. she muffles her moan, hearing your pained whine.

“let me do the work, baby? you’re so generous today,” she breathes out against your skin. dani lets out a louder moan as her hips moved gracefully. your hands moved to her hips, wanting to hear more and more escape her lips before her hands grabbed your wrists and pulled you off.

“off,” she pants out, moving away from your neck. “i’m the one controlling tonight’s sex, baby.”

you whined, “i wanna touch you, mami. please?”

dani looks down at your pleading expression, gentle pants escaping as the sound of her slick takes in your cock. she bites her bottom lip before she slips the straps of her dress off of her shoulders and shimmies the top part off of her chest.

“no moving my hips, baby boy,” she demands, watching as your eyes hungrily take in the sight of her breasts. your head moved in but she took a hold of the back of your head. you whined out and she looks down at you.

“no moving my hips,” dani repeats, “got it?”

“yes, mami.”

“good boy.”

she gently moved against your body again, louder moans and pants escaping her plump lips as she feels your lips attack at her nipple and the other hand moving to massage the free mound. her fingers in your hair tightened as she pushed you closer, her movements sloppy.

“good- good boy,” she moans out.

your tongue circled her bud, feeling it harden in your mouth and she groans softly.

“keep going, baby,” she encourages, “just like that…”

dani moans almost uncontrollably into your ear.

“help me, baby boy…” she whimpers. you knew what she was talking about. she was close, but her legs were tired and her hips movements were getting so much more sloppier by the second.

you pulled away from her chest and she lolled her head back a bit as your hands trailed to her hips. you moved her up and down your body, her moans growing louder and louder after every push. her fingers tightened in your hair.

“yn…yn,” she whined out.

“come for me,” you whimpered. “please, dani. mami, please.”

dani opened her eyes slightly to see your desperate face, moaning quietly before her head falls onto your shoulder. with desperate whines and moans, your hips increasing the speed, dani ends up releasing all over your lap. her body twitches on top of you, fingers loosening in your hair as she comes down from her high.

she pulls back after a few moments of recollection and kisses you deeply. you were still buried deep inside her. she didn’t want to get off just yet — she loved being filled by you.

dani pulls back after the shared kiss and looks between their bodies before around the car where the front windows were completely fogged up. she looks back down at you before slipping off of you, pulling the straps of her dress up and pushing it back down from below.

her fingers worked the harness off of your lap before bringing the toy up to your lips.

“wanna taste of me?”

you wasted no time in taking in the cum coated cock, gently taking it inch by inch before you pulled back. dani laughs lightly and kisses your lips.

“can’t handle it?” she asks you. you shook your head shyly.

“not used to it.”

“i know, pretty boy,” she murmurs before grabbing a napkin from the compartment. she wipes the excess off before carelessly tossing it back into its spot. she used the same napkin to gently wipe the liquids off of your boxers before helping you buckle your pants back up. she tosses the napkin aside and looks back at you.

“but you did so good for me.”

she wraps her arms around you and pulls you into another kiss, tilting her head to deepen it. you moaned softly, arms around her waist.

“you drive home tonight,” she whispers against your lips. “i’m too worn out…”

“yes, ma’am.”

“not my name.”

“yes, mami.”

she smiles, “good boy.”

— a/n: praise bro. praise praise praise… this one was sooooooo. hot. idk… anyway! bai!

[rawjutsu]

pairing: geto suguru x fem reader

cw: oral (m receiving), petplay, worship, degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, humping

you whined, thighs trembling as slick dripped freely from your swollen pussy, pooling between your knees on the cold tile floor. every breath felt humid, thick with sweat and the musky scent of arousal—his and yours. you were completely naked, save for the snug leather collar fastened around your neck, embossed with shimmering gold letters: suguru. the leash attached tugged with every tiny movement, humming with tension as suguru held it firm in his hand like a leash on a wild dog.

a brand, a claim. a reminder.

“what is it, pet?” suguru drawled, voice syrupy-sweet and mocking, head cocked to the side like he genuinely didn’t know. his golden eyes glittered with mirth, watching you struggle.

“i—suguru, please,” you sobbed, voice ragged, your knees already bruised from how long you'd been kneeling.

his smile faded, brows knitting with a dark scowl. “suguru?” he repeated, low and dangerous. “have you forgotten your place already, mutt?”

you didn’t even get the chance to respond.

he crouched down, boots creaking as he bent, and slapped you hard across the cheek—your head jerking to the side with a startled gasp. the sting bloomed hot and fast, a sharp contrast to the cold floor and the aching heat simmering between your legs.

you hated how your pussy clenched, how even more slick leaked out, dripping down your thighs in shiny trails.

but suguru was already cupping your face, thumb stroking over the reddening skin with a quiet murmur. “you know i hate hurting you like this,” he whispered, voice low and velvety as his fingers grazed your cheek. “but i will—if you forget how to behave.”

you breathed in shakily, mouth trembling. “please, master. i’m sorry—i’ll be good, i promise. it won’t happen again.”

“mm. that’s better.” he stood up to his full height again, towering over you. then he tugged hard on the leash—hard—jerking your body forward until you stumbled, nearly landing face-first into the flushed, heavy cock bobbing in front of you.

the scent of him hit you first—salty, musky, and addicting. your mouth watered.

“if you’re gonna worship my cock,” he sneered, “then do it properly.”

“yes, master,” you whimpered, voice cracked and raw. “please—please—i’ll be so good—”

you didn’t get to finish. suguru slapped the weight of his cock across your parted lips, tip smearing precum in messy streaks across your mouth and chin.

“mutts don’t talk.”

then, without warning, he plunged his cock down your throat in one fluid, brutal motion.

you gagged hard, throat convulsing around him as your hands flew to his thighs for balance. he was thick, warm and pulsing, stretching your jaw wide as he bottomed out. the taste of him—salty, bitter, perfect—flooded your mouth, and your body shuddered from the impact.

he didn’t give you time to adjust. suguru fucked into your throat with relentless rhythm, pulling out until just the swollen head sat on your tongue before slamming back in, making your nose mash against the wiry black hair at his base.

your lungs screamed. your spit pooled and spilled out around him, strings of drool connecting your lips to his cock every time he pulled back. your throat burned, but you were soaked—dripping onto the floor as his grunts vibrated through the air.

“i know that filthy cunt’s leaking all over the place,” suguru growled, voice shaking as he snapped his hips forward again. “bet you’re fucking soaking the floor like a bitch in heat.”

you moaned around him, throat squeezing involuntarily, tears streaking hot down your cheeks. your whole body felt like it was buzzing—nerves on fire, lips swollen, clit throbbing with every humiliating thrust of his cock into your throat.

suguru laughed breathlessly above you, voice warm and cruel. “you need something to hump, don’t you, puppy?”

he shoved one boot forward, wedging it between your spread thighs until the toe nudged your dripping slit—cold leather pressing right against your sensitive clit.

you jerked with a ragged gasp, legs trembling as you rocked your hips against the rough material. the friction was sharp and raw, your poor clit catching on the seam as you started to grind.

“that’s it,” suguru cooed, panting. “rub your needy little cunt on my boot. show me how desperate you are.”

you whined, humiliated, but couldn’t stop. the pressure built fast and dizzying—your clit throbbing, hips jerking as your juices smeared across his boot. each grind sent sparks up your spine, each thrust of his cock down your throat making your eyes cross.

suguru’s voice turned to a snarl. “pets don’t cum before their owners. you even think about cumming and i’ll leave you tied up like this all night.”

you sobbed around his cock but nodded anyway, forcing your body to obey—hips still grinding, mouth still full. his fingers twisted into your hair and he fucked your throat with no mercy now, his cock punching into you so hard your vision blurred at the edges.

your lungs burned. your knees ached. you were a mess of spit and slick and need.

then—he groaned deep in his chest, hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching.

hot cum spilled down your throat, thick and salty, forcing you to swallow or choke. it leaked from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin as your body shook with restraint.

suguru pulled out with a wet pop, then used the head of his softening cock to smear the mess across your cheeks. “go on. you’ve earned your treat.”

you gasped, coughing softly, then dropped your hips again—grinding desperately against the toe of his boot. the seam caught your clit just right, dragging over the swollen bud until you were moaning shamelessly, loud and wild.

“thank you, thank you, master,” you cried, voice wrecked and hoarse.

suguru cupped your sticky cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. “go on then,” he whispered. “be a good little dog and make a mess.”

you came hard—violently. your whole body seized as the orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and overwhelming. your thighs shook, your hips bucked, and your cry came out as a broken, choked sob. you collapsed against his leg, twitching from aftershocks, pussy still pulsing helplessly.

suguru knelt and gathered you in his arms, stroking your face where he’d slapped you. his hand was warm, gentle, grounding.

when your breathing finally slowed, he helped you to your feet—holding you steady when your legs nearly gave out. then he kissed you, slow and deep, the taste of his own cum still lingering faintly on your tongue.

“you did so well,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “such a perfect little thing.”

you smiled softly, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed. suguru kissed you again.

a/n: first time writing for geto and originally this was going to be more into cult dynamics but… well…

[eclipse-msoul]

𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : Being the little guide of several espers meant you didn't have a lot of freedom. It's too bad you forgot that.

Warnings : killing, yandere, predatory themes, child reader, dark themes, cruel characters etc

Note : Based on my one short (idea) titled the same, " Guide me to the flames." Check it out if you guys want!

Prologue :

Dick could remember that day like it was yesterday when you rescued him from his misery and darkness. He was barely nine when he awakened as an esper.

An S-class esper - yet he couldn't save his family from getting killed. Couldn't make the wind reach down in time to stop the sword from cutting his parent's necks. But the worst of all was that he couldn't get revenge.

He remembers being so angry, so tired - wishing the darkness of the esper's core would consume his existence - yet he couldn't die. Not with Bruce and Alfred in his life.

“ Dick, chum, I'm here for you-” Bruce said, hugging him right and allowing his powers to flow to give him rest. “ But Bruce- I-” Dick remembers breaking down crying back then, tears flowing down his little face, “ I-It hurts so much.”

Bruce caressed him on the back and embraced him higher, “ I'm here…” Alfred gave him a healing chocolate pill and they both lulled him to sleep that night.

So he couldn't.

Not when they tried so hard to make him live.

Even when the pain of using his powers made his soul scream - made him bleed from his eyes and ears he kept on using it - using his life force to not make it corrupt fully.

Then guides were discovered.

He thought maybe this was the reward that nature had given him for all his suffering. But like a bucket of cold water thrown at his face, reality had a bitter taste.

No guide.

He hit the table hard and pushed it away. God had a way to play with his life. “ What a joke…” He scowled.

So he kept it in, that explosive anger under the chills of the cold breeze that froze his heart. He learned to live with it. As time passed, he had let it go.

Jason and Barbara came around, passed and Tim, then Steph… and as time passed he had a whole family of espers. His father passed the title of Duke to him and he took the spotlight.

Life slowed down from then on, his eyes losing their haze and he felt like a puppet, even his siblings couldn't ease it - not when they suffered from the same tragedy.

Then like a spark in the dark sky, you came into his grey life and brought colour to it. That morning when the sun was in full zeast and the flowers bloomed like no other and fragrance spread across the land.

You marked your first step in his mansion.

All of his siblings and he watched as the servant brought you in. You were wrapped tightly in those fluffy blankets, your small adorable eyes peeking out.

“W-Whose.. The child.” he asked, his blue eyes glowing menancly.

“ The servant bowed and answered. “ Answering the young Duke, Grand Duke Bruce has sent me to deliver the lady to you.”

“ The lady?” Tim voiced, scanning you from up and down. “ Yes, Master Timothy. Her grace is the Grand Duke's youngest.”

“ Should've expected the old man to have another woman by his side.” Jason scoffed. Dick ignored his remark. Instead walking up to the bowing servant and removing the cloth completely from your face.

Your lovely eyes opened and you giggled.

He instantly felt his heart being driven mad.

He touched your cheek and felt his heartbeat, that gut wrenching pain disappeared and an unknown thirst overtake him.

Your baby skin looked so soft.

Your little hands, those cute little feet.

If only he could..

“ Dick..” He froze, meeting her eyes, “ You're drooling.” Barbara whispered in his ears. She winked back at him causing him to stutter. He quickly wiped it away.

He nodded at the servant and took you from his hold and sent him away. He couldn't help but feel euphoria overtake him as he squeezed your cheeks causing you to cry.

Light from the sun reflected above.

He looked above to see the mirror showing his twisted smile. He looked like a predator about to feast on a little lamb and from the looks of it, he wasn't the only one.

So he laughed - truly - for the first time in years.

His guide, you were here.

And he'd never let you go.

He chuckled, using his winds to calm your cries and when you finally slept in a daze. He hummed, meeting his siblings' wild eyes.

Heaven hadn't forsaken them after all.

Comment, like and tell me what y'all think!! Your comments motivate me the most. So send them guys. Love you all ᕙ⁠(⁠＠⁠°⁠▽⁠°⁠＠⁠)⁠ᕗ🩷🪿

Taglist :

@animegoddess15 , @cleverruinsobject , @tacodeemon , @delias-stuff , @cupid73 , @ekest , @wassupbroski55555 , @cvpidsbow2323

[thelostconsultant]

Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: In which Max has enough of watching you and Charles have whatever the hell you have, and forces you two to make a move.

note: Listen to CAZZETTE's Beam Me Up while reading.

You’re singing the song like it was a hymn, you always do, this is why even though he’s watching you and Charles dance on the floor from the VIP section, he knows what he would hear if he was there. But this is Charles’s night, it was him who probably tipped the DJ quite a fortune to play this song.

When the chorus with “beam me up” fills the club, you both start jumping happily, and by the time the line “diamond clouds” arrives, Charles has a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a messy, drunken kiss.

Max smiles to himself, even chuckles as he shakes his head at the sight. This is what happens every time you are at a party together when neither of you is in a relationship, but so far—at least to his knowledge—you never went further than this.

He never really understood why, because your family, Charles’s family, even your mutual friends expected the two of you to end up together when you grow old enough. Yet, here you are, not one date closer to what everyone imagined you to have in your twenties.

Some drunken girl comes over for a chat, interrupting his train of thought, but he’s not at all interested in that at the moment. Unlike the two of you on the dance floor, he’s still completely sober, the result of coming to a party so soon after an injury that forced him to take some heavy painkillers.

“Maxie,” he hears your high-pitched voice from the side before you take a seat in his lap. “Will you drive us home? I don’t feel like calling a taxi tonight. The drivers always want to chat with me,” you add with a pout.

Charles’s green eyes are following the scene with the kind of intensity he hasn’t encountered since the Monegasque tried to murder him during a race when they were kids. It’s clear as day that this is jealousy, so he lets out a sigh and reaches for the bottle of beer the girl left behind by accident.

When you notice it, your lips curl downward. “What a shame, now I’m gonna have to chat with the driver.”

“Ask Charlie if he’d give you company to make sure you’re home safe and sound,” Max suggests, much to his friend’s surprise based on the look on his face.

You seem just as surprised, but by the time you glance over at the other man, he’s already watching you with a sweet smile. 

“C’mere,” he mouths as he curls his index finger to draw you closer, and you go without a word, sitting next to him with your legs thrown over his thighs. His hand explores the bare skin of your legs, but he keeps his touch where it is still slightly appropriate. “Ask nicely, sweetheart, and I’ll think about it.”

“Why are you so mean?” you complain.

Max has enough of this stupid cat and mouse game he’s playing with you. “Come on, mate, you’re gonna say yes anyway, just go.” 

As he stands up, ready to head home, he meets his friend’s narrowed eyes, but that soon disappears. He watches as Charles gently puts your feet on the floor, then stands up and offers his hand to pull you up.

“Okay, fine, but you’ll behave, okay?” 

You nod obediently with a bright smile on your face. “Thank you, Charlie. You know how much I loooooove you, right?” you wonder and you wobble along with them, having a hard time walking in those high-heels of yours.

The Ferrari driver leans over to give you a quick kiss. “I do.” 

For a moment the two of you are looking at each other so tenderly that Max begins to wonder if this is the moment when he should say goodbye and hurry home, leaving you to do whatever the fuck you’ll gonna do in the end.

Outside the three of you are waiting patiently for your taxi, but then Max decides to open his car from across the street. You look at Charles, who looks back with an equally confused expression on his face, so the Dutchman decides to explain himself.

“That beer wasn’t mine, I’m sober. But you two will go home with that taxi tonight, sorry.”

And with that, he leaves you two there, hoping you’ll finally make a move forward. If not, he came play this game as long as he has to.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Seeded - A Vessel/Reader Smut Short.

Breeding kink with Vessel, besties? Alright, you got it! Tagging a few of you who I think might be interested, too :)

Words - 500

Warnings - Breeding kink smut below the cut! Minors DNI!

“I can’t, please,” you beg, your entire being humming, your core aching. “I can’t take another.” 

He smirks, hands pressing to widen your thighs again, stroking his cock over the puffy petals of your sex. “Yes, you can, my sweetheart. You’ve got another for me.”  

Watching the way your glistening little hole drips with the milk of his release, he feels the dark lust in him swell and swirl, needing to fill you again, breed you, stay snugly inside of you this time to push his seed right up deep, deep, deep.  

He arrows into you once more, and you hiss a breath, his hand moving to stroke your cheek with affection. “Shhh, my baby. I’ll be gentle with you for a while. I know, my cock bruises your pretty little flower. But you always do plead with me to fuck you harder, don’t you?” 

“I do,” you gasp, the burn giving way once more to the divine tingles his thickness evokes. 

“And I love to watch you take it,” he rasps, voice deep and thick with lust, “love to watch this pretty little hole stretch around my cock.” 

The pleasure of it is biting, burning hot beneath your skin, rocking your hips against each of his thrusts, the pain of him being inside you so relentlessly eclipsed by the ecstasy of it. It pools golden, blooming through your belly, Vessel moving quicker and quicker until once again, he’s plunging back and forth with rapid snaps of his hips, his groans all grit and sin. 

In the garden of your bed, you blossom for him, his fingertips chasing the peachy flush dappling your chest, trickles of sweat beginning to slide down his. Taking him is like negotiating the vast expanse of a storm, but you’ll chase his lightning to fork through you without hesitation every time. 

Those flickers begin at the base of your spine, jumping from strikepoint to strikepoint, wincing a little as he hits your summit.  

“You can take it,” he assures you, hand gently clasping your jaw, leaning to grant your mouth the tenderness of his kiss as his body becomes wilder. “Gonna put a baby in you this time.”  

He’s stoking a fire inside you, burning white, hips pounding against your sore, spent body, sending the little darts of bliss skittering up your spine as your cunt clasps around him, milking his release deep into you. You feel adrift in the comedown, aware only of him panting against your neck. 

He lies inside you for what feels like forever, making sure none of his cum seeps out. Held in the warm cocoon of his arms, you share kisses, hands lovingly stroking one another, all that was frantic now replaced by a much softer edge.  

Looking down at you, you see the love welling deep in his eyes, but it’s nothing compared to the way he looks at you months on from that moment, finally witnessing the elating sight of your belly all swollen with his child.  

Did you enjoy what you just read? If so, please help your author out by commenting/reblogging. If you want to be added to the taglist, please do let me know, too!

[angelickks]

Yes ma’am we need more drabbles of lions lucky girl 😩

SAY LESS!

warning(s) just fluff! bb. swearing. some inuendos. pet names

#NAV.ᐟ jack o’connell mlist ⋆.˚ lucky charm (based on this drabble)

THE MALL IS NOT LION KAMINSKI’S NATURAL HABITAT.

You know this the second you drag him through the big glass doors. He squints up at the fluorescent lights like they personally offend him, hand scratching the back of his neck, and mutters, “This place smells like perfume and anxiety.”

You just grin and loop your arm through his. “C’mon, Lion. You can survive one little shopping trip without crying, can’t you?”

“Don’t plan on cryin’ at fuckin’ Macy’s,” he grumbles, but his ears are already pink.

You’ve got him following you through racks of cocktail dresses like a brooding bodyguard. Every few minutes, you hold up some tiny, strappy thing just to see him react.

You pick up a cherry wine slip dress, hold it against yourself, and ask, all innocent: “This one too much?”

Lion just stares. Blinks slow. His jaw ticks. Finally he mutters “Don’t matter. You’d look gorgeous in anything.”

You damn near drop the dress. When you recover, you smirk at him. “That so?”

“Don’t make me say it twice,” he says flatly, and then pointedly looks away at a rack of blazers like he didn’t just say the most devastating thing in the entire mall.

In the fitting room, you make him sit on the little bench while you try things on. He sits there obediently, long legs spread, elbows resting on his knees, watching the floor like it owes him money.

You step out in a lacy little number and say, “Thoughts?”

His eyes lift. He freezes.

Doesn’t say anything at first — just stares like his brain short-circuited. You cock a hip and smirk. “Cat got your tongue, Kaminski?”

Finally, he exhales, low and rough. “Fuck.”

“Good fuck or bad fuck?”

“Good fuck. Too good. Take it off.”

You laugh so hard you have to lean against the doorframe. “Excuse me? Are you endorsing public indecency?”

He leans back on the bench, spreading his knees wider, and smirks up at you. “Not wearin’ that out in public. Not unless you want me startin’ somethin’ indecent.”

You roll your eyes and swish the skirt just to be a brat. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm. Still ain’t wearin’ it,” he mutters, but his ears are red again.

Later, you catch him trailing behind you through the shoe department, but this time he’s sticking close. So close you can feel the heat of him at your back, his hand occasionally brushing your hip or hooking into the hem of your top like he thinks you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You stop dead in front of a display of strappy heels, turn around with your hands on your hips, and give him a look.

“You’re acting like a lost toddler in a grocery store,” you tease. “You know that, right?”

Lion doesn’t even flinch. Just shrugs, standing right behind you, big hands still tucked in his pockets but his chest nearly pressed to your shoulder.

“Not lost,” he mutters. “Know exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

You arch a brow. “Oh yeah? And where’s that?”

His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up lazily.

“Right here,” he says simply, then leans just close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

You grin, cheeks warming. “Aw, baby. That a line or a confession?”

That earns you a faint, crooked smirk and a quiet, “Keep talkin’, I’ll make it a promise.”

And before you can even fire back, he hooks a finger in the back pocket of your jeans to keep you moving, still clinging just close enough that anyone watching already knows—he’s not letting you get two feet away.

By the time you’re sitting across from him with a tray of fries and sodas, with a dress picked out that Lion loved just enough to light up red for the third time today, you’re still talking, hands moving animatedly as you ramble about another dress you’d seen.

“I mean, it was this gorgeous champagne color, y’know? With little beads on the straps — like, sparkly but not too much, just enough to catch the light when you walk? And the back was, like, low but tasteful, you know what I mean? Ugh, I should’ve tried it on—”

Lion just sits there, leaning on his forearms, watching you with that quiet, unreadable look of his.

“Y’done yet?” he mutters eventually, but there’s the faintest upward curve at the corner of his mouth.

You snort, grabbing a fry from his tray and pointing it at him. “Don’t act like you weren’t imagining me in it the whole time I was describing it.”

That earns you a soft huff of laughter through his nose as he shakes his head.

“You’re funny,” he says, stealing a fry from your tray without looking away from you.

“And you,” you counter, leaning forward with a teasing grin, “are a liar. Because you’re picturing it right now.”

His lips twitch again.

“You don’t even need it,” he says finally, voice quiet but warm, like he’s telling you something secret. “Don’t matter what you wear. Anybody with eyes will be lookin’ at you”

Your cheeks go hot immediately.

“You’re such a sap,” you tease, tossing a fry at him. He catches it easily, pops it in his mouth, and just smirks at you across the table.

“Better a sap than blind,” he murmurs.

And then he leans back, eyes still on you, and adds under his breath — just loud enough for you to hear:

“Still should’ve got the dress though. Jus' for me.”

You kick him under the table for that, and he only grins wider.

The second your tray of fries was empty and you caught Lion giving the escalators a nervous glance — like maybe you were finally done torturing him for the day — you slammed that hope into the ground.

You planted your hands flat on the table, leaned across it with a devilish grin, and purred, “Your turn.”

Lion, still chewing his last fry, froze. “My what?”

“You,” you say decisively, leaning back. “Need clothes. Nice ones. For the event. You’re not wearing that.”

His eyes narrowed as his hand absentmindedly went to play with the rings adorning your hand.

“This is high quality,” he deadpanned, glancing down at himself — faded black hoodie, jeans worn thin at the knees, sneakers scuffed to hell.

“That’s high tragedy,” you shot back.

“I look fine.”

You press a quick kiss to his cheek as you stand, tugging gently on the sleeve of his hoodie. “We’re getting you new clothes, sweetheart — whether you like it or not,” you murmur close to his ear, your breath warm against his skin.

His lips twitch into a shy, almost reluctant smile, but before you can pull away, his fingers slip through one of your belt loops, holding you steady. “At least kiss me proper before you start dressin’ me up like your own personal doll, Lucky” he says low, voice rough and teasing.

You smirk, leaning in so your lips barely brush his, all playful danger and promise. “Don’t act like it ain’t fun.”

“Be quiet,” he snaps softly, but it’s a challenge wrapped in laughter as he pulls you fully into a kiss.

When you finally break apart, you grab his hand and tug him toward the escalators, your eyes sparkling. “Come on, pretty boy. Let’s get you suited up.”

You steered him into one of those sleek stores with clean white walls and shiny racks, where everything was way too organized and smelled faintly of expensive detergent.

Lion immediately frowned at the lighting, shoved his hands in his hoodie, and muttered, “This place gives me hives already.”

You snorted and shoved a hanger into his chest.

“Relax, baby. We’re just getting you something that doesn’t scream probation hearing.”

He arched a brow at you but obediently followed as you started plucking shirts off racks and holding them up to him. At one point you held a navy button-up to his chest and hummed thoughtfully.

“Mmm. Yeah. Could eat you alive in this one,” you cooed, half to yourself. Lion’s ears turned red instantly.

“Don’t say shit like that in public,” he muttered.

You grinned like a cat. “Oh? Why not? Afraid you’ll make a scene?”

“Afraid you will,” he shot back, the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.

You kept flitting around him, draping things over your arm, circling him like a shark while he stood there looking every bit the stoic boxer in a battlefield of linen blends. You held up a jacket next, black and sleek, and raised a brow at him.

“This,” you said. “This is it. You’ll look like a whole damn movie villain in this one. In a hot way.”

His mouth twitched at that.

“Always wanted to look like a Bond villain,” he drawled.

“Good,” you said, shoving it into his arms. “Go try it on, killer.”

“Bossy,” he grumbled, but he disappeared into the fitting room anyway.

As you’re leaving the store, one big hand just barely brushing against the small of your back every few steps, like he needs to keep track of you after being convinced into that ridiculous store.

“You don’t hate it that much, huh?” you tease as you pass a shoe store.

He glances at you, then away, but you see the faint smirk.

“I take back what I said. You’re not funny,” he says again — but his voice is softer now.

And you grin, threading your fingers through his for the first time all afternoon.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmur, swinging his hand as you walk. “You’re adorable when you’re lying.”

That earns you a quiet little huff of laughter and a muttered “Yeah well, you got what you wanted. All that matters.”

You make your way towards the exit, smug satisfaction sitting pretty in your smile, when you come to a sudden halt in front of a blinking neon sign tucked between an empty pretzel stand and a broken vending machine.

The bags in Lion’s hands hit the back of your thighs with a soft thump, and he nearly runs into you.

“Jesus—what now?” he mutters, already wary.

You spin around dramatically, eyes wide. “Oh, fuck me.”

He blinks. “Jeez Luck-"

You point, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s a photo booth! Let’s take pictures.”

Lion follows your gaze, squints, then looks back at you with the expression of a man facing certain doom. “Y'serious?”

You’re already dragging him toward it. “Deadly.”

“I just got talked into spending eighty bucks on pants that don’t have a hole in the knee, and now I gotta sit in a tiny box and make faces?”

You flash him a devilish grin. “C’mon, pretty boy. It’s tradition.”

He lets you pull him in, grumbling under his breath, but he’s got that quiet little smile on his face that gives him away completely. You both squeeze onto the vinyl bench inside, his thigh warm against yours.

The screen lights up.

“Alright,” you say, cracking your knuckles. “Four pictures. Don’t fuck this up.”

Lion leans back, arms crossed. “You first.”

You glance at the countdown—3…2…1—and then pounce.

First photo: your hand snakes around his throat playfully, not tight, just enough for him to go wide-eyed as you lean in, mock-biting his jaw with a feral little growl. The camera flashes just as he tilts his head back, lips parted, looking half-stunned and totally lovestruck.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, voice low and wrecked.

“You like it,” you purr.

Second photo: you shift to kiss him for real this time, deep and messy and maybe a little showy. He groans softly against your mouth, one of his hands sliding instinctively up under your top, his palm splaying over your breast just as the flash goes off.

You both freeze.

“...Oops,” you whisper.

Lion just blinks, eyes glassy. “You did that on purpose.”

“I plead the fifth.”

Third photo: you’re both doubled over laughing now, the tension broken, your head on his shoulder, his hand over his face as he laughs that rare, rough laugh only you seem to ever get out of him. It catches mid-laugh, unguarded and stupidly perfect.

“You’re so damn lucky you’re cute,” he tells you between wheezes.

Fourth photo: you both turn to the camera and make the most ridiculous faces you can—your tongue out, Lion’s lips puckered ridiculously, hands in the air. You’re laughing too hard to keep still, and he looks over at you instead of the lens, watching you with a quiet, fond kind of awe.

When the strip spits out, you snatch it and wave it in the air like a trophy. “Masterpiece,” you announce.

Lion plucks it from your hand gently, fingers tracing the edges. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes on the second photo—the one where he’s kissing you like he’s starving and half-blushing from the feel of you under his palm.

Then, softly, “That one’s goin’ in my wallet.”

You blink. “What? Seriously?”

He looks up at you, dead serious. “Serious. If someone tries to rob me, I’m showin’ ‘em this. Let ‘em know I got somethin’ worth dying over.”

You snort. “Sap.”

He shrugs, slipping the strip carefully into the back of his wallet, then glancing at you with that lazy, lovesick smirk. “And you’re the one who made me take off my hoodie for a fuckin’ pastel shirt, so I’d say we’re even.”

You roll your eyes, looping your arm through his as you both step out of the booth. “Let’s go, baby.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and quiet, “next one, I get to bite you.”

You glance back with a wicked grin. “Deal. But next time I’m pickin’ the booth with curtains.”

He snorts. “No more malls for a little bit, you understand?”

“Heard! This was worth it,” you sing, tugging him back into the crowd.

And behind you, bags in hand, he just shakes his head, still quiet — still trailing close after you like gravity’s got his name on you, Lion just smiles.

[letmeeatyoursoul]

can you please me a thanos x fem reader smut where the reader has pink hair? it can be in or out of squid game :)

GIRL. I am so sorry i have like ghosted my inbox shame on me 💔🥀 @thanosspills

cw: smut, prn with no plot, im so high sorry, reader has tits and is female also she vapes…

you were at a college frat party with a few friends, shitty liqour in your hands as the strobe lights gave you a fucking headache. making your way upstairs to try and hide from the loud frat boys and bitchy sorority girls, you close the bathroom door shut. staring at your messed up pink hair, straightened not even an hour ago and already frizz forming. your silver dermal piercing on your right cheek shimmered in the light, or was that your vision slightly shiny from the drinks?

you fix your pastel pink hair, wiping your smudged lip liner. you reach into your purse, hitting your piña coloda vape pen. the cool air calming you down from the aggressive environment. you reach for your lips to suck in again but you realized its dead. “Fuck.” you throw it back in your bag before jumping as you hear the door shaking from being banged on at least 4 times. “sorry uh, occupied!” you yell as you turn your head. “nah its just me, open the door.” your brows furrow as you hear thanos, or su-bong’s voice. what does he want? you hesitate to unlock the bathroom door before turning the knob reluctantly. you are met with the smell of axe body spray and the sight of his bright purple hair. “oh hey,” you look up at him, “smells like piña coloda,” he smirked, looking you up and down, staring at your cleavage with no shame. “how’d you know..” you awkwardly laughed as you sat on the bathroom sink. he shrugged as he closed the door shut with his back, locking it with his right hand. you swallowed hard as you felt your mouth dry up. he looked at you with low eyes, slightly red in the whites of them. he pushed himself off the door, walking towards you. he runs his hand down your hair, feeling the softness of it. “y’so pretty,” he laughs to himself, blinking slowly. “you’re high.” you smile as you roll your eyes. “i still know what i want.” he inches closer, you can smell the sour joint on his clothing and axe body spray. “missed you all week, been dying to fuck you.” he breathes on your neck, his hand not supporting himself against the sink reaches to cup your cheek. his hand trails down to your hand, guiding it to his waistband, then to his zipper seam, making you feel his boner. you looked up at him through his lashes as he pulls away. “don’t tell anyone about this..” he leans back to kiss your neck, trailing down to your stomach and then to your thighs, licking them and sucking on the inner part. he pushes your mini dress up even further, your lace ruffled pink thong on display. he inches further up until he hooks onto the fabric, pulling it down while his mouth hikes up. he licks a fat stripe up your pussy lips, spitting on your clit. you moan softly, putting your legs on his shoulders. su-bong sucks on your clit and pussy lips, swirling his tongue. you cover your mouth, your other hand digging your fresh manicured baby pink nails into his scalp. “fuck yes…” you moan loudly as he starts to finger you with his middle and ring finger, curling them up into the spongey part of your pussy. he continues to finger you as he stands up, continuing your makeout sesh minutes before.

you cum on his fingers, moaning into his mouth. he hums softly, licking them off quickly while you reach to undo his belt. he helps you rid your panties completely and then your mini dress, pulling it over your head. he never gets tired of your looking at your fat titties, grabbing them roughly before fully undoing his pants, pulling down his boxers to his thighs. his dick slaps against his happy trail, pretty pink heart shaped tip and 2 nice veins running up the base. he lines up his cock with your pussy before inhaling sharply, muttering curses under his breath, putting one of his hands on the mirror behind you, the other on your neck gripping it softly. “fuuuuck…” he groans into your ear, thrusting his slightly curved cock into your g-spot. you moan his name, reaching to rub circles into your clit, giving more stimulation. the liquor in your system was making you bold, pulling him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth before sucking on his bottom lip, pulling away with a pop! sound, his lip a darker color from being sucked on. he moaned loudly into you ear, it was rare to hear nosies from him, but when he was high his filter vanished. you arch your back as you feel your orgasm bottling up in your tummy. “im gonna—fuck!” you cry out loud, “su-bong!” thanos groaned loudly, “mmmhfuck, where do you want it baby?” you lean back slightly to answer. “im on the pill, inside..” he nods while heavily breathing, his pace becoming out of rhythm, thrusting roughly and fast before one final buck of his hips, throwing his head back as he busts a nut in you. you gasp softly, feeling your pussy get warm again. he pulls out his half soft dick, tucking it into his boxers again. he kissed your temple before buckling his belt, hitting his guava ice before leaving, the party music invading your ears again.

[yourlipstogodsears]

Sigh. Robby would choke you during sex and explain why it’s the safe way of choking while he’s doing it (aka explaining the vessel restriction etc)

BLOOD CHOKES WITH ROBBY <3

When Robby decides to choke her. He doesn’t take it lightly. he shows her and explains to her how he’s doing it safely so she can be at ease about him doing it for the first time.

"Alright, listen up. I'm gonna show you how we do this safely." He steps closer to her, robby’s voice steady despite the intimate nature of the demonstration. "I'm gonna put my hand here," he explains as he gently places his hand around her neck, demonstrating the proper technique.

"Good," Robby says softly, maintaining eye contact to ensure she feels comfortable and in control. "The key is pressure—not force. You feel my thumbs right here?" He adjusts his grip slightly for emphasis. "I'm not cutting off your airways; I'm just applying gentle pressure to your cartoid and vessels in your neck.. there’s a lot of vascular activity in your neck..."

she hums and smiles looking up at him turned on.

Robby notices her expression and smirks slightly, maintaining his professional demeanor despite the obvious turn of events. "You're catching on quickly," he says with a subtle hint of his signature charm in his voice. "Now, do you want to feel what it's actually like?"

“Please can we.. during..”

Robby’s smirk widens into a grin as he understands her meaning. He quickly unbuttons his shirt and lifts her up onto the desk behind him. He begins to unbuckle his belt as he whispers, "During sex? You want me to choke you while I'm inside you?"

“Mhmm” you hum sweetly.

Robby leans down and kisses her deeply before he pulls away slightly to whisper against her lips, "You're gonna have to be quiet though. We don't want anyone walking in." He lifts her skirt up and pulls down her panties before freeing himself from his pants.

“Yes sir”

Robby enters her quickly, silencing any noise she might make with another deep kiss. As he starts moving inside her, he slowly wraps his hands around her neck, applying gentle pressure as he demonstrated earlier. He breaks the kiss to watch her face as he chokes her during sex for the first time.

he mumbles about how it makes her head all fuzzy and her pussy clench around him.

“Look at you so needy, you like daddy’s hand making your brain go fuzzy huh?”

“Your pussy is clenching me so sweetly, she likes my hand on your throat huh baby?”

Robby groans softly at the feeling of her tightening around him, "That's it," he encourages quietly, watching her face flush and her eyes roll back slightly. He adjusts the pressure on her neck based on her reactions, making sure she's safe yet feeling everything intensely.

feeling her close, Robby increases the pressure slightly and leans in to whisper in her ear, "Cum for me, quietly. Let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze my dick." He continues thrusting deeply inside her, his hands firmly around her neck as he brings her closer to the edge.

“Daddy please” she pants.

"Shhhh... not so loud," he whispers sharply, increasing the pressure again but making sure she can still breathe. "Can you be good and quiet while I make you cum?" His pace quickens, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her legs shake.

Robby feels her orgasm and watches as the blood choke intensifies the high. He quickly covers her mouth with his hand to muffle any louder sounds, his own release building rapidly. He thrusts deeply one last time, holding himself buried inside her as he cums silently, his hand still firmly around her neck.

[matcha3mochi]

GLASS BETWEEN US | III

Pairing: Merman Rafayel x Scientist Reader

wc: 4,508

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

───⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The tank exhaled a low, final hiss, followed by the heavy groan of retracting glass. Condensation poured outward in sheets, flooding the floor with a dense mist that caught the red emergency lights and fractured them into ghostly patterns. The air smelled of brine, steel, and something deeper—like the electric hush before a storm.

He hadn't moved yet.

Rafayel remained near the back of the chamber, partially submerged, framed in swirling light and vapor. His body rested in a coil, serpentine tail gathered beneath him in slow, shifting loops. Unlike the dull, utilitarian tones of the lab, he radiated color.

Starlit cobalt shimmered across his long, muscular tail, the fin trailing behind like a banner woven from moonlight and glass. Thin, transparent layers fanned out from the base and tips of his tail, edged in silver that refracted light with every breath he took. The fin was enormous—wide and translucent, nearly iridescent in motion—like the wings of a deep-sea butterfly.

His torso was partially human, yes—but not quite. The symmetry of his musculature, the carved hollows of his ribs and shoulders, seemed engineered by something beyond evolution. His skin shimmered faintly with a sheen like wet obsidian, patterned in soft constellations of bioluminescent freckles that flared in rhythm with his breath. Across his collarbones and down the sides of his ribs, you could see faint silver lines—like delicate circuitry, or scars arranged in sacred geometry.

And then there was his face.

His hair fell long and loose around his shoulders, pale as moonlight—almost silver-blue, but not metallic. Damp strands clung to his cheekbones and collar, framing eyes so luminous they looked inhuman. Not just glowing, but alight with layered color: cerulean at the iris, ringed in radiant silver, and threaded through with fragments of violet. His pupils were slit, reptilian—but there was emotion behind them. Sharp, clear, unwavering.

He tilted his head slightly, water trickling from his hair in slow rivulets.

He was watching you.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to.

With a soft motion, he moved forward.

The shift of his tail was mesmerizing—silent and fluid. Water rippled outward from his motion, his fin catching and folding like gossamer. His clawed hands gripped the rim of the tank, pulling him closer, and you saw how his strength was carefully restrained. Muscles flexed under the glow of his bioluminescence, tail tensed with effort, but every movement was measured.

He reached the lip of the tank and paused.

There, at the edge, he hesitated. Not from fear, but from reverence.

This was not just a step into air—it was a crossing into your world. The glass was gone, but what stood between you now wasn’t material. It was the weight of every unspoken moment.

You stepped closer.

He watched you.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Rafayel crossed the threshold.

His body was massive up close. Towering when upright, his tail trailing behind in long arcs, fins brushing the floor. His gills flared briefly, adjusting to the dry air, then sealed shut with a shudder. Droplets clung to the curve of his neck, his shoulders, his lower back. Water glided down his tail, pooling across the floor in reflective silver.

He faltered slightly, the change in weight pulling at him.

You rushed forward.

Before you could reach for him, he reached for you—one hand at your waist, steadying himself. His claws were gentle, curved away from your skin. He leaned forward until his forehead nearly met yours, breath cool against your cheek.

He smelled of ocean and starlight.

“You’re real,” he whispered, voice soft and husky.

Your hand came up to brush his cheek, fingers tracing the edge of a healed scar that curved just beneath his jawline. His skin was smooth there, cooler than yours, lit beneath by shifting hues that pulsed like soft bioluminescence under the surface.

You nodded, voice barely audible. “I’m here.”

His eyes closed for a moment, as if absorbing that truth. His tail coiled beneath him, securing his balance. He was powerful, but grounded. Tethered only by you.

Then the world reasserted itself.

The lab lights flickered violently above you, flashing crimson with every pulse of the lockdown sequence. The air was thick with steam and salt and something deeper—like the breath of a pressure system ready to collapse.

Rafayel’s form glistened under it all, coiled and shimmering. His hair clung to his jaw and neck in soaked strands of silver-blue, his tail heavy and unwieldy behind him on the slick floor, already beginning to dry at the tips. He was fighting gravity with every breath, each movement slower than the last.

“I can’t stay out much longer,” he rasped, voice strained, gills fluttering shallow and fast. You could see it now—the way the dryness was pulling at his skin, the way his bioluminescent markings were dimming.

You crouched beside the floor hatch at the edge of the lab—an old maintenance duct now half-buried under forgotten debris. You had ripped the access plate free minutes earlier, fingers bloodied from the metal, but the tunnel still waited beneath, dark and cold and damp. A drainage pipe, long since disconnected from main circulation, but if your schematics were right...

It led to the open sea.

You twisted the final valve on the manual flood system. With a mechanical groan, water surged into the shaft from below, gurgling and roaring as it fought its way upward through corroded pipework. In seconds, the bottom of the tunnel filled with swirling seawater, black and turbulent, glinting like oil in the emergency lighting.

“This is it,” you said, voice breathless. “You ride the current out. It opens into the inlet three miles off the coast. That’s your way out.”

Rafayel reached the edge, using the last of his strength to drag himself forward. You were already beside him, arms bracing under his, steadying the weight of his body.

His tail thudded against the floor with a wet slap. He groaned softly, teeth bared, not in anger—but in pain.

“Too dry,” he whispered. “I can feel the weight in my bones.”

“I’ve got you,” you said. “You just need to reach the water. Let it take you.”

He stared at you then, breath catching. His eyes were duller now, but still beautiful—full of galaxies and pressure and memory.

You slid your arm around his waist, guiding him to the edge. The water was rising fast, swirling just beneath the opening. The scent of salt filled your nose—fresh, briny, alive.

He hesitated at the edge of the shaft. Not from fear—but from something heavier. The realization that this was real. That he was leaving. That this wasn’t a simulation, a dream, or another test. It was freedom.

And you—still on the other side.

His tail coiled slightly behind him, dragging wetly across the floor, leaving trails of water in silver and blue. His fins twitched at the edges from exertion, and the way his chest heaved told you everything: he was almost at his limit.

“You should come with me,” he said, voice low and husky. His eyes flicked to yours—wide, unguarded, full of both hope and dread.

Your breath stuttered. You wanted to say yes. Every part of you screamed for it. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not if it meant they’d follow him.

“I can’t,” you said, voice catching on the edge of your throat. “They’ll follow. But if I stay, they won’t know where you went. You’ll have time.”

He stared at you. The air between you thickened with salt and electricity and something else—grief, maybe, or the ache of almost.

He shook his head slowly, painfully. “I’ll come back for you.”

“I know,” you said.

You stepped forward and cupped his face with both hands. His skin was slick and cool beneath your palms, but he leaned into your touch like warmth itself. Your foreheads met, his gills fluttering shallowly against your wrists.

The cold of his skin against yours was grounding, but what startled you most was the heat building behind your eyes—the sting of tears you hadn’t let fall. Not since the day they took you off the rotation. Not since the tank had gone dark.

For just a second, the chaos faded. There was no facility, no containment protocol, no security breach. There was just the salt on your lips, his pulse under your fingers, and the impossible light in his eyes that had never dimmed for you.

His gills fluttered against your wrists, flutter-light, fragile in a way nothing else about him ever was. You stood like that for a moment suspended in the storm—your body pressed into his, your mind falling quiet. All the alarms, the sirens, the red strobing chaos behind you faded into nothing. No containment. No mission. No escape.

Just him.

Just you.

His pulse thrummed under your palms, steady and strong, and you realized with a jolt of pain that you had never known anything more alive than this moment.

Tears welled up, thick and hot, blurring the glowing planes of his face. You hadn’t let yourself cry—not since they stripped your access, not since they darkened the tank. But now, here, the dam broke silently. The ache in your chest cracked wide, and the tears fell.

He lifted his head slightly, just enough to tilt his lips to your forehead. His claws grazed your waist with exquisite care. And then—

A kiss.

Soft. Barely there. A promise pressed into skin. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t hurried. It was reverent.

As if you were something sacred.

You gasped quietly, the touch searing deeper than any wound ever could.

He pulled away—just far enough to see you, really see you, as if committing every line of your face to memory. His eyes—glowing, full of salt and sorrow and something ancient—locked with yours.

And in that gaze, you understood everything he couldn’t say.

His lips parted, and he whispered, voice soaked in something fragile and final.

“Thank you.”

The words shattered through you.

Your throat burned with the urge to call him back, to beg him not to go—but your body wouldn’t move. Your nod was the only answer you could give, silent and aching.

His fingers lingered for a beat longer, claws ghosting across your wrist. Then he turned.

You watched as his body coiled, tail glowing in crescents of violet and cobalt, every movement smooth as silk in water. The shaft loomed open behind him—dark, spiraling downward into the unknown. He looked back once, just once, as if checking to see if you’d follow.

And then—he dove.

He slid into the shaft with a grace he couldn’t summon on land, the water cradling him as he disappeared into the dark below. His tail vanished last, streaking silver-blue through the rising current.

You didn’t breathe.

You crawled forward to the hatch, leaning over just enough to catch a final glimpse. His glow shimmered in the tunnel for a moment longer—luminous violet, flickering like a beacon. Then it vanished into the deep curve of the passage.

A beat of silence passed. Then instinct took over.

You reached for the hatch and slammed it shut, your wet hands slipping slightly on the handle before it locked into place with a heavy, hydraulic seal. You could hear the water surging downward, swallowing the tunnel behind the metal. He was gone.

You staggered back from the hatch, chest heaving, knees weak.

A dozen thoughts battered your mind all at once—What if the tunnels collapsed? What if they tracked his thermal signature? What if he didn’t make it? What if you never saw him again?

But louder than all of them was the single truth pulsing at the center of your chest like a lighthouse in the dark:

You had done what no one else would.

And now—you had to survive what came next.

You spun around, heading for the override console. The emergency lockout sequence was already in motion, but you could delay it—slow the security response by rerouting power through maintenance relays.

Just a few more seconds.

Just enough time.

Your fingers flew across the interface. The keys were slick from the saltwater dripping off your sleeves. Your heart pounded so hard it hurt. Red light bathed the walls. Your reflection in the console screen looked like a stranger—soaked, wide-eyed, trembling.

Then—

The lab door exploded inward with a mechanical scream, metal slamming against the frame as boots flooded into the room.

You turned, hands raised—but not in surrender.

In defiance.

Because you knew what they’d find.

—

The moment the hatch sealed shut behind Rafayel, the facility’s heartbeat changed. A violent, shrieking pulse echoed through the corridors as klaxons ignited in tandem with the emergency lockdown. The red strobe lights splashed the sterile halls in waves of crimson, as if the structure itself had started to bleed.

You stood motionless in the center of the observation deck, soaking wet, hands trembling at your sides, the hatch’s locking hiss still echoing in your ears. The space around you shivered with the aftershock of what you had done. Rafayel was gone.

And you had let him go.

The containment doors burst open with a metallic scream. Heavy boots thundered through the water pooling on the lab floor. You barely flinched as the first pair of gloved hands seized your shoulders and twisted your arms behind your back.

The cuffs bit into your wrists with practiced precision. You were dragged through Lab C’s exit, your boots slipping on salt-slick tile, your breath loud in your ears.

You caught one last glimpse of the tank—the place where it all began. The water inside had stilled, but the glow lingered faintly on the glass, a phantom signature of his presence. The scent of brine and charged ozone hung in the air like an unanswered question.

They said nothing to you. No demands. No accusations.

You weren’t escorted to the debriefing levels. They didn’t take you to Security Admin or Medical. They took you down.

Past Sublevel 3. Past Research Storage. Past the doors marked in yellow hazard chevrons and warning seals in languages older than the base’s schematics.

This part of the facility didn’t hum with power.

It breathed.

The lights dimmed the further you went, until it felt like descending into the pit of something sleeping. The elevator halted with a hollow clunk. The guards marched you into a corridor where the walls sweated condensation, and the floors echoed too loudly.

You were led into a chamber without windows or screens. Just a single overhead panel flickering in cold white. A metal chair bolted to the floor. Walls that hummed with a low, constant vibration—the sound of a pressure system older than safety code.

You didn’t sit.

You stood in the center of the room, salt drying on your skin, fingers twitching against the chill. The cuffs dug into your bones.

Then, the door opened.

Two entered. One you recognized immediately.

Dr. Havers.

His expression was unreadable, but something had shifted in it—something hollow behind his eyes. He didn’t speak. He simply stepped aside.

And behind him—her.

Dr. Sorein.

You had never seen her before. Not in person. Her name had appeared in closed reports and clearance levels above your access. But now, standing in the doorway, you understood why her presence had always been a rumor until now.

She was tall, severe in posture, and dressed in a bone-white uniform without insignia or affiliation. Her hair was slicked back so tightly it gave her face the illusion of being sculpted from stone. Her boots made no sound, and her skin was pale enough to catch the light with an eerie pallor. There was a precision in her every movement—too smooth, too restrained—as though her very breath obeyed protocol.

Her eyes—ice gray, glinting like cut glass—studied you with impassive calculation. They weren’t empty. They were measuring.

She stepped forward and placed a black tablet on the table with the care of someone laying a scalpel on a sterile tray.

She didn’t introduce herself.

"You facilitated a Class-IV breach," she said, tone cold, crisp, and final.

You said nothing. The room felt narrower by the second, as if the walls were bending inward.

"You compromised the containment of an unclassified marine hybrid. You overrode secure systems, accessed obsolete exit routes, and destroyed surveillance logs."

Still, you stayed silent. The cuffs bit into your skin. Your heartbeat felt slow, deliberate.

Sorein took a single step closer. The overhead light caught the rim of her tablet.

"Tell me why."

Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t harden. It simply dropped like cold metal onto the surface of the air.

You looked up at her then. The overhead light threw long shadows under her cheekbones. Her face was unreadable—expressionless in the way cliffs are expressionless before they break.

Your voice, when it came, was hoarse. “Because he would’ve died.”

A slight motion—perhaps a breath through her nose. "You don't know that."

"And you don’t know that he wouldn’t."

Her eyes flicked to Havers, who remained a silent statue in the doorway. Then she activated the tablet with a flick of her wrist. A projection shimmered upward—a three-dimensional hologram of Rafayel in his tank, timestamped and flickering.

He lay motionless at the bottom, curled loosely around himself, his bioluminescent patterns dulled to a faint murmur of color. No movement. No reaction. Just still water and heavy stillness.

"Unresponsive to handlers. Complete nutrient rejection. No behavioral reflexes."

She tapped again.

"He wasn’t sleeping. He was shutting down."

Your jaw clenched. “He was grieving.”

Sorein looked back at you. For a moment, there was silence. A mechanical hum somewhere deep in the walls. The scrape of your cuffs when your fingers twitched.

"You’ve assigned meaning to anomaly," she said. "Dangerous mistake."

Another tap. The projection shifted—to a still of you, pressed to the tank wall, Rafayel mirroring the gesture from inside. The space between you was illuminated in pale cyan glow.

"You believe this... connection had merit."

You stepped forward, chains tightening with the movement. “It does. He responded to me. I stabilized him. You documented that yourself.”

"Instinctual mimicry is not evidence of sentience."

"He knew my name. He spoke. He chose."

Havers stirred. Not a word—just a subtle intake of breath.

Dr. Sorein didn’t blink. "You breached protocol. You acted without command."

You were shaking now. Not from fear.

From fury.

"Because none of you would have done anything until he was dead."

Her eyes narrowed. "Your emotional projection endangers this entire research ecosystem."

"He isn’t your ecosystem. He’s a person."

Another flick of her fingers. The projection dimmed, disappearing in a wash of static.

Sorein stepped back from the table, arms behind her back.

"You will be placed under indefinite observation. All data access revoked. All permissions suspended. You will remain confined to Sublevel 5 until reassignment or clearance strike."

Your throat closed around the pressure building in your chest. “You’re not even going to ask where he went?”

"We’ll retrieve him," she said calmly. "Eventually."

“No,” you said, louder now. "You won’t."

A pause.

"Why is that?"

You met her eyes. For the first time, she blinked.

"Because you’ll be looking for an experiment. But he isn’t one anymore. You turned him into a prisoner, and he still didn’t break. He chose to leave. And if you try to hunt him like a weapon, he’ll remember that, too."

Dr. Sorein regarded you like one might examine a specimen that had just spoken back.

Then she turned.

"You’re dismissed."

Two new guards entered. They said nothing as they seized your arms, removed the chain between your wrists only to replace it with a heavier restraint—one that hissed as it tightened.

As you were pulled from the chamber, you looked once more at Havers. His eyes flicked up to meet yours.

He didn’t stop them.

But he didn’t look away either.

You were led into the corridor. The door hissed shut behind you.

You didn’t resist. But your heart beat with the rhythm of a memory you could not surrender.

Rafayel was out there.

And he remembered, too.

—

They didn’t give you a window.

The walls of your new quarters were uniform steel, painted over in a sterile shade of off-white that somehow made the space feel even smaller than it was. There was no artwork, no markings, not even a facility insignia. Just smooth walls, seamless seams, and a door that sealed with a hiss and a coded pulse.

A cot—thin, nailed to the floor. A basin, stainless steel. A single folding desk affixed to the wall. The kind of room designed not to contain danger, but to��erase presence. No identifiers. No comforts. Just waiting.

You were monitored constantly.

Two cameras tracked every movement—one in the ceiling, another embedded in the corner by the door. Every time you moved too quickly, the ambient lights adjusted. A quiet warning.

Your new ID badge didn’t display your name. Just a number.

All requests for information were rerouted. All terminals were access-locked. No outgoing messages. No unsupervised activity. When you were escorted for brief medical scans, the guards never spoke, never made eye contact. You weren’t a colleague anymore. You were a protocol.

Even your meals arrived through a sealed slot in the wall, like rations dropped into an airlock.

There were no clocks. No sense of time. Only cycles.

The room lights dimmed for six hours and brightened for sixteen. Rinse, repeat. You marked the days in your head, tracking the patterns of sound beyond the door—how often boots passed, how often the power grid hummed or staggered. It was the only rhythm left to follow.

But despite the cold logic of your imprisonment, you never stopped listening.

In the silence, you learned the language of Sublevel 5: the faint whispers of redirected orders, the muffled tension in overheard conversations outside the bulkhead, the repetition of reports about ‘Subject Loss Event’ and ‘Recovery Priority One.’

They hadn’t found him.

Not yet.

And the more they failed, the more pressure mounted. You felt it in the changes—the extra guards, the quiet footsteps of someone listening outside your door at night, the way your medical scans grew longer, more invasive.

In the days that followed, the facility above your cell became a hive of tightly coiled movement. Not chaotic—never chaotic—but buzzing with a low, intense current of urgency.

Something was building. You could feel it in the walls, in the rhythm of the boots passing by your door, in the increased traffic in the secure lifts.

Dr. Sorein no longer moved like a figure in the background. She was everywhere. Every hallway camera caught her in motion—flanked by a team dressed in matte black uniforms with no departmental markings, each one armed not with standard-issue tranquilizers, but high-output compression rifles and experimental sonar disruptors.

Her presence was a vector. Every room she entered straightened around her. Every technician’s shoulders lifted a fraction higher. Havers remained behind her often, shadowing her through the operation—never leading. Watching.

She reviewed footage personally. Not just of Rafayel, but of the old sea tunnels, the outdated records from the Lemurian sub-grid, and the long-redacted logs from Phase Zero of the facility’s foundation. You heard whispers of Directive Theta.

It wasn’t recovery.

It was eradication.

Her voice filtered through the halls in clipped commands:

“Double scan radius.”

“No contact. Full silence protocol.”

“If we lose visual—assume migration.”

“Terminate if retrieval becomes untenable.”

No one dared challenge her.

She issued her orders from a reinforced command wing refitted with deep-sea tracking tech you had never seen on any blueprint. One of the guards let it slip once—an entire sonar array had been reprogrammed to detect specific bioluminescent frequencies, calibrated not to find something, but someone.

Rafayel.

They were hunting him like a rogue weapon.

But they had a problem.

He wasn’t surfacing. He wasn’t feeding. He wasn’t responding.

And that’s when Sorein made a new decision.

She would use you.

The logic, she explained—cold, clean, spoken only once in a closed-door command briefing—was simple: Rafayel had bonded. Unusually. Persistently. He had formed a pattern of recognition that transcended mimicry. A fixation. A behavioral imprint so specific that it had overruled his natural aggression and induced pacification. You were not just a handler. You were a variable.

Now, you were a beacon.

They would fabricate a leak—leak footage of your relocation, create a false signal trace from a secure observation buoy, encode it with the exact wavelength of your voiceprint.

"He will come to her," Sorein said. "Even if he knows it’s a trap."

Some of the team had hesitated. Even Havers had glanced at the floor.

Sorein didn’t blink. "That’s what makes it effective."

They never told you.

But you could feel it.

The change in the air. The way the guards lingered a little too long outside your cell. The sudden return of an audio panel, just functional enough to transmit pre-recorded messages. The reappearance of your file on external terminals, left visible just long enough to be intercepted.

They weren’t just hunting him anymore.

They were summoning him.

And they were using your heartbeat to do it.

You memorized their shift rotations. The brief lapses in surveillance. The tension in Havers’ voice when he was left alone to make his notes.

They were closing in.

—

The moment Sorein summoned you to the debriefing chamber again, you knew something had shifted.

This wasn’t another check-in, another round of sterile questioning. This time, she sat waiting—alone—no assistants, no techs. The room was colder than usual, the light overhead dimmed to a clinical amber.

You stepped in, shackled at the wrists. Your footsteps echoed once, then fell silent.

She gestured to the chair. “Sit.”

You didn’t move.

“I won’t help you,” you said before she could speak.

Her gaze didn’t flicker. “You misunderstand. This isn’t a request.”

Your heart pounded. “You’re using me as bait. You’re transmitting my voice. You’re trying to lure him out.”

“And it’s working,” she replied, voice like frost. “Proximity scans have begun detecting anomalies along the trench perimeter. His bioluminescent signature has flickered within range—irregular, but deliberate.”

You shook your head. “No. I won’t be part of this.”

Her jaw shifted, just slightly.

“You formed the bond,” she said. “You gave him something to fixate on. You knew what it meant the moment you stepped into that tank room and didn’t look away.”

“I saved him,” you shot back. “And you’re trying to destroy him.”

Sorein rose slowly, hands folded behind her back. She crossed the space between you with precise, noiseless steps. When she spoke again, her voice was lower.

“You will do what is required of you. Or we will change tactics.”

You felt your blood run cold.

She leaned in, just enough that her shadow fell across your face.

“If he doesn’t surface on his own,” she said, “we’ll flush him out. With heat. With current. With depth charges calibrated to fracture the trench walls. We will pull him from the sea if we have to. Bleeding or not.”

You stared at her, throat tightening. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would prefer not to,” she said smoothly. “But make no mistake—Directive Theta does not include contingencies for his survival. Only containment. Or termination.”

You clenched your fists, the cuffs biting into your skin.

“You’re threatening him to control me.”

“Control is a primitive word,” she murmured. “This is about leverage. And leverage, Agent, is how we decide who walks away from this.”

She straightened.

“You can help us bring him in alive. Or you can stay in this room while we drag what’s left of him from the abyss.”

The silence between you pulsed like a living thing.

Sorein turned away.

“You have twenty-four hours.”

The door hissed open behind you.

You didn’t move.

But as the guards took you back to your quarters, your legs began to shake.

And your mind began to burn.

Not with fear.

With rage.

───⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

author note: ooo i wonder what's going to happen :3 thank you all for the love and support!! the next part will be coming out soon hehe!

taglist:

@orange-stars @flameo-hotman12 @paper--angel @vynn30 @lalaluch @wilddreamer98 @multisstuff @crowleysthings @sylusgworl @napa-the-yappa @jelxqa @julia-loves-cupcakes @blobbyblobblobblobblob @iamperson12280 @animecrazy76 @mochibunnies3 @glitterykingdomangel @themysticalbeing @creepy-story-lover28 @calebsupremacy @crypticallystealthyqueen @deepspace-fishie

[headcanon-everything]

More stepford headcanons please. I’m starving (thank you !!)

YES STEPFORD MY BABY I wanna squish his cheeks so bad

Romantic Stepford Headcanons

okay okay so he likes the idea of being a trophy, he likes even more the thought of being a trophy husband but has to deal with his issues of feeling like he has to win/be valuable first

weirdly the thought that a trophy husband is jokingly/affectionately not meant to contribute anything besides being pretty is comforting to him??

it's the fact that someone wants him around because he's there and not because he's a prize despite the name

is confident in his looks, but will have a mini crash out if something happens like a pimple or something

a few comforting words is enough to fix it

sunbathes like a cat. is there a sunbeam? he's in it and probably half awake if not fully sleeping

(does nap with Timmy like that on occasion, but never thinks to bring it up)

is a big platonic cuddler tbh he will curl up with anyone when it's sunshine nap time

is a bit of a lightweight, and somehow gets even MORE sappy than he already is

it's kinda cute honestly

also gets very demanding for cuddles, even in public

will be happiest sitting on your lap/laying his head in your lap while you try to talk around him

definitely gets tears in his eyes when he starts to pout, but 90% of the time they're crocodile tears and he's doing it on purpose

likes playfully teasing you on occasion; he's taller? he'll grab something for you but hold it up and demand a kiss for payment. you trip on air? he'll giggle very obviously behind his hand (for plausible deniability) when it's obvious you're alright

likes stuffed animals and soft things but is a little ashamed of it at first because it seems "childish"

the more he actually starts working out just to maintain his physique, the more confident he is in both his looks and socializing

loves socializing but has to build up his social battery - it's pretty short at first because he's shy

the more he gets over the being shy, the longer he can stay and socialize

eventually gets to the point where you're telling him you want to leave instead of the other way around

is very very sweet when holding you, is afraid he'll hurt you somehow (? there's no basis for this, he's just paranoid and that's the worst thing that could every happen to him)

if he ever accidentally bruises you by tripping into you or messing around? he's INCONSOLABLE

it could be the smallest thing and he's already crying when he notices it. needs a lot of kisses and comfort that you're fine and don't hate him

likes to hug you from behind the most, likes being able to bury his face in your neck/hair/shoulder blades depending on your height

prefers to smell like vanilla based scents, has no preference for you though

likes to wear matching clothes and jewelry

and if he sees you in one of his shirts? he's a WRECK

I just realized that you didn't say romantic oops haha I hope this still works

[insomniacccc]

Dragonfly Pt. 7

TW: needles (medical context)

“Omg!!!! He’s so cute!!!!!” Miko squealed “Can I hold him?!?!?!”

She reached out her hand towards the sad little critter in your arms, but a hiss quickly followed.

You laughed and shook your head.

“Poor thing just got used to me. Give him a little bit to adjust and then try again,” you explained.

“What’s going on over there?” Ratchet asked, glancing down at your little group from the console.

“(Y/N) has a cat!” Jack called out.

“A what??”

You turned yourself so he could see that sad little cat in your arms. Poor thing was small and skinny.

“I found him outside my apartment last night,” You explained, “Took him to the vet this morning and got him checked out. I think I’m gonna keep him.”

“Have you named him yet?” Raf asked, peeking his head around you to attempt to look at the critter.

“Not yet, still thinking of one,” you admitted. You gave the cat’s head a scratch, and it reluctantly leaned in, enjoying your touch.

“Why did you bring him here?” Ratchet asked- you imagined that if he had a nose, it’d be scrunched.

“Well, he’s just a baby,” you explained, “and I need to keep an eye on him. There was also something I was hoping you could help me with, if you have a chance.”

“How can I help with an animal?” He asked, baffled.

“He has some medicine I have to give him,” you patted your bag. “And you’re a medic, so I figured you could help me with it- at the very least give me pointers.”

He let out a sigh.

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’ll see what I can do,” he said, hands leaving the console for the first time today, “Follow me.”

Ratchet began walking towards the back halls of the base. The kids went to follow, but he held up his hand, motioning for them to stop.

“Just (Y/N),” he told them. They (mainly Miko) let out a groan. “Raf, can you keep an eye on the console for me?”

“Gotcha!” He called out.

Ratchet led you back to a room that most had been forbidden from: his berth room.

“Why are you taking us here?” You asked, head quirked.

“Cause to do this properly, I have to do something that I don’t want the kids knowing we can do,” he sighed.

Once in the room, out of sight, Ratchet suddenly…. Shrank. You startled as he was much closer to your height than you expected him to be.

“You can shrink?!?!???”

“It takes a bit of energy, but yes. It’s called mass shifting,” he explained. He motioned you towards a platform in the room. “Please put the patient there.”

You laughed as you brought the cat over and gently set him down on it.

Ratchet came over and looked at the poor thing. A small, white cat with amber eyes… who was currently staring very confused at him.

You rummaged through your bag and you pulled out the medicine, which needed to be administered via shot.

“I’ve never had to give anyone, nevermind a cat, shots before,” you explained. Ratchet let out a soft hum as he reached out to the cat, who surprisingly didn’t flinch away from him. The cat sniffed him, than leaned forward and rubbed his face on his servo.

“Wow, you got further than the kids did,” you marveled. “I wonder if it’s cause you don’t smell like us- you probably don’t smell like an animal to him.”

“Do I smell like an animal to you?” Ratchet asked with a raise of his brow. You laughed.

“No, you smell like-” you got close to him and took a deep breath in. “A little bit of leather from the seats, hints of oil, and… oddly enough, new car smell.”

“What does a new car smell like????”

“You know it when you smell it.”

You pointed towards the nape of the cat’s neck.

“The vet said that I have to administer the medicine there. She said to pinch the skin up and inject, but I’m worried my hands are gonna be too shaky,” you explained.

Ratchet picked up the medicine and the needles.

“What is the dosage?”

“5 units.”

Ratchet grabbed the bottle and the needle, preparing it.

“Watch me closely so you can do this on your own,” he explained. He pet the cat till it relaxed and loafed, and then he did what you had told him. He gathered the required medicine into the syringe, then gathered skin on the back of the cats nape and gently administered the medicine.

The cat let out a fuss, but he gently messaged the area where he had given the shot, the cat’s displeasure slowly turning into a purr.

“Aww, good boy!!” You admired, giving that cat chin scratches.

“Why is it vibrating?” Ratchet asked, confused.

“He’s a cat,” you laughed, “they purr when they’re happy!”

“Huh….”

You gave your cat loving attention.

“I felt so bad when I found him,” you explained. “He was passed out on my doorstep when I got home last night…. I brought him inside and gave him water, went out and got emergency cat food…”

The cat leaned hard into your hand.

“Brought him to the vet as early as I could this morning- cost me a good bit, but it was worth it. He got his vaccines and now he just has to take this medicine for a bit until he gets better.”

“And you plan on keeping him?” Ratchet asked slowly.

“How could I not?” You looked over at Ratchet, an oddly somber look in your eye. “He looked so sad on my doorstep…. I want to keep him to make sure he’ll be okay, to ensure he’ll always have a loving home and will always be taken care of.”

Ratchet watched as the cat slowly seemed to trail off, so content that it was on the verge of falling asleep.

It reminded him of….

“….. I understand the feeling,” he admitted. “A long time ago, I did the same…. Just, it wasn’t a cat. It was a mech.”

“Oh??” Ratchet never really spoke of his past outside of the war.

“Hmm. He appeared on my doorstep- well, the door to my clinic. Before the war, I wanted to help in the best place I could, so I ran a clinic in the worst part of town… He showed up there half dead…. I took him in and made him better. I tried to get rid of him, but he kept coming back…. Kept making sure my clinic was protected, that no one was gonna break in and steal my supplies…. And I kept having to patch him up.”

“That’s kinda sweet,” you noted. Ratchet let out another hum.

“At a certain point it just became easier to keep him with me. Let him stay with me. We became…. Close.”

“So…. You had a boyfriend?” You quirked your eyebrow at him. He tried his best to shoot you down with a half hearted glare.

“It’s hard to describe in my words, but…. Yes, we were very close,” he sighed.

“What was his name?”

“Drift….” Ratchet ran a hand over the Cat. “And he looked a lot like this guy right here. Yellow eyes and finials that were quite large, like this cat’s ears.”

The way he spoke. There was something…..

“…. What happened to Drift?” You asked hesitantly. Ratchet let out a heavy breath. He couldn’t hide the unspoken words from you.

“…. Megatron was a very well spoken mech, back before the war. Before anyone knew he would become a tyrant. He spoke of righting the injustices made against poor mechs, mechs who couldn’t fit the status quo.”

“…. He became a decepticon….” You realized.

Ratchet nodded.

“I can only hope he’s learned to live differently now, but…. Yes, he joined the decepticons back when they first formed. They were very different from the decepticons we know today.”

“I see…. I’m sorry to hear about him,” you placed your hand on top of his servo. “He sounded nice.”

“Ah, he’s still alive somewhere out there….. I think.”

Ratchet looked down at the cat, who was solidly asleep.

“Looks like he drifted off,” he noted.

You looked towards your cat.

“So…. I take it the name Drift is off the table….?” You lightly teased.

“What????!” Ratchet startled at you, his servo slipping away from you and the cat. “Why would you consider that name?!?!?!”

You laughed.

“Well, you said he looked like him…. And he keeps drifting off on us,” you explained. “Is Drift Jr. an option?”

“No!!!”

“Okay, okay….” You sighed. “….. but do you have any name suggestions?”

He hated that all he could think of was Drift now.

“….. What about Prowl?” You suggested.

“Absolutely not!!!” Ratchet cried for an entirely different reason.

“Why not?!?!?!?!”

“That’s an entirely different mech I had the misfortune of meeting.”

“That’s a story I want to hear later,” you warned. Ratchet let out a groan.

“You are a cruel woman at times,” he grumbled. You nudged him in the side.

“Hey! You love me and you know it!”

“That’s debatable!”

Oh. Debatable, he said. That’s, uh…. Putting a pin in that one.

“Then help me pick a name for him!!!” You begged jokingly.

“Primus….” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his face.

A lightbulb went off.

“Primus! That’s perfect!” You declared. You scooped up the cat. “Primus the cat it is! Thank you, Ratch!”

“Hey, now wait a second!”

You had gathered your belongings and were already leaving the room.

“You’re the best, Ratch! Love you! See you later!!!” You ran off with Primus before he could argue.

Wait…. Did you say you love him????

……He’s putting a pin in that for later.

[fictionalsimp09]

Neck - Marylily - @taylorswiftmicrofic - 277 words - AO3

“Finally, we’re alone,” Lily sighs as she drops her bag by her bed, pulling her hair out of a tight ponytail. 

Mary steps up to her, her hands wrapping around her neck and tangling in the base of her hair. “As much as I love our friends, I just need to do this,” she says, placing her lips to her girlfriend’s, Lily grabbing her waist so they are as close as they can be. 

“I love you,” the words slip out of her mouth for the first time since they became something other than friends. 

Deep brown eyes gazes into her own as she beams widely. “You love me?” 

“Yes,” she smiles sheepishly. “I- I’m in love with you.” 

“I’m in love with you too,” Mary admits, and their lips crash together again, love and passion bleeding into every movement. Mary kisses slowly across Lily’s jaw and down her neck, gasping as she gently sucks at her skin. 

The dorm door opens, and they instantly pull apart, grinning slightly at Marlene staring at the two of them. “Having fun?” 

“Just err…helping Lily fix her hair,” Mary lies. 

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a very good job, it’s a mess,” their friend exclaims. 

Lily declares, “That’s why I needed help.” 

“Sure,” she nods. “By the way Lils, your skin is very pale, hickeys show up very quickly.” 

Lily’s hand covers her neck, appalled, while Marlene cackles as she leaves the dorm. Mary steps towards her again, removing her hand and smiling at her work. “You’re pretty when you flush.” Her hand touches the mark on her neck, “You’ll prettier covered with these though,” and seizes her lips again. 

[razildor]

WIP WEDNESDAY- YES I'M LATE AGAIN SHHH!

Me? keeping track of stuff I've been tagged in? Hahaaaaaaa..... Crap who tagged me again, I think it's @silshinobii @sofiemystique @redheadsramblings @aldisobey . If i missed anyone, sorry! And thanks for the tag!

Anyway, since I'm STILL working on chapter 2 for Don't Fear The Reaper. I have this for now, a random blurb thingy between Emmrich and Velka.

Tagging @ollypopwrites @holdingontojupiter @heylittleriotact @farore05 @thequeenofthewinter @thepalehorsevictoria @mediocremillie99

Emmrich thrusts slowly into Velka, making sure she felt ever inch of him and he felt all of her, each gasp has her squeezing exquisitely around him, forcing the breath from his lungs. Yet he didn't stop until fully to the base, sitting there watching the younger women twitch and squirm, trying in vein to get him to move.

"Hush now darling, we are in no rush tonight."

Hazel eyes drift downwards to where they met, a ringed hand cupping a leg to spread Velka more apart for only his eyes to see. Giving a noise of satisfaction at the sight.

"Oh what a lovely sight you are, my dear, and all for me."

Emmrich trails a ringed hand down from her neck, down a breast where he strokes a nipple with a thumb, chuckling from the gasp she lets slips.

"Please, Emmrich… Don't tease."

"Tease? My beautiful Velka, I am admiring what's mine."

Emmrich smirks as she tightens around his cock at his words, letting out his own moan to join hers.

"That's right, darling. You enjoy when I make you mine, isn't that right?'

"Ye-yes."

Emmrich lets out a sharp "Tsk." Letting a hand lap her thigh just as sharply, smoothing the area quickly as she yelps from the sting.

"Yes, what?"

Velka grips the pillow near her head, canting hips trying to feel more of Emmrich, wanting him to move, to take her as his, to fuck her, use her until he fills her until his cum spills from between her legs.

"Ye-yes, sir!"

"Good girl."

He purrs, continuing his trail from her breasts, nails stretching lightly along taut stomach, his fingers finding themselves running through the hairs between her legs, stopping just above the clit.

"Now you will stay where you are and take everything I'm about to give you tonight, be it from my hands or cock. Do you understand, my sweet girl?"

Fuck, Velka could come just from his sweet words alone, whimpering up at him she reaches to grab the hand resting on thigh that he struck a moment ago.

"Aw, my dear. I've got you now, just let me enjoy your beauty for a moment along."

Emmrich smirks, letting a thumb graze over the clit, and again as Velka yelps, trying to push her legs closed yet couldn't due to Emmrich.

"Come now darling, open your legs for me."

A leg moved and inch.

"Wider…" A warning in his voice.

Her legs slide apart, a roll of Emmrich's hips were her reward, followed by a groan from him yet he didn't falter, returning to slowly stroke along the clit in a tight circle, titling his head to the side as he watches.

"Beautiful, simply beautiful, darling."

"Ple-please, sir, faster… I-"

"Faster? Tsk."

Emmrich removes his hands from her clit, taking both her hands in his, stretching them above her head, pinning them to the pillow, rings digging into her felt oddly comforting, Velka tries to reach for Emmrich’s lips as he came closer, yet he pulls back enough to ghost his own against hers.

"Do you really think you deserve such a thing?"

"Yes, sir."

Emmrich raises a brow at Velka's bold answer when in fact they both knew she was being a brat earlier.

"Really? So you think you deserve such a treat because you stole my ring? Again?"

"I…"

Emmrich waited, using one hand to keep a firm grip on her wrists, the other hand wrapping around her delectable throat, pressing lightly on each side, giving the younger women a kiss to muffle her gasp.

"I'm waiting, darling. Try not to keep me waiting for long, I'll gladly leave you tied here, I've had thoughts of using spectral hands to bring you to the brink of pleasure over and over until you're a whimpering mess and begging me for release."

A shaky breath pushing past her lips, or more so a laugh judging from the smirk. Pushing against the hand around her neck Velka nips at Emmrich's lip.

"As if you can, old man."