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mephisto-reporting · 23 hours ago

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Period Pain Simulator

About:You suggest to use a period cramp simualtor on him, and he agrees, not fully understanding what he signed up for. Based on this request. Pairing: Female Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship.My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content Warning: Mention of periods, period care, pain.

ZAYNE

The pitch:

When you brought up the idea of trying a period pain simulator with Zayne, he initially tilted his head in that ever-so-slightly skeptical way he does when you propose something he deems "questionable."

You held up your phone, a mischievous grin on your face. "Zayne, I found something amazing. It’s a period pain simulator, and I think you should try it."

Zayne raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. "Why? I’m a doctor. I understand how bad it can get."

You scoffed. "Do you really, though? So many male doctors dismiss period pain like it’s no big deal. I think it’s time you felt what we go through. You know, for science."

He gave a small, amused smirk, but the seriousness in his eyes softened. "Alright, I’ll humor you. But if we’re doing this, make sure to get the one that can simulate back pain, too. Many women experience cramps radiating through the lower back, not just the abdomen. It’ll be a more accurate representation."

The Setup:

When the package arrived, Zayne opened it with the same precision he used in surgery. He carefully examined the simulator pads and settings, nodding in approval. "This is well-designed. Electrodes for the lower abdomen and lumbar region… Not bad."

You couldn’t help but grin. "Glad it meets Dr. Zayne’s standards."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. "Let’s get this over with. I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy this too much."

He meticulously read the instructions, asking you questions about where the pain usually hits, its intensity, and duration.“And you’d rate it… a 9? Frequently?” he asked, frowning slightly. “I know you’ve mentioned how painful it can be before, but hearing it in these terms makes it…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You secured the simulator pads on him, and he reclined in his chair like a man about to undergo a scientific trial, his expression stoic.

The Experiment:

At first, Zayne was unshaken, even giving clinical commentary.

“The cramping sensation is similar to gastrointestinal issues.” he noted, folding his arms across his chest. “Not unbearable, but unpleasant. I can see why it’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” You rolled your eyes. “Just wait, doctor.”

By level 6, you saw the shift. His previously composed expression faltered, his jaw tightening slightly. “Ah,” he exhaled sharply, his posture stiffening. His hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles whitening. “"The contractions are sharper now. Definitely impacting focus and posture.”

“What? Giving up already?” you teased, trying not to laugh.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, though a faint sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. “But this is… significantly more intense. Is this close to what you experience?”

"Not even close," you replied. "Mine’s more like a 9."

His eyebrows lifted, and he leaned forward slightly. "Let’s test it, then. Gradually increase it to your level."

When you nudged it to 8, his knees began to quiver slightly, and he leaned forward, bracing himself on his thighs.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice tight. “That’s… that’s enough.”

You quickly turned it off, watching as he took a long, steadying breath, his head tilted back against the chair.

You immediately turned the device off and knelt in front of him, watching as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Zayne didn’t say anything at first, just ran a hand down his face and looked at you.

“Nine?” he finally asked, his tone low and tinged with disbelief.

“Nine,” you confirmed, smiling faintly as you handed him a glass of water.

He exhaled sharply, his voice softer than usual. "I’m fine. Just… processing. I can’t believe you go through that regularly." He paused for a bit and said after a moment, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you function like this.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, doctor, any thoughts on how to fix it?”

He smirked faintly, though his expression still carried a hint of solemnity. “If I had the solution, I’d be a billionaire.”

The Aftermath:

From that day, Zayne became even more attentive during your periods. Whenever he noticed you wincing or holding your lower abdomen, he’d quietly step in with solutions. He was already a sweetheart before this when he would: Startkeeping track of your cycle, ensuring his apartment was stocked with your favorite snacks, pain relievers, and heating pads. On particularly bad days, he’d prepare meals for you, saying it was "basic patient care."

One morning, as you struggled to get ready for work, he handed you a heating pad. "Here. Lie down for a bit. I’ll call in and write you a sick note. You need rest more than they need you today."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I can power through."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his tone firm yet gentle. "No need to prove anything. Your health comes first."

He draped a blanket over you and handed you a mug of herbal tea. Sitting beside you, he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"You’re spoiling me.." you teased.

He smirked, leaning in to kiss your temple. "After that simulator, you’ve earned it. Besides, I don’t mind taking care of you."

And from then on, Zayne made it his personal mission to ease your discomfort every month.

SYLUS

The Pitch:

You bring up the idea while lounging in his living room, half-expecting him to dismiss it with his usual sly smirk. Instead, he leans back, crossing one leg over the other, an amused glint in his sharp eyes.

"A period cramp simulator, hmm? You want to subject me to this, kitten?" His voice is teasing, but there's intrigue in his tone.

“You already treat me like royalty during my periods, but I think it’d be fun to see if you can handle the pain. You’re always so smug about your high pain tolerance.”

Sylus had always been attentive during your period. He tracked your cycle meticulously, often surprising you with gestures that softened even his domineering demeanor. He'd run you a hot bath infused with soothing oils, carrying you to the tub if you were too tired to move. When cramps got bad, he’d hold a warm compress to your stomach, his other hand massaging your lower back with expert care. When you think you’re being a bother, he’d often say: “Sweetie, do you think the Onychinus leader doesn’t know how to cater to his queen?"

Sylus chuckled lowly, leaning forward. “Very well, kitten. I’ll play along with your little experiment. But I warn you,” he teased, tapping your nose lightly, “don’t get your hopes up. I’ve endured worse than cramps.”

The Setup:

When the package arrives, Sylus studies it with unnerving focus, turning the instruction manual over in his hands. He helps you place the patches and electrodes on his abdomen, his smirk never fading.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” you tease.

“Oh, I’m just curious how something as small as this could possibly mimic what you endure.” he replies, confident.

You set the simulator to level 1 as he stands in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your meal.

"Are you sure you want to cook like that?" you ask.

He shrugs. “You manage to work and do your chores during this, don’t you? Fair is fair.”

The Experiment:

At level 1, Sylus continued to chop vegetables, unfazed. “A mild annoyance,” he commented, smirking over his shoulder. “Feels like someone’s pinching me.”

By level 4, he hummed quietly, stirring the pot on the stove. “I can see why it’s bothersome,” he admitted. “Having this sensation constantly for days would be draining.”

You crossed your arms. “This is what I feel before my period starts. My cramps are much worse.”

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. “Then turn it up. Let’s see what you deal with, kitten.”

At around level 7, his breath hitches slightly, and his movements slow. The knife falters for a second before he regains his rhythm. “Interesting…” he mutters, the usual smugness replaced by concentration. “This is… unpleasant,” he admitted, his voice gruff.

At level 8, Sylus paused, one hand gripping the edge of the counter as a faint grunt escaped him. “You’re telling me this is a normal day for you?”

You shrugged, leaning against the counter. “More or less. Sometimes it’s worse.”

When you hit level 9, his head dipped slightly, a cold sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. “This…” he growled softly, straightening with effort, “is brutal. And you still function like this?”

“At least you’re not curling up in bed crying…” you teased.

He shot you a strained smirk. “Who says I’m not thinking about it?”

At level 10, Sylus shuddered, a rare moment of vulnerability showing as he gripped the counter tightly. “Alright, turn it off!” he said, his voice low and rough. “Next time any man says something dismissive about period pains…” He straightens, despite his trembling legs. “The Onychinus leader will personally make sure they understand how bad it can be.”

You help him to the couch, gently massaging his shoulders while he catches his breath. He leans into your touch, uncharacteristically silent. After a few minutes, he looks at you, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“You go through that every month?” he asks, his tone laced with awe and guilt.

You nod. “And worse, sometimes.”

You handed him a glass of water, running a soothing hand over his back. “You okay now, Mr. Tough Guy?”

His smirk returned, albeit faintly. “I’m fine. But I have a new appreciation for your resilience. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for, sweetie.” he murmured, his hand reaching out to pull you close.

The Aftermath:

From that day, Sylus became even more attentive during your cycle. He already tracked it meticulously, but two days before your period, he’d sweep you off your feet—literally.

“No arguments.” he’d say as he carried you to his car. “You’re staying with me. I’ll handle everything.”

For the next several days, you weren’t allowed to lift a finger. He made sure every craving was satisfied, every discomfort alleviated.

One evening, as you sat curled up on his plush couch, he brought over a tray with your favorite snacks and bobba. Sitting beside you, he gently massaged your shoulders.

“You know…” you teased, “you don’t have to spoil me this much.”

Sylus leaned in, his voice a low, affectionate murmur. “After what you go through, sweetie? You deserve it. Besides,” he added with a playful smirk, “I like taking care of my kitten.”

RAFAYEL

The Pitch:

You find Rafayel in his art studio, humming to himself as he paints bold, crimson strokes across the canvas. His expression is focused, but when you mention the period simulator, he freezes mid-swipe.

“Wait. Back up.” He narrows his eyes at you, holding the brush aloft like a sword. “You want me to voluntarily experience pain? Have I offended you somehow, or do you just take joy in my suffering?”

You grin. “I was thinking it might inspire your art. Pain breeds creativity, doesn’t it?”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “You’d subject me to agony for the sake of art? Truly, you are a sadist of the highest order. But…” He sighs dramatically, as though resigning himself to a grim fate. “Only you could convince me to do such a thing. You should feel privileged. But don’t think I’m suffering alone. If I do this, you’re doing it with me.”

The Setup:

When the simulator package arrives, Rafayel eyes it like it might explode. Picking up one of the devices, he smirks.

“Cutie, there’s four devices… I think you misordered. Should we strap one of these on Reddie and see how he handles it? Might be the only thing more ridiculous than this idea.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s meant to simulate cramps on your stomach and back, Rafayel. And no, we’re not torturing your pet fish.”

He flips through the instructions and gasps. “It goes up to ten? Why stop there? Why not go straight to death by cramps? You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You scared?” you tease, securing the pads on his abdomen.

“Me? Scared?” He laughs, though there’s a nervous edge to it. “Please. Let’s get this over with, sadist.”

The Experiment:

The simulator starts, and Rafayel chuckles, waving it off. “Okay, I feel… something. Like a tiny, grumpy crab pressing against my stomach. Barely noticeable.” He glances at you, checking your reaction. “You’re starting this at baby mode, right? Because this is nothing.”

At level 4, his smugness evaporates as he clutches his abdomen. “Okay, wait. What is this? This is worse than that bad lobster I ate last year! Remember that? I thought I was dying, and now I’m reliving it!” As you ramp it up to level 5, Rafayel grabs your hand tightly, his face pale. “How—how are you just sitting there? Are you even human? You’re not reacting, and I’m over here wondering if my internal organs are trying to start a mutiny!”

When the simulator goes up to a level 6, Rafayel groans, leaning heavily on you. “This… this is inhuman! How can anyone live like this? I’m calling it now!! every deity ever owes women an apology. A big one.”

When you turn the dial to level 7, he collapses onto the couch in defeat, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “I’m done! I can’t! This is not natural. What kind of cruel universe would let this happen? I concede! You win! You’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”

Watching you crank the simulator up to 10, Rafayel’s jaw drops. He stares at you like you’ve just walked through fire. “You’re not human. You’re a goddess of pain. A warrior queen. I bow to your strength.”

When the simulation ends, Rafayel sprawls across the couch like a fallen hero. “I’ve seen the face of true suffering, and it’s period cramps,” he says, clutching his chest. “From now on, I swear on my soul, I will treat you like the queen you are. From now on, during your period, I vow to never, ever bother you. In fact, I’ll treat you like royalty. You’ll want for nothing. You have my word.”

The Aftermath:

True to his promise, Rafayel becomes even more attentive, finding ways to make your life easier and more comfortable during that time of the month.

During your next period, Rafayel sets up a cozy movie marathon. He ensures you’re comfortable, surrounded by pillows and snacks, while he fetches anything you need.

“You shouldn’t even have to move during this time,” he says, adjusting your blanket.

Rafayel starts holding his tongue when he’d usually tease you about being grumpy or tired. Instead, he softens his tone and offers comfort.

“Cranky today?” he asks, then quickly holds up his hands. “Not judging. Just… Here, have this chocolate. And maybe don’t throw..” pauses mid-snark every time you are on your period now.

“You really don’t have to—”

He cuts you off, wagging a finger. “Nope! I have seen the light—and the pain. I will never bother you during this time again. In fact, I’ll personally fight anyone who does.”

XAVIER

The Pitch:

It’s late evening, and the glow of dimmed lights barely keeps the shadows at bay. Xavier sits across from you, his neutral expression making his ghost story seem even eerier. His voice is steady, almost monotone, as he recounts the chilling tale of an N109 Wanderer cursed to roam forever.

“And then, the last person to see him claimed they felt his breath on their neck, even though they were alone,” he murmurs, his tone unwavering.

A shiver runs down your spine, but you can’t help but interrupt. “You’re really good at these creepy stories. Ever think you might scare yourself with anything at all?”

Xavier pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Are you trying to scare me?”

You laugh nervously. “No! I was just thinking about something I saw online. A period simulator. It looked like fun—or, well, not fun, but… interesting.”

He leans back slightly, his neutral mask slipping into the faintest smirk. “So, instead of scaring me, you want to torture me? Bold.”

“It’s not torture,” you counter. “Just… educational. And you’re good at handling pain, right?”

After a beat, Xavier shrugs. “If it’ll make you happy, sure.”

The Setup:

The next day, a text from Xavier lights up your phone:

“It’s here. Looks dystopian. Like something from the Ever’s labs.”

Curious and excited, you rush home. When you arrive, you find him sprawled on the couch, his hair slightly disheveled as though he just woke up from a nap.

He glances at you, his expression as neutral as ever, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “You look way too excited for this. I hope it’s not as bad as it looks.”

As you set up the simulator, Xavier leans back, arms folded behind his head. “Go ahead. I’ll just nap through this, like everything else.”

The Experiment:

You attach the simulator pads to Xavier’s abdomen and adjust the settings. He barely reacts as you activate it.

“I feel something,” he mutters, closing his eyes again. “It’s like… a soft vibration. Barely noticeable.” He shifts slightly, adjusting his head on the couch pillow. Xavier’s brow furrows slightly, the first sign of unease. “Alright. It’s like a cramp now,” he remarks, still lying down. “Not pleasant, but nothing worth waking up for.”

At level 4, Xavier’s breath hitches briefly. He sits up halfway, propping himself on his elbows. “Okay. This is… noticeable. Like someone twisting a knife in slow motion.”

He glances at you. “You feel this regularly? Seems inconvenient.”

You nod at him. "That's on a lucky day... it's worse usually."

When you dial up the intensity to level 5, Xavier sits up fully, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Alright. This is officially too much to nap through.” His usually even tone is edged with mild irritation.

He rubs at his side, his neutral expression faltering as he exhales through clenched teeth.

At level 6, Xavier winces visibly. His calm exterior cracks as he shifts uncomfortably. “Who thought this was a good idea? This is like… a fight I can’t win. But it’s inside me.”

He shoots you a tired glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

By the time you reach level 7, Xavier grips the couch’s armrest, his knuckles white. “This is insane!!" he mutters, his voice tight. “How do you even… move? Function? Exist?”

He closes his eyes and takes a slow, measured breath. “Alright, I’m impressed. But I hate this.”

When you push it to level 8, Xavier’s calm breaks completely. He groans, pulling the simulator pads off. “Nope. I’m done. This is where I draw the line.”

He leans back, pressing his hand against his abdomen. “You win. And I officially respect the crap out of you.”

The Aftermath:

From that day on, Xavier’s quiet attentiveness becomes more noticeable. He doesn’t make a big show of it…he’s still Xavier, after all. Whenever you look even slightly uncomfortable, he’s there with a heat pack, water, or a blanket, his movements calm and efficient.

One night, as you rest on the couch, he leans over, adjusting the blanket over your shoulders. “For what it’s worth,” he says softly, “if I could take that pain for you, I would.” When you casually mention feeling cramps, Xavier immediately stops what he’s doing.

“Don’t move,” he says, his neutral expression betraying his seriousness. “I’ll get you tea, chocolate, or… whatever else helps.”

When you protest, he shakes his head. “No arguments. I’ve been there…well, sort of…and I’m not letting you handle it alone.”

Xavier hands you a heat pack, his movements precise as he places it on your lower back.

“I read somewhere this helps,” he explains, his tone matter-of-fact. “And no, I’m not going to fall asleep while holding it for you. Probably... It’s nice and warm…”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy

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ditzydoe444 · 2 days ago

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think i need someone older ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡

age gap and size difference! jason x innocent! reader

jason todd smut

you were the sweetheart of the town, the innocent girl who pranced around offering baked goods to your neighbours and offering to help out. you were the one hosting the town’s small events, like markets, charities and even festival. everyone loved you for your kind heart and pure intentions.

you were currently tending your garden patch, where you saw your neighbour jason working on his car. it wasn’t unusual, during the summer months like right now, it has been pretty common to see your neighbour working on his car… shirtless. despite how prim and proper you were, you couldn’t help but to stare, it was a meaningless action, just appreciating the view that’s all..

but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it, you purposely slowed down your gardening to have more time to gawk at him. “sweet heart, why don’t you go and give him some of your cookies? he rarely interacts with anyone, maybe it’ll be good thing.” your dad spoke up as he hosed the garden down. eagerly you nodded, quickly wiping the dirt that stained your knees and hands.

you pranced to his driveway in your tiny white dress offering him some cookies before insisting you could help him whilst he worked on his car. however when he went for a break, you unaware and inexperienced pounced on his lap. quickly though you got embarrassed, what were you thinking? but he didn’t pull away, pulling you closer and his grip tight around your waist. you felt something inbetween his legs, and you moved against it. the feeling was too good, and so new, it wasn’t long before you created a damp spot in between his jeans, bouncing on his clothed cock.

though one thing led to another and jason was currently balls deep in you. “didn’t think a pretty thing like you would be into me, hm?” he cooed softly, in your ear. currently you were bouncing on his fat cock, on his old rugged couch. you were shy, covering your bare body at first but he kissed you roughly, holding your hands back at first so there was no possible way you could hide from him. he allowed you to take your time, being so patient and giving you a small kiss on your cheek for each inch you took, before his fat cock was shoved in you.

“doin’ so well for me,” he praised, he was gentle with you, after knowing it was your first time. “aren’t you the sweetest thing ever, hm?” he mumbled softly as one of his hand softly caressed your cheek. you whined as you bounced, the bulge of him was obvious through your stomach, and your tight cunt was squeezing him so, so hard. his other hand held your waist tightly, being the gentleman jason was, obviously he wasn’t going to let you do all the work, bouncing and thrusting you up easily with his hips.

the hand that was on your waist dropped down your hips, squeezing the soft flesh there before rubbing your clit harshly. “i think this is the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen,” he groaned, you were so, so tight. “neighbour sweetheart bouncing and taking my cock so well,” the words only motivated you further. your knees were weak and stamina was running low for you, but hearing his praises and occasional grunts made the whole thing bearable. both of his hands went to your hips, gripping it tightly, before thrusting up harder than before. the sudden movement made you squeal and whine, your hands immediately gripping his broad muscular shoulders, letting him take you.

a new sensation was now bubbling up in your stomach, something you never felt before. “j-jay, something feels weird,” you whined, clinging onto him as he continued to thrust deeper and deeper. “it’s nothing to worry about sweet thing, just let it go yeah?”

though you shook your head, the feeling was too new, and too much. “c-can’t” you whined, but your resolve was crumbling quickly, his large hands squeezing at where he was buried deep in you. “you can, and you will,” jason grunted, his movements not faltering one bit. “just hold onto me ok?”

you nodded, clinging onto him tighter, before you even knew it, you came all over his fat cock. “there we go, wasn’t that hard was it now?” he grinned, wiping some of the hair that was stuck to your forehead. you pant, your head placed on his shoulders though his movements didn’t stop. “think you can give me one more?” you didn’t know, but the feeling was too good, and god you wanted way more.

it wasn’t long before you squirted, painting it all over his cock. “pretty little thing, all this for me,” he groaned before he filled you up. a white ring finally formed at the base of his cock, “never thought i would be filling up the prim and proper neighbourhood sweetheart?” he groaned. jason and flipped the two of you over, cuddling on top of the rugged couch before you went for the second round.

#ch: jason #jason todd #dc smut #jason todd smut #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood smut #red hood x reader

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coldfanbou · 2 days ago

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The Greatest Cumback

Yes, I made the title a joke. I felt like it was necessary, and I also got a small laugh about it. Also, this is practically all smut.

Length 3.5K

Gfriend X Mreader

They bowed before waving their hands. “Hello! We are Gfriend!” the girls said in sync before Sowon stepped forward. “And today, we have a very special fan meeting.” The eldest looked at her members, smiling, and felt proud to have everyone back together. “Buddy!” she shouted to the small crowd below. Are you ready?” The crowd screamed back at Sowon. The girls laughed hearing your reaction. “It’s been a long time, right, everyone? Then let’s get started!” The fansign went like any other; you got your album signed by the members and got the chance to talk to them about how happy you were to see them together again.

Once that was done, though, you got back to your seat and waited for what was next. Eunha came to the front, waving at you all. “Everyone! We have something special for you today. We wanted to show you just how much we love you all, and we’re doing something special for that. Um…” Eunha starts laughing, struggling to think about how to phrase what is coming next. “Well, to show you that we all thought about offering ourselves to you.” There was some audible confusion coming from the crowd, enough for Eunha to have to explain it more, “Don’t make me say it! You get it, right? You get to…” Eunha shyly mimics sex before covering her face. “Anyway, we’ll pull straws to see our order. While we get set up.” The other members stepped forward, with Yerin holding a small can with popsicle sticks.

“Alright, who’s choosing first?” Yerin asked.

“We should let the baby choose first!” Eunha yelled, hugging Umji from behind. The others agreed, and Umji shyly reached in, grabbing one of the sticks. “Two! Umji’s going second!” Eunha yelled into the mic.

“Eunha! You’re supposed to keep it a secret!” SinB yelled, smacking the older woman’s back. The group laughs before pulling their sticks and making small comments about where they got.

“We’re ready! Now, let’s get ready.” The girls laugh as they move back. Curtains created small rooms that would separate the members. The staff got you to line up, following the same path as you did for the fansign. While you waited, you got to listen to the girls moans as they had sex. Inching closer to the front, you were getting hard knowing that your turn was coming.

You got to Yerin first; she was laid back on the table, cum flowing out of her cunt, but she was ready for more. She beckoned you and held her legs open for you. “Don’t be afraid,” She teased you, her voice still full of energy. “I don’t bite unless you want me to.” You chuckle at her comment and move closer to her, grabbing your cock and rubbing it against her creamy lips. Yerin groans, enjoying the feeling of your cock rubbing against her. Reaching up, she grabs her breasts, squeezing them as you prepare to push inside her.

It’s easy; you slip inside her walls, instantly squeezing down on your cock as you bury yourself inside her. Yering throws her head back, reveling in the way your cock stretches her cunt. “Ah, Buddy, you're so big.” The smile on Yerin’s face makes you want to give her more.

“Yennie,” you say softly as you lean over and kiss her. Yerin can feel your sincere love and wraps her arms around you, holding you close as she gives herself to you. You hold onto her waist tightly, never wanting to let go. You groan as you feel Yerin’s walls flex around your cock; she is signaling you to move. You tap her thigh in understanding before beginning to thrust; you pull out slowly, letting her walls come back together before splitting them apart with one firm thrust.

“Oh, fuck,” Yerin moans, unconsciously squeezing your sides with her legs, “Keep going. Show me how much you love me.” You nod and begin thrusting into Yerin at a quicker pace. You bite your lip, struggling to contain yourself. Your eyes wander to Yerin’s breasts, watching as they bounce from your thrusts. Seeing your interest, Yerin wraps her arms around your head and pulls you toward her chest, pushing it out. Your tongue runs between her tits; Yerin purses her lips, letting out soft moans as you move from between her breasts to her right one. You latch onto her nipple, moving your tongue around the hard nub. “Ah, oh, keep going,” Yerin says, feeling a tightness develop in her core. Her breathing quickens as you continue thrusting into her; Yerin pushes herself closer to the edge by running her finger around her other nipple. Her moans begin to grow louder, and she arches her back as her walls tighten around you. “I’m cumming,” she grunts before letting out a loud roar, euphoria washing over her as she cums on your cock, coating you in her creamy nectar. You weren’t far off from your climax; a few more thrusts and you buried yourself inside Yerin, adding your cum to the mixture already inside her. Through staggered breaths, Yerin smiled, the warmth of your cum spreading across her body. Your cock continued to throb inside the young woman, pumping her full of cum. Yerin groped her breasts, squeezing them as she felt the last few spurts of cum enter her body.

You pull out of Yerin and are waved to the next member. You give Yerin a small wave, and she returns it, smiling. She leans on her elbows and gets ready for the next fan.

You move along the table, and next in line is Umji, the maknae you love so much. She was bent over the table, her skirt thrown over her back. She was moaning softly, cum running between her legs. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at you, “Thank you for your support.” Umji reaches back, grabbing her cheeks and spreading them apart, her asshole winking as it tries to shut. The sight got you hard. Umji’s fat cheeks were bright red, enticing you closer. You grabbed your slippery cock and rubbed it between her cheeks. Umji’s groans were low; she let go of her ass, allowing the soft flesh to rub against your cock. It was wonderful; you initially moved slowly, but your craving for more grew. You adjusted yourself and slid into Umji’s asshole, her tight walls immediately squeezing your cock. You grabbed her waist, holding her tightly as you pushed the rest of your cock inside her. You both moaned, the pleasure flooding your bodies. Umji kept her head pressed against the table, looking over her shoulder to see the pleased expression on your face. She flexed her muscles, tightening her walls around you and making you call her name.

You stayed buried inside her while you let yourself calm down, not wanting to cum just yet. You moved your hand to her soft ass and squeezed the tender flesh. Umji’s moans continue as you play with her ass; they’re soft, almost dreamlike. You massage her cheeks, giving them strong squeezes before letting go and repeating the process. You’d shake them in your hands, watching her cheeks jiggle.

Once you were ready to continue, though, you stopped, moving your hands back to her waist. You pull out slowly before impaling her on your cock. Umji’s whines filled the air as you began to fuck her. Her tight asshole constricted around your shaft. The warmth of her body made you want more; you sped up, holding her against the table as you pounded away at her ass. “Ahh! Oh fuck, you’re so big, you’re so big,” Umji grunted as she felt your cock stretching out her little asshole. Her slick walls allowed you to move quickly, making her cheeks clap against your body.

“Umji, you’re so tight, you’re so tight.” You groan, almost drooling, as her tight body grips your cock. Umji's moans became more depraved as she begged you to keep going; the cute maknae that you had watched for years was begging for your cock. You were going to give her what she wanted. You held Umji down as you slammed yourself inside her repeatedly, her lewd moans growing louder and louder as she neared her climax. Umji gripped the table’s edge, her body tingling as she reached the edge. You slipped your hand under Umji and pushed her over the edge by rubbing her clit.

Umji whined as she came, her walls clamped down on your cock, and you were forced to bury yourself inside her, filling her asshole with your cum. You were bent over Umji as your cock continued to shoot out more cum into her stomach. Umji mumbled something you could barely hear. You kissed the back of her head before pulling out, struggling as her walls refused to let you go. You spank the young woman before finally pulling away, your cum oozing from Umji’s asshole. It winks at you as it tries to shut around nothing, letting more cum run out.

You thank Umji before moving on to the next idol, feeling tired from your last two orgasms. Kneeling on the floor, breasts and face covered in a layer of cum was Sowon. She grabs a towel and quickly wipes her face clean. She beams a smile at you, tilting her head slightly. “Thanks for coming, and thanks for cumming,” She says with a chuckle. The leader reaches for your cock, stroking you slowly. “You must be tired; let me take care of you.” Sowon scoots closer and places your cock between her tits, squeezing the soft mounds together and enveloping your cock. She moves them along your shaft at a slow pace; as the tip pokes up from between Sowon's big tits, she takes a small lick, tasting your salty cum. Sowon smirked and continued to pump your cock between her tits. “Seeing so many people try to get into the event was nice. Did you miss us?”

You gulp, struggling to form thoughts while Sowon continues to pleasure you, “Yes, Of course. I missed you all.” Your words made Sowon’s smile shine brighter; she paused her titjob to kiss the tip.

“It makes me happy to hear that; I missed Buddy too.” Sowon takes your cock into her mouth, bobbing her head slowly as her hand moves along your shaft. You groan as her skilled tongue moves along your cock, caressing it before returning to the tip to swirl around it. The sight of the beautiful woman giving you a blowjob was becoming too much. You place your hand on the top of her head but let her continue at her own pace. You groan loudly; Sowon pushes herself further and reaches the base of your cock, her tight throat wrapping around it. You feel it begin to vibrate as she moans onto your cock. Your legs grow weak, and you hold Sowon to your pelvis as you cum down her throat. Strength leaves your body as you fill Sowon’s throat with your cum. She manages to pull away and shuts her eyes, letting the last of your cum paint her face.

She smiles, and as you look at the painted woman, you notice her moving a vibrator into her cunt. How you didn’t notice it before surprises you, and Sowon seems to take notice as she strokes your cock, trying to get you hard for the next member. “Did you think I won’t be doing something like this? I need to cum too.” Sowon says with a giggle. “Now it’s time for you to move on. Please continue supporting us.” You nod, telling Sowon how you will. She flashes you one last smile before kissing the tip of your cock and letting you move on.

While you did cum again with Sowon, you felt a little more energized, ready to meet the next member. Having moved through half the members, you knew your time was nearly up. Walking through the curtain, you move from one of the tallest members of the group to the shortest member. Eunha was lying back on the table, already worn out from the experience. You chuckle as you see her legs hanging loosely over the table’s edge. As you look at her body, you see the cum marking her stomach and chest; her thighs are glistening as well, clueing you into what had been happening to her. Eunha gives you a tired wave, struggling to get herself into a seated position. “Hello!” She says, mustering as much energy as she can. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the most energy right now. You’re more than welcome to use me, though,” Eunha moves her hand down to her cunt, spreading her lips. Cum dripped from her sore cunt, dropping onto the floor. As you inch closer to the shapely woman, you stare at her thighs, the thick thighs you had often seen shake and jiggle as she performed.

You grab Eunha’s legs and, much like some of the people before you, place your cock between her thighs. You press her legs together and move between her soft legs, releasing a low groan as you slide between her legs and brush against her cunt. Eunha moans softly, feeling your warm cock tease her cunt. Despite being tired, your actions made her want you inside her. She began to whine as your cock rubbed against her clit. “Can you put it in?” Eunha asks, pouting at you. You nod quickly, not wanting to disappoint her. You spread Eunha’s legs and align yourself with her messy cunt. Pushing into Eunha’s tight cunt she groans, “Ah, keep going.” You bite your bottom lip and continue pushing in, her walls wrapping around you as you split her in two. A slight bulge is visible as you bury yourself inside her; the small woman places her hand over the bulge and groans. “Oh fuck me, please, please, please.” You pull out and ram your cock back inside Eunha. She holds her hand against the bulging area, making her feel tighter. You can feel your cock throb already as you begin thrusting. “Don’t cum yet; please don’t cum yet.” Despite Eunha’s plea, you could only thrust a few more times before you filled her cunt with your cum. Eunha threw her head back and moaned loudly as your cum flooded her body. She wrapped her legs around you, refusing to let you go, “Keep going, I want to cum.” Eunha was breathless, her chest heaving as you tried to make her cum. You continue thrusting, groaning as her walls tighten around you. You want to joke around with Eunha, calling her out for switching her tune so quickly, but you’re being drained of your energy. Eunha pushes you further into her tight pussy, making you quiver as you reach another climax.

At the very least, this time, Eunha cums with you, her walls clamping down on your cock. You thrust a few more times, coating her walls in your cum before burying yourself inside her to leave the rest of your load in her womb. You place your hand on either side of Eunha’s head, needing support. Staring at the young woman, she has a blissful expression on her face; her eyes are half-lidded, and she looks like she’s about to fall asleep. Eunha keeps her legs crossed another minute before finally you. You pull out of her messy cunt, and thank her before moving on. Eunha gives you a peace sign before lying back and resting.

As you move on, you see it’s Yuju. She was licking her lips and laying back against the table; she gave you a small wave before walking over to you and cupping your cheek. “I bet you’re pretty tired. What would you like to do?” She was utterly right; you were tired. You didn’t want to do much of anything; you wanted to rest.

“Can you give me a handjob?” You ask. Yuju giggles and nods, bringing you over to the table. She places her hand on your cock, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving her hand along your shaft. With her other hand lifted her shirt as she offered you her tits. You leaned in and latched onto Yuju’s modest breasts, sucking on them as her smooth hand ran along your cock. You moaned into Yuju’s chest as she used her palm, rubbing it against the tip.

“You’re so cute,” Yuju laughs, “I wish I had some milk for you. You’re like a baby.” Yuju slowed her hand, holding the base of your cock and slowly moving her thumb around it massaging your length. “Honestly, I’m glad for the small break. I’ve been hearing Eunha say she’s tired for so long now it’s getting annoying.” Yuju looks over at Eunha’s side, the curtain keeping her from seeing her friend, but her low moans are still coming through clearly. You groan as Yuju moves her hand up to the tip of your cock, her thumb moving in slow circular motions around the tip. “You can cum whenever you want.” Yuju pauses, looking at you with a smile. “Thank you for coming today and supporting us. It really means a lot.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you grunt through gritted teeth.

Yuju laughs again, seeing you struggle. “Your cock is throbbing, you don’t have to hold back. Cum for me.” As if it was an order, you cum in Yuju’s had a few spurts of salty liquid shooting out onto her hand. “That’s it, let it all out. Oh, well, I guess you don’t have very much left, huh?” Yuju chuckles as she pulls her hand away and licks your cum from between her fingers. “It was nice to see you. I hope you can come to more fan meetings.” She says, beaming a smile at you as she waves you off with her other hand.

There was only one member it could be at the very end, and it was SinB. Moving to her section, you see the young woman bouncing herself onto a dildo, one hand rubbing her clit while the other gropes her tits. SinB’s mouth was covered in saliva. It made sense that, in the end, most people were too tired to have sex. You suspect SinB got some sex, but not enough to satisfy her. You step up to the young woman and present her with your cock. SinB smirks and opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out for you. You push your cock inside the warm hole, feeling SinB’s tongue run along the underside of your cock. Her lips form a seal as she bobs her head, cleaning your cock of the cum and nectar on it. You tilt your head back and groan, reveling in the feeling of her tongue swirling around your cock.

You begin to thrust gently, wanting SinB to take more of your cock. She willingly accepted it, allowing your cock to stretch her throat. She stays at the base of your cock; nose pressed against your skin, tongue lapping at your balls. As you pull back, SinB laughs, “Oh, that’s so good. I wish you’d fuck me, though. Maybe you could come to our dorm someday.” SinB said with a wink before swallowing your cock again.

You nod, groaning, “That would be great.” You held SinB’s head and mustered the rest of your strength, thrusting into the back of her throat. The lewd sounds of SinB gagging and moaning on your cock fuels you, giving you the energy to continue. Saliva splashes onto SinB’s face, covering her chin. Her eyes become bloodshot, and tears run down her face as she starts to run out of breath. You pull out, giving SinB a chance to breathe. As she does, you slap her face with your cock, degrading her. She moans, letting you slap her with your cock as she bounces on her dildo. You slip your cock back into her mouth, slamming it into the back of her throat. SinB opens her mouth wide, letting you use her like a toy. She could feel your cock throbbing against her tongue. SinB moved her hand to her clit, wanting to cum as you skull fucked her. In a matter of seconds, you began cumming down her throat. SinB stares at you, her eyes half-lidded as she drinks every drop of cum.

“Thank you for the cum,” SinB mutters, wiping her chin. She pushes two fingers into her mouth, playing with her tongue as she gathers her breath. You return the thanks from SinB and move on, heading back to your seat, absolutely drained.

When everyone had finished, there was a moment of quiet before the girls emerged from behind their curtains, naked, with their bodies marked by the various fans present. The girls leaned on each other for support, struggling to stand up. Sowon held her microphone. “Buddy! Thank you for showing us your love tonight!” You all clapped, showing your support for the girls. “We’ll make sure to try hard for you guys!”

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #gfriend smut #viviz smut #eunha smut #yuju smut #yerin smut #umji smut #sowon smut #sinb smut

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gifsbysimplysonia · 2 days ago

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Hola otra vez! For anyone not familiar with my annoying rambly feedback, ahead there be

This is the end of the first paragraph of the story and it's just so fcking ... like it works SO well for me, it makes me wanna spike a football

it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

logan had no reason to keep count. until he saw you.

Well, if there's any indication a man is smitten, I'd say it's when he decides to keep counting after 200 years on Earth cuz of YOU *ded*

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

It's super interesting to think about Logan in relation to time and age. We just went from him deciding he's got a reason to keep counting the years to him being so tired that he doesn't want to get into petty fights. And as someone who grew up with Logan on the XMen cartoon lol, I know Logan to BE petty. So whilst we can't always think of Logan in terms of age, cuz looking at his appearance can make us forget, to hear that he's so TIRED that he doesn't even wanna squabble up on occasion? Well, that's impactful. The author makes it hit home in this other way and I really like it.

And here's another example of the author getting across to us where Logan is at when we meet him in life:

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls.

Straight up now we have the word tired, but also old. And not in relation to himself, but what he's got eyes on. It's such a clever thing the author has done here, and I really am appreciative of it.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

Sad face. This is very in line with the Logan I think most of us know (and adore). Gotta take all the blame, gotta punish yourself, gotta try to protect others from you by denying yourself connections. Wanna hug him.

he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

Also very on brand for Logan. Sees a need, fills the need, but doesn't want credit for it. He's also seeing someone he believes is worthy (and perhaps not in a way he feels he could ever be?) of more so he tries to be the provider.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . .

And again, we are seeing how smitten he is because the man who has been painted as weary and bored suddenly has questions and wonderings again. That is, in the context of Logan's long a$$ existence, quite magical. But that magic is immediately followed by

though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless. he is an animal, after all.

and it's like

relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it. fuck.

"Relying on others was a weakness" is just hella relatable to me, so I key in on that. And then that ire being followed by showing vulnerability by thinking of her as another person he'd lose; Logan's heart has always been huge and you just know he remembers the faces and details of each person he has had to lose and she has that status already. Logan trying to lie to himself with the "not worth it" talk only to have to curse himself cuz he KNOW he's lying is also peak Logan behavior, and once again on a personal level, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiighly relatable lol. I'm always lying to myself about my own feelings.

you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy.

"Lonely and desperate" self descriptions and Logan referring to himself as "stupid." I'm sure we all wanna shake this old man, right? LOL because when he let's himself think about the truth:

he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything. he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

It's connection, and it's gnawing at him. Loneliness is a helluva thing, and I think a lot of us know this. But this author is shining in the way she is describing it for us, outside of the usual age/years gone by methods. Tired, lonely, and now ravenous. And while we are in the space of a more spiritual hunger, here, it so easily slides right back to physical as well because he's thinking about a woman and wonders

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

Me literally screaming into my pumpkin pillow cuz I'm like NO IT COULDN'T LOGAN, GO GET HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR cuz I know what's gonna follow is gonna be liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

The self loathing and denial is top tier Logan. He will inconvenience and punish himself just as long as it's in line with denying himself cuz he just "doesn't deserve it." Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Logan then proceeds to go drain the snake before he beings his newest self inflicted penance, but she comes in to clean the bathrooms thinking they were empty.

Gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl lol

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again. but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

HOW WAS SHE LOOKING AT YOU, LOGAN?!?! It's funny how if it was almost any other man, I'd snort and be like, sure buddy. But it's Logan so I have ZERO issue believing whatever he saw in her eyes let her know she DOES indeed know him and want ... well, something.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

How interesting to see the contrast of her view of Logan because while he's always looking at her and sworn that he never caught her looking his way, she's letting us know she has definitely looked his way enough to notice he was a man in hiding. And she actually acted respectfully to respect that and not ogle him, which bummed Logan out lol.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

Oof, she's intuitive! So she SEES what he needs and seems to be quite willing to, ahem, deliver for him but WILL HE LET HER is the big question.

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome. no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

I do so love the fact that she's intuitive, curious and sees beyond the big burly handsome cover. He never speaks but look at his eyes and boy, are there a thousand stories waiting to be told. And it's the SAME WAY in the present with her. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, it's about to go off.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

Again, I love that this goes beyond physical with her and that she's genuinely intrigued by him and by what probably most others don't see in Logan.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me." logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?" "yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious." he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

No because how is he the King of Self Denial but somehow automatically is giving Dom the first time he approaches a woman he means to get to know? Not even embarrassing at being caught at his blatant perusal of her. SIR.

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up.

When I tell you this BROKE me. King of Self Inflicted Penance. I stg. And it's quite the conundrum to be going through an emotional gut punch when it's immediately followed up with

he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

and we know it is OFF TO THE RACES!!!

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?" you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

OH SH!T, WE HAVE HAN AND LEIA BANTER! They are my OTP so I'm always gonna call a combative in love couple that, but this dynamic is MY JAM and I love that what we seem to have here is a clearly dominant male with a bratty female. I am in Heaven lol

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you.

WE DO TOO, LOGAN!

his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

Always a trip when I am personally attacked by a fic lmaoooooooooo

he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet."

I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie at the giving of instructions and reminder that, HEY WE ARE IN PUBLIC but we are absolutely NOT stopping.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

Excellent dirty taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

And he praises? *dies again*

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it. you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

I once again must mention top tier dirty talk!

and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has.

Once again, Logan's vulnerability is illustrated here because it's very human and natural to WANT TO BE WANTED so that it's exciting for him makes all the sense.

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it.

*shakes him* He's still so Logan. Trying to convince himself again he is just not worthy. But I also do this to myself which is no doubt why I key on it, mention it, react to it. That just means the author is striking a chord with me and isn't that what we want? To feel resonance and know we are not alone in our experiences?

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

It's a jarring feeling to be really into some hot smut and then have there be an intermission of this caliber. Cuz again, we are seeing into Logan's heart and his internal self who just screams and screams about not being worthy. And it's so painful and wretched for us as an audience cuz we KNOW it's not true and we just wish HE WOULD SEE IT.

you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh?

Even in her blissful state, she is noticing what he likes and trying to provide that for him and I love her for considering him and being thoughtful with him. HE doesn't think he deserves it, but we readers know that he absolutely does so it's sweetness in this midst of lust and shows us that she cares beyond whatever is happening now in this bathroom.

Y'all NEED to go read this cuz the smut is rough but because of the well established connection the author built between these two, it's very intimate despite the circumstances which don't necessarily lend themselves to anything other than a "quickie." Because of what's going on between these two and how well laid out that is for us, we know that the reason this is so rough and intimate is BECAUSE it's not meant for just here and now. But will Logan allow anything more?

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

And again, I love her for her thoughtfulness. She's being soft and tender with him. I'm not sure if it's a conscious effort to keep him from screwing things up (by trying to now brush her off) or if it's just naturally who she is and giving into her instinct to want to be gentle with him and keep him close. Either way, I love love love this moment.

". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

Adore her for infusing humor into the situation and wanting to bring light back into his eyes. Whoever is going to be with Logan needs to have a sense of humor and give him as good as he gives.

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

Is Logan ACTUALLY going to give this thing a chance, and more importantly, HIMSELF a chance?!?!

I hate to quote too much in a story, especially an ending becuase I WANT PEOPLE TO GO READ FOR THEMSELVES but I need @silverskyeline to know that the last 3 paragraphs of this piece are SO FCKING GOOD.

The breakthrough and revelation he has, the tentative willingness to let himself release a burden and not self flagellate? OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Literally all the applause and bravo on this amazing piece. I really really fcking enjoyed it and am so grateful to you for creating and sharing.

It's really a wonderful character analysis or look at who Logan is, the person he think he has to be, with some hot smut that actually isn't a pause in the narrative but continues the throughline of exploring who he is and what he thinks he deserves and how he's giving himself permission to be a man again. I just ... I love this so so much. Thank you again.

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

#wolverine #logan howlett #marvel #fan fiction #feedback #drag queen #trixie mattel #bebe zahara benet #miz cracker #michelle visage #vanessa vanjie mateo #nicole byer #trinity taylor #animations #AND mine

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likeumeanit9497 · 2 days ago

Text

gummy bear | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: matt and y/n have plans to get high and watch movies, but what happens when the movie they pick makes y/n confess to a dirty dirty secret?

warnings: fingering; oral (f receiving); overstimulation; edging; dirty talk; use of vibes; whips & chains (hehe); consumption of edibles; overall these two are DOGS; 18+

notes: whew! i fear this was a bit long winded. i luv freaky deaky matt so let me know if y'all want a pt 2 with these two bc as matt said, they aint done yet ;) love u all lots hope you've had an amazing start to 2025 <3333

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“Come on, help me pick out a movie.” Matt whined from his place on the couch beside me. His voice sounded far-off and slightly distorted, and all I could do was dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Holy shit,” He chuckled, “You’re feeling that edible already huh.” I finally managed to turn my head towards him — it felt like it weighed as much as a brick — making my lips mould into a slow smile. “I feel amazing right now.” Was all I could get myself to say. I watched Matt take in my face, an amused smile covering his own. “I’m feeling pretty good too.” He admitted, and I noticed his blue irises were glassy and tinged by red. “Now please look at the TV and help me choose something to watch.” He added, and I once again tilted my head so that I was facing the screen in front of us.

“No…no…no…” I whispered the words as he slowly scrolled through various movies on Netflix. My eyes felt heavy as I focused on reading the titles that Matt passed. I struggled to keep them completely focused as I relished in the almost too relaxed feeling that the gummy bear edible had given me. Just as I was about to suggest that we should throw the movie-watching idea out and instead take a quick nap, one title caught my attention. “That one!” I practically exclaimed, suddenly filled with a burst of energy.

“What? You want to watch Fifty Shades of Grey?” Matt’s voice was filled with humour, likely shocked at my suggestion. Him and I had only just recently become friends, so there was a high probability that he couldn’t tell whether or not I was joking. I turned to face him again and lifted my shoulders in a quick shrug. “Dakota Johnson is hot.” I replied matter-of-factly. Matt stared at me for a moment with droopy eyes, but it wasn’t long before he shrugged his shoulders and clicked on the title.

I curled into my side of the couch as the movie began to play, feeling as though I was sinking into the dangerously soft cushions. As the minutes ticked by, neither of us spoke much; we were both settled into our own little worlds as we aimlessly watched the movie. My eyes were so heavy as the THC flowed through my veins, and I continued to fight the urge to drift off into a deep sleep.

After a while, the first sex scene was beginning and I suddenly found the movie to be hilarious. I burst out into a fit of uncomfortable giggles and covered my eyes with my hands as the scene began to quickly heat up. “What?” Matt giggled and nudged me gently with his foot. “You’re the one who wanted to watch this movie.” I continued to giggle and kept my hands over my eyes, but peered through the slits of my fingers to catch a glimpse of the characters on the screen.

My giggles faded out as the room suddenly grew heavy with intensity. The room was so silent outside of the groans and gasps that fell from the actors’ mouths, I could hear my own breathing hitch at the sight of the whips and chains. I began to lose my grip on reality as I became hypnotized by the rhythmic actions of the people on the screen. I felt both lighter and heavier as my pulse quickened and my body temperature rose; so conscious of Matt’s very much alive body right there beside me. I knew I couldn’t entirely trust my own mind, but I was almost certain that I could see his own chest rising and falling more rapidly than it had been before, and knew that I wasn’t hallucinating when I saw him pull a blanket over the straining fabric on his lap.

Still, my eyes stayed trained on the screen, now completely transfixed by each word and action that was expressed. I had seen the film before, but the gummy had somehow made me feel like I was there; right there in that dimmed room. I could feel what the characters were feeling, and had to stop myself from moaning in sync with them. I had been put in a trance. A trance so potent that I couldn’t stop the words from spilling from my lips. “I’d like to get fucked like that.”

They were so muted that I almost missed them myself, or even believe that they were just in my head and not spoken aloud. But my trance was suddenly broken by Matt’s voice. “What?” There was a ringing in my ears, and I felt the familiar warmth of shame travel up my neck onto my cheeks. Even I had shocked myself with my vulgar choice of words, and I could only imagine how shocked Matt was. My mouth was so dry — both from the gummy and my shame — I couldn’t reply even if I wanted to. Still, Matt repeated his question.

“What did you say?” This time, there was a hint of humour laced in his words, which eased my humiliation for a moment; still not enough to face him but enough to clear my throat and attempt to speak. “I…I don’t know.” Was all I was able to say, my voice wavering slightly. Matt stayed silent at my response, seeming dissatisfied by my answer and lying in wait for more. “It just seems so…thrilling. Literally handing your body over to someone to use however they’d like.” My voice wobbled and was basically a whisper, but Matt’s sharp intake of breath beside me told me that not only had he heard it, but now had confirmation that he had understood my first remark correctly.

The silence between us grew, and seemed to go on for hours. The room was so still that, if not for the lingering heaviness of my words, I could close my eyes and pretend that Matt wasn’t there at all; that instead I had just shared my deep-seeded fantasies with an empty room. But I turned my head and saw him through my droopy eyelids, staring at me with an expression on his face that I couldn’t read. Finally, Matt released a forced chuckle and blinked a few times. “You’re just high Y/n.”

He turned back to face the movie, putting an end to our uncomfortable conversation. I felt my cheeks flush to an even deeper shade of red as I continued to stare at his side profile. His jaw flexed and seemed to stay in that stern expression as I allowed myself to get lost in my shame. Why the fuck would I say something like that? Matt and I were just starting to become good friends, and I surely just ruined everything by making him think I was some sexual deviant. And why did I choose to make that typically buried confession to him of all people? I hadn’t even exposed that fantasy to my friends who I had known for years, let alone any of my past boyfriends.

Suddenly, my brain that had been moving in slow motion began spiralling as I questioned what this all meant. Why had I blurted that out so mindlessly? Did I just have some subconscious trust of this man who I only became friends with a few short months ago? Could it all be blamed on the fact that I was stoned, like he had implied? Or was there another reason. Could I have made that confession with the hope that he would help me bring my fantasy to life?

With a racing heart and ragged breaths, I continued to stare at his profile. He was attractive, that was just a fact. His features were so sharp, his expression so soft. Even without viewing him head-on, I could see the blue in his eyes; the late-afternoon sunlight making them look nearly transparent. He had a slight stubble across his sharp jawline that trailed up onto his sunken cheeks, and it framed his pale pink, slightly chapped lips. He was leaning back on the couch, his soft brown hair feathered against the off-white cushions. His feet were planted to the floor, and his legs were slightly spread in a way that gave him a hypnotically masculine silhouette. To his right was a throw pillow, and I became transfixed by his long fingers as they mindlessly toyed with its fabric. They rotated between two fingers making slow twirls against the extra material and his cupped hand running against its plush curves, in much the same way they would move along my—

I snapped my head back to the screen in front of me, using all the self control I had to not slap my hand over my mouth at the shock of my own thoughts. My mind was reeling with equal parts desire and shame, and the gummy made me suddenly paranoid that Matt could somehow read my mind; where he would find a deeply unsettling image of him and I. I squeezed my eyes shut, beckoning myself to think of something, anything else. I opened my eyes as quickly as I shut them to try to get myself to just focus on the movie, but when I did all I saw was exactly what I was imagining in real time and knew that I had made a mistake.

Suddenly, I felt a wave of panic and the need to stop watching this movie. “I’m so tired.” I blurted out, even though I felt like I had been lit on fire. Without hesitation, Matt paused the movie; proof that he was also deeply uncomfortable. “Me too.” He turned to face me, his cheeks tinted a pale pink. “You can go sleep in my bed if you want. I’ll…I’ll just rest out here.” He seemed flustered, and for a moment I thought he might have actually been reading my mind all along. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…” Sharing? “I don’t mind sleeping out here.” I finished, but already Matt was shaking his head and getting comfortable on the couch. “No really, I’m good out here.” He replied, avoiding eye contact with me.

With a curt nod, I stood up from the couch and headed into his bedroom. It was dark, the blinds blocking out any light from outside, and it seemed to be about 10 degrees cooler in there than it had been in the living room. As I shut the door, my heart continued to race thinking about the fact that I had officially created unwarranted awkwardness between Matt and I. Slowly, I crawled into his bed. Although I had been sure that my humiliation would prevent me from being able to truly rest, as soon as my head hit his pillow I was engulfed in a wave of pleasurable exhaustion. As I closed my eyes, my heart rate slowed and my breathing became more even, and I rapidly fell into a deep, all-consuming sleep.

𓆩☆𓆪

I was startled awake by the sound of a door creaking open slowly, and immediately felt all of my senses ignite. With my eyes still closed, it took me a moment to remember that I wasn’t in my own bed, but the familiar smell of Matt in the pillow and blanket brought me to reality. I could feel a soft wash of light against my closed eyelids, and realized that the door was still open yet I couldn’t hear any noises. I finally heard soft footsteps before the door creaked shut, filling the room with absolute darkness once again. For a moment I thought that maybe it had just been Matt checking on me before retreating to let me sleep for longer, but then I heard more footsteps; not heading away from me, but instead heading towards me.

I stayed as still as I possibly could as I waited to see what was going to happen, though I felt my body begin to vibrate in anticipation. There were no more footsteps, and I knew that he was now standing at the edge of the bed because I could hear his ragged breathing and feel waves of his nervousness behind me. After what felt like hours of aching silence, I suddenly felt the bed sink and the comforter lift slightly, and my breath hitched in my throat. I did my very best to pretend like I was still asleep, but my heart had begun racing so violently at the feeling of his warm body hovering just inches from mine that I was sure that he could feel it radiate through the mattress.

The weight of uncertainty had crept into the room upon Matt’s arrival, only now it felt mutual. Matt stayed perfectly still behind me, and although I knew he was very close, he had still not touched me. And so I waited for that touch, because I knew that once I felt his touch, it meant that his uncertainty had dissipated and I could stop hiding from my shame. Time continued to tick away, and in the darkness and the intoxicating tension of the bedroom, it felt bleakly infinite. I felt as though I was a ticking time bomb that could explode at any minute, and only he had the power to diffuse me. I neededhim to touch me. I needed it in the way that a plant needs water. I needed it in a way that I had never needed anything before. So when, after what felt like a lifetime, his knuckles finally brushed ever so gently against my bare shoulder and his voice softly whispered my name against my ear, my entire body shuddered and I released a breath that I hadn’t even known I was holding.

I turned to face him, and even though in the darkness I couldn’t see much more than his tentative eyes of glass, I could feel all of him beside me. I stared at him in silence, unsure of whether I should speak or simply let him say what he came into the room to say. “Are you still high?” He asked, his voice a delicate whisper between us. I took a brief moment to figure that out. My body didn’t feel like jelly anymore, and neither did my brain; all of me felt electric. “No.” I answered honestly, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness so that I could now make out the curious expression on his face. He paused for a moment, seeming to think about his next words. “Did you really mean what you said on the couch?”

My mouth dried out and there was an overwhelming ringing in my ears from the sudden realization that we were really talking about this. Not trusting my voice to be clear and confident, I simply nodded my head nervously. As I did, I swear I could see his pupils dilate. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Did you want me to…help with that?” I felt my panties immediately dampen at his words, and the same dirty thoughts that I had on the couch immediately began swimming through my mind again. Slowly, I adjusted in the bed so that I was fully facing him, and I felt my bent knees brush against his stomach under the covers. His eyes burned into my own as he waited for my response, and in an attempt to ease the intensity I grabbed the hand he had used to graze my shoulder and began toying with his fingers. I kept my eyes glued to them as I explored his knuckles and fingernails, before finally responding. “Could you?”

I felt him intake a sharp breath, and my eyes fluttered up to his just in time to catch his overwhelmed reaction. He pulled his hand out of my grasp and instead used it to cup my cheek as he nodded. “Yeah, I could.” He replied softly, brushing his thumb against my plump lower lip. “But if I do, I need to know exactly what you want.” His eyes were glued to my mouth, and I smiled before playfully biting the tip of his thumb. “I want you to use me however you want.” I whispered before slipping his thumb into my mouth and sucking it slowly. “Fuck.” He hissed softly as his jaw went slack.

“Okay,” His other hand found the small of my back and he pulled me into him. “We…we’ll need a safe word then.” He continued, and at my new close proximity to him I could feel his heart racing in his chest in the same way mine was. With a pop, I let his thumb drop from my mouth. “How about gummy bear?” I replied in a whisper as his hand wove through my hair; bringing my mouth closer and closer to his. A content hum fell from his lips. “Gummy bear it is.” He replied just before he placed his open mouth against mine.

His tongue slipped into my mouth as relief crashed down on me. I moaned into his mouth as his hands traveled all across my body. His kiss was harsh and deep, but his gentle caresses against my thighs and ass as he pulled me even closer to him was a calming paradox. Our breath grew more and more wild as the kiss deepened, and I couldn’t stop myself from bringing my hand to his crotch; where I found his rock hard member straining against his sweatpants. I palmed him firmly, taking as much of his cock in my hand as I could so that I could feel all of its veins and ridges, before slowly stroking him through his sweats.

He groaned against my mouth before seductively biting down on my lower lip. My eyes fluttered open and I found that his were already piercing into me; the colour slightly glazed over by his arousal. His hand tightened on my ass while the other stiffened against the back of my neck. We watched one another as my hand worked against his clothed member, mouths parted as we fell into a trance. Suddenly, Matt’s eyes went a thrillingly dark shade of their usual blue and his grip on my neck tightened. He shifted and was suddenly on top of me, supporting himself with his arm while still pinning me down. I gasped as I looked up at him, feeling the heat of his cock pressed against my aching core.

Very slowly, Matt leaned down to my ear. The heat of his breath made goosebumps raise on my skin, and he nibbled on my earlobe before whispering into it. “You’re not going to touch me until I say.” My breath hitched in my throat from his words, but before I could recover he began tugging my shirt over my head. The cool temperature of the room hit my tits, and I felt them pebble against it. Matt took a moment to admire my breasts, running his thumbs along the sides of each before finally grazing my nipples. I gasped at the contact and squeezed my legs shut in an attempt at releasing even an ounce of the pressure that had been growing intensely between them.

Noticing this, Matt moved his attention to my lower half. Slowly, he ran his hands down my chest to my bare stomach, his eyes traveling along my skin in unison with his hands. He finally reached the waist band of my sweats, and quickly hooked his thumbs under them; removing both my sweats and my soaked panties in one swift motion. My total exposure sent a new wave of arousal through me, and I felt my legs tremble as he took his time admiring my naked frame. A satisfied groan fell from his lips as he ran his hands up and down my legs, and I subconsciously widened them as an invitation to the place where I needed his touch the most.

With my wet cunt spread for him, Matt’s eyes fell to it and I swore I could see the sheer hunger in his eyes. I watched in anticipatory awe as his frame bent in the middle until his mouth was just centimetres away from my core. So close I could feel his breath against my clit, my eyes shut and my hips bucked in frustration just before his warm mouth enclosed my nerves; bringing with it a wave of pleasurable relief. That didn’t last for longer than a second, as he simply planted a wet kiss against my clit before straightening his body again. My eyes flew open in confusion, and my cunt began to pulse as his kiss against it had done nothing more than intensify my need for him.

“You want me to use you?” His deepened voice cut through the once-silent room, and its gruffness made me jump slightly. I nodded my head, squirming under his gaze. “P-please Matt.” I added, wincing at the undeniable desperation laced through my voice. He continued to stay on his knees looking down at me for a moment, his eyes drinking me in for what could have been days. I relished under his gaze, but grew antsy for his touch. Reading my mind, Matt blinked back to reality and climbed off of the bed. I stayed perfectly still, but my eyes followed his frame as he slipped his shirt off and walked into his closet. From the top shelf, he pulled out a fairly large box and brought it back to the bed.

From my position, I couldn’t see the contents of the box as he began to dig through it, but it was obvious that he was looking for something in particular. Finally, he took some objects out and placed them on the bed. With each new object that I could see, my heart began to race quicker and quicker. First, a short whip with what looked like fringe at one end; second, some sort of black leather straps; and third, a small vibrator. Content with his collection of items, Matt closed up the box and placed it on the floor beside the bed.

As he straightened up, his dark eyes shot straight to mine, and I felt as though he was looking straight through me. I swallowed, partially nervous and partially excited, as I watched him pick up the whip with one hand and the leather straps with the other. “Remember the safe word?” He asked huskily, and I gasped at the feeling of the leather fringe as he dragged it across my right arm. I nodded quickly as I felt him wrap one of the leather straps around my wrist. I cried out in pleasure as it suddenly tightened, and when I tried to move it I realized that he had strapped me to his bed frame. Once he was satisfied with that wrist, he trailed the whip back down my arm, over my racing pulse, to my chest; where he suddenly cracked the whip.

My back arched and I cried out in shock as the white hot pain traveled through my body, but almost immediately I felt Matt’s warm tongue press against the place of contact; soothing the skin there. The whip began its travel down my sternum, over my stomach and hips, slowing down as it traveled along my inner thigh down to my right ankle. My body lit on fire from the barely-there contact of the leather, and when he tied up my right ankle I no longer felt shock, only anticipatory pleasure. Once my right ankle was secured, the whip followed its same trail, only once it reached my stomach he shifted it in a diagonal direction, dragging it along my pebbled right nipple before cracking it yet again. My body writhed again, but once again his mouth soothed the pain against my sensitive nerves.

He reached my left wrist and tied it to the headboard, so that now my upper half was completely defenceless. Instead of feeling the expected instinct to fight against the pressure and restraint, I felt myself fall into a state of uncharacteristic ecstasy. My body was completely on edge, craving his touch even more than before. Finally, he dragged the whip back down my body to my left ankle, and when I felt it tickle against my hip bone my core began to drip with my arousal. With all four of my limbs spread apart and tied to the four corners of the bed, I was on full display for him for do whatever he wished with me; just as I had requested. I looked down at him, standing at the end of the bed directly between my legs. His eyes were trained on my glistening core, his bare chest heaving rapidly in anticipation. Suddenly, he dragged the whip along my body one final time. From my ankle, up my thigh, to my swollen cunt. My eyes fluttered shut at the light contact against my clit, and I subconsciously writhed my hips for some sort of friction. My eyes were only shut for a brief moment, however, because a sharp crack against my slick folds caused my whole body to lift off of the bed.

“Fuck!” I moaned out, writhing in the excruciating, pleasurable pain against my bundle of nerves. I felt like my entire body had a heart beat, and had the urge to clamp my legs together to ease the pain. The fact that I couldn’t, that I was completely exposed and defenceless, did nothing but make my stomach flip in excitement. A bratty smirk was just beginning to grow on my face when it was cut off by a sharp squeal as electric waves of foreign pleasure began crashing through me. Looking between my legs, I realized that Matt had pressed the vibrator against my clit.

“Ahhhh s-shit.” I moaned out, my words barely sounding like words as I became consumed by the pleasure that was filling me. My eyes struggled to stay open as I watched Matt watch me; his eyes shifting from my fucked out face back down to my dripping heat every few seconds. “That feel good?” He asked in a cocky tone. I nodded my head rhythmically, growing more and more intoxicated by the pleasure that I was feeling. “S-so good.” I breathed. I felt the urge to grab onto something, grab onto him, but the best I could do was dig my nails into the hard headboard they were tied to. The room filled with the sounds of my animalistic moans and the soft buzz of the vibrator, yet still over all of that I could hear Matt breathing heavily as he watched me unravel before him.

“You look so fucking good, tied up and spread open like a good little sex doll.” Even in my state of euphoria, Matt’s confident dirty talk was startling. Only for a moment though, because I couldn’t help but reply with a guttural moan. Suddenly, the vibrations grew stronger as he turned up the speed of the sex toy, and I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. “F-fffuck M-matt-” I cried out, my body beginning to tremble as my pleasure began to build. “You wanna cum baby?” His voice was laced with tormenting humour, and I nodded rapidly, desperately. “Y-yes! Oh god yes-s!” As the words fell from my mouth, and my orgasm was just about to overtake me, Matt dropped the vibrator from my clit and instead slipped two fingers into me.

My eyes flew open in surprise and frustration, and I watched as Matt pumped his curled fingers in and out of me rapidly; filling the room with the sounds of my desperate arousal. My walls flexed around his fingers as he pounded into my g-spot, but the orgasm that I had nearly reached had receded back into the shadows at the sudden loss of the vibration. Matt looked up at me with a smirk. “You don’t get to cum until I tell you to cum, understand?” His words, spoken in such a menacing tone, made my stomach do a flip. I bit my lip and nodded tentatively. Satisfied, the smirk fell from his lips as he focused his attention back on my cunt in front of him.

He and I both watched as his fingers disappeared inside of me again and again, coated in more and more slippery fluid each time it reappeared. Seeming to give into temptation, Matt suddenly bent down and ran his tongue through my soaked folds to get a quick taste; forcing a moan out of my mouth before quickly straightening up again. His long fingers felt amazing inside of me, but I needed more. Frustrated, I bucked my hips and released a soft cry. He chuckled softly. “You’re dyin’ for it, huh?” I gasped and writhed in my restraints before nodding my head. “Okay,” He began, and I felt relief as I heard the vibrations once again. “Then you’re takin all of it.”

Without a moment for me to react, Matt pulled his soaked fingers out of me and used them to spread me open; exposing all of my raw nerves before firmly pressing the vibrator, now on full speed, against my undraped clit. There was a moment when the room went completely silent — so silent that it was nearly deafening — as my body was hit with the shock wave. And then, a murderous scream fell from my lips at the white hot sensation that made my mind go completely blank. Immediately, my body began convulsing and lifting off of the bed like a scene from The Exorcist. I could feel the vibrations from my head to my toes, and it was an all-consuming pleasure that was almost too painful to cope with. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe; I felt like I was no longer capable of ordinary human functions.

My arms and legs fought hard against the restraints, and the sounds of my guttural cries were accompanied by clanging metal from the buckles. I was so overstimulated that I wasn’t even sure if I was capable of detecting an impending orgasm; each wave of pleasure already feeling more intense than any orgasm I had ever had before. Matt apparently could tell, however, because his suddenly gentle voice filled the room. “It’s okay sweetheart, go ahead and cum for me.”

It was as if those words held a power over me, because as soon as they fell from his mouth I was swept into a tsunami wave of my orgasm. My body shook violently against the bed; rattling the frame at my subconscious attempt at curling into myself. My nails dug into the wood so deep that I was sure that the tips of my fingers would be bloody and raw. I rode through my high, screaming incoherent words as electricity continued to surge through my body. I felt a warm gush in between my legs and watched as Matt instantly dropped to his knees and wrapped his mouth around my opening; drinking me up as I squirted against his tongue.

Finally my body slowed from convulsions to trembles, and as my cries grew softer and calmer Matt pulled away the vibrator. His mouth traveled from my opening up to my overstimulated clit, where he left one final tantalizing kiss before pulling himself back up. My tits rose and fell rapidly as I struggled to catch my breath, and I watched through my eyelashes as Matt walked over me to plant a soft kiss against my panting lips. I felt my breathing begin to steady, then, and watched as he began untying my limbs from the bed frame. As he released each ankle and wrist, he used his warm hands to sooth the raw skin before kissing them, too.

Even once I was free, I couldn’t find the energy to move. I stayed in that starfished position as he knelt beside me. He ran his hand through my damp hair, and I turned to face him. I gave him a weak smile, and he mirrored me before kissing my sweaty forehead. “Can I get you anything?” He asked, his voice so soft and sweet. I shook my head gently, and he replied by climbing into the bed beside me. Finally adjusting myself, I winced at the stiffness in my joints as I curled into his half-naked frame. He kissed my hair and I closed my eyes to enjoy the tranquil state he had put me in.

“Was all of that okay?” His voice broke the silence of the room after a few moments. I lifted my head from his chest to look up at him with a blissed smile on my face. “Well I didn’t say gummy bear, did I?” I replied with a soft laugh. Thoughtful for a moment, I continued. “I guess we didn’t really need a safe word after all.” His eyes grew playful as he brushed a stray hair out of my face. “Don’t speak so soon sweetheart,” He chuckled, running his knuckles against my cheek, “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets

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kirammanswifey · 20 hours ago

Note

Would you be down to write some reverse comfort with the Arcane characters?

Basically just make them go through one of the worst days of their lives then have the reader take care of them (I mostly just wanted to see Viktor in this scenario, but if you want to write for other characters too that'd be awesome)

Either way take your time and I hope you have a wonderful day ~☁️

arcane characters reverse comfort x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i'm always down for this kind of scenarios, make me feel like a teenage girl again. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

It has been an exhausting day in the lab. The experiments have failed time and again, each mistake weighing heavier on Viktor’s shoulders. You can see it in his eyes when he finally gives in, letting the tools fall with a long, heavy sigh. He leans against the workbench, his slender, hunched figure casting a shadow of defeat on the walls illuminated by the flickering equipment.

"This doesn't make sense..." he murmurs, as though the words are a burden he needs to release. His fingers drum frustratedly on the metallic surface, and you feel the despair in every tap. "I’ve made mistake after mistake... Maybe this was all a mistake from the start."

His words hit you, but it’s the tone of his voice that wounds you more, filled with a self-criticism that is painfully familiar but no less difficult to hear. You know how much his work matters to him, how much of himself he has poured into these projects. And you know this failure consumes him more than he’s willing to admit. You can't just stand by and watch him spiral.

"Viktor," you say softly, stepping closer and placing a firm yet comforting hand on his arm. "You’re a genius, and even geniuses have tough days. Today was one of those days, but it doesn’t define who you are or what you do."

At first, he doesn’t respond. His gaze is lost, searching for answers in the shadows that stretch across the lab. But then his grey eyes meet yours, filled with doubt and exhaustion. "How can you be so sure? Every day without progress... I feel like I’m wasting time, like I’m failing everyone, even myself."

Your heart tightens at his words. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers gently, feeling the coolness of his skin against yours. "Because I know you, Viktor. I’ve seen your dedication, your passion. Every mistake, every small setback is part of the process. You don't have to carry this weight alone. I’m here to help you shoulder it."

The silence that follows is thick, but instead of uncomfortable, it’s a space where words aren’t necessary. Slowly, you see his posture relax, the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. Without letting go of his hand, you step even closer, sensing the fragility of the moment.

"Let’s step outside for a bit," you whisper, "You need to clear your mind, get some fresh air. You don’t have to do it all today, not tonight."

He looks at you again, with a mix of gratitude and weariness, and finally nods. "Alright," he says softly, as if it’s hard for him to admit he needs the break.

You walk together to the exit, your fingers still entwined with his. The night air is a balm, cool and light, carrying away some of the day's heaviness. You walk in silence through the almost deserted streets, the distant hum of the city a constant murmur.

"Thank you," he finally whispers, breaking the silence with a voice soft, almost breaking. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You stop, turning to face him. "You don’t have to know, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, through the good and the bad days. You don’t have to bear this burden alone."

He tilts his head, and for a moment it seems like he’s about to say more, but instead, he simply squeezes your hand tighter, a silent gesture that speaks volumes.

"Come here," you say, leading him to a nearby bench. You sit beside him, and for the first time all night, you see him take a deep breath, as if the fresh air could cleanse not just his lungs but also his mind and soul.

Viktor rests his head on your shoulder, allowing himself to close his eyes and savor the moment. You kiss his head and gently stroke his hair, cherishing these rare moments, knowing how precious they are when they happen.

"Today was a bad day," he finally says, his voice tinged with a quiet melancholy. "But, for some reason, it doesn’t feel as overwhelming with… with you here."

You smile softly, feeling warmth spread from his acceptance, from his openness. "I’ll always be here to remind you that even the worst days come to an end. And that you are stronger than you think."

He looks at you, and for an instant, the world seems to stop. His gaze, filled with gratitude and something deeper, envelops you. Before you can say anything more, you feel him leaning towards you, and in that moment, everything falls into place. His lips brush against yours with a tenderness that disarms you, a kiss soft yet laden with unspoken emotions.

When you part, just inches away, his eyes remain closed as if he wants to hold onto the moment a little longer. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper.

You cradle his face in your hands, gently caressing his cheeks. "There’s no need to thank me, my love."

Jinx

The day had been chaos, even by Jinx's standards. Everything had gone wrong: a botched attack, crumbling plans, and to top it all off, an unexpected explosion that almost trapped her in her own trap. Now, she sat in her lair, surrounded by the wreckage of her shattered inventions, her breath short and pulse racing. Her mind, always a whirlwind, now felt like a hurricane of uncontrollable voices and thoughts.

The laughter of her imaginary "friends" echoed in her head, growing louder, mocking her. "Failed again, Jinx. You always fail." She pressed her hands against her temples, squeezing as if she could silence the voices. But the laughter wouldn’t stop, and the crushing weight of loneliness and failure bore down on her.

You approached cautiously, knowing that Jinx in this state was a minefield. But you also knew you couldn’t leave her alone in her internal storm. "Jinx," you called softly, keeping your voice low and calm. "I’m here, sweets."

She didn’t respond at first, her body tense like a spring about to snap. But as you drew closer, her bright blue eyes, wide and wild, met yours with a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why? Why do you keep coming back? Don’t you get it? I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me like this."

"I’m not here to judge you," you replied gently, sitting down next to her without encroaching too much on her space. "I’m here because I care. Because I know that sometimes, even the strongest people need a breather. And there’s nothing wrong with that."

She let out a bitter laugh, dripping with sarcasm. "A breather? You think I can just... breathe and everything will be fine? That’s not how my head works. It’s... broken. Everything’s broken."

Your eyes softened at the pain in her words, the self-loathing and anger intertwining dangerously. Without much thought, you reached out, lightly touching her hand, hoping the physical contact might ground her somehow.

"Maybe you can’t fix everything right away," you said softly, "but at least you’re not alone in this boat. I’m on board with you, and I’m not getting off, even if we hit an iceberg." You joked to lighten the tense atmosphere.

She looked at your hand on hers, and for a moment, it seemed like she would pull away. But instead, her trembling fingers closed around yours, with a grip that betrayed just how desperately she needed something—someone—to understand her.

"Why do you care?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m a mess. Everything I touch... I ruin."

"Because you’re more than your mistakes," you said, squeezing her hand gently. "You’re strong, creative, and even if the world doesn’t understand you, I want to be here for you, to help you see that, even when everything gets tough."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice breaking as she murmured, "I don’t know if I can do it... but thank you... for not giving up on me."

You smiled softly, leaning closer to her. "I’ll never give up on you. And you know what? Let’s make a deal. Today was a bad day, but just for today, we’ll do whatever you want. How about we start with some ice cream?"

Her eyes lit up slightly, though there was still a shadow of doubt in her expression. "Ice cream? Really?"

"Serious business," you said, smiling a little more. "Pick your favorite flavor. We’ll go get it, and then we can do whatever you want. You can draw, launch rockets, blow things up—whatever makes you feel better."

"Can I dye your hair blue?" she asked, her tone teasing but her eyes hopeful.

"Anything but that," you corrected, not quite understanding her obsession with wanting to dye your hair.

She burst out laughing, pressing a hard kiss to your cheek. "Just kidding, hon. I love everything about you, even your boring dark hair."

"Hey!" you playfully patted her shoulder.

Suddenly, her smile faded again, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.

"But what if everything keeps going wrong?"

"Then I’ll be here to pick up the pieces with you," you said, gently stroking her hand. "You’re not alone, sweets. Not today, not any day."

She launched herself into your arms, hugging you tightly, her body trembling slightly. "Thank you..." she whispered against your neck, clinging to you as if you were her anchor in a storm. And in that moment, you knew the only thing that mattered was her feeling your presence, your unwavering support.

Vi’s mind was still trapped in the ring, replaying the final moments of that crucial fight. She had bet everything on it—her money, her pride, her reputation. Everything hung by a thread, and she had lost. The cheers had faded, leaving only the echo of failure resonating in her head.

She limped back to her hideout, her knuckles bloodied and her jaw clenched. Dropping onto the worn-out sofa, she let out a frustrated growl, covering her face with a hand as she tried to contain the fury and humiliation. She had risked so much, and now it was all gone.

The whispers of her defeat spread like wildfire. You knew Vi wasn’t one to admit defeat easily, nor to ask for help. So, with a heart full of concern, you went to find her, worried about her state.

The door creaked open as you stepped inside. "Vi," you called gently, finding her on the couch, shoulders tense and gaze fixed on the floor. You approached cautiously and sat on the floor in front of her, your chin resting on your hands as you looked at her intently. "Are you okay?"

"I don’t need your pity," she snapped, her voice sharp but laced with vulnerability. "I’m fine. Just... need a moment."

"Vi," you said softly, "it’s just one loss. You’re incredible in the ring, babe, but you can’t expect to win every time. Besides, we learn more from our mistakes than from our victories. It’s okay."

"No, it’s not okay," she shot back, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze, her blue eyes filled with frustration. "I bet everything on that fight. Everything. And now I have nothing."

"That’s why I’m here," you responded, sitting beside her and gently taking her bloodied hand in yours, inspecting it with care. "You don’t have to carry this alone. Let me help you."

"I don’t want your help," she protested, trying to pull her hand away, but you held on firmly. "I don’t need saving. I can handle this."

"Vi, don’t be stubborn," you chided, your voice firm yet warm. "I care about you, and I’m not going to stand by while you drown over something we can fix together."

Her gaze softened, a mix of wounded pride and unspoken gratitude in her eyes. "I can’t take your money," she muttered, looking down again. "It’s not fair to you."

"Babe, if the roles were reversed, I know you’d do the same for me," you reminded her. "This isn’t about fairness or debt. It’s about caring for someone I love."

The last word hung in the air, making Vi look up again. "You... love me?" she whispered, as if it was something she hadn’t allowed herself to hear before.

"Love you? I’m crazy about you, woman!" you admitted with a chuckle, gently squeezing her hand. "And because of that, I’m going to help you through this. Take the money, just this once. It’s not weakness to accept help, Vi. It’s strength to know when you need someone."

She let out a deep sigh, her body relaxing slightly as the tension began to ease. "Alright," she murmured finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I’ll take your help... just this once."

"That’s all I needed to hear," you said, smiling softly as you caressed her hand. "We’ll get through this, together."

Vi looked at you, and for the first time that night, a faint smile curved her lips. "Thank you," she said, leaning toward you. Her hand suddenly slid to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

You looked at her, a mix of confusion and amusement on your face. She just shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What? It’s my way of saying thanks," Vi defended, following it up with a loud slap.

Laughing, you climbed onto her lap, leaning in close to her mouth, "Well, if I’d known your gratitude was this charming, I’d hope for favors more often."

Vi leaned in and kissed you, a tender kiss that spoke of gratitude and something deeper, needing no words. "I love you," she murmured against your lips.

"And I love you," you whispered, your lips still brushing hers.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn's office was silent, the only sound breaking the stillness was the soft scratch of her pencil against paper as she reviewed the reports that had come in. It had been a particularly difficult day for her. The weight of the decisions she'd had to make hung heavily on her shoulders, and her mind couldn't stop replaying the latest case she had been handling. Even though she tried to maintain her composure, you knew Caitlyn wasn't invincible.

You approached cautiously, gently tapping on the door before stepping inside. "Cait," you called softly, seeing her immersed in her work, her eyes glued to the desk, but her rigid posture betrayed her exhaustion.

She looked up and forced a smile. "Don’t worry, everything’s under control," she said, her voice slightly tenser than usual.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched her with concern. "I know you're working hard, Cait, but this isn’t just about work, is it?"

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes narrowing as if fighting herself not to admit what was clearly troubling her. "It’s nothing. Just... tough cases. Nothing you need to worry about."

You knew her too well. Something wasn’t right. Caitlyn always maintained her facade of strength, never showing vulnerability, but you knew even she had limits. You decided to step closer, gently removing the papers from her hands and sitting on her desk, right in front of her, catching her off guard. Her hands instinctively found your thighs, her fingers pressing into your skin as a silent sign of her pent-up stress.

"You're not doing this alone tonight, Cait," you told her firmly. "I know you feel the pressure, but you don’t have to carry it all by yourself."

She tried to smile, but the gesture only highlighted her fatigue. "I can't afford to show weakness. Everyone expects me to have the answers."

"That’s precisely what makes you human," you replied softly, cradling her face and appreciating her delicate features. "The burden of leadership, the tough decisions... it can’t all rest on you. If you need a break, you’ll take one. If you need to talk, I’m here."

Caitlyn remained silent, her gaze now locked onto yours, as if considering your words for the first time. You could see her defenses slowly crumbling, her breathing easing into a calmer rhythm. "Sometimes I feel like no one understands... how hard it is to keep everything together, always being the one expected to know what to do."

"I understand," you said, gently holding the hand that gripped your thigh. "And you don’t always have to have all the answers, Cait. It’s okay to feel lost. You can lean on me for these things and anything else."

She didn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you, and for once, her face displayed a vulnerability she rarely showed. Finally, she sighed, letting the tension in her face melt away.

"I know," she murmured, almost as a confession. "Sometimes it’s just hard not to feel like a burden."

"You’re never a burden to me," you assured her, leaning in and wrapping your arms around her, your fingers tenderly running through her hair. She responded with a soft sigh of relief. "You’re the strongest person I know, Cait. And that strength doesn’t make you invulnerable. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You carry so much responsibility and expectation, and you handle it as best you can. You can share that with me too, love. I’m not in your life just to enjoy your company and admire your beautiful face."

With an intense gaze, Caitlyn gently squeezed your hand, displaying a rare tenderness. "Thank you," she whispered, her tone much softer than usual. "Thank you for this. For always being there when I need it. For knowing what I need when I don’t even know myself."

You moved a little closer and, without thinking, kissed her forehead, a warm and comforting gesture. "I’ll always be here, Cait. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to rest in your presence. And although the day's worries wouldn't vanish immediately, there was something about that small gesture, that silent connection between you two, that made her feel less alone. She knew that, no matter what, she would always have a refuge in you.

Jayce

The door creaked open, and instantly, the tension that Jayce carried with him filled the room like an unwelcome guest. He stood in the doorway, his figure worn down as if each step of his day had chipped away at his strength. His face was a canvas of frustration and exhaustion, the lines of weariness on his forehead barely hidden by his tousled hair. The warm light of home contrasted sharply with the cold night air, but even the comforting ambiance seemed powerless against the heavy burden he bore.

Without a word, you moved towards him, your presence a sanctuary in the storm he was weathering. You gently took his cold hands in yours and led him to the couch, where he sank down with a deep, weary sigh. The weight of the day clung to him, a cloak of responsibility and fatigue. He barely acknowledged you as you spoke.

"Rough day?" Your voice was gentle, laced with concern.

Jayce exhaled sharply, his exhaustion evident as he turned his head to you. "More than you can imagine." His tone was rough, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Viktor and I... the experiment in the lab was a disaster. Then, the Council meeting... a complete mess. I’m not even sure how I made it back here tonight." His voice cracked for a moment, followed by a bitter laugh. "And tomorrow? I have to give that damned speech to the entire city. I haven’t even started writing it."

The air felt thick, laden with everything he couldn't put into words. You squeezed his hand, holding it with a tenderness that cut through the fog of his mind. "Breathe, Jayce. You don’t have to solve everything at once. One step at a time."

Instinctively, you sat behind him, guiding him until his back rested against your chest. You began to massage his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly seep from his muscles. Each movement of your fingers seemed to ease his burdens, though his sighs suggested the thoughts still swirled in his mind.

"I’ll help you with the speech," you offered softly. "We’ll write it together. You don’t have to face it all alone."

Jayce closed his eyes briefly, as if clinging to your words to prevent drowning in his thoughts. "But... it all depends on me. If I screw this up, the consequences are massive. I can’t afford to fail." His voice broke, and he sat up abruptly, anxiety gripping him once more.

"It’s just a speech, Jayce. It doesn’t define you." You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him from behind. "What matters most to me is that it doesn’t destroy you. The city needs you, yes. But you need yourself too."

A long sigh escaped his chest, a release of some of the weight he'd been carrying. "How do you stay so calm through all of this? How do you have the patience to listen to my problems over and over?" His tone softened, a realization of what your presence meant to him.

"Because I love you, you big lug. And because I respect you," you said without hesitation. "Now... first things first. Dinner. I made your favorite." You whispered in his ear, the warmth of your embrace surrounding him, offering a sliver of peace. "Then, I’ll draw you a bath. You need to relax, to stop thinking about everything for a while. We’ll have dinner together, and afterward, we’ll stay up as long as you need. I’ll help with the speech. And if you need to rehearse all night, we will. The important thing is you’re not facing it alone. I’m here, Jayce, because I know how much this means to you."

Jayce let the silence hang for a moment, absorbing your words, your support the anchor he desperately needed. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his face finally showing signs of easing. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, a small pout forming on his lips.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my spoiled giant baby," you teased with a soft laugh, cupping his face with care.

Jayce chuckled, a low, grateful sound that was music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, feeling the anxiety that had gripped him start to dissipate. "Can we stay like this a little longer?" he asked quietly, his tone vulnerable, more human than ever.

"Of course, love," you whispered. "There’s no rush tonight."

And there, between tender laughs and promises of unwavering support, time seemed to pause. In that moment, there was only the two of you, the warmth of home, and the certainty that, no matter what the next day brought, you would face it together.

Ekko

The sound of gears grinding and tools sparking filled Ekko's workshop, a familiar symphony that usually brought him a sense of calm. But today, the rhythm was frantic, almost as if he believed that focusing on the intricate mechanical details could help him outrun the weight pressing down on his heart. It wasn’t working.

"Ekko, what’s wrong?" Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the tension hanging thick in the air. You could sense something was off, not just from the hurried way he moved but from the pallor that had taken over his face in the past few hours.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers continued their precise dance over the wires and components, but there was a distant look in his eyes, a clear sign that his mind was far from the task at hand. Finally, he looked up, and though he tried to hide it, you could see the frustration and pain etched into his features.

"Things are... out of control," he admitted, his voice heavy. "The people of Zaun keep dying, and we can’t do anything about it. The illnesses are spreading, the air is becoming unbreathable, and the solutions... they seem further away than ever. How am I supposed to lead them when I have nothing to offer?"

His question lingered in the air, a cry of desperation in the stillness. Ekko had borne the weight of leading the Firelights since their inception. It was his strength, his refuge, yet also his greatest burden. Every day, he witnessed more of his people falling victim to the oppression and the harsh realities of Zaun, the toxic air swallowing those he cared about, and the seeming futility of their efforts gnawed at his resolve. What could one do when everything seemed stacked against them?

"Ekko," you approached him, gently taking his hands in yours. "Listen to me. I know what you're thinking. I know it feels like everything is collapsing, like there’s no way out. But you're not alone in this. You have the Firelights, and you have me. Caitlyn Kiramman might be able to help with this problem."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, confused. He knew Caitlyn, as an Enforcer, symbolized the oppressive system that had kept Zaun in misery, but he also knew you didn’t speak lightly. You must have had a plan.

"I don’t trust Piltover," Ekko muttered, his tone firm. "Or their damn Enforcers. How am I supposed to ask someone like Caitlyn for help? After everything they’ve done to us?"

"I know," you said, gently stroking his hands to calm him, "but hear me out. You're not just asking Caitlyn for help. You’re asking the person who owes me a few favors. Trust me. I think we can secure some supplies, maybe some of the medicines we need, at least to keep us going for a while. Something to help the Firelights keep fighting. Don’t see it as surrendering, Ekko; it’s a step towards giving us a real chance to make our voices heard."

For a moment, Ekko stared at the ground, lost in thought. It was clear he struggled to trust anyone outside his circle, especially someone like Caitlyn, who embodied Piltover’s oppressive power. But your words resonated with him, and for the first time that day, something inside him eased slightly.

"Maybe you’re right," he finally said, his voice low, as if only partially convinced. "But this... it can’t just be words. We need to do something real, something that actually makes a difference."

"We will," you assured him with a soft smile, trying to instill a bit of hope. "Together, step by step. Let’s start by talking to Caitlyn and see what we can secure. I don’t know how, but I believe we’ll make it happen."

Ekko looked at you, and for a moment, everything in his expression changed. The usual anger gave way to a mixture of gratitude and, perhaps, a hint of relief. He was exhausted, but the idea that not everything was lost gave him a tiny spark of hope.

"Thank you, babe," he murmured, his voice softer than before. "I don’t know how you do it. You always know what to say."

"That’s because I’ve learned how to deal with your stubborn, grumpy self," you said with a light laugh. "Now, how about we take a stroll through the city? Maybe a few hours of disconnecting will help."

A trace of a smile appeared on his face, though still tinged with fatigue. "What? Are you planning to make me forget all this by tagging the walls with graffiti?"

"Exactly," you responded with a mischievous grin. "That way, at least for a while, we can forget the world and do whatever we want."

Ekko finally gave in, his soft laugh filling the air as he grabbed his hoverboard. "You know, that sounds like a great idea. Let’s go before I change my mind."

And as you wandered the streets of Zaun, the weight on his shoulders didn’t entirely vanish, but for a while, Ekko could relax, paint his frustrations on the walls, and most importantly, remember that he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, all it took was stepping back and breathing, even if just for a moment.

Silco

The air in Silco's office was heavy, thick with the unmistakable scent of Zaun: metal, sweat, and burnt chemicals. Yet beyond those familiar odors, the room was saturated with the tension of recent events. The sting of failure clung to him, unsettling the usually composed mastermind. His meticulously laid plans had unraveled, and while his followers proclaimed loyalty, cracks in their devotion were becoming apparent. Zaun teetered on the brink of internal rebellion. The Firelights, the Enforcers, even the streets themselves seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

But what truly unsettled him, what gnawed at his very core, was the ever-present specter of betrayal, the fear of losing those who mattered most. In these moments, when chaos felt imminent, you chose to enter.

Silco stood with his back to you, staring out at the city’s dim lights through the window. You could sense the disquiet within him. His silhouette was somber, almost ghostly, with one hand resting on the glass. He seemed like a man who had lost faith in everything around him. Without hesitation, you approached him with a calmness that contrasted starkly with the storm raging within him.

"Silco," you began, your voice gentle but resolute. You refused to let his fragility consume him, not now. "We've faced this before. You don’t have to bear it all alone."

At first, he remained silent. The tension in his frame was palpable, and you could tell he was fighting a battle he wasn’t ready to share. Yet, you knew that struggle all too well. Beneath his layers of hatred and ambition lay a man as broken and vulnerable as any other.

Finally, he turned toward you, his eyes, usually burning with disdain, now dulled. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice low, roughened by a restrained fury. "This isn’t like before. It’s not just about winning anymore. It’s about maintaining control, about not losing everything. If I fail now, all we’ve built will be for nothing. What’s looming isn’t just a challenge—it’s war, and I need to be ready."

You stepped closer, studying the exhaustion etched into his face. His words were a glimpse into the turmoil that consumed him. "You will be ready. We will be ready. But isolating yourself in this downward spiral won’t help."

Silco’s gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability surfaced. He appeared more human, less the monster Zaun feared. But his pride fought to keep that part of him hidden.

"I don’t need your pity," he said, though his words lacked conviction, a feeble defense against the truth you were unveiling. "Spare me the empty reassurances."

"They’re not empty," you replied, your voice steady. "I know what you’re feeling. This isn’t just about controlling Zaun. This is about you."

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken truths. Silco’s brow furrowed, not in anger but in contemplation. "It’s a war I can’t win. The city hates me, even my own daughter—"

"Don’t speak of her as if you’re some monster," you interrupted gently but firmly. "Jinx needs you, and you need her. This war isn’t just against Piltover, Silco. It’s against yourself. And if you keep fighting it alone, you will lose."

The room was still, the weight of your words settling in the air. Silco’s expression softened, touched by a realization he couldn’t deny. He wasn’t accustomed to being seen so clearly, to having his inner battles laid bare.

You took another step forward and, without allowing him time to withdraw, you took his hand. "You don’t have to do this alone," you whispered. "Not now, not ever."

For a brief moment, conflict flickered across his features, but then it happened—he relented. It wasn’t the surrender of a defeated man but of someone willing to trust, if only for a moment, that there was more to life than his solitary fight.

"I don’t know why you persist in keeping me upright," he murmured, his voice softer, laced with weariness. "Sometimes… sometimes it feels like too much."

"It’s not," you assured him without hesitation. "We’ll face it together. I won’t let you fall."

Silco said nothing more, but he didn’t pull away as you held his hand more firmly, a silent acceptance of your comfort. And for the first time in a long while, the cold steel of his demeanor cracked, if only for a fleeting second.

Mel

Mel's balcony was as sleek and cold, a testament to her meticulous nature. The soft glow of lanterns cast a gentle light over the cityscape, illuminating the endless sea of Piltover's lights below. Yet, amidst the serenity of the night, an unseen storm brewed within her. Tonight, her mind wasn't consumed with political maneuvers or strategic plans. Something far deeper gnawed at her: the weight of her ambitions had begun to manifest in ways she hadn't anticipated, threatening to fracture the carefully constructed facade of her life.

She stood by the railing, gazing out at the city that never slept, as if the twinkling lights could somehow chase away the growing void in her heart. You could see it—the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the railing a little too tightly. She was a picture of composed authority, yet the subtle cracks in her armor betrayed the turmoil within.

"Mel..." Your voice, soft yet firm, broke the silence. You approached from behind, your footsteps light but deliberate. You didn't need to be loud; she had always been attuned to your presence, as if you existed in a part of her consciousness she couldn't ignore.

Mel turned slowly, her face a mask of unyielding calm, but her eyes... her eyes told a different story. They held a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea she wasn't ready to voice. "What is it?" Her voice was cool, almost detached, but you knew better. The detachment was a shield, one she had crafted over years of political warfare.

"What’s wrong?" you asked again, your gaze unwavering as you closed the distance between you. You could sense her struggle, her reluctance to admit that something was amiss. "I can see it, Mel. You're not okay."

She sighed—a sound so heavy it seemed to carry the weight of the city. It wasn't frustration; it was the exhaustion of someone who had carried too much for too long. "It’s Piltover. My role in the Council... I can't keep up with it all," she admitted, her words slow, measured, as if each one was a reluctant confession. "I’ve been playing this game for so long, but the pieces are moving in directions I can’t control. And..."

Her voice faltered, and she didn't need to continue. You understood. This wasn't about Piltover alone. It was about her, about the toll her ambitions had taken on her soul. Here, on this balcony, she wasn't the indomitable Mel Medarda. She was a woman, weary and yearning for something she couldn't quite name.

"Mel, not everything needs to be under control. Not everything needs to be perfect," you said gently, stepping closer. "You can handle what’s happening in Piltover, but you don’t have to carry it all on your own."

Her eyes darted away, as if looking at you would make her break. She was so used to being the one in control, to bearing the burdens without complaint. "And if I fail... what then? What’s left after all of this? I've given everything to Piltover… everything."

Her voice trembled with a sadness that cut through you. Despite her steely exterior, you knew there was a part of her that longed for something more—connection, peace, perhaps even love. But the world she had built around herself left little room for such indulgences.

"If you fail, Mel, you’ll have the chance to start over. You don’t have to keep fighting for something that's slipping through your fingers," you said, your voice steady as you reached for her. "Sometimes, letting go of what we fear losing the most is what sets us free."

Mel's eyes met yours, and in them, you saw a vulnerability she rarely showed. She wasn’t used to conversations like this, to empathy. But in your gaze, she found something she hadn’t seen in a long time: safety, support, and perhaps... the promise of something different. Something better.

"I know it’s not easy," you continued, your hand gently brushing her arm. "But you don’t have to carry the weight of Piltover alone. You have people who respect you, who admire you. There are other ways to move forward without losing yourself in the process."

The silence that followed was thick, but not oppressive. It was as if the night itself was holding its breath, waiting for her response. For a moment, Mel said nothing. Then, her lips, always so carefully set in lines of authority, softened. "And if I fail… what happens to you?"

"You won’t fail," you said with a conviction that only you could have. "But even if you did, I’d be right here, helping you rebuild. Because what really matters isn’t the power or the control. What really matters is you, Mel."

For a second, she looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. The iron-willed woman everyone knew, the strategist, the leader, was now gazing at you with a newfound sense of recognition. And in that moment, she allowed herself a rare indulgence: she let her guard down.

"Maybe... maybe it’s not always about winning," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "Maybe you're right."

You smiled softly, knowing that Mel had just taken a step towards something beyond ambition—towards her humanity.

Sevika

The night had fallen with an oppressive stillness, but Sevika couldn’t find peace. The hours had dragged her into a whirlwind of stress and frustration. Each minute felt heavier than the last, and the air around her seemed thick, as if the city itself was pressing down on her chest. The decisions she had to make, the moves she had to plan, the constant need to watch over and protect her people… all of it had left her exhausted. But what weighed her down the most was the lack of control over her own life.

The shadows of the streets seemed to stretch out, enveloping her with an invisible pressure. Silco, as if things weren’t bad enough, was more erratic than ever, his paranoia brushing the edges of madness. To top it off, Jinx had played one of her twisted jokes: locking her in a room with a bomb that looked ready to explode. Sevika had been on the brink of death, only to discover that the bomb was a cruel joke, the kind only Jinx could conjure. If she had the time, she would have made sure the girl paid for it. She despised feeling vulnerable. But there was more. She had to deal with some of Silco’s men, and her day culminated with a direct punch to the face, leaving a visible mark on her otherwise stoic features.

On any other day, Sevika might have sought solace or at least retreated into the quiet of solitude, but today was different. No matter what she did, the sense of losing control gnawed at her insides. She needed to see you. She needed your presence, your calm way of looking at her and making her feel that everything, even if just for a while, would be okay.

Finally, the door creaked open. The sound of your footsteps was a balm to her weary spirit, and Sevika lifted her gaze. The damp night air lent a melancholic intensity to her eyes, now etched with fatigue and disdain. Though she tried to maintain her tough exterior, you quickly noticed the bruise marking her face.

“What happened?” Your voice, soft yet filled with concern, echoed in the room. Sevika tried to muster a smile, but it was futile.

“Just another day, you know?” she rasped, moving to lean against the table. She wasn’t about to crumble in front of you, but the exasperation in her tone was unmistakable. “Silco’s paranoid as ever. Jinx pulled one of her idiotic pranks… locked me in a room with a fake bomb about to explode. I thought I’d die there, amidst confetti and laughter. And if that wasn’t enough, one of Silco’s guys managed to land a punch on me.”

Your gaze, laced with worry and tenderness, softened instantly. You stepped forward, cupping her face gently, trying to ease the storm swirling inside her. Sevika stood still, unresponsive at first, but the hard lines of her face began to relax, even if only slightly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” you asked, your eyes never leaving hers, your words carrying a silent concern. You knew she hated appearing weak, but it didn’t matter; you would never see her that way. Sevika closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh.

“You know I don’t like to worry you.” Her tone was sharp, but softer than before. She could feel how your warmth affected her in ways she wasn’t ready to admit, but needed more than she was willing to acknowledge.

Without missing a beat, you acted. With a small smile, you stepped back a little, creating some space to prepare something that might bring her some comfort.

“Tonight, I’m making something special for my strong and sexy warrior,” you said, a mix of tenderness and teasing in your voice. “It’s not much, but I know you’ll like it.” You headed to the kitchen, and instead of a typical meal, you decided on something you knew would make Sevika smile: a homemade chocolate cupcake, with a hint of vanilla and a soft cream topping. While the sweet treat took shape, you thought about how this small gesture might lighten the night. The smell of freshly baked chocolate began to fill the air.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a slight smile. “A cupcake?” she asked, almost playfully, though her voice held a softness rarely heard. “Am I a child needing comfort now?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling as you set the table. “Sometimes we all need something simple and sweet.” You playfully tapped her nose.

With the cupcake served and a cup of aromatic tea, the two of you sat together, letting the calm settle for a moment. As she savored the cupcake, your fingers brushed hers gently, as if that simple touch could convey something deeper. Sevika’s gaze, usually so hard and closed off, softened as it met yours.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost with a humility that was unlike her. “I needed this more than I thought.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said with a gentle smile, intertwining your fingers with hers.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter what was happening in the outside world. For an instant, everything else faded away. Only that small space between the two of you existed, where love and understanding felt like the answer to all the burdens Sevika carried within.

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revelboo · 19 hours ago

Note

it probably didn't happen, but imagine the shrinking somehow reached the decepticons. I need the humans to react to the tiny cons because they of all the transformers act like they're scary and tough, but need a good hug.

You guys keep me amused 😂 Let’s just go with suspension of disbelief and say somehow Wheeljack also FUBARed the Cons

I have requests for TFA Shockwave, Sunstorm, Rung, TFA Ratchet, Hound, and Cyberverse Soundwave. I’m actually busy at work this week, though, researching and compiling data, so updates may be wonky unless I start typing up the next day’s posts the previous night

Mass Displacement Mayhem Scenarios Pt 3

Megatron

• Staggering and off balance as he’s forced to mass displace without warning and then realizes he went past his limits somehow. That he’s only about knee high on you. The shock of it freezing him in place, so he flinches when you grab him and drag him into you. And it’s wholly undignified the way you’re going on about his “widdle” cannon. Why are you talking like that? He’s wracking his processor trying to figure out how this happened, because he’s stuck and can’t mass shift back. Left tiny and vulnerable, though it’s hard to focus on defense when you’re cupping his face in your warm palms, apparently delighted. Venting because he’s much too old for this, he keeps an optic and his cannon aimed at the door as you pull him into your lap to fuss over him. Secretly enjoying the feel of you hugging him as undignified as it is, but please stop talking to him like he’s a sparkling.

Thundercracker

• Has absolutely no idea what just happened, but before he can even try to figure it out, you attack. Had known you were still unhappy about being stolen, but didn’t expect you to lash out- oh, never mind. You just want to pick him up. Little wings flicking fitfully when you press a kiss to his helm and play with his wings with gentle fingers. All while cooing at him. Knows he should be mortified, but he’s enjoying the attention. Fuss over him all you want.

Starscream

• Flies to perch out of reach the instant you made that awful noise and tried to grab him. Glowering as you try to coax him to you. Why are you crooning at him like that? It’s undignified and he’s more worried about how vulnerable you both are right now. No, he’s not coming down. He is absolutely not cute. Trying his best to ignore you and keep an optic on the door ready to attack, because he’s completely stressed out, wings flared and paranoia out of control.

Constructicons

• Scattered when you ran toward them. They have no idea what happened, but to avoid being caught, they have to transform to speed away and you’re laughing hysterically as you chase after them. Bonecrusher gives up first and transforms back. Unresisting as you grab him and sit, grinning over how cute he is. Eventually they all wander over once they realize you’re not attacking. Patiently letting you fuss over all of them, grumbling but secretly eating up the attention. Scavenger just outright climbing into your lap for a hug.

Soundwave

• Hoisting Soundwave up into your arms to save him from his overly excited cassettes, you’re as giddy as they are. Because somehow Soundwave mass displaced smaller than you’ve ever seen. And because you’re holding him, you’re now also being mobbed by cassettes wanting to hold tiny Soundwave. Feeling guilty about it as you cave to their pleas and sit crosslegged with him in your lap, hearing his tired venting as you and his cassettes fuss over how cute he is. Tipping his head back to stare at you. “Traitor,” he grumbles, that serious voice coming from such a tiny frame shattering your own composure as you hug him laughing.

Shockwave

• Antenna back as he gets carried around like a helpless sparkling. Asks you to put him down and you ignore him, and since he’s unwilling to hurt you to get free, he’s just tolerating it. Please stop kissing him on the head, you’re making his processor chaotic. Cute? Him? Illogical. Venting tiredly at you the whole time, but a part of him almost enjoying the attention and how gentle your hands are. That you’re not intimidated by him at this size.

#transformers x reader #shockwave x reader #starscream x reader #thundercracker x reader #megatron x reader #constructicons x reader #soundwave x reader #soundwave #megatron #starscream #thundercracker #shockwave

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mountainsandmayhem · 13 hours ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks. Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club.

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen.

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls.

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away.

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over.

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll. “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke.

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!”

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over.

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her.

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend.

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door.

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his.

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent.

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.”

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots.

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach?

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line.

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next.

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party.

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?”

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words.

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life.

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him.

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start.

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face.

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would.

He showed up.

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours.

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious.

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd.

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends.

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far.

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to.

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout.

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer.

“Six,” you sob.

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.”

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips.

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it.

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.”

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once.

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

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shrimpybbq · 2 days ago

Text

a timeline of rafe cameron and obx actress!reader’s character’s relationship (+ their real life one) pt 2

season 2: the yearning

season 2 is where rafe's obsession with iris really grows

he's constantly wondering about her, and how she feels about him. he's so convinced that she hates him and will never speak to him again, but he has this feeling that she won't report him

after john b and sarah 'died', iris spends more of her free time with the pogues. she comforts jj, and often seems to end up bailing him out of trouble

but they don't know that rafe's managed to get her phone number, and he keeps sending her messages trying to explain what happened on the tarmac - she doesn't respond

he even tries to go to her work, but she's not working that day

as rafe spirals, he genuinely feels she's the only one who would be able to understand him

he messages her before he goes to the bahamas

r: "hey, i'm gonna be gone for a few days, but i still really need to talk to you, ok?"

r: "please, i need to explain"

r: "just give me a chance to explain"

r: "please"

iris has him under his first initial in her phone, just in case any of the pogues happen to see her notifications. finally, she decides to respond, if only to understand more (and to get him to stop texting her)

i: "ok"

rafe literally shouts with joy seeing her response, no matter how dry it is. she's finally acknowledged him

while he's away, iris goes to see barry. her mom has been getting worse, and in a way, barry understands what she's going through. he's surprisingly good to talk to and the pair end up smoking together more than once, venting about their lives

in his deluded state, rafe truly thinks he will be able to win iris over with the gold. he's dreaming about paying for her mom's medical bills, winning her favour and looking after iris, living their happy little lives together forever

iris and rafe finally talk at tannyhill, rafe pleading that he was just trying to protect his dad. surprisingly, she listens intently, and lets out some small 'hmms' and 'mhms'. they get back to neutral ground, though she's still torn between what to do, but inside, she knows rafe shouldn't go to prison for a mistake

side note: ward oversees the pair talking, noting his son's wildly erratic hand gestures and decides to keep an eye on whatever is going on between the two

they're good for a few days, and then the pogues return to kildare with a very much alive sarah and john b, and everything changes once again

iris was so busy working that she hadn't had much to do with the gang, until jj texts her that john b had been arrested, and that rafe had tried to shoot them all - safe to say she's disappointed

oh but she's so mad when she hears of him trying to drown sarah, and she fully ices him out again

rafe kidnapping iris was not his finest idea, but she won’t listen to him after she hears and he’s just so mad. he’s got her in his car on the side of the road, just trying to get her to listen but she keeps telling him she “knows what he did”

rafe doesn't register what he's done until the sound of her sobs cut through his internal monologue, shamefully apologising and dropping her home, not even trying to say anything more

he’s just mean mean mean in this season bc he's hurt, but also he wants iris so bad and when she won’t even look at him, he can't control his actions

iris hears from the pogues that there is a warrant for his arrest and can't help feel concerned for him, only to be both shocked and concerned at the sight of ward cameron blowing himself up, her being the one to console sarah on the pier

everything is awkward between the pogues now, but it only gets worse once they see the texts on iris's phone following rafe's release from jail, him asking to see her...

they completely shut her out, refusing to even speak to her, and it only serves to push her further into rafe's (extremely willing) arms

he wants her to stay with him for the next few days, unknowingly about to bring her into all the drama with the cross

iris and rafe end up kissing for the first time just before he manages to get the cross for himself, and from then on, it's on between them - they're all over each other. think making out against the wall, in bed, on the couch

they both understand each other, able to see through the tough facade they put on and be vulnerable around each other. at their core, they’re just two hurt kids clinging on to each other

rafe literally thinks he will combust if she ever tries to leave him after he got a taste

unfortunately for him, he tries to get her to come along with him to guadeloupe, but she refuses

"Rafe, I can't leave my mom…. she can't survive without me," Iris whispered.

"No, no, c'mon, we can go together and I'll make sure she's got a carer and everything, the best medical treatment, ok? I just - I just need you with me for this," Rafe pleaded, desperation seeping through his tone.

"I'm sorry Rafe, but I can't."

and just like that, the beginnings of their relationship crumble, leaving rafe feeling betrayed, hurt and angry, spiralling as he lost something he barely had, and leaving iris all alone on kildare once the pogues get lost at sea, vulnerable and hurting

season 2: behind the scenes

heheheheehhehe

season 2 is where rafe and iris get closer, and the flow on effects are felt between drew and obx actress!reader

the kisses they share on screen are so steamy it has fans freaking out, especially at the quick glimpses they get of their tongues melding together. even people from outside the fandom start resharing videos of the kiss with hashtags like #wantthis #hot #menext

like i'm talking hands in hair and 'rafe' gripping her waist like he's about to be torn away, pulling away panting, red lips, etc.

drew and obx actress!reader had both spent time looking forward to the kiss, each secretly reminiscing on the kiss at jd's party. neither objected when they had to redo the take multiple times

the lingering touches shared between their characters are also picked up on, with rafe often touching iris and keeping her close by the end of the season

drew and obx actress!reader spent more time together this season working to develop their relationship after the directors told them more of the series plans, growing their bond even more

the attention on season 2 is greater this time around, with more fans and more people interested in the actors personal lives

obx actress!reader posts a few behind the scenes pictures, but nothing that really gets tongues wagging

it's a picture posted by madison bailey that does, with drew and obx actress!reader lying next to each other on a yacht, the pair side by side as they appear deep in conversation. fans go crazy from all angles, from the tiny bikini she was wearing to drew only in his swim trunks

the pics of them getting clingy and touchy later on in the evening don't ever make it out however….

the cast just sigh, having flashbacks to the 'friendly kisses' the pair always seem to share after a few drinks

in interviews, fans learn of obx actress!reader spending christmas at drew's and they just go wild, convinced the pair are in a secret relationship

with rafe and iris becoming more important characters in season 2, interviewers are lining up to film with the two of them alone, and for the few that manage, the views on the clip are sky high

it's literally just drew and obx actress!reader flirting and giggling the whole time with each other

obx actress!reader 100% simps for drew, complimenting his new look to the interviewer and saying he looks so handsome. drew can only blush and look down at his hands, all shy and cute

ok but lets talk about the bloopers!

it's the scene where they're in the car, rafe begging iris to listen to him after trying to drown sarah, and drew is waving his hands around wildly and accidentally hits her in the head. drew is instantly all over her, tenderly brushing her hair away from her head, checking in on her and apologising so much. it's quiet, but the microphones pick up on drew whispering "are you ok, baby? 'm so sorry"

but yet, they're not in a relationship??? and then drew starts filming hellraiser and people become convinced he's dating odessa??? and everyone is just so confused (including drew and obx actress!reader)

but then? there's pictures posted by paparazzi of drew and obx actress!reader together in new york, seeming far too close to be platonic and cuddling up against each other? queue even more confused fans

hehehe

Q: if i were to give obx actress!reader a love interest to spice things up and build some more angst, who would you want to see???

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pboogerswbb · 2 days ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this.

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz.

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?”

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick.

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does.

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me.

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods.

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her.

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch.

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad.

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches.

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere.

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up.

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately.

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name.

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

#so it goes #lilas writing #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x fem oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #wnba x oc #paige bueckers fanfic

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llamagoddessofficial · 2 days ago

Note

What are some ways the Mafia crew would try to further woo their dearest love? And in return, what ways could we further endear ourselves to them?

Scary spooky mafia guys...... trying their hardest to woo a pretty human. AGH it hits all the notes!!!!

Horror gets overwhelmed. You make him so happy, so fuzzy, so warm - but he doesn't believe he can 'woo' you. Not when he can't bear his own reflection, not when even his Dust and Killer consider him violent and frightening. Horror believes his affection for you is his only redeeming quality. He doesn't think you'll like him, but he literally can't stop himself from trying, so when he has his heart set on you his methods are... surprisingly slow and tentative. Especially considering how mercurial he usually is. He brings you flowers that made him think of you, he makes you food, he pores over his brother's dating manual and panics when something happens that he hasn't read about. He's nervous to even hold your hand in case he scares you; the other skeletons are so handsome and eloquent and flirtatious, how could he ever compare? If he frightens you off, he'll never get you back. He has to be gentle.

How could you endear yourself to Horror? Tell him how handsome he is. Tell him how often he's charming without realising. Compliment his cooking. It really won't be that hard, he's already head over heels, but hearing that you like him means so much.

Dust... does not struggle with wooing. Sorry Horror. Dust is frightening, certainly, but his quietness gives him an undeniable magnetism. Like a wolf - sure, you can see his sharp teeth when he smiles, you can see the moonlight flash in his empty eyes. But when he draws close... you can't help but want to move nearer, and touch his soft, silver pelt. Compared to the other three, his romancing is much more underhanded, more about you than grand gestures toward you - which can honestly be a relief when you're being pursued by such big personalities. He turns on the charm, talks quietly and sweetly, stands just a little too close to be platonic, rents your favourite movie when you're down, and (most importantly) positioning himself as your friend and confidant against the other bad guys. He clearly doesn't want to be involved with them, and it's easier to keep you close if you trust him more.

Dust is won over by sincere affection and compliments. For all that looming and flirting, he sure does fall apart quickly when you look right into his eyelights and tell him you like having him around. At that point, he's all yours.

Killer firmly believes that if he can make you laugh, he can make you love him. It's all about getting those giggles, baby. Whatever kind of jokes you like is the kind he tells, he's impressively quick on the draw and never runs out of material, on occasion you may have to ask him to stop joking because your cheeks and abdomen hurt from laughing. He's careful not to be too much... he knows when to be bombastic, when to just be a bit silly and teasing, and when to offer a shoulder to lean on because you're not in the mood. His romantic side is obviously going to be in full force - bouquets, sweets, cards, dates - but his number one wooing technique is getting you to smile. The world you've been unwillingly dragged into can be truly terrifying, and even with the skeletons surrounding you, you'll no doubt feel the nerves and pressure. Killer's humour is a welcome distraction.

It's... hard to tell what endears you to Killer. Honestly, it's hard to tell what Killer is ever thinking. How do you know what's real affection, and what's just a way of making you feel comfortable around him? How can you tell when he's not acting anymore? Though, if you look at how hard he's working every single day to make you that little bit happier... maybe it's not possible to be any more dear to him than you already are.

Nightmare likes to throw his money around. He has an incredible skill for catching when you really like something, reading your face for even the subtlest shine in your eyes, and no matter how much you try to cover your reactions he will catch when you want something and buy it for you. ... But that's not his only wooing trick. Nightmare is, to most people, a violent and unpleasant man who lets his temper take him wherever it pleases. But once he understands his feelings for you and fully commits to romance, he's charming. Lethally charming. He was raised a prince, after all, Dream isn't the only one who has a way with words. You'll start a simple conversation with him, and then you blink and you're sitting on his desk in his study telling him things you've never told anyone. You'll go to him specifically trying not to be swayed - and then when you snap back to reality the two of you are sharing a very luxurious bottle of wine in his room and you've just agreed to be his plus one to a gala this weekend. After all, if he wants to buy you another eye-wateringly expensive necklace, he's going to have to convince you to try some on first.

Nightmare appreciates any attempt to get to know him. His whole life, he's felt like he's living in Dream's shadow, so when you try to actually understand and learn about Nightmare he gets as flattered as he does flustered. Find out about his favourite painters and musicians, read his favourite books, ask him about himself. No one ever has before.

#llamagines #bad sanses #mafia au #being with nightmare is like suddenly waking up from a crazy night out #except instead of waking up in bed with a hangover #you wake up listening to an orchestra from a private booth. wearing jewellery that costs twice your old rent

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steveseddie · 2 days ago

Text

helping hand

read on ao3

According to Wayne, Eddie can sleep through anything.

It’s why he was late to school pretty much every day. That and the fact that he didn’t give a shit about it– but mostly because he always slept through his alarm clock.

But the thing is that to sleep through anything he needs to be asleep to begin with. And right now he can’t fall asleep because Steve hasn’t stopped tossing and turning in the past hour.

When Eddie comes close to falling asleep for what feels like the hundredth time only for Steve to twist around again, he can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh.

Steve freezes as he’s fixing the blanket around him. “Um, did I wake you?” he asks in a tiny voice.

“I’d have to be asleep for you to wake me up, big boy.”

Running his hands down his face, Steve groans. “Shit, sorry, man.”

“‘S fine, Stevie.” He gives Steve a sidelong glance. Thanks to the moonlight filtering through the window he can see that he’s frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just– Can’t sleep.”

“I got that much, dude,” Eddie says with a snort. He hesitates, biting his lip nervously. “Um, is it because of me?”

It might’ve been Steve who suggested they shared his bed tonight, but maybe he changed his mind or maybe he only did it because he was trying to be polite and he expected Eddie to turn down the offer–

Steve frantically shakes his head. “No! No–”

Eddie isn’t convinced. “Are you sure? Because I can go–”

“No,” Steve says, more firmly this time. “Eddie, I promise, I’m just restless, s’all.”

Eddie relaxes. “Okay, yeah, I get that. It happens to me a lot, especially after– you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs in sympathy. “So what do you do? When it happens?”

“Uh–” Eddie hesitates, a little worried that answering truthfully might make sharing a bed a bit awkward. Oh fuck it, he thinks. It was Steve who asked. “I usually just– you know, jerk off.”

Steve inhales sharply. He lets out a tiny, “Oh.”

And there’s the awkwardness.

Before Eddie can offer to take the couch again, Steve asks, “Does that, um– does that work for you?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Oh, like a charm. Makes me sleep like a baby.”

“I could use some of that,” Steve sighs longingly.

Eddie agrees– he’s noticed the black smudges under Steve’s eyes. “Well, I could, uh– go to the bathroom for a while if you want to–”

Steve sputters. “I’m not gonna ask you to go to the bathroom so I can jerk off!”

“Fine, then you can go to the bathroom. I’ll cover my ears, I promise,” Eddie says, trying to act casual but the truth is that if Steve actually took him up on the offer, Eddie’s brain would melt out of his ears just from knowing Steve is jerking off in the next room.

“Jesus, how loud do you think I am, man?” Steve asks with an incredulous laugh.

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve given it much thought.” He has given it plenty of thought actually but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “Just trying to be helpful here, Stevie.”

“There’s something else you could do if you want to help,” Steve whispers after a short silence. He sounds strangely shy, nervous. He can’t possibly mean–

“Steve,” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice leveled. “Are you asking me to get you off?”

There’s a short moment where Steve doesn’t say anything and Eddie worries that he just made things even more awkward by assuming that’s what he meant, but before he can spiral he hears Steve’s soft reply. “Maybe.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters out loud though mostly to himself but Steve hears it anyway and lets out a panicked yelp.

“Christ, you know what? That was stupid.”

“Steve–”

But Steve ignores him, rolling on his side, away from Eddie, and as far as he can without falling off the bed. “Forget I said anything, you don’t have to–”

“I want to!” Eddie blurts out, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Uh, if– if it will help you.”

“Eddie, I can’t ask you to do that,” Steve says, still facing away from Eddie.

“I’m offering,” he says. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens to him and it definitely won’t be happening twice but he wants it– God, does he want it– so he moves closer, putting his hand on Steve’s waist, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s entire body shudders. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Please, Eddie.”

Oh, shit.

Just the thought of doing this is enough to make Eddie’s blood rush downward, making his dick half hard so he’s careful to keep his hips angled away from Steve’s back as he scoots closer to him, moving his hand from Steve’s waist to his lower stomach, feeling his skin erupt in goosebumps beneath his touch.

“I got you, Stevie,” he whispers, fingers moving down, playing with Steve’s happy trail. He’s already panting and Eddie still hasn’t even touched him.

Jesus fucking Christ, he needs to touch him.

He slides his hand lower until his knuckles bump against Steve’s cock over his boxers. “You’re already half hard, sweetheart? Is this what was actually keeping you up?”

Steve lets out a low moan. He didn’t ask Eddie for a running commentary, just a helping hand, but Eddie can’t stop himself. He’s a loud guy through and through, so unless Steve tells him to shut up, he’ll keep running his mouth. Steve seems to be into it anyway.

He lazily strokes Steve’s cock over his boxers to get him to full hardness. Fuck, he’s big, Eddie thinks. He can’t wait to feel Steve’s hot skin–

“Can I touch you?” Eddie whispers into his ear.

“Yes, yeah,” Steve agrees quickly.

So Eddie slips his hand inside Steve’s boxers, sighing happily when he wraps his fingers around his hard length.

The touch makes Steve throw his head back with a groan, almost smashing it against Eddie’s nose. Thankfully he doesn’t, even though not even a bloody nose would make Eddie give up the chance to get Steve off.

However he does prop himself up with the arm he isn’t using to touch Steve so his head rests against Eddie’s shoulder so as to not risk an injury– and because it allows him to peer over Steve’s shoulder and watch how his hand looks wrapped around his cock.

And God the sight gets Eddie to full hardness, making his mouth water.

He starts stroking him slowly, gathering the precum from the tip and smearing it down and around Steve’s cock but it’s not enough.

When he lets go entirely, Steve whines, hips thrusting forward, chasing after Eddie’s touch.

Eddie shushes him gently. “‘M not going anywhere, sweetheart. Here, spit,” he says, holding his hand close to Steve’s mouth. He does as he’s told without hesitation. Eddie can’t stop himself from kissing Steve’s nape. “Good boy.”

“Oh, G-god,” Steve moans brokenly. It trails off into a high-pitched whine when Eddie wraps his hand around him again, the slide of his hand smoother now from Steve’s spit.

He pumps him loosely. “Better?”

“Y–yeah,” Steve manages, panting now.

The elastic of his boxers makes Eddie’s movements a little clumsy but Steve fixes it by jerkily shoving them down. While doing that, his ass presses back against Eddie’s front and there’s no way for him to hide that he’s fully hard in his own boxers.

But instead of shoving Eddie away or calling him out on it, Steve groans and shuffles back until Eddie’s chest presses against his back and Eddie’s cock is nestled against Steve’s now naked ass.

“Fucking– fuck,” Eddie chokes out, momentarily stopping his hand so he can get his breathing over control.

“Eddie–” Steve whines, his hips twitching and fucking his cock into Eddie’s fist. It pushes his ass back against Eddie’s crotch, which does little to help Eddie focus.

“‘M here, baby,” Eddie whispers, his teeth clamped over his lip. Steve’s hips are still moving–

But he starts stroking him again, reminding himself that this is about Steve.

“Oh God, yes,” he moans loudly.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be loud,” Eddie mutters in awe.

Steve lets out a choked laugh. “I thought– I thought you didn’t give it much– oh fuck, much thought.”

“I fucking lied,” Eddie admits with a scoff.

“I– I lied too,” Steve says, his breath coming faster when Eddie tightens his grip. “You were the reason, fuck– the reason why I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking, oh God– thinking about how I wanted to be doing this instead.”

Something hot burns in Eddie’s stomach. “Well, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”

“Can– can I ask for something else?” Steve says shyly despite him currently grinding his ass against Eddie in an obscene way.

“Anything.”

“Fuck my thighs?” He asks, twisting his neck so he can look at Eddie, his eyes half-lidded, his pupils blown wide.

Eddie is pretty sure his brain momentarily short circuits.

When he doesn’t reply right away, Steve blindly reaches behind him, his hand connecting with Eddie’s hip. He clumsily tugs on his boxers, trying to get them off.

It snaps Eddie out of it. “Yes, yeah, fucking– yeah,” he mutters, momentarily letting go of Steve so he can shove his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach.

He gives himself a few strokes– to take the edge off and to spread the precum along his length until his cock is wet and shiny.

“Come here,” Steve says and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He shuffles closer, angling the head of his dick forward, lining it up so it slides between Steve’s thighs.

And when it does, they both moan loudly at the same time.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths then reaches for Steve’s cock. The inside of Steve’s thighs is so warm and soft and he knows he’s not gonna last long, but he’ll make sure to make Steve come.

He makes sure his grip is tighter this time, his movements faster. He times them with his own thrusts, his cock sliding wetly in and out Steve’s meaty thighs.

“You feel fucking perfect, Steve,” Eddie groans, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder blade. The praise makes Steve whimper, his cock pulsing in Eddie’s hand. “You gonna come, sweetheart?”

Breathing coming faster, Steve manages, “Yeah– yeah. So fuckin’ close.”

“Me too, baby,” he admits. It doesn’t surprise him, he’s currently experiencing the hottest moment of his entire existence.

The closer he gets, the more his movements turn clumsier, more desperate– desperate to come, to make Steve come.

It’s when Eddie gives Steve’s shoulder a playful little bite at the same time that he twists his hand on the upstroke that Steve’s back arches and he moans loud and shaky as his cock pulses hotly into his hand.

Steve’s noises as he comes and the way his thighs tighten around Eddie’s cock are enough to bring him over the edge after only a few more thrusts and he paints Steve’s legs with cum.

They lay like that for a few seconds, catching their breath. Eddie starts to drift off, feeling tired and floaty.

“So you think you can fall asleep now?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Steve lets out a soft little giggle. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Eddie grins triumphantly. “Happy to be of service, Your Majesty,” he says with a twist of his cum-covered hand.

Steve’s nose wrinkles as his eyes land on it, but there’s a trace of fond amusement in the look he throws at Eddie over his shoulder. He grabs a handful of tissues from his nightstand and uses them to clean Eddie’s hand and himself before they both shove their boxers back on and get back under the covers.

Eddie rolls to his side. “Before you fall asleep and because I know it’ll keep me up if I don’t ask– was that like, just a hookup or do you like, like me?” He grimaces, burying his face into a pillow. “God, I sound like a twelve year old.”

Steve laughs, but not unkindly. “I like you, Eddie,” he says, and when Eddie lifts his head to look at him, Steve leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Smiling, Eddie nods. That’s fine by him.

Steve turns around, facing away again and Eddie wraps his arm around him, burrowing his face into the back of his neck.

They’re both asleep in a matter of seconds.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddiebingo2025 #steddiebingo12daysofchristmas #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #monse writes #plaid divider for steve's plaid sheets that the boys are messing up in this fic

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