#[ but... there was all that work... with time magic... ]

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

MORNING WOOD. 18+

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc. 1.3k synopsis. literally what the title says. bucky has a morning chub on, you help take care of it, he returns the favour. bish bash bosh, bob's your uncle warnings. 18+ only. mutual masturbation, teasing/ edging, little bit of piv but neither of you last long (got that magic kitty) creampie, cockwarming, general filth. mdni

⎯ ☆ ⎯

There's not much that can beat a slow Sunday morning in bed: to lay peacefully under the sheets, the birds chirping just outside the window. It’s the kind of thing you look forward to all week.

You've not long been awake, your eyes only just beginning to adjust to the spring sun through the curtains. You roll over, turning to face Bucky on your right who isn’t quite as awake as you — still set in slumber, head propped up on a bent vibranium arm behind his head. He looks so calm, ever so gentle. 

Your eyes close to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, the slow inhalations and exhalations acting as white noise, almost easing you back to sleep. But you hear a particularly heavy intake of air beside you and your eyes fling open. Bucky’s head tilts to face you, eyes seeming to find yours almost immediately. 

“Morning,” you smile at him, arm reaching to drape around his sternum.

He leans closer to you and presses a kiss just beside your nose, the awkward angle intercepting any chance of getting to your lips. 

“Mornin’,” he repeats, voice thick and sleepy. 

You prop your head on the edge of his chest, keeping it there for a moment as a means to simply keep close. You peer towards the window briefly, spotting something –perhaps a bird– fly past, and when you glance away, you take notice of something else. A tenting in the bed’s sheets just below your lover’s middle. Your attention captivated, maybe even more so than any kind of bird.

You slowly drag your hand down his stomach, your pinky finger leading the way along his happy trail and towards his pubic bone. His breathing grows heavier, deeper, just beside your ear — the featherlight touches seeming to catch up with him.

He props his head higher by scrunching the pillow, using it as elevation to watch what’s going on between his legs more clearly. His gaze growing all the more entranced by the creeping of your hand under the sheets, focus locked quite like a cat with a laser pointer.

You press a kiss to the scar band near his armpit, peering up just moments after. “Want me to take care of it?”

The corners of his lips turn downwards as he smiles, an amused small chuckle following suit. “Your hands are softer than mine,” he entices, pretending to give the matter a second thought.

Your fingers drag through his pubes briefly, the faint twirling motion only a means to work him up that bit more. As you reach for his cock, you lift your head and reposition your arm from underneath you, resting your cheek on your fist. You keep your attention cast on Bucky, watching the visual response on his face as your nail drags up the underside of his shaft. 

Raising your hand, you hover it atop his cock, singular fingertip beginning its faint swirling over the head — drawing a messy figure of eight through his precum. You press a light kiss to his lower cheek, just beside his lips, the act of affection a silent direction; wordlessly getting him to face you. 

He turns to you and you lean in, lips ghosting his as if your goal was to torment him that much more. You initiate kisses, though you never follow through with them — each brushing of your lips on his being only that. Just breathy half whines as your mouths merely meet.

He throws his head back frustratedly, not seeming to be enjoying your games at this current moment in time. And you can’t help but find amusement in his annoyance, taking pleasure like the way he often does with you when he’s the instigator of such games. 

The hand on his dick is faint, like it’s barely there, languidly pumping his cock as if time were no such issue. The motion of your hand being seen rather clearly though the sporadic bobbing of the bed sheets. 

And with your attention caught on the lewd view below, Bucky becomes eager to reinstigate kisses — the fleshed hand at his side moving to cup your face. Thumb and index squishing into the hollows of your cheeks as he turns you to look at him, taking matters into his own hands. Quite literally. He pulls your face in towards his, kissing you slow and deep. A complete juxtaposition to those dozen half ones before. 

It serves as a distraction to your teasing and tormenting, and you each grow more entranced in it. His hand that’s clasped to your face begins its mindless wandering, trailing leisurely down the dips and dents of your nude side. Touches continuing over your hip and across your thigh, slowly sliding inward and to what's between.

You muffle something indecipherable into his mouth, and you yourself were not overly certain about what was said. Maybe a concoction of a curse and a moan, you weren’t sure. But whatever it was, it seemed to egg him on. 

While you continue your gentle pumping of his cock in your hand, he makes an effort to reciprocate some of the pleasure. He trails upwards through your slick folds, starting at your entrance going up — the obstructed angle becoming somewhat of a hindrance. And so you lift your leg slightly, mind still just about capable of thought despite the tizzy feeling within it. The new position allowing more of him to get to more of you.

He begins to mirror the motions on you that he is receiving from you, lazy half-hearted strokes and drags of his fingers over your pussy — mirroring the teasing on you. As if he was subtly using it as time to get his own back, purposely avoiding the places you want like you did him. 

“Come on,” you muffle into his mouth. The rather pathetic sound an audible indication of how bothered you’re growing, his delicate touches making you all the more frustrated. 

He parts from the kiss and simultaneously retracts his hand from between your thighs, though his lips remain close as he speaks. “Not so nice, is it?” 

“No,” you murmur, feeling disheartened by being left hanging off the edge of that metaphorical cliff. 

And when you itch forward to rekindle the lusty makeout, he pulls back, head shaking softly — almost like a playful mocking. So you too pause, snatching your hand from around his cock, allowing him to also dangle on the brink. Similar dissatisfactory groans following promptly.

The arm supporting your head grows weak, becoming practically limp and you resume your prior laid position. And like you anticipated, Bucky moves to hover atop you, the heavy –prominent– weight of his cock briefly resting along the crease where your cunt meets thigh. 

He anchors himself on one hand beside you, the other reaching between to guide himself to your pussy. Giving his dick one last preparatory pump, he eases it into you. The reminder that these antics were to be cut short lingered in either of your minds, the pair of you mere moments from letting go. 

Bucky’s eyes momentarily flicker across your bare breasts below, attention somewhat occupied before he finally meets your eyes. You hold onto the visual contact as he feeds his cock into you — each of you watching the lusty expressions form within each other. 

Though neither of you can last long –one and a half thrusts exactly– before he’s spilling into your jittering cunt. Your climaxes following within seconds of each other. 

All strength in his neck is lost and he presses his forehead against yours, each of you using the pause to even out your breathing. His cock comfortably rests inside you, the only form of communication between you being that of looks — wordlessly conversing through your eyes. Silently telling the other that the small dose was not enough to thoroughly satiate the need. 

Luckily, both of your schedules are free for the day.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[alexanderwales]

See, what you have to do is build the world from the very start so that friendship magic and love magic are a part of it, and everyone is highly adapted to it, and the social structures are built around it.

"Anyone who died wasn't loved enough" is a fantastic premise for a world. Having friends and family (and multiple redundant friends and family) is suddenly vitally important, especially if it's protecting you from death by old age and the sudden stopping of love can kill you.

And there's an edge to it, isn't there, if love is what keeps you alive? If you need to keep cultivating love even if you're not particularly feeling love yourself, if you have to "force" relationships even when you're kind of fed up with other people? There's a strong incentive to lie for love, to manipulate for love, to get love from other people with the minimum amount of work.

But for love and friendship magic to work, it has to be authentic, you can't have someone fake love you, otherwise the spell just fails. And that's horrifying, right? Worrying that you don't actually love someone enough to save them, watching them die and knowing that it was only because you didn't have the compassion and empathy within you to overcome some mild annoyance with their behavior?

I'm picturing people dependent on love and also constrained by it, and maybe the people at the top really do thrive on managing their public image and cultivating hundreds of close friendships to make sure that nothing can slip through the cracks and murder them. Love-liches motivated by fear of death who have to fight their natural urge to treat every person around them as a resource in their barrier against harm, because people don't love being used by that. A terrible world where everyone counts their friends, where you're judged on how many friends you are, where friend count is a metric that people use to hire you.

It could work! A world where friendship is magic, and the implications of this are taken to their logical extremes, where the protagonist isn't special because his mother loved him and thereby saved his life, this is just a totally routine thing that happens all the time!

Question: What is the greatest magic of all? Answer: Friendship, right? [B]: The greatest magic of all is not friendship, it's chronomancy, the ability to control and warp time. If friendship were the greatest magic, look, it's a pet peeve of mine (...)

DUNGEON MASTER BRENNAN LEE MULLIGAN ANSWERS DnD QUESTIONS (TECH SUPPORT | WIRED)

[illbegottenfaith]

that one girl from summer camp

you drive yourself up the wall trying to figure out who your best friend is taking to your year's farewell dinner (theo nott x reader, ft. the Slytherin boys)

a/n - before anyone says it I KNOW they can prob just use magic for whatever they're doing but i feel like that wouldn't make for a very fun fic heheh okay enjoyyy

tropes/warning - fluff, friends to lovers, jealous!reader, happy ending, the Slytherin boys being menaces/irritatingly unhelpful

word count - 2k

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

May - the one time of year the air smelt so deliciously of tangerines and escape, freedom so close you could taste it. In the midst of all the finals and packing, you and your friends had volunteered to help prep certain areas of the crumbling castle for a little refurbishment. Now, you were dropping by to visit Theo, who was helping pack the majority of the Restricted Section books into boxes.

"Anyway, Melissa and I should get back to packing," Ivy was saying with him half-listening. "It's awful, Theodore. Our room is such a mess, there's barely enough space for the three of us. Especially on Y/N's side of the room."

You glared at her as Theo bent to tick something else off his list. But she only gave you an exaggeratedly saucy wink.

"I guess we'll just...leave Y/N with you."

She ducked as you you brandished a book at her threateningly. You weren't going to let her hear the end of it later.

Melissa had the good sense to steer Ivy towards the exit, who was now making exaggerated kissy faces despite your scowl. Lucky for you, Theo hadn't caught much of it. He glanced up as Ivy was noisily leaving, looking a little lost. You pointed at his box.

"Want some help?"

And so the two of you spent the better part of the next hour emptying It felt nice to watch him work, unbothered - how he distractedly pushed his hair back when he was thinking a little hard, how he hummed when he forgot you were only a few shelves away, how he'd take in a particularly deep breath if he was deeply absorbed in something.

"I can't believe we're finally graduating. I thought it would never end," you sighed, taping a box closed. "Are you staying for the farewell dinner?"

"Yeah." Theo said distractedly, frowning at his list. You watched him carefully.

"Are you...taking anyone?"

Theo's head jerked up.

"What?"

You flinched, startled. You could feel the back of your neck growing warm as you hastily started to explain. "To the dinner. Are you going with someone? It's just, I was wond - "

"Oh." Was it just you, or did he look a little relieved? "Yeah. I mean, yes, I'm hoping to take someone. Someone special. I haven't asked her yet, though."

You put your stack of books down, giving Theo a sidelong glance. He had to be talking about you. Was this him being coy?

"And who exactly is this mystery someone?"

Theo waved a hand dismissively. "No one, really. Just this girl I met at that summer camp. The one after first year, remember?"

Of course you remembered. It had been like one big sleepover for all the first-years, free to explore the castle and terrorise the House head without the threat of finals or detentions (not that a certain greasy-haired professor still didn't try). It was one of your fondest memories, marred only slightly by this girl with dark, deep-set eyes and an unfortunate bowl-cut, bob-esque haircut who constantly followed you and your friends around.

You also remembered that you had only met Theo in your third year, in a shared Herbology class, a good two years after the camp. All of a sudden, your tongue felt too big for your mouth.

"Oh," you said, stupidly. Because what else could you say?

"It only seems fitting after all these years." Theo continued, oblivious to the embarrassment washing over you, scooping up your stack of books like it weighed nothing.

Your face fell. "Right."

You busied yourself with the next shelf of books, and the next, and the next. The two of you worked in silence. You wondered if he noticed how quiet you had become.

"We're out of boxes," Theo said after a while. "I'll have to go get more. Meet back here in 15?"

He was already halfway out the door before you could respond.

You decided a little fresh air would help. In the courtyard, Mattheo was covering the walls with a fresh coat of paint with a few others, a smudge of paint on his nose.

"Mattheo," you called out, walking over to him. "You have a little - "

He looked up inquisitively just as another dollop of paint dripped off the roller and landed on his hair.

"Never mind."

"How goes the library?" he asked, pausing his work. You shrugged.

"Alright. Boring. Fine."

He hummed noncommittally. "Just fine? No...scintillating conversation?"

Mattheo's tone was deceptively casual as he turned back to his work, dunking his roller into the bucket of paint. You narrowed your eyes at the boy suspiciously.

"You know something," you concluded.

"I should hope so, after seven years in this place," Mattheo responded coolly.

"You know who Theo's taking to the dinner."

He paused his dunking efforts, looking genuinely surprised.

"You don't?"

"You do?"

He hesitated, trying to look exceptionally engrossed in wringing out the excess paint.

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Either you know or you don't. Which is it?"

"I might know. I might not," Mattheo continued in that irritatingly smug tone. "But if I did know, I wouldn't be telling you."

You rolled your eyes. "Rude."

He smirked. "It's the truth."

"What's the truth?"

You looked over your shoulder to see Draco walking towards the two of you, lazily tossing an apple. Maybe you'd have better luck with him.

"You wouldn't happen to know who Theo's taking to the farewell, dinner, would you?"

"Not you, that's for sure," he replied almost immediately, taking a generous bite of his apple.

"I know that," you muttered, your voice faltering a little. Merlin knows he had made that exceptionally clear. You cleared your throat awkwardly. Mattheo glared at Draco.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the Astronomy Tower?"

"I'm taking my break."

"Well, go take your break somewhere else. Like with the ferrets."

"Hey," Draco said, the tips of his ears turning faintly pink. "That was one time, and as far as I'm concerned, it was nothing short of child abuse - "

"Animal abuse, more like."

You left the boys to bicker as you morosely drifted back towards the library. If only someone would tell you.

Someone you could trust to be telling the truth.

In a fit of inspiration, you changed course, walking in the opposite direction. What you needed, you had decided, was someone in Theo's inner circle who couldn't bear to lie.

You watched Blaise step out of the Slytherin common room from a short distance away, near the shifting staircases. He was fiddling with his watch but stopped short as soon as he saw you. You smiled cheerily.

"Zabini," you started breezily.

"No."

The boy held out a hand in warning. You frowned at him, appalled.

"Zabini," you said, much more impatiently, taking a step towards him. He let out a strangled sort of sound and stepped back.

"No. I already told Theo I want no part in this - this game of yours."

You scoffed. Someone had to have given him a heads up. "Was it Draco? Was he the one who told you?" That slimy eyesore of a snitch.

"It doesn't matter," Blaise was saying, more preoccupied with finding a way out now that you were drawing closer, closing in on him. "I want nothing to do with it. This is between you and Theo."

You laughed weakly.

"Honestly, Blaise. I just want to have a little chat with you! There's nothing wrong with that. Why are you - where are you going? Why are you walking away from me? Blaise? Why are you run - Zabini! Stop running! TELL ME WHO THEO'S TAKING TO THE - "

Unfortunately, you weren't half the track star Blaise was, and yelling while sprinting at full speed was more than your lungs could take. You decided to take a little breather on the steps, hatefully watching him disappear into the convoluted network of staircases with the most awful stitch in your chest.

"I got the boxes," Theo said brightly as you walked in, "and water."

You were too exhausted to even pretend to be fine. "I'm not thirsty," you mumbled, turning your back to him in dismissal. Theo paused, uncertain.

Though, you thought after a moment, you were feeling a little parched, what with all that running.

"Give me that."

Theo handed the bottle over.

"Are you okay? You look a little..."

You shook your head.

"It's nothing. I've just been running around the castle." Like an idiot.

Theo looked confused. It was a frustratingly adorable look on him. "Whatever for?"

You sighed. You pulled him into the chair next to yours, looking him squarely in the eye.

"Nott."

"L/N," he echoed in a completely serious tone, looking like he was enjoying this more than he should.

"I'm going to be straight with you."

"You do that."

"I need you to be straight with me."

"I'll try my best, ma'am."

"Okay. Why won't you tell me who you're taking to the dinner?"

Theo opened his mouth, but then closed it again, as if deciding better of his response. You hated it. You couldn't remember the last time you kept something from him, other than the very big Something you felt about him, and it felt horrible to have him keep something from you.

"Do you not want me to know?" you asked a little pitifully. You wouldn't like it one bit, but you'd learn to accept whoever it was Theo had taken a fancy to. That's what friends did.

"I do want you to know," he said earnestly. "Trust me, I do, more than you know."

"So tell me."

"You."

"Me what?"

"You. I'm taking you."

You stared at him, silent. He stared back, face equally inscrutable. What kind of sick joke was he playing? Hadn't he embarrassed you enough? You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You worried your bottom lip.

"First you won't tell me who you're taking, now you're making fun of me? Is this all a big joke to you? Do you find this funny?"

"A little."

You stood up. Maybe your reaction wasn't making a lot of sense to either of you, but you had had enough. He finally spotted the gleam in your eyes.

"Wait - Y/N, please, I did mean to ask you. This afternoon."

"Enough with the lying, Teddy. This isn't funny anymore."

"But I'm not lying." He looked so distraught, you almost felt sorry for him.

"Draco already said it wasn't me."

The concern knitted into his face almost instantly evaporated. "Malfoy lied? For fun?" He deadpanned. "Alert the presses."

You floundered. "Well - erm - you said you met her at camp. We only met in third year Herbology."

Theo shook his head, mystified.

"No," he said slowly, "we met at the camp. I'm sure of it." He cocked his head. "Do you seriously not remember me?"

"All I remember is this one - " your heated words died on your lips as you finally out two and two together. That had been no little girl, but a little boy, with hair as wavy and soft and dark as Theo's.

"We did meet at camp," you corrected yourself. "We did." You had to hold back a laugh. "My - my mistake. We met at the camp."

Now he was watching you suspiciously.

"What's so funny?" he asked testily.

You just shook your head, swallowing your smile.

bonus (a few months later):

"Girl?" Theo echoed, scandalised, flipping through your photo album. The two of you were in your dorm, sitting side by side on your bed while Theo looked through your album and you - well, you were just enjoying staring at your boyfriend and his handsome side profile. Your heart gave a giddy jolt. Boyfriend. You'd never tire of hearing the word.

"You thought I was a girl?"

You rolled your eyes. "In my defence, your voice was at a much higher pitch back then. Also, you were 11. I was 11. So..."

Theo shook his head slowly, mumbling disbelievingly under his breath.

"Look - " you pulled the album from his lap towards you. "See, your hair's a little long, so it kind of looks like a bob, and it's sort of overwhelming on your face, which is - "

"What about my face?" Theo asked in a half-injured tone. You grinned. He could be so sensitive sometimes.

You put aside the album, leaning in close enough to see the faint freckles dusting his nose, the faded birthmark near the corner of his eye. You pressed a kiss to your cheekbone.

"Nothing. It's perfect."

[yourstrulyrani]

being the oldest daughter in an ethnic household has been taking a little toll on me lately so let us indulge in roommate!gaz shall we

roommate!gaz who loves to spend his evenings with you in the living room watching whatever you put on the tv. you've currently had this obsession with shows about the military because of gaz, but he absolutely hates the inaccuracy in them. he'll make an occasional comment like "this guy has some magic gun, shooting all these rounds but hasn't reloaded once." on the bright side, he's watching these shows with you and he would never complain about that.

roommate!gaz who does that thing dads do when you say you like a certain food/snack and then buys them in bulk the next time he heads to the store. he said he was getting "nothing much. just some eggs and milk" when he was leaving. but when he walks into the apartment an hour later, you turned out it was a lie. he unloads the groceries and then several packs of your favorite snack. he offers you a warm smile, "you said you liked these a lot the other day, thought i'd buy some for ya."

roommate!gaz who comes back from deployment with trinkets for you always. his work is global and he is never in one country for too long, so there'd be no better way to spend his time around the world than taking the time to get you something. he loves seeing your reactions at the trinkets he brings, your hands holding the little object carefully and your eyes wide in fascination.

roommate!gaz who loves to brag to the 141 boys about how "phenomenal" his roommate is. he talks about how he thinks your job is so cool, how your hobbies are so interesting, and how your personality is enough to brighten his mood after a rough day. subconsciously, he's just listing the reasons he's in love with you. the boys know that he's smitten, but they wouldn't dare to bring it up until he realizes it for himself.

[postgamevibes]

It started as a joke.

A quick kiss outside the tunnel before a game he was nervous about, nothing serious. You had leaned in, kissed him softly on the lips, and whispered, "Go get 'em, superstar."

He scored twice that night.

"This is a coincidence," you said.

"Nope. It’s the kiss," Connor insisted. "It’s good luck. You have to do it before every game now."

You laughed it off—until he started puckering up his lips like an offering before every puck drop, waiting for your kiss like it was part of his equipment.

Tonight was no different.

Connor stood just outside the locker room, already in his uniform, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The arena buzzed with pregame energy, the low hum of fans and music vibrating through the walls. He looked up as you approached, a smile spreading across his face instantly.

"You're late," he teased.

"You're needy," you teased back.

He leaned in with a grin. "Just give me the magic."

You rolled your eyes and took his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was quick, innocent, but it made his shoulders drop, made the tension melt away from his body.

"You’ve got this," you said.

"I’ve got this," he echoed, more to himself than to you.

As he jogged down the tunnel, he glanced back over his shoulder and shot you a wink.

He had two assists and a goal that night. Naturally.

Back home, he sprawled on the couch with his feet on your lap, scrolling through highlights on his phone.

"It’s officially not a coincidence anymore," he declared. "The kiss is canon."

"Canon?"

He nodded. "Like, part of the lore. Like a sacred pregame ritual."

You snorted. "Do I get a jersey or puck for being part of the lore?"

He tossed a throw pillow at you. "You get unlimited bragging rights."

"Hmm. Tempting."

It kept going—game after game, kiss after kiss. Home or away, you’d find a moment, no matter how quick, to press a kiss to his lips or cheek. Sometimes it was behind the scenes, in the locker room hallway. Other times it was just a texted selfie blowing a kiss when you couldn’t make it in person.

Then came the night you didn’t make it at all.

You were stuck at work, swamped with last-minute emails and back-to-back calls. You didn’t even realize how late it was until the puck had already dropped.

Connor played fine—on paper. But anyone watching closely could see the difference. He looked off. Unsettled. Like something was missing

Because something was.

After the game, he didn’t text right away. It wasn’t until almost midnight that your phone buzzed.

Connor: missed you today

You: i’m so sorry. i feel awful.

Connor: i just didn’t feel right. even in warmups. not mad. just missed you.

You sat with your phone in your hands for a long time, then typed:

You:i’ll never miss another pregame kiss. swear it.

His reply came instantly.

Connor:deal. it’s our thing now.

Next game, you were there early. Connor saw you and lit up like a fire, crossing the tunnel in three long strides.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly, already ducking his head for the kiss.

You stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Wait.”

He blinked. “What?”

You grinned. “Just soaking in the desperation. Okay, now.”

He laughed, pulling you into him as you kissed his cheek, then his lips.

“You good now?” you asked.

He nodded, already looking sharper, steadier. “I’m great.”

He turned to head out, then paused. “Love you.”

You smiled. “Love you more.”

And he stepped onto the ice, your kiss stitched into the seams of his confidence.

Canon, indeed.

[ak319]

Lovesick bubbly hubby x fem reader

ミ☆ Slice of Life

♥︎ Syno: Narin and you had a baby, and it's a boy! ♥︎ Warnings: bxg but matriarchal themes e.g. mpreg mentions! Fluff and lots of it and a bit of spice too..;) ♥︎ previous

If someone had told Narin how different his life would be now, he would pause, blink, and then smile. Because they’d be absolutely right.

In the small moments carved out of his busy routine, as your dearest, only, and unquestionably prettiest husband of the century, and now, as a papa too, Narin finds himself glowing. He’s the proud father of the cutest baby alive: Mylo. Your son. His son. A perfect blend of everything he finds magical in this world. From this marriage to the beautiful home you’ve built together, Narin can’t stop thanking God.

Even his parents, especially his father, noticed a subtle shift in him, something like maturity. Narin, the boy who once barely finished assignments on time, now insists on knowing every detail about how to feed Mylo, how to burp him, how to swaddle him just right, how to lull him to sleep, and still find time to cook your favorite meals.

You and his parents have gently suggested hiring a maid, just to ease the pressure.

But Narin? Absolutely not.

"Are you kidding!? A MAID!? What if he flirts with you!? What if he tries to seduce you while I’m in the nursery, elbow-deep in diaper duty? DON'T EVER SAY THAT!" he’d shriek and break stuff, already imagining dramatic betrayal scenarios.

No stranger was stepping into this home. This sanctuary. His wife, his baby, his perfect little life, he was going to protect it with every inch of glittery, sleep-deprived resolve he had.

Speaking of...

🍭 "Do I look fat? Have I changed a lot? Have I lost the baby weight or no-"

"My little angel, cupcake, you’re perfect as alwa-"

"YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT!"

And there come the tears.

As if cradling Mylo and keeping him quiet wasn’t enough already. One wrong movement and that baby will erupt. Two crying babies? Definitely not what you signed up for after coming home completely knackered.

"I say that 'cause it’s true, babe!"

"Oh really?! Then why did your brother TAUNT me about-"

"I told you to ignore what my family says! Why do you always listen to them-"

Insert loud wailing from Mylo.

Perfect timing.

"Shh, it's okay. Your father is just having a moment-"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

Oh no.

His routine is even more exciting for him now! From you cuddling them both in the morning for at least an hour, showering your boys with kisses, to him getting himself and Mylo ready before you come back from work-

Absolute heaven.

And do you think that after having a baby, he lost his own flair? That cunning, minxy flair? Think again.

🍭 He leans back into your chest as you cuddle him closer, your arms wrapped around him and Mylo nestled peacefully on his lap. Narin hums softly, inhaling the familiar scent of his beauty products and the sweet, distinct baby smell clinging to Mylo’s blanket.

"How’s work going, Coco? I hate seeing you… work yourself this much…" he murmurs, his fingers absentmindedly stroking Mylo’s tiny sock-covered foot. But you...

You weren't listening. Too busy nuzzling his neck and stpping yourself from devouring him right then and there.

"I mean, I get it, you’re amazing and a hard working woman, wife and all, but maybe... maybe just lie down here? Just for a bit? On me?" he whispers, tilting his head back to look at you with those wide, pleading eyes. "I promise I won’t move. Not even a twitch."

The way he's acting all meek--God, he's gonna get it.

He shifts slightly so the blanket covers your legs too. "I even warmed your favorite one. See? I planned this nap. It’s romantic."

Then, a pause.

"...Unless you’re leaving again. Are you leaving again?" His voice wobbles, and his lower lip starts to jut out, slowly, dramatically.

That pout. That ridiculous, practiced, award-winning househusband pout.

If you even hint at standing up, he’ll clutch your sleeve like a Victorian widower watching his love go off to war.

"Mhm...who said anything bout' leaving, mhm?."

You shift slightly behind him, your chin resting on his shoulder, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Y’know," you murmur, "for someone who says he’s too tired for anything but naptime, you sure know how to trap me under a warm blanket like you’ve got an agenda."

Narin gasps, actually gasps, his hand flying to his chest like you accused him of a crime.

"Excuse me?! I’m a sweet, innocent papa trying to get his hardworking wife to nap! How dare you-"

You trail a finger down the curve of his waist, slow enough to make him shiver.

"Mmhm. Innocent, huh? That why you keep wearing those silk pajama pants around me like you don’t know what they do to my self-control?" You gave the side of his hip a firm swat.

Narin’s cheeks go red immediately, cherry blossom red.

"Th-they’re just comfy! And breathable! And postpartum-friendly!” he stammers, clutching Mylo like a tiny shield. "Besides, I-I don’t control how good I look in them, okay?!”

You smirk against his neck. "Sure you don’t."

He lets out a tiny squeak, torn between wanting to argue and silently bask in the fact that you’re still that into him, he keeps fussing over, and the fact that he hasn’t done his skincare routine in two days.

You hum against his skin, and then, without warning, press a slow, deliberate kisses to the side of his neck. Just below his ear. Right where you know it’ll make him flinch and curl his toes.

Narin freezes.

You feel his whole body tense in your arms, his breath catching in his throat like a cartoon character short-circuiting.

"H-Hey… hey-C-coco…" he whines, his voice high and wobbly. “You c-can’t just-! I’m holding the baby!"

Ignoring him, you kiss him again softly on his neck, biting in between.

His head tips back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted in surrender.

“You missed me?” he breathes out.

You grin. "Of course...so much, my doll...."

Another kiss, this time to his cheek, and then one right at the corner of his mouth. His fingers curl tightly around Mylo’s blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him from completely melting.

You finally press a rougher kiss to his lips full of passion to shut his quiet whining. He doesn’t even move at first, just sighs into it like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, letting you bite and suck his pouty plump, fruity lips.

When you pull back, he’s blinking up at you with that dazed, heart-eyed look.

"…Okay," he says, dreamy and breathless. "Maybe I do have an agenda."

Damn right he always did, from the moment you stepped in the house, with your sleeves rolled up and the loose tie.

But of course, this little vixen of yours would see your child as a perfect tool to manipulate you. Like, duh. As if groveling to him alone wasn’t humiliating enough, now you’ve got two people to apologize to: one with dramatic eyeliner and the other in a fluffy cat onesie. And honestly? It scares you. The way Narin can just pack a bag and threaten to take Mylo to his parents’ place the second he’s mad. You’re never sure if he fully understands the kind of hurt that leaves behind, or if he does, and simply doesn’t care. It only took one real scolding from you, one sharp, serious reprimand, for him to shrink back, eyes wide and glistening, murmuring apologies with shaking hands. He hasn't dared to do it again since. Not openly, at least. But deep down, he’d been a little pleased. Pleased to discover a weakness in you. That just by giving you a son, he’d carved himself into your life so deeply that no matter how angry, how exhausted, how heartbroken you got... he’d always be a permanent fixture. You weren’t just his love now. You were bound.

🍭You unlock the door, stepping in with tired shoulders and your work bag slung low. The house smells like baby lotion, leftover pasta, and ....suspicious amounts of drama.

Silence.

Too much silence.

Then you spot them, curled up on the couch. Narin’s in his robe, hair up in a little bun, Mylo nestled in his lap with his tiny face squished against his father’s chest.

Narin doesn’t even look at you.

"Oh," he says. Flat. Chilly. "Look who decided to come home."

You blink. "Babe, I told you I had a late meeting-"

He holds up a hand, still not facing you. "No, no. You don’t get to ‘babe’ me right now. We had plans. Mylo and I were going to watch that cheesy prince movie together, and I made themed snacks. Themed, COCO! Do you realize the effort in that?!"

You try to step closer, but he scoots dramatically to the side, shielding Mylo’s ear like he’s protecting a witness.

"Don’t talk to him," Narin says in a stage whisper. "He doesn’t want to hear it. Do you, Mylo?"

Mylo just hiccups and chews on Narin’s robe tie.

"That’s right," Narin murmurs, leaning down conspiratorially. "She abandoned us. Left us to suffer. Alone. No goodnight kisses, no evening cuddles. And we looked so cute today too, didn’t we?"

"Narin-"

"Shh." He gently taps Mylo’s lips with a finger. "Don’t say anything to her, baby. Silence is power."

"You are coaching our son against me again?"

Narin gasps theatrically, clutching Mylo to his chest. "Cover your ears, baby. She’s using the Voice. That rough, work-weary, tempting Voice that ruins our boundaries."

Mylo lets out a giggle.

Narin gasps. "Traitor."

You try not to laugh as you make your way to the couch and lean over, kissing both of their foreheads in one go. "I’ll bribe you both with cookies and twenty minutes of undivided attention if you forgive me."

Narin narrows his eyes.

"…Fifteen minutes of forehead kisses."

"Deal."

"Only cuz', you are hot."

You grinned. "I know."

He slides you a smug, victorious grin while Mylo coos and shoves his foot in your face anyway.

Great coaching, no doubt.

[chilling-seavey]

Welcome Home (gr63)

The Way It Goes Masterlist

↳ A/N It all started with this anon and, honestly, every single anon from February 26th that helped me to formulate this amazing idea and encourage me to write some new things I've never written before! Can't wait to hear all your thoughts on this one since we developed it all together! <3

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 13.6k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, flirting, dirty talk, mentions of masturbation and sexting, bit of a slow build up, begging, praise, compliments, grinding, oral sex (m and f receiving), forced deep throating, spitting, minor degradation (use of names like 'slut'), mentions of body hair, some manhandling, body worship, clothes ripping, mentions of tattoos, natural ebbs and flows of intensity, nipple play, size kink (but in regards to dick size, not body size), minor pain, fingering, did I mention dirty talk?, use of lube, finger sucking, pet names, edging, mirror sex, belly pressing, breeding kink, daddy kink, use of toys (magic wand vibrator), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, crying, choking, almost squirting, use of an IUD to allow for otherwise 'unprotected' sex and creampie x.

It was a comfortable afternoon in southern Europe in late February, the warmth of the sun cooled by the slight Mediterranean breeze. You leaned against the side of the white Mercedes convertible in a sundress, thankful to be able to start to take out your summer clothes with the turn of the seasons. You had spent the prior three weeks readying the house for spring and tending to chores and busying yourself with work and hobbies. You had plenty of time with George across the world for a triple header; leaving you to your shared apartment, all alone. 

You never minded time alone but it was always exciting to welcome him back and as you stood in the ‘Arrivals’ parking of the Nice airport, you could hardly stand still. Strangers came and went through the sliding doors of the airport a few yards away and you followed each with a careful gaze but none were who you were looking for. Until, finally, the doors slid open once more and out walked George, dressed in his usual comfortable trousers and favourite knitted brown collared shirt, donning an expensive pair of sunglasses as he turned his face towards the sun and the breeze ruffled through his brunette waves like he was an angel incarnate. 

He spotted you across the chaos of the airport parking lot like he was instinctively drawn to you and he broke into a brisk walk to get to you faster. With a smile, you pushed away from the car and already had your arms held out as he approached and he let go of his suitcase and gracefully dropped his backpack to the asphalt so he could have both arms free to wrap around your waist and heave you right up off the ground. 

“Oh, there’s my girl,” he groaned happily as you squealed at his lift, clinging onto his shoulders. 

He set you down on the ground again and right away his lips found yours in a long-awaited kiss. You smiled into it and your hands raised to frame his face to keep him there a little longer, sharing sweet, eager kisses until he was pulling back to catch his breath and he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Welcome home,” you greeted finally with a grinning smile, tangling your fingers in the back of his soft hair that was slightly tangled from the lengthy plane ride. 

George smiled right back and turned his face to steal one more kiss from your lips before replying, “You’re the most wonderful thing to come home to.”

“I missed you so much,” you exhaled contentedly, arms draping around his shoulders.

“I missed you too, my love,” George crooned as he pulled you closer by your waist and pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then another to your neck, and another just under your ear, “It never feels right when we’re apart.”

The shivers that rose over your skin from his kisses had your head tilting back towards the sun with a dreamy smile, hands splaying over his back and shoulders as you held him close, fingers grasping onto the material of his shirt. You spoke in a soft whisper meant only for him to hear, “We’re gonna need at least a week to make up for lost time, hm?”

He chuckled warmly against your neck and his nose grazed over the column of your throat, “Oh, I intend to make use of every minute.”

Your fingers tangled in the back of his hair and scratched gently along his scalp, just enough to make him shiver as you offered a hum in agreement. 

George nipped at your earlobe before he added in a breath against the shell of your ear, “God, I hope you’re not working this week.”

“Not tomorrow at least,” you mumbled, sliding your hands out of his hair and, instead, over his shoulders and down his chest, feeling every lovely inch of him after so long. 

“Mm, that’s good,” George hummed against your neck while his fingers teased the bottom hem of your sundress, “Because you’re coming home with me and I’m not letting you leave my bed for at least a day.”

“Our bed,” you corrected sweetly. 

When he pulled back from your neck to meet your gaze, he had this dopey grin on his face and his hands squeezed your hips, echoing pleasantly in affirmation, “Our bed.”

It was only a slightly risky place in the airport parking garage to be showing so much public affection like that, especially with the knowledge that George was very much a public figure. But, thankfully, you had chosen a spot near the edge of the parking, away from the hustle and bustle, and perhaps it would allow you solace for just a moment longer. Just a few more moments for appreciating your reunion and telling your fiancé just how much you missed him, and he could return the favour with how he backed you up against the side of his car just a little harder. 

“Y’know,” you hummed, staring at his lips with your arms slung around his shoulders as you spoke casually, “our bed was very lonely this last month…nothing but the company of my measly little vibrator…”

George’s whole body practically shivered at your words and something flashed across his eyes like he had to restrain himself from throwing you in the backseat right then and there. His once tired and sweethearted expression upon finding you in the airport parking had turned into a battle of need and passion storming within him. You felt it just as strongly. 

Ever a man of restraint and composure, George merely gave your hips a squeeze with a muttered, “tease”, before his forehead rested against yours with a breathy, “You were that lonely, huh?”

“Mhm,” your hands trailed down his shoulders and biceps until your hands pulled his away from your waist so you could blindly intertwine your fingers together between your closely pressed bodies as you stared into each other’s eyes, “I was missing you in every way humanly possible.”

George’s hands fit in yours like they were meant to be there and his thumbs rubbed the back of his hands gently; the gesture sweet and tender despite the slight tension between the two of you. His eyes were all over your face in your close proximity, flicking between your gaze and your lips and your flushed cheeks. 

“Yeah?” he replied softly, his voice a little breathier than usual, “I missed you like mad. Did you like my pictures?”

The reminder of his lewd pictures he had sent you from various hotel rooms, private jet bathrooms, his drivers room, from the prior month flicked through your mind like a photo album, your connection strengthened over the distance by steamy late-night texts filled with needy desires. You were more on the receiving end than sending but, God, not that you would complain. The images of his large hand gripping his thick cock in his fist in the warm light of some luxury 5-star hotel suite, leaking from thoughts of you and only you, were ingrained in your head.

“Yeah,” you gushed angelically, hips pushing off the side of his car to nudge against his just to feel the shape of him through his trousers, “but I much prefer the real thing.”

George let out a low groan at your action and his hands tightened in yours for a moment, his words slow and a little slurred, “Maybe we should go home then?”

“Yes, please.”

George, ever the gentleman, led you around to the passenger side of his Mercedes and he opened the door for you and helped you in. You waited (im)patiently as he put his bags in the back and then got behind the wheel with a content sigh, like he had missed his road car while away racing his professional cars. He started the car and the engine rumbled to life and he buckled his seatbelt, as did you. 

With a glance in your direction and a hand falling innocently onto your thigh, he asked, “Ready, love?”

The glint in his eye and the tone of his voice had you cunt throbbing under your dress, but you replied with a sweet smile and a, “Mhm.”

George pulled out of the parking spot and navigated his way through the maze of the airport until he reached the stretch of road that would take you back home to Monaco. Once out of the chaos of the public’s worldly comings and goings, he could ease back in his seat a little more, giving your thigh a squeeze with his fingers just reaching the hem of your dress. You couldn’t stop staring at him, as if in disbelief that he was finally back within arms reach of you, watching his profile as he drove you towards home. 

He kept stealing glances at you here and there, a soft smile on his face and his eyes raking over your body when he could. After a moment, he said finally, “You look so fucking good in that dress.”

“Thank you, my love,” you replied sweetly, “I remembered it was your favourite.”

George’s hand tightened on your thigh and a sly smile pricked at his lips as he kept his eyes on the road and then, with a caress of your supple flesh with his thumb, he said in a voice low and teasing, playful, “My favourite is no dress at all.”

“Naughty,” you chuckled, reaching over to give his bicep a faint little swat in mock scolding before adding, “That would not have been well received by everyone else at the airport, I’m sure.”

“You’re right…as always. But you can’t blame me for thinking such thoughts when you’re sitting here so pretty.” He let out a soft, warm chuckle and his hand slid a little higher up your thigh and disappeared under the ruffled hem of your sundress, “I wonder if you’ve got anything on underneath this…”

“Ah, ah,” you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away with a playful, “You have to wait until we get home to find out.”

With a playful pout and a mischievous glint in his eye, he stole another glance your way, then gently caught your fingers and drew your hand across the front seat to press a kiss to the diamond ring on your left hand. He then protested meekly against your fingers, “But I’ve waited long enough, don’t you reckon? You’re going to torture me even longer, are you?”

“It’s not easy for me to resist either but we’d much prefer the comfort of home, I think,” you stated simply as your fingers laced with his once he lowered your joined hands to your lap.

George laughed softly and nodded in agreement, relenting, “Patience is a virtue, as they say. And it’ll make it worth the wait…I can promise you that.” 

You eased back into the expensive leather seat and fell into the comfort of his thumb caressing the back of your back as he drove. The familiar sound of the engine, the tires on the narrow streets, the scent of him, and that unmistakable ache working its way from between your legs and up into the pit of your stomach. Unbearable. 

The rest of the twenty minute drive was spent with small talk and comfortable silences, the two of you finding your ease of familiarity in each other’s presence. George, as promised, tried to keep his hands to himself, though the occasional glance down to your bare legs tested his restraint and left you with that ever present buzz of anticipation all across your skin. 

Soon, you were parked in the underground parking garage of your apartment and you helped George unpack his bags from the car. With him taking control of his suitcase, you slung his backpack over one shoulder and, the both of you having one hand free each, your fingers almost magnetically intertwined. The elevator ride was filled with an almost suffocating amount of tension as his hand in yours kept drifting to play with the hem of your dress with a stray fingertip but even just his eyes lingering on your profile was blatantly obvious of what was to come. 

As you reached the door to your apartment, you let go of his hand just long enough so you could fish the key from your purse. George fell to a stop close behind you and his hand moved to brush over your hip gently as he leaned in for his nose to ghost across the column of your neck before his lips pressed a soft kiss to your skin there. You giggled faintly at the slight tickle of his gentle kiss and the feeling of his warm breath fanning across your neck as you turned the key in the lock. 

George grinned at the sound of your giggle and as you opened the front door, he pulled his hand back to give your bum a playful swat, “Inside. Now.”

You had barely stepped over the threshold of your apartment and he was letting go of the handle of his suitcase in exchange for a gentle yet firm grasp of your face to drag your lips to his in a passionate kiss. The door shut behind the two of you and right away he was backing you up against it. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you kissed him back, his backpack sliding down your arm until you carefully and blindly dropped it onto the tile floor of the foyer to give yourself the ability to turn all your attention on him after so long. 

When your arms slid around his waist and pulled him closer by the fabric of his shirt, George groaned into your kiss and his large hands cupped your face as his lips moved against yours with practiced urgency. It was almost instinctual how his knee nudged between your legs, parting them just enough to cause your hips to naturally jump against his thigh at the teasing pressure up your skirt. Needy and burning after going a month without, you kissed him back fiercely. 

George couldn’t help himself as his hands moved from your face down to your chest and he groped your breasts through the fabric of your dress while his head tilted to the side to deepen your kisses. You moaned into his mouth and dug your fingers into his sides as you let him lead, opening up for him greedily and welcoming his tongue against yours in possessive strokes. But then his hands kept moving and soon they settled at your hips and tugged you closer across his thigh, forcing you to rut against the firm muscle a little more. 

You gasped from the friction and he swallowed up with greedy lips, licking his way into your mouth between sloppy kisses, drunk on the thrill of your reunion. When he pulled away from your mouth only seconds later to, instead, trail heated kisses down your neck, you let your head fall back against the front door, hands snug on the material of his shirt, and you breathed out to the ceiling a dreamy, “George…”

“Mm, God, I’ve missed this,” he mumbled against your skin, his teeth scraping against the column of your throat. His hands slid around to your back and grabbed two snug fistfuls of your ass, grinding you against him again to pull another pretty gasp from your chest as he marked up your neck in wet kisses and hickeys. He sucked gently on your pulse point and your hips rolled against his thigh once more with a shaky exhale from your swollen lips. 

“Please…” you whined pathetically, pushing at the bottom of his shirt until you could get your hands all over his abs. 

George grabbed your hands roughly and yanked them away before pinning your wrists against the door on either side of your head, trapping you against it with his body. He spoke right to your face, his eyes locked on yours, breath falling against your cheek, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You bit your swollen lip, staring back at him with unprecedented amounts of lust in your gaze and you nudged your hips against his again, already able to feel just how hard he was through his trousers. In doing so, you replied with a soft, “Maybe a little idea.”

“Cheeky,” George tutted with a sly smile before taking a step away from you and letting your wrists go. With a cock of his head in the direction of your bedroom, he toed off his shoes at the same time as he said, “C’mon. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves; you still haven’t let me know if you’re wearing anything under that pretty dress of yours.”

You pushed away from the door and then kicked off your sandals to follow him down the hallway towards your bedroom with matching grins of anticipation. He swatted your bum on your way past before he was following after you and tugging off his shirt. Once inside your bedroom, with his shirt dropped aimlessly to the floor, he stepped right up close behind you and his fingers found the zipper at the back of your dress as he leaned in to kiss over your neck some more. 

You smiled sweetly, eyes fluttering closed at his tender touches, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he slowly pulled down your zipper, his ghostly touches sending shivers down your spine. His fingers guided your dress off your shoulders and you let it pool around your feet, leaving you braless and in only a dainty pair of white lace panties. The cool air conditioning of your room rose goosebumps over your skin and the added touch of your fiancé’s fingertips tracing the shape of your body helped your nipples to grow hard. You dropped your head back against his shoulder with a pleasant hum and his lips attached to your neck. 

“Mm,” George groaned softly as his full hands cupped your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples, and his body moulded against the shape of yours, “You’re so gorgeous.” 

You raised a hand up to reach over your shoulder to grasp the back of his neck, turning your face towards his just as his lips locked with yours and he rolled your nipples between thumb and forefinger. It was dizzying to have him back like that; almost feeling entirely surreal as if you had gone so long without him that your mind had to get used to having him again. God, it had not even been a month…you were embarrassingly dependent on him. In love. 

One of George’s hands moved from your chest, down the plane of your abdomen, slowly, slowly, before settling along the waistband of your panties. His lips broke away from yours for just a moment, moving to kiss across the apple of your cheek while his fingertips traced the lace across your hips and pelvis. 

“I like these,” he complimented simply.

“Yeah?” your fingers ghosted over his forearm, lust filled eyes staring into his face with your head still against his shoulder, “Bought them new just for you…matches this dress you like so much.”

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, fingers continuing to tease over the lace, his breath falling against your cheek, “So, so good to me.”

You let out a little hum at his praise and the feeling of his hand drifting lower, teasing, not quite touching where you needed him, but just close enough to elicit a reaction out of you. He groaned when you habitually pushed back against him, already feeling the hard bulge hidden behind the fabric of his slacks pressing against your ass. Your fingers tightened on the back of his neck and his lips pressed to your jaw again.

“My good, sweet girl.” he cooed against your skin.

Pushing back on him again, you reminded him sweetly, “And I’ve been so good for you while you were gone.”

“Mhm…but you have no idea the things I want to do to you now that I’m home.”

“Anything you want,” you purred.

The afternoon sun poured into your bedroom, casting golden warmth across the space as the open curtains framed a sweeping view of the harbour. Fortunately, your apartment sat high enough above Monte Carlo that there were no prying sightlines to worry about—nothing to steal your attention from each other. Which was how George managed to have you on your knees in a heartbeat, giving you a front-row seat to the slow, mouth-watering clink of his belt buckle and the soft pop of the button on his slacks.

You sat in front of him on your haunches, patiently, eyes trained in on his groin and the way he had to pull his trousers outward before pushing them down to avoid the obvious tent that was hiding beneath the fabric. There was no shyness between you and so you reached out to rub your hand over the taut material of his boxer briefs, fingers faintly curling around the shape of his erection. 

“Already so hard,” you stated with an eager smile, punctuated by the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. Beneath your palm, his cock twitched at your words, your touch. 

“Yeah…been waiting for you,” George exhaled. His normally bright blue eyes were now dark with desire as he stared down at you, watching you touch him, and his hand carded through your hair to push it away from your face so he could look at you properly. 

You leaned in to rub your face against the front of his boxers just so you could feel the size of him and how hard he was against your lips and nose and cheeks. In doing so, you dropped out your tongue to tease the shape of him with absentminded laps between lazy kisses. There was no more time to waste and George didn’t let another second go by before he was tucking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and you eagerly lifted your hands up to help him pull them down. 

Without tearing your eyes away from his cock in your face, you crawled after him as he took the three short strides backwards so he could sit at the foot of the bed. It felt dream-like, sitting there, positioning yourself between his thighs, staring at his gorgeously hard cock right at eye level. Sometimes it took a little bit of tender loving care to get him this extremely hard but, after a month apart, it clearly wouldn’t take much—the withdrawal the both of you had gone through in your month apart felt almost agonizing. 

The moan that slipped from your lips at the sight of him, swollen and almost already leaking, had him letting out a faint chuckle. Shamelessly impatient, George grabbed your wrist and pulled your left hand towards him, guiding your fingers to wrap around him firmly. The imagery of your diamond engagement ring on your hand that was wrapped around his cock was not lost on you and the sight alone had your stomach swirling.

George’s voice was low and warm, “Mhm, just like that…don’t be shy now, baby…you know what I like.”

He guided your hand along the length of his dick and back down, once, twice, and then he was letting go to let you do it yourself. You kept that steady pace, slow and sure, keeping a nice firm grasp with your eyes trained on your motions and how you worked his foreskin back until you got your first glance at the pretty pink head. When you opened your mouth for your first taste, a drip of spit slipped from your tongue, exposing just how much you were salivating for him from only a glance. 

But then George’s fingers captured your cheeks in one hand before you could move any closer and you raised your eyes to his face. He dragged his thumb along your bottom lip as he spoke, “Open up a little wider, pretty girl.”

You groaned at his demand, knowing what was coming, and you opened up for him and stuck out your tongue, head tilting back like a baby bird. But he didn’t do anything at first, just stared at you, eyes focused on your stupidly open mouth and the way another drip of spit slipped from your tongue.

“Oh, you have such a pretty little mouth…just right for me to stuff full, hm?” his thumb pressed against your tongue, rough but gentle at the same time, persistent, “You want it? Want me to use your mouth?”

You could barely nod, staring up at his dilated blue eyes and handsome face and all the control he had over you. 

“Gotta use your words like a good girl.” he crooned. 

“Yes,” you forced out, the simple word slurred and muffled by his thumb still firmly in your mouth. 

Your left hand was still firmly around his cock while you stayed perfectly still and obedient, awaiting your reward. Then, finally, George took his thumb from your tongue and squeezed your cheeks so he could spit loudly into your mouth. Your eyelids fluttered at the filthy actions, letting out a small moan as his fingers smoothly tangled in the back of your hair and dragged your head down towards his lap. 

He held you just out of reach of it, using his other hand to shove your hand away so he could wrap his fist around his cock and smack it wetly against your tongue. You were already drooling for it, dripping down your chin, eyes peering up at him under furrowed brows, staying right where he wanted you and otherwise perfectly obedient. 

George spoke down to you with a voice riddled with unbridled lust, sliding the head of his cock back and forth against your tongue, “Look at you, you’re drooling all over yourself just for me…it’s like you’re desperate for me, baby…so needy.”

“Please,” you breathed. 

“You want this in your mouth?” he taunted, slapping it a few more times on your tongue, “Wanna show me how good you can be?”

It felt as though your skin was burning from his words and your eyes nearly rolled as he finally permitted you to take him in your mouth. You raised your left hand back up to grasp his cock as you took just what was comfortable at first, reaching about halfway down the length, and finding a lazy pace. The familiar weight and taste of him in your mouth was arousing in and of itself and you offered a pleasured moan around him. 

“Fuck…” George groaned tightly, “Look in my eyes, darling.”

With his cock in your mouth, you raised your eyes up to look at his face as you lazily started to suck him off, trailing your tongue along the underside and around the head when you pulled back. You knew just what he liked, what he reacted to best. 

“Oh yeah, just like that. So beautiful, doll.” he purred, brushing your hair back from your face with both hands so he could hold it in a fist out of your way. He closely watched the way your lips were wrapped around him with every little bob of your head, his chest starting to rise and fall with how warm and wet your mouth felt after so long going without. 

Tearing your eyes away from his for the sake of giving him what he deserved and what you had been dying to give him, you shuffled closer on your knees and leaned closer to his lap. You had to give your head a little shake to help ease him deeper as if having to re-teach your throat how to take him after so long apart. The muffled gag you let out had his mouth falling open with a low moan, his hands tightening in your hair.

“That’s it…come on,” he exhaled tightly, pulling you down just a little more, “You can go deeper than that, come on.”

Your hand flew to his thigh to hold yourself up as you let him guide you deeper until tears were brimming in your eyes and you could hardly breathe. George inhaled sharply through his teeth just before you choked loudly around him and pulled back with a wet cough.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised.

There was no need to get his hands on you again before you were leaning back in for more on your own. Wrapping your hand around him again, you pulled firm twisting strokes in time with the bobs of your mouth, filling your shared bedroom with the lewd sound of your mouth taking him again and again and again. It was just deep enough to force the crudest sounds from your throat that had his handsome face screwing up in pleasure.

George’s voice was almost raspy, clinging onto his last shreds of control with his hand tangled in your hair, “Christ, you look so fucking gorgeous choking on my big cock.”

The hazy sense of reality from it all was washing over you, forcing you to swear that nothing was more important than pleasuring him—not even air. You forced yourself deeper until your nose touched the coarse hair at the base of his cock, gagging loudly around him as tears slipped from your eyes and trailed down your flushed cheeks. But right then George pulled you back by your hair and you gasped for air, spit falling down your chin as you blinked your teary eyes up at him. He slapped the tip against your lips and cheek, smearing your spit around your mouth and chin some more as you coughed yourself back to your senses. 

His hand stroked across your spitty bottom lip as he spoke down to you warmly, “I think it’s time to stop playing and get to what you really want…don’t you think so, doll?”

You choked out a rough but needy, “Yes, please, sir.”

When he stood up, he grabbed your arm to heave you off the ground and you let him move you like a ragdoll onto the bed, commanding as he did so in a low, authoritative voice, “On your back, baby. Let me look at you.”

You scooted backwards on the bed a little more so you could drape yourself out, flat, across the neatly made sheets, all without tearing your eyes away from his handsome face and glorious, naked body. With a sweet smile, you draped your arms above you on either side of your head and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you laid there in only your white lace panties. 

George ran a hand up your leg and you bent them up so your feet were flat on the mattress, allowing him to place a knee on the foot of the bed and lean down to kiss your shin. His lips were warm and soft and heavenly, the smallest graze of a kiss making your skin tingle and your pussy to throb behind the fabric of your panties. You could feel how absolutely soaked you were already and he had barely even touched you.

The kisses gifted to you by your lovely fiancé traveled up your leg, past your knee, and towards your thigh, his words a breath against your supple skin, “So…so pretty.” 

You bit the tip of your index finger despite your smile as you watched him carefully, eyes following the gentle touches of his fingers as he traced the arches and planes of your legs and teased the lace of your panties. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh while his fingers dragged between your legs, over the thin fabric of your underwear, causing your hips to instinctively jump.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he all but groaned before turning his head to kiss your other thigh, his hands sliding up your hips to grip firmly at the flesh there, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you and this beautiful body of yours.”

Laid out bare for him in only your panties, his eyes traveled over your body hungrily as he ran his hands over your hips and back down to your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles over your skin and teasing against the lace that stood out against it. You watched him in perfect comfort despite the way your heart raced with anticipation, cunt throbbing at just the way he was looking down at you. He took in every inch of your bare skin like you were his own artwork to admire, for his eyes only, a stormy mix of lust and love in his irises. 

Then his lips were against your knee again, trailing up your leg towards the edge of your panties, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, “I could eat you up, baby.”

Your legs parted almost automatically at his words, a silent invitation. His head positioned itself just above your hips by then, half-laying, half-kneeling up the foot of the bed to reach you, his slender fingers toying with the white lace along the hem of your panties. When his fingertips slipped under the edge and kissed your skin hidden beneath, you shivered.

“Such a pretty pair of panties…and you bought them just for me, yeah?” he murmured as he pulled his fingers back to trace the pattern of the lace. “Just to show me what a good girl you were…a perfect, sweet thing?”

“Yeah…” you exhaled, squirming just a little beneath his touch. 

“Yeah? I’ve barely even gotten to appreciate them and I already want to tear them off you,” he tutted, punctuating his statement with a slow, open mouthed kiss to your skin just above the hem. “Would you like that, darling? Would you like me to rip them off you?”

Your mind felt hazy and his words shot a feeling of warmth right through you, speaking such salacious things that made you feel like you were short-circuiting. All you wanted was him in that moment; a raw, carnal desire that nothing else could fulfil. So you nodded, almost too eagerly, encouraging him with a soft, “Mhm.”

“Yeah?” George linked his finger into the fabric, an almost anticipatory smirk grazing his face as he gave it a taunting little tug, “Bit of a shame though; you look so pretty in them.”

And then, without another word, he gave them a quick yank, tearing the delicate lace with an audible rip and he dropped the pieces aside without another glance. It had torn so easily under his strength and you couldn’t help the soft gasp you let out at the physical reminder of just how strong he was and the slight sting that it left behind across your hips. Curling your legs up towards your chest with a bashful grin up at him, you folded yourself nearly in half, ankles linked, hiding yourself just a little more from him…to make him work for it. 

“There you are...just as pretty as I knew you would be…” he crooned as he gently took your knees in his hands and parted them so he could take in the sight of you perfectly bare and already glistening beneath him, “God, love, you have no idea how much I missed—”

His words halted as his eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar smudge standing out against your skin. There, having been hidden behind the fabric of your underwear over your bikini line, was a small inked ‘63’ in his handwriting; dainty and discreet. And an entire surprise for him. George’s breath hitched at the sight of the tattoo on your hip, eyes locked on the small number as if he were processing what he was looking at. Then, he reached out a tentative hand and touched it gently, his fingers tracing lightly over it as he breathed your name in near-disbelief.

“Surprise…” you offered shyly, your cheeks pink despite your grin.

“Holy shit…is this real?” he breathed as his hand continued to brush over it tenderly, eyes fixated on it, “When did you…?”

“Yeah, it’s real. Got it the day after you left…so it could be nice and healed for when you got home,” you replied softly, trying to read the expression on his face as he stared down at it, taking it in. He was quiet, as if he were in a trance, his thumb passing over it again in a faint stroke. Your hands gently grasped his forearms and gave them a little caress, “Is it okay?”

As if your worried question snapped him back to reality, his eyes raised to meet your gaze and he gave you an incredulous look, “Is it okay? It's more than okay, my love, fuck. You permanently marked your body with my number, my most meaningful number. You have any idea what that would do to my ego?”

You giggled in slight relief that he was onboard with such a permanent surprise, “Maybe a little. But I thought it was something a little fun…a secret just for us…branding me yours.”

George only smiled and he leaned down to kiss your lips, once, twice, thrice, and then once more before speaking softly, “I guess now you’re permanently my little good luck charm.”

Your hands raised to frame his face like artwork and you stole a few more kisses before replying adoringly, “Always, baby.”

He sat back from you again, still knelt fully bare between your spread legs, and his hands traveled down the shape of your naked body as he admired every inch of you. His fingertips fell to a stop over the little tattoo on your hip, his lips pricking into a fond smile, “How did I get so lucky to find a woman like you?”

And your years together flicked past your mind like a photo album, thinking back to that one weekend when you worked abroad at a luxury hotel and one of your VIP guests had taken a liking to you. Lingering in the memory of it for a moment, you simply shrugged playfully, “You booked at the right hotel.”

“I guess I did, huh?” George chuckled warmly while his hands continued to trace over your body, around your thighs, up your legs, replying cheekily, “Though I think I only booked at that hotel because it had a nice gym…”

“Uh huh,” you drew out in sarcastic acknowledgement, a love-sick grin spread across your face just as he leaned down for a smiling kiss.

George then left another kiss to the underside of your jaw, musing, “Crazy to think that back then I had no idea that I was going to meet the best thing that ever happened to me."

With a calm smile, your eyes fluttered closed as the warmth of his words washed over you and the feeling of his lips trailing kisses down your neck started to fuel that unyielding heat within you once more. Instinctively, your legs parted a little more as his hand trailed its way between your thighs, teasing along your supple skin but never quite reaching where you were aching. No matter how much you both craved each other after so long, there was something about the build up—the dangling what you could have right in front of your noses without being able to grab it—that made the final release all the more worthwhile. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathed, raking your fingers through his hair, “Missed you kissing my body…touching me…”

He hummed against your chest as he kissed over your collarbones, his hand sliding up your thighs gently, “I missed you too, so much. Every night I was alone in my hotel room, I thought of you...wishing you were there with me…”

You kept your eyes closed as you listened to him speak, turning all your attention to how he touched you and spoke to you, like you were a treasure. It was all you could think about and all you had been thinking about: him, alone in those hotel rooms, and all that he got up to in your absence. Texts and images sufficed in a pinch but nothing could measure up to the real thing. 

George kissed over your breasts, taking your nipples in his mouth one at a time for a teasing little suckle before he spoke against them, “I couldn’t get you out of my mind. All I could think about was all the dirty things I wanted to do with my perfect girl when I got home…”

“Please…I missed you…” you breathed with an edge of a whine to your voice. 

“You’ve been a good girl for me while I was gone, haven’t you?” George asked, leaning back from you just enough to look down into your eyes with his hand lingering tauntingly close to your cunt but just not quite there, his firm palm keeping your thighs open. 

You nodded, staring up into his pretty eyes that were dilated almost black with lust, “Yes, I was so good.”

“Mhm?” George’s thumb grazed over your inner thigh, “And my needy girl touched herself while I was gone?”

You nodded again, a hand reaching to grasp his bicep as you kept your eyes on his, “Yeah…and said your name when I made myself come every time. But I only used my vibrator…nothing went inside…that’s only for you.”

“God…good girl, that’s what I like to hear, baby.” George praised lowly.

As if as a reward for your honesty, George dragged his fingers along your pussy, moving effortlessly with how soaked you already were since the moment you had picked him up from the airport. You shuddered and he leaned down to kiss down your stomach and over the small 63 inked into your skin on your bikini line while his fingers continued their taunting ministrations over your cunt. Beneath your hand, his hair was soft, and you curled your fingers in the strands as he made his way down your body before placing a ghostly kiss to your clit. 

When you took a sharp inhale of breath, he chuckled warmly, his breath falling against your skin, and his finger drawing taunting circles across your glistening lips, “So wet. Just for me, isn’t that right? Always so good for me.”

“Yeah…I need you so bad,” you exhaled.

“Mm, and I just need a little taste of you first,” he replied effortlessly before leaning down to drag his tongue right up your cunt, parting your lips, earning himself a greedy taste of you and the way your wetness clung to his lips and dripped down his chin from only one fleeting touch. 

You were soaked and as he tended to you like that, it was growing more and more unbearable. When his tongue met you again, you tossed your head back against the bed with a groan, pushing your hips up towards his face. You could feel the slight vibration from the way he chuckled against your swollen clit before he was pulling back just far enough to be able to watch the way his finger dragged down across your cunt again, licking his lips at the sight before him. 

“Look at that tiny, drippy little pussy.”

You groaned needily, “George…”

He shifted over top of you so he could lean down and kiss his name from your lips, his right hand still helping itself to languid caresses of your pussy before, finally, he was slowly sinking his middle finger inside you. You gasped into his mouth and he groaned right back as you both tried to keep kissing as he sunk his one finger in slowly, slowly, until he was knuckle deep. Your legs parted a little wider to accommodate him, wanting to feel as much as possible, and habitually, your pussy pulsed around his single digit. 

George groaned out of your kiss, his words falling against your cheek, “Just one finger and you’re this tight…I don’t know how I’m even gonna fit inside you, baby.”

“Been so long,” you played along expertly as you tangled your fingers in the back of his hair and pulled his lips onto yours again, kissing him fiercely as his finger curled inside you. 

You could feel his hard cock against your thigh with how he was leaning over you, the tip leaking and you could feel the dampness of it against your skin. With a subconscious roll of his hips against your body, George mumbled lustfully between your shared kisses, “Yeah? You think it’s gonna hurt when I put it inside?” 

“Yeah,” you whimpered out a reply.

It was barely out of your mouth before he was adding a second finger, pushing it into your tight muscles as he kissed you through it, only broken when your head tossed back against the pillow with a groan. Your hips nudged up against his touch as he curled his two fingers inside you, his breath panted against your cheek as he felt the way you throbbed around him, squeezing his two fingers tightly. 

“You're so tight...my fingers are barely fitting, baby,” he whispered hoarsely against your cheek, thrusting his fingers into you a little more insistently against the snugness that enveloped them, “God, you're gonna feel incredible.”

“Please stretch me open,” you breathed, feeling hazy with pleasure, “Make it fit…”

George’s breath shuddered against your face, his eyelashes fluttering over the apple of your cheek, and he groaned out a low, “Yeah, darling, I got you.”

“Please…please,” you whimpered out, writhing beneath his hands and so far past the point of turned on. You could feel how your body squeezed his two fingers, only two fingers, and you craved more of that feeling of being filled by him more than anything. 

George left one more kiss to your jaw before he was sitting back from you so he was kneeling between your spread legs, two fingers still knuckle deep inside you and rocking steadily as he hushed you with a sweet, “I know, my love. Be patient, okay? You don’t have to wait much longer.”

His eyes were focused on his task and the way your gorgeous pussy was wrapped around his fingers and just sucking him in with every quirk of his wrist. You were soaking his fingers and leaking down the side of his hand and he couldn’t help himself but slowly slipped in a third finger at the next push. A broken, pleasured cry slipped from your lips, head tossing back, as he slowly stretched you out a little more after a whole month apart, and your fingers splayed across the bedsheets for something to hold onto. With his other hand, he framed the little tattoo on your hip with the space between his thumb and forefinger, both to hold you still and so he had a perfect view of his number inked into your skin. All for him. 

The sounds you made had him groaning; he loved when you got to the point where you were so into it that you didn’t even notice when noises like that slipped out. Noises only he could elicit from you. His three fingers pushed a little faster inside you and made the lewdest, wettest sounds, while his other hand stroked his thumb over the tattoo on your hip. Through your hazy gaze, you could see the way his bicep bulged with how intently he was focusing on fingering you, wanting to bring you only the strongest pleasure in every way only he knew how. 

After a moment, his fingers slowed, and he took a second to spread them apart inside you, helping to stretch you open a little more and you pulled in a sharp breath at the ache. George then leaned down and kissed your stomach before easing his fingers out of you entirely and moving back. You whined softly in protest while your eyes followed him as he leaned across the bed and yanked open the bedside table drawer to fish out the bottle of lube and, as he did so, you reached down to swipe your fingers across your pussy and bring them up to your lips for a taste. 

George could only smirk down at you as he watched you suck your fingers clean and he fumbled with the cap on the bottle briefly before managing to pop it open. You watched him patiently, nothing but the sounds of your shared anticipatory breaths filling your bedroom. He poured a generous amount on your cunt and you gasped faintly at the cool sensation against the heat of your skin, wide eyes watching how his fingers rubbed it in before he was smearing the excess along the shaft of his cock in languid strokes. 

He then nodded towards the top of the bed as he snapped the bottle shut, “Put a pillow under your hips, love.”

You reached above you and grabbed one of the pillows before heaving up your hips on jelly-like legs so you could ungracefully shove it under your bum. With his clean hand, he helped you get settled before he was shuffling up closer on his knees between your spread legs, making sure you were at that perfect height for him to drag the head of his cock between your glistening lips. You gasped, your whole body almost twitching. 

His chuckle was low and warm and taunting and he pushed his hips forward just enough to have the length of his dick resting on top of your pelvis as if to replicate just how deep he could reach inside you. You stared down at it intently, reaching a hand out to gently pet the swollen head that was fully past the confines of his foreskin now, red and angry and desperate. George gave you a lazy mock thrust against you, smearing the lube from his dick over the hair of your pelvis and simply taunting you just a little more. 

“Look at me,” he called adoringly, luring your eyes to raise to his face, “There you are…such a pretty girl.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he guided the head of his cock back and forth over your clit, desperate eyes staring up at him above you, feeling as if you were burning from the inside out with need for him. 

“Please…” you exhaled uselessly, fingers curling around his wrists as if to pull him where you wanted him. 

“Please what? Use your words.” George taunted.

The words tumbled from your lips without thought, the haze of your arousal fading your filter until all you could say was any and all filthy desires that grazed your mind, “Want your big dick inside me…split me open…please.”

“Yeah?” he cooed, his hand sliding down your body to spread your pussy open between two fingers so he could angle the head of his cock against your entrance, “Be a good girl for me, alright?”

You nodded as you stared up at him and kept your eyes on his handsome, focused face, shuddering at the feeling of him starting to press against your painfully tight pussy. He kept your lips spread with his fingers to give himself some more room, his other hand guiding himself inwards until there was some resistance as the snugness of your muscles wrapped around him. The both of you pulled in sharp breaths at the shift, words unnecessary in that moment as he started to envelop himself in the perfect heat of your body. 

Yes, it had been a month since you had each other like that—a long, agonizing month—and although you were all too familiar with each other’s bodies, the feeling of having to stretch around the size of him again felt a little painful. You winced a little as you dropped a hand down to grab onto his wrist, teeth sinking into your bottom lip through the scrunch of your nose at the aching pressure it spread across your hips. It wasn’t bad…besides, you liked it when it hurt a little. 

“Fuck,” George huffed out, falling forward a little with his hand pressed flat on the mattress beside your head as he slowly sunk deeper into you, “Christ, you’re so tight—”

“Please make it fit,” you whimpered needily, hands curling under his arms to grasp onto his shoulders with your legs splayed wide on either side of his broad body.

His eyes raised to yours with a fire behind them that was unmissable and his voice was low, strained, “I’ll make it fit, don’t you worry.”

“Shit,” you squeaked, nails pressing into his shoulders as he gave you another little grind of his hips, “it’s so fucking big—”

“Mhm, I know, baby. It’s so much for your little tight cunt, isn’t it?” he groaned softly down to you, “But you’re taking me like such a good girl.”

George ground a little deeper, giving you slow, shallow thrusts to ease into you, taking his time to feel every inch of you stretching around him and working to accommodate him. You could see on his face how much he was holding back, how much he was working to keep himself together for the sake of leaning into the on-going taunt that he could barely fit inside you after a month apart. Sure, it was a little fictitious for the sake of leaning into that filthy dirty talk but that was what made it all the more thrilling. 

“Just let me in a bit further. Just an inch more.” George told you. When you whined and squirmed underneath him, trying to adjust, he reached to grab your cheeks and force your eyes on his again. He spoke with words dripping in honey, “You want all of it, don’t you? Say yes, pet. It’s just an inch.”

“Yes,” you purred, “Yes, please…I want all of it.”

His hips rocked against yours a little deeper, finally giving you every last bit of him. The glorious warm pressure that radiated across your hips and deep inside you had your eyes rolling, fluttering shut, moaning to the ceiling as he just stayed there for a second, the both of you just wrapping yourselves around that feeling. Overwhelming, intense, passionate. 

George was staring down at your face and you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every little reaction to feeling him like that, “Feels so good to get stuffed full after so long, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help but giggle out.

You clutched onto his back a little tighter as he started to thrust into you in deep, curling motions that had you feeling almost every last inch of him sliding out and back in. George sank down onto his forearms on either side of your head, nose to nose, staring into your eyes as your chests rose and fell in time, breathing as one. He was slow with it but so intensely passionate, grinding deep into you so his cock kissed your cervix every time, forcing you to pull in tight breaths at the feeling. 

“Christ…” George groaned, resting his forehead against yours, “I’m never leaving you for that long again…I can’t…”

You clutched onto him and tilted your head up to capture his lips with yours in an off-centered kiss, sharing silent agreement at his lust-fueled dramatics. You moaned into his mouth as he started to thrust into you a little faster, as if his raw need was taking over, your hands pulling across his skin and the flexing muscles of his back and sides. When the kiss had to break to prioritize breathing, he didn’t move away, staying on top of you to feel you as close as possible as he fucked into you hungrily. 

The lewd plap, plap, plap of wet skin slapping filled the room, made all the more wet from the plethora of lube he had added to your already sopping pussy. It was as if he wanted it as messy as possible, wanting every single one of your senses to be taken up by your reunion. And as he got a little rougher with it, the bed started creaking beneath his strength, but he countered the aggression with a large hand under your neck as if cradling your head, thumb caressing behind your ear, right at your hairline. 

Your hands moved from his back to his arms, wrapping your fingers around his large biceps as he held himself up over top of you, letting him fuck the whimpers from your lips and the tears to your eyes. You couldn’t stop staring at him like that, as if all the times you had imagined him over the prior month hadn’t been able to truly do him justice. And this way, it was so much easier to get yourself there, giving everything up to him, feeling the familiar sizzling coil of pleasure in the pit of your stomach start to burn hotter. 

It was as if the first anticipatory clench of your cunt around him had him immediately aware that you were getting close and without another word, he pulled right out of you and sat back. You shrieked in surprise and frustration, left uncomfortably empty, and before you could open your mouth to plead with him, he was sitting himself on the end of the bed again.

“Come here,” he ordered, impatiently, wrapping his fingers around your ankle for a tug, “Ride me.”

On trembling limbs, you heaved yourself up from your lying position and crawled over to him at the foot of the bed and he helped to guide your leg across his lap so your back was to his chest. Once you were straddling him, it was then that you noticed the full length mirror affixed to one of your closet doors, displaying your reflection back at you. Suddenly, the method behind his madness made all the more sense to you. 

“I want you to see how good we look together,” George cooed from behind you, “How good we fit together.”

George swiped your hair over one shoulder so he could peer over the other to watch your reflection too before he trailed his hands down your body and helped you get comfortable on your knees on either side of his lap. The feeling of his cock pressing against your inner thigh was invigorating and you shuddered as he reached down to glide it between your cheeks before guiding you to sink down on it. You watched the way your mouth fell open in the mirror at the stretch until your ass was right down on him, his entire dick disappearing inside you.

“That’s it,” George groaned lowly, his hands finding your waist, “Christ, you’re so fucking wet.”

There was no need for him to set the pace because right then, you were already taking over by starting to bounce yourself on his lap. His moan from behind you was handsome and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as that steady slap of wet skin on skin filled your bedroom again and your gaze was trained in on the mirror. George, too, was watching intently, hands useless on your waist, but his eyes all over you.

“Look at your gorgeous body, fuck.” he huffed, “And that sweet little tattoo.”

With your legs spread on either side of him, that little 63 on your bikini line was entirely visible in the mirror, moving along with your bounces on his lap. His hands caressed your hips and his slender fingers traced over the ink as you moved before they were sliding higher to grab your breasts so he could cup them firmly and pinch your nipples as you rode him. Your head dropped back against his shoulder with a pathetic groan. 

“Uh uh,” he scolded lightly, grabbing your cheeks in one hand to heave your head up, “Watch.”

You blinked heavily as you tried to keep your attention on the mirror but the lust that poured itself through your veins was intense and overwhelming and it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. It felt like a dream. You slowed to a stop and, instead, started to grind yourself on his lap just to feel how he pressed inside of you in all the right spots.

George’s hands let go of your chest and he rubbed your inner thighs with how gloriously you were spread for him before three fingers magnetized to your clit and he gave the swollen spot a little caress. Your hips jumped against his touch, inhaling sharply, and he smirked against your shoulder and slapped his fingers down against your pussy just to hear you gasp again. 

He gave it another smack before speaking, “This perfect little pussy of yours just stretched so tight around my big cock. You see that?” 

With both hands, he spread your legs wider and you watched through the mirror to earn a front row view of how he was tucked entirely inside you, your swollen lips gripping around him as you leaked down to his balls. His fingertips gently caressed your cunt, right where you were connected.

George hummed against your ear, tutting a mocking, “Poor thing.”

“Feels so good inside me,” you whined, grinding down on him a little more until he was kissing your cervix and tears were blurring in your eyes. 

“Yeah, you feel me so deep, don’t you?” he taunted, circling his fingertips over your clit lazily. 

“Yeah…” you withered. 

“Yeah? How deep?” George’s breath against the shell of your ear as his right hand slid up your body until it was splayed across your abdomen, just beneath your navel. He pressed down just a little as he asked, “Here?” 

The added pressure of his hand pressing down right above where he was tucked inside you had your whole body flinching and a soft shriek slipped past your lips. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s the spot, isn’t it?” George chuckled warmly. 

In a flurry of need, you started to move in ungraceful bounces on him again, panting heavily as the heat of pleasure and exertion overtook you. You could hardly focus on the mirror in front of you with how intense it was feeling but the reflection of his body beneath yours was captivating, forcing you to try and keep your eyes from closing. It was made all the more difficult with how the heel of George’s palm was pressing against your abdomen to add just a slightest bit of squeeze around his cock still tucked inside you as you rode him hungrily. 

Just then, his hands gripped at your doughy hips and started to move you a little himself, guiding you along into firm bounces that had your ass clapping loudly against his lap. With a moan, he spoke, “Fuck, you feel so good…makin’ me wanna put a baby in this beautiful body of yours.”

Shivers tore through you at his words and you moaned loudly, head dropping back against his and your hand reaching up behind you to grab a fistful of his hair as you stumbled out a pathetic, “Please! I wanna feel you fill me up…wanna be all sloppy for you—”

“Oh, I know, doll,” George said against your ear to make sure you heard every word despite the noise of your rendezvous, “Not even gonna wait until you’re my wife. Gonna get you pregnant now…fill you right up…so you have a pretty little belly when walking down the aisle. So everyone can see who you belong to…who’s the only one cumming inside you.”

It was as if his words flipped a switch in you, sending you far past the point of turned on until you were insatiable for it, for him, willing to do anything for him. Without a thought from your brain, you sobbed out a pleading, “Please, daddy. I want it so bad, want you to fill me up.”

That title didn’t slip out often—and if you were in your proper state of mind you would entirely decline ever voluntarily using it—but when you were so far past the point of desperation, sometimes your filter gave way completely. And when it did, George—who would also decline enjoying being on the receiving end of such a title in his proper state of mind—would seize on it with a dark, hungry smile, as if the sound of it alone shattered whatever restraint he had left.

His hands gripped your body, tugging you right down on him and holding you there, murmuring right up against your ear with his eyes still fixed on yours through the mirror, “Yeah? You really want that, huh? Want daddy to put a baby in you?”

Trying to squirm against his firm hold, you whimpered pathetically, legs starting to tremble from exertion, “Please—”

“God, I love that…you saying please, huh? Being such a good girl for daddy,” he groaned, hands squeezing your hips so hard you thought you were going to have his fingerprints marked on you. He reached down and gave your pussy another smack, “Begging so prettily for me.”

You squealed at the hit, legs trying to close, but he shoved them apart again before guiding you off his lap and onto the bed. He stood up and grabbed your ankle to yank you towards the foot of the bed again, manhandling you like suddenly he had newfound purpose, a goal based on primal hunger in need of being fulfilled. He moved you how he wanted you until you were flat on your back at the edge of the mattress with the pillow stuffed under your hips again, your legs pushed back towards your chest, and he leaned down to leave a few sloppy kisses to your messy cunt. Your eyes fluttered shut with a strained groan from your pouted lips and you tried to reach for him but he was already moving away and around the side of the bed. 

“Stay right there,” he ordered as he opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out your vibrator, the classic magic wand that both of you had grown to know all too well. 

He was back in front of you at the foot of the bed in a blink and he tossed the wand to the side for later to, instead, focus on the priority of the moment: getting back inside you. George grabbed your thighs and tugged you a little closer just to make sure you were right where he needed you, your ass positioned just slightly off the end of the bed, and he leaned down to let a thick dribble of spit fall from his lips onto your messy pussy. Then, he was smearing it in with the head of his cock before plunging it strongly inside you all the way.

You shrieked in surprise, hands flying out to grab onto the sheets as he filled you right up again and then immediately starting to find a steady pace. It had you falling perfectly silent, heavy-lidded eyes staring up at him with your mouth agape as he fucked you on the side of the bed. It had already been so much for you that your legs were naturally trying to squeeze shut but, instead, George grabbed your ankles and forced your legs open in a wide v-shape, leaving you perfect spread for him to thrust roughly into your broken-in pussy. 

You were so sensitive that it almost hurt, not to mention that he was hitting so incredibly deep that it almost had you seeing stars, lacing your moans with strained whimpers as you stared up at him. George didn’t look away from your eyes for a second as he kept his consistent pace, even as the headboard started to hit the wall with how hard he was giving it. Your face scrunched up in a pleasured wince. 

“Mm, look at you,” he cooed breathily, letting go of one of your ankles to drag his fingers over your swollen bottom lip and you opened up to take them in your mouth as he taunted, “Say ‘it hurts, daddy’.”

“It hurts, daddy” you echoed through his fingers, drooling around them, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

“But my pretty little slut likes it when it hurts a little, doesn’t she?”

You nodded meekly.

“Yeah…good girl,” he praised lowly, keeping his firm pace as he let go of your other ankle and reached across the bed for the wand without stopping. The steady buzz of the vibrator filled the room and the sound made your body shiver in anticipation, peering up at him with his fingers in your mouth and his dick still shoving strongly inside you, wondering if this was heaven. 

George kept the wand gripped in his fist and lowered it to let the rounded vibrating head just barely touch your clit. It was so intense that your entire body flinched and you squealed around his fingers, hands flying forward to grab onto his arms. 

“Oh fuck—” George gasped lowly, strained, still fucking into you and he watched it so intently. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth to wrap them around your throat instead, pinning you to the bed and letting the head of the toy brush up and down over the hood of your clit as he spoke down to you with a voice thick with lust, “You thought I’ve forgotten how to play with you after a month?”

You could hardly formulate an answer with the pleasure that tore through you, unable to even respond to his rhetorical question, head arching back on the bed as you struggled to keep your legs spread for him and his pleasurable attack. Instead, your left hand grabbed onto his wrist that held you pinned down, the diamond of your engagement ring glinting in the afternoon sun that poured in through the open curtains. George thought there was no better sight than you sweaty and flushed with pleasure, tears brimming in your eyes, and nothing but him on your mind. 

He groaned lowly, speaking over the sound of the bed hitting the wall in a steady rhythm, “You’re tightening up so perfectly around me, love. Does that feel good?”

You nodded, having lost the ability to properly reply to him, but forcing yourself to stumble out a ragged, “Please don’t stop.”

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he taunted.

He kept the wand right against your clit, the relentless vibration paired with how deliciously he was fucking you making you dizzy. You could feel it building again, that intense coiling deep within you that felt like every nerve in your body was sizzling in anticipation, with need. The month apart was near torture, having to get yourself off alone. It was nothing compared to him. 

All you could do was clutch at his wrist and stare up into his eyes and chant out a pathetic, whimpering, never ending, “Like that, like that, like that—”

“Come on, that’s it,” George encouraged through a clenched jaw as he kept his pace going.

And then it hit you all at once, rendering you absolutely silent for a beat, eyes rolling and head aching back with a gaping mouth as your entire body tensed right up. George groaned deeply at the grip your pussy clutched him with into your orgasm but he didn’t let up, keeping his hard thrusts into your body with the wand still held firmly against your throbbing clit. 

After the first wave, you heaved in a shrieking breath into the second one with a sobbing, “Fuck, daddy! Shit!” 

The pleasure tore through you in intense waves that made your whole body start to tremour with how strong it was, nearly vibrating against the bed and under his hand. It was an immense relief unlike anything else and you couldn’t help but let out a giddy giggle through it, especially with how he wasn’t stopping. But then George was leaning down and swallowing up your pleasured laughter with a sloppy kiss, the wand still trapped between your bodies in place in his tight fist, hips rutting hard against yours.

The moment your orgasm tapered out and the overwhelm set in quickly, you were breaking away from his lips with a groan and a tilt of your head, slapping your hand against his bicep to get him to let up. George leaned back with a proud chuckle, removing the wand from your swollen, aching clit and he switched it off to set aside again, and he slowed his thrusts to give you a second to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he checked in warmly as he let go of your throat. 

“Yeah,” you giggled, draping your arms above your head, “Holy shit, I missed that so much.”

“Me making you cum?” 

“Uh huh.”

George leaned back down for another tongue-led kiss in silent agreement and when he pulled back, his hand navigated down to the tattoo on your hip, tracing it with gentle fingers that contrasted the passionate roughness you had just shared. For a moment, you swore you could feel his cock throb inside you. And then, as if driven by the need that stemmed from seeing you branded with his number in his handwriting, he slowly curled his hips towards yours in a gentle thrust. 

You hummed softly, keeping your legs spread for him, arms draped above your head, watching as he started to fuck you again at the foot of the bed. His large hands slid down your thighs and gently pushed them a little farther open so he could see all of you, how you wrapped around him so snugly, how you sucked him in with every purposeful thrust. The sound of his gentle groan warmed through your veins and you watched how he stared at you so lovingly, his thumbs caressing the apex of your thighs and pelvis as he held you open, giving you every inch in slow, delicious succession. 

After a few moments, losing his own self-control, he started to speed up. Your fingers grasped at the sheets you were laying on as he finally matched his pace from earlier, shoving into you all the way in a consistent, firm motion, forcing the headboard to hit the wall again and again and again. Your head arched back with a whine to the ceiling, still overly sensitive from your previous orgasm and even though he wasn’t touching your clit, it still all felt very intense. 

“Ohh my God, George—” you withered, eyes rolling shut, knuckles turning white as you fisted the sheets.

He was looking at you like you were going to be the last thing he ever saw, like he could spend eternity with his eyes fixed on every tiny movement you made, “Oh, look at that…there it is, there’s my sweet, whimpering, needy girl…God you’re so beautiful.”

You could hardly stay still from how perfectly he was taking you, forcing him to really grip your thighs in place to keep you from moving too much. It was a feeling beyond yourself, taking you over completely, feeling so much more intense than anything had for as long as you could remember. You heaved your head up to stare down your body and watch how he fucked into you mercilessly, hungry, creating the most erotic of symphonies between the lewd squelch of your body and the wet slaps of your skin and the creak of the bed and the headboard hitting the wall. In any other state of mind, you might have been worried about your neighbours. 

Instead, now, you were too busy trying to keep yourself together as George brought the wand back in and rested the vibrating head against your swollen clit, forcing a shriek from your throat and pleasured tears streaked down your cheeks. Your eyes screwed shut and you dropped back down flat on the bed, flailing stupidly across the sheets with a crying, “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You’re just asking to be filled up,” George purred, his voice thick and ragged and oh so beautiful, “You need a creampie so bad, don’t you? Need me to fucking fill you up…fucking breed you?”

Sure, it was all performative given that you still had an IUD, but both of you got off on the concept of a pregnancy risk…on the concept of making a family together. Regardless, you couldn’t answer him, too beside yourself with the intensity of it all and yet all you wanted was more. You just wanted him in every way imaginable. 

“Yeah, come on…you got another one in there for me…don’t you, darling?” he taunted through his teeth, desperate to make your orgasm again as his bicep bulged with how tightly he was gripping the wand and holding it against your clit, “Be a good fucking girl for daddy and come all over my cock and…I’ll give you what you want.”

It came on fast, that one, tearing a cry from your chest that nearly echoed through your bedroom as he fucked you through it. George groaned hard with how tightly you gripped around him and he stared down between your legs to watch your pussy flutter around his cock as your second orgasm hit. He held the vibrator in place, his other hand gripping your hip to keep you from squirming too much with how your body trembled and writhed through your sobbing pleasure. His eyes widened as he watched you cream around him, slicking him up with every thrust, and a small trickle of liquid spilled out of you and onto the pillow and the edge of the bed sheets beneath you.

“Jesus fucking Christ—” George barely got out before he was succumbing to you right after, desperately trying to keep fucking into you as he finally came. Hard. 

Yeah, it was no comparison to his hand over the prior month, nothing measured up to how you felt around him, and as he plunged himself as deep as he could go in your cunt, every inch of him was blessed by the fluttering vice-like grip of your warm, wet muscles. Fuck. He just kept coming, grinding into a little here or there to ride it out, loving how he swore he could feel the vibration of the wand radiating through your cunt and helping him along more. And, God, you could never get over the feeling of him spurting inside you, warm and thick and so deep.

But it was far too much as you came down from your second orgasm and the feeling of the vibrator still attacking your aching clit felt painful, and you winced and grabbed his wrist to try and push him away with a strained, “Fuck, George, too much, toomuchtoomuchtoomuch—”

He pulled away with a breathless gasp as if you had snapped him back to reality and he moved the wand away and switched it off. Still tucked inside you, he scrubbed his hands over his face for a second to catch his bearings before settling them back down on your thighs, caressing your quivering limbs tenderly. 

“Blimey…I think you almost squirted,” he rasped. 

You chuckled tiredly and took that second to try and catch your breath, sprawled out from the foot of the bed, “What?”

“Yeah…like…” George struggled to formulate words, his mind still hazy from pleasure, “it wasn’t insane or anything but you made more mess than normal.”

You lifted your head up from the bed and propped yourself up on your elbows to look down between your legs to try and see and he guided your hand down to feel the dampness of the pillow beneath your hips. Your eyes raised to his in surprise and you laid back down, “Wow…well it did feel more intense.”

George followed after you to chase your lips, stealing a few breathless kisses from you, muttering between them, “New goal for us then…make it happen.”

You shared soft laughter as he stood up straight again and then he was carefully pulling out of you, leaving behind your gaping pussy and the thick drip of cum that slipped out after him. His fingers followed and swiped it back up to push inside you again, staring at it with a bite to his bottom lip.

“Can’t wait until we take that fucking IUD out,” he murmered as if he weren’t outwardly saying it to you.

“Mm, me too,” your fingers traced up his forearm, “but not until after the wedding.”

He leaned down to kiss the inside of your knee, your thigh, and then left one more just above your pelvis, “I know…only a few more months.”

You ran your fingers through his hair with a content smile on your face, “Can’t wait to marry you…steal your last name…and have a bunch of babies with your pretty eyes running around.”

George looked up at you with those very same pretty eyes and you stroked your thumb over his cheek, feeling the way his face melted into a smile at your words. He turned to kiss the inside of your wrist, breathing out the sweetest, “I love you” you had ever heard fall from his lips.

“I love you too,” you echoed earnestly. 

He helped you clean up after your passionate welcome home and as afternoon melted into evening, the two of you found yourselves cuddling up in your shared bed together, naked, watching the sun fall shallower over the horizon. You shared whispers and kisses and caresses and you both faded in and out of a well deserved nap wrapped in the arms of your lover, skin against skin, heart to heart, letting the day pass you by. 

And in that moment, with him back beside you after so long apart, your soul felt whole again.

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[the-world-annealing]

(Disclaimer: I haven't bought a new phone in ten years. I am not american. I detest the widespread blindness towards global labor that is found among even well-intentioned people in the richer parts of the world. That said.)

Far be it from me to besmirch the sacred means of knowledge production known as "Tumblr post mocking a tweet screenshotting a news article" but this isn't actually saying what you want it to say.

(It's really hard to see stuff like this and not dislike everyone reblogging this uncritically - either you're actively lying, or you're just terribly negligent in your due dilligence)

By which I mean that the very next line past the screenshotted area goes "Actually, this is not about labor costs" and the rest of the article is spent backing that up. To summarize the core logic, it says:

-The USA is utterly unprepared for mass-scale domestic manufacturing, lacking factories, supply chain infrastructure, and the right sort of specialized engineers. -If you could magically force Apple to do all their manufacturing internally in spite of that, and they somehow made it work, they would still have to massively downscale production. -With supply constrained, Apple's best strategy to remain profitable would be to turn their phones into high-end luxury products like Duxiana matresses or Birkin bags (which certainly don't cost $10000 because that's the fair cost of labor).

(Wait, were arguments based on price curves communist or not? I lost track.) And that makes sense! People in Chinese factories don't make as much as people in American factories, but not thirty to one hundred times less. World Bank data suggests that if you compare the income of the poorest 10% in China and the USA, adjusted for cost of living, you come away with a factor of four (and I'm tempted to say that the poorest 10% of China aren't doing factory work at all, so the actual comparison is even closer).

Increasing labor costs ~4 times would increase the iPhone's overall manufacturing cost, but not by much, because the bulk of the market price is tied up with materials, R&D, marketing, etc (as opposed to something like clothes, which are often hard to automatically produce and where labor costs do make up a significant portion of the final product).

Actual labor cost per phone seems to be around 50 bucks, so that'd go to about 200, for a $150 price increase. And of course some of that would be eaten by Apple (whose per-unit profit margins are on the high side and who want to keep sales high) rather than the consumer.

Are there real issues with labor conditions in iPhone factories? Of course! But paying everyone double wages for half shifts would go a long way towards fixing them all by itself. Likewise with material - the bulk of costs for rare earth production lies not in miners' labor but in extraction and transport - that's the whole basis of their exploitation.

Phones are not cheap because they exploit cheap Chinese labor - they're cheap because industrialization has allowed a little labor to go such a long way. Cheap widespread phones are absolutely compatible with fair compensation to all those involved in the supply chain, and the final result would be a comparatively modest price increase - hell, if Apple wasn't aiming for a 50% profit margin per unit, they might be able to absorb the blow entirely.

If you were a capitalist, I guess the well-being of Chinese laborers would matter less than you than slightly higher profits, and you'd want to loudly remind Americans that you have to keep exploiting international workers to keep their lifestyle viable. What confuses me is why you'd do the same while claiming to be on the left.

It seems that your cheap phones are not a god given right but actually a luxury sustained by imperialist inequality after all. Mirá vos.

[the-immortal-restless]

A Millennium of Changes

(BETA READ BY @pumpkin-pepperz :) thanks pookie)

Summary: Everyone thought that the new baby Monkey would age like a mortal, after all, they were in the mortal realm and the baby was made in that realm… why would it age differently?

No one expected it to take so long

TLDR:The egg takes 35 celestial months to hatch, which roughly equates to 1,050 years in the mortal realm.

Takes place just after this chapter!

Warning:Heavy Angst(There is also heavy comfort to help don’t worry), Many Major Character Deaths, Transmasculine individual (MK) getting pregnant and giving birth(though it’s not a significant plot point).

This work was written by someone who did not grow up in Chinese culture, and while there are little references to the culture I still want to acknowledge that I am not the most educated on the practices and traditions of said culture.

Notes before the fic(skippable. Skip to *’s): This was based on an idea I had while sick where the egg takes 35 celestial months to grow. And one celestial day is one mortal year. Which I will guide you through the math now.

35 months x approximately 30 days per month = 1,050 days. Converting to Mortal Time is 1,050 years or 12,600 months. They have already completed 9 months in the comic at the time of writing this (may fifth) so that’s 12,591 months or 1,049.25 years. Which is a long time. In the comic it is established that MK is immortal and we already know that Redson is a half celestial, half demon, so of the main group them two are the only one likely to be alive after that long.

Tang is Papa and Pigsy is Dad.

**************************************

”You’ll see- Next time I call you, You’ll finally meet your new sibling… I Promise.”

Those were the last words he heard before his dads went into a deep meditation. It was essentially a magical coma.

MK was worried for his dad, he looked so tired, and his Mama had already passed out. He worried they wouldn’t wake up, but his Baba assured him they would.

MK went home with his Dad and his Papa. His Papa took him for a much needed haircut in the morning, he practically had a mane by now and he wasn’t to keen on having long hair.

MK focused on other relationships. His Dad’s shop was still busy, rightfully so, it was the best noodle shop in town. He still liked listening to his Papa’s wisdom and learning from the scholar. He had therapy with Sandy and his clowder of many cats. He trained with Mei and Redson, outside of hanging out and little dates.

Of course he visited his Baba and Mama every weekend, made sure all the things they had prepared for the baby stayed well taken care of. They’d need it when that baby finally hatched.

But MK started to worry as more and more weeks passed without so much as a sign the baby would hatch.

Eventually the first year passed. His Papa told him that maybe the baby was going to take the full 35 months. That thought both soothed and worried him, almost three years? That’s a long time.

He was worried some new villain would come back, and he wouldn’t have his mentor to help.

He talked to Sandy and he was able to slowly come to terms with that. Telling himself that the baby would be okay and he had a huge support system to help incase something did happen.

He’d focused on living instead of worried. Focus on what can be now, instead of what could’ve been.

He invested his time in growing, learning, becoming someone to be a hero and becoming better and better.

He cooked with Pigsy, the noodle shop had been there since before he was born. He loved cooking with his Dad and he always wanted to continue it. His Dad liked to impart wisdom onto him much like his Papa, (he was beginning to see why they were married) whether it be about trusting his senses over a recipe or some cooking metaphor for life. Things like: “Things are the best when you wait for the perfect time.”

He read more with his Papa, talking about myths and stories. The two of them even ventured outside Chinese Mythos and looked into all kinds of myths and legends. He enjoyed learning and taking in wisdom. Though their time together wasn’t restricted by myths. He also learned things from his Papa about human nature and philosophy. He learned that even though sleep was a vital part of mortal life, it’s still important for Celestial and Immortals because outside of the physical body, the mind benefited greatly from sleep. Sleep allows the mind a break to reset for the next day, to sort all the things you learn into their places and make sure you remember everything.

That’s when he started taking his sleep more seriously. If he was going to be immortal he needed to keep his mind healthy.

He took care of animals with Sandy and went hiking and camping with him, learning about nature and meditation. Sandy also likes to impart wisdom onto him (He was beginning to notice a pattern) about nature and how to learn to value to little beauties in everything.

He played video games with Mei, they always had fun. They also trained both with and without Redson. Though they all trained with and without each other. He focused on spending as much time doing their favorite things: watching movies, shows, playing games. They went to concerts and even tried plays.

He went on dates with Redson. They did picnics occasionally, but they also began cooking together. MK watched him work in the workshop. He and Mei introduced him to shows they thought he’d like. Much to everyone’s surprise and unsurprisingly he took a liking to cooking shows like DBK did.

He even connected with Nezha more, they were both princes and despite Nezha being a bit of a rule-follower, he liked MK’s defiance and rowdy attitude.

It was hard but he managed to live without being consumed by his worry. There were days where he was a bit bed bound with worry and sadness, but his family came and helped him. They all loved MK and MK loved them.

The trouble came when the third year passed. Why weren’t they awake? Why was the egg still unhatched? Why were his parents still so tired looking?

After days of frantic research with the help of MK, Nezha and other people, his Papa found something.

Apparently, sometimes celestial gestation progresses at the rate of the Celestial Realm even if they are in the Mortal Realm. A factor they didn’t know to consider. This information hit everyone like 67 consecutive trains.

The egg would take centuries to hatch… MK would face his immortality without his immortal parents. He would grieve almost everyone around him without his parents. He was… alone.

They couldn’t even undo the spell, because awake or not the baby needed Wukong and Macaque’s power to grow. Not to mention that undoing a spell like this could be dangerous, it would undo on its own when the baby was hatched and the two Celestial Monkeys were healthy. Them being asleep was safer and easier. It was hard but they couldn’t undo the spell that sealed them away

MK cried that day, that week, that month. He was scared, he was terrified. How was he going to survive over a thousand years without his parents?

But he knew mourning was only going to eat at the time. He had more therapy with Sandy. It would take an incredibly long time, but he needed it.

He focused even more on his family. He wanted his to see his life and he wanted to squeeze everything he had into time with them. MK grew closer and closer to his family. He knew by the time his Baba and Mama woke up, the time he spent with his Dad, Papa, Sandy and Mei would be a grain of sand in an an hourglass, but he didn’t care. It was his family.

It felt like centuries already when 7 years passed since they found out, and 10 since his Mama and Baba went to sleep. He hoped that was a good sign. His Dads noodle shop only grew bigger and they made more money. MK even offered to move out to make room for having more guests. MK was basically 34 years old and still living with them but they denied the notion. They said he’d have years to lived outside their house, they wanted him there.

MK didn’t argue.

He and Redson took it slow, but in mortal terms, which might’ve been fast for Demons but Redson nor his family said anything about it. After the first five years of their relationship, they spent a spent together, they both were new to it but it was a night they both enjoyed and never regretted.

After 15 years, they got married. MK knew it might’ve been a little fast. After all his Mama and Baba were engaged for… what 2,000 years before they married? But MK wanted his Dad and Papa to see him get married and Redson agreed that was a good idea. He didn’t mention that his mother had been pestering him for over a decade about getting married and having children with MK.

His Dad and Redson had already spent time together, they were close. But they only got closer when they started cooking together. Now they’d have family cooking nights where MK, Redson, and Pigsy, would cook a big meal and they’d all eat as family. More often than they’d expected, Redson’s family would also come, and DBK would join in cooking.

Those nights were MK’s favorite, his entire family was together.

Somehow in all his packed time with family, he still visited his Mama and Baba at the mountain, while he knew they likely wouldn’t wake up for another ten centuries. He still wanted to visit, talk to them even if they probably couldn’t hear him.

As his family got older, he valued the time more and more. He planned to take over the Noodle Shop. Not out of some obligation or anything. His Dad and Papa had made sure he knew that they wouldn’t be upset if he chose to do something else. He wanted to take on the business. It was his entire life, his first meal, his home. He wanted to live there forever.

MK took care of his parents when they got older. He wanted to, they took him in as a kid and they had a pretty substantial amount of saving to help with these delicate years. Pigsy, despite always talking about having a ‘Noodle Empire’, never bothered to expand. He was content with one shop, one building, one family.

MK hired more trained professionals, of course, to help him as the years passed. He wasn’t a nurse and elderly people had a lot of health concerns that he wasn’t trained to be able to accommodate. But he still did most of it, he learned to do it.

Mei got older too, she got a job as a professional racer. She was happy and MK made sure she practiced safe driving. He wasn’t about to let his best friend die in a fiery crash. That would be cringe of her.

Sandy got older too, and as his own years passed he began to coach MK through that, how to handle grief and understand death without fearing it. How it was natural and how it wasn’t the end. It was only a bridge to new beginnings. Sandy taught MK that life wasn’t about avoiding death, it was about enjoying the time we have. About forming connections and understanding each other. Death was inevitable, yes, but life was also inevitable.

Almost every single creature on earth would make at least one meaningful connection. It was simple math. We are born from someone and that very person is often our first relationship, and earth isn’t even close to being underpopulated. To live a life on earth and not make one single connection was a statistical wonder. It would take effort. Humans especially were inherently social creatures, they hunted in groups in the beginning of the species and now they lived in cities and villages with thriving cultures and family. The purpose of life, Sandy told him, was to give life a purpose.

MK buried Tang first, he was fully human and even though he was younger than Pigsy, demons just simply had a longer lifespan. It was peaceful, without pain or sadness. MK brought Pigsy to the grave to visit everyday, he replace the flowers at the first sign of wilt, lit incense and talked with Pigsy to Tang. It was comforting that they had more confirmation than other mortals often did that there was an afterlife.

MK mourned, Pigsy mourned, everyone mourned. Tang was a good man, he had a heart that was bigger than himself and an intellect to match. He always sought to understand the people around him and see the best in others.

Pigsy didn’t live much long after, he was older than Tang and the two of them were just barely older than Sandy. MK made sure they were buried together. Even if they weren’t alive in those bodies, they had stuck together longer than MK had been alive at that point and he wanted them to stay together long after they departed.

Sandy helped him grieve, though it was made significantly easier with the therapy before the deaths. It was more practice than anything.

MK continued to make human connections. He didn’t let his immortality swallow him. He learned that life was precious and even Redson began to grow friendly with a handful of mortals.

True to his word, MK took over the noodle shop with Redson. It was a family business and Redson had been apart of the family longer than they had been married.

Mei stayed close, she was a well known racer and she was a near expert at it, but she wanted to live in Megapolis. Her family was there, biologically and emotionally. She spent a lot of time with MK and Redson, the three of them were inseparable and even if she couldn’t cook she still had much to offer. She had humor and company and family.

Sandy encouraged MK to continue therapy after his passing, the kid was very stable and had a good support system, but therapy was always a good decision. It helps and it’s better to keep it up, rather than to wait for a catalyst and need more extensive help. Waiting until some breaking point would only make issues worse and take longer to deal with. It’s always a better decision to refine something than wait till it breaks to repair it.

MK mourned when he buried Sandy, of course he did. Sandy was an important figure in his life, he helped him through so much. But he also knew how to continue with himself. Sandy had taught him well.

Redson and Mk took a long time to have kids, not because they couldn’t but because MK had a small fear that he would get stuck in a thousand year rest like his family. But with patience and a heap of therapy, they decided to have one. MK was a little sad his parents couldn’t meet their grandchild but MK knew his parents would rather him be happy than to rush his life just to have them see it.

MK decided on his own that he wanted to carry the child. He didn’t want to follow the egg route, he wanted children but he didn’t want to miss out on a millennia just to have baby. Not that his parents were less for choosing to do that. He knew they wouldn’t have done this on purpose.

So they began to try for a baby, much to Mei’s teasing. It didn’t take long for them to conceive and 9 months later they brought the cutest little boy into the world. Redson and MK ended up naming him a classic name for triumph or victory, Kai. When the baby finally opened his eyes, they were like a mirror image of Redson’s, deep red like dark fire, like the fire he created.

There was some worry among them that Kai would end up creating a second Samadhi Fire like Redson. So they made him a necklace with a pendant carving with a bull and a monkey surrounded by fire. One the back was written three things.

小宝宝(xiǎo bǎobǎo), meaning "little baby."

火焰猴 (huǒyàn hòu), meaning “flaming monkey.”

凯旋 (kǎixuán), meaning “triumph.”

When Kai was born they had a baby shower soon after, it was nice. Life was good for them. They felt at peace, life was going.

MK was still taking care of Flower fruit Mountain, after all, their king was incapacitated, which kinda made him acting leader, then again they were monkeys and they managed to be alright before, but he liked to visit and keep the place nice and clean.

Kai got older, and while he had intense fire power, he hadn’t created a second reality burning fire yet. So they were a bit calmer about the matter. Mei loved the little guy. He was irresistibly cute.

Kai aged slower too, his infancy last almost 5 years. He was a toddler for 10 years. It only grew slower but never old. Before long he was a kid, looking about 8 or 9.

Mei got a bit more time than the rest, she aged slow because of her dragon heritage but she was far from fully draconic. So time did what it does, and Mei passed away. MK and Redson mourned her, that part would never be in question, they buried her with honor, just like the rest. Kai missed her, she was his auntie, Mei took him on motorcycle rides and he watched the old Monkey King movies with her.

Kai was raised knowing the history of his grandparents, he visited Flower Fruit Mountain with his parents and for the first few years of visits he would play with the other cubs and monkeys, eating fruit and roughhousing.

After the first few years, Kai began to stay by his parents, ever curious about what they talked about with two men who probably couldn’t hear them.

After a while he came to realize they talked because they cared. Because even if there was a slight chance that they could hear them, then it was worth it. That’s why he started doing it more, he talked to Mei when they visited her grave and even his other grandparents as well as Sandy. He didn’t meet them, but he wanted them to know him.

Before they knew it, 100 years had passed since Wukong and Macaque went under. Kai was a tween and he was making friends. Both immortal and human. MK and Redson taught him at home, that how both of them knew it and they both turned out okay.

MK and Redson had made friends as well that had also died but they had other families to bury them, he still visited, he cared for them no less. That’s how it continued.

Megapolis grew around them, not big, the city was already pretty good, but trees get bigger and buildings change, even just slightly. They all fell into a bit of a routine, a pleasant one that always seemed to find new ways to keep them from boring to death.

Pigsy’s Noodles continued to remain one of the best restaurants in the city and it stayed a staple of Megapolis. It brought in amazing business and good money.

Demons were becoming more and more integrated into daily life, MK and Redson obviously participated heavily in that, earning a reputation for their acceptance, though to them it was basic decency.

Demons were beginning to become more and more accepting as generations progressed and less of them were driven to crime because of it. They were getting help and proper healthcare instead of being shunned to the corners of society’s shadows. MK found himself acting in a hero role less and less, which he found himself proud of. It meant he did a good job.

By the 9th century, demons were everywhere, they were apart of the culture and everyone grew better because of it. More and more of Megapolis became accessible to everyone, literature became richer and fuller, education and intelligence rates of the schools and districts surrounding them began to rise.

Megapolis was quickly becoming a growing community of vibrant individuals and friends. MK found comfort in the fact that Sandy, his Dad and Papa, would be proud of the world that this was becoming.

MK hadn’t even realized how long it had been since his parents fell asleep growing the egg.

Before long, Kai was an elder teenager, nearly a thousand years old.

MK, Redson and Kai were at the mountain, Red had gone to tidy up the house and make sure everything was ready, even if they thought they weren’t even close to when MK’s parents would wake up. It was still routine. MK was training with Kai, something they had started a hundred odd years ago.

That’s when a bright light came from the mountaintop where Macaque, Wukong and the egg were. MK halted in his step and Kai nearly tackled him before he realized.

Wukong woke with a start, the spell had fallen around them moment ago and Macaque woke up at the same time as him. They both look toward to egg, only to see a little monkey cub in its place.

Their Baby

Wukong and Macaque cried with joy and they both gathered the cub into their arms.

That was until they notice how big the tree near them had gotten, and the vines growing in the rocks, evidence of more age than they expected.

How long had they been out?

That’s when they heard it. A voice, not their sons. Not MK’s but one that called for his Dad.

The boy called for his Papa, urging him to wait for his Dad. He sounded worried but Wukong didn’t care for details. If there was an intruder he needed to protect his cub. He pulled his staff out of his ear. And held it ready.

With a clang, the staff dropped when he saw his own son, his adult son standing there instead of the younger man they remembered him being. Both of their heart sank, tears welled up in their eyes as they realized.

How long has it been, they wanted to ask. But their son, a millennium older and wiser, answered before they could.

One thousand fifty years, he said. The two men were horrified at that answer. They’d been asleep that long? That was a terrifying notion.

Their world only grew harder to believe when a teenager in a red shirt, soon followed by Redson, appeared up the mountain. Redson was shocked and came to MK’s side. Wukong covered his mouth for a moment, slowly connecting the dots that the teenager was his grandson.

Macaque looked worried that their son would hate them for this, that fear melted when MK ran to them and hugged them tightly, careful not to hurt the baby.

Macaque and Wukong hugged their son back and Redson guided his son toward the cuddle pile.

MK rambled about the past millennia to his waking parents for a while before explaining that they had gotten married and had a son. MK looked toward Kai, motioning for him to introduce himself.

“Hello… I’m Kai, I’m your grandson.”

THE END(?)

Tags: @kyri45 (the creator of the comic that inspired this!) @ainnur @iglowinggemma28 @autism-autobot

[c-kiddo]

the mighty nein vs tombtakers fight in the snow remains one of if not my favourite cr combat of all time. its not even got a battle map. it doesnt have the crazy grandeur of the cathedral fight or crazy ticking clock and stages of the nonagon fight (also both elite tier) but its the most i ever paid attention. love that tmn start off persueing the tombtakers riding on giant owls through a blizzard . already cool to me. but then lucien sees them and suddenly caduceus and caleb are falling and none of their spells work and theyre both casters and cant fucking See bc its night and neither have dark vision so theyre like crawling back through the snow to get away from lucien and then beau jumps in to help and immediately lucien tries to explode her brain and it all gets so fucking dire so fast i luuuuuuvvvvv it . also lucien turning to caduceus after and he just puts his hands up in surrender and luckily saves on his roll bc otherwise lucien wouldve melted his brain . and then hes covered in blood trying to get away and trying to drag caleb away too and the rest of them are freaking out and veth helps everyone see the anti-magic cone luciens sending out but rly at that point they all need to run and theyre all freezing and exhausted but they manage to get away while lucien shouts after them . girl they almost died so bad. luv it x

[aurorawritestoescape]

LUCKY YOU

Joel Miller x f!reader x Clint Flood || 3,2k

Summary: A usual evening with your boyfriend Clint and his best friend Joel turns into a night full of lust and ecstasy - Or - Clint and Joel go down on you.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, modern au/no outbreak au, F!ORAL, voyeurism, fingering, rimming, unprotected piv, anal, creampie, cum eating, multiple orgasms, praise kink, pussy/cock pronouns, swearing, alcohol consumption (not by reader). Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Clint can lift reader.

A/n: Grab your toys y’all, it’s a steamy one lol Huge thank you to @ghoulettesinspace for this inspiring ask. Love you, friend! This story is my submission for the Magic Number writing challenge hosted by @schnarfer @whocaresstillthelouvre and @mothandpidgeon 💞 Thank you for creating this hot event! Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and being my everything💋 Hope you all will enjoy being a meal❤️

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🌸

MASTERLIST || more Clint || more Joel

You've been dating Clint for a few months and his buddy, Joel, often came to hang out at his place. The men were about the same age, both older, both handsome as hell, but Joel never seemed to be interested in you.

At first you were fine with it, you were his friend’s woman after all, but his indifference soon started rubbing you the wrong way. Why would he look through you sometimes, as if you were not there? Didn’t he think you were hot? Or at least deserving of something other than a fleeting glance?

Driven by spite, you started doing everything to get the man’s attention. Wearing tiny shorts and tight tops around him worked wonders - he blushed like a teenager and stammered a shaky ‘Howdy’ whenever you opened the door to him.

Clint saw through your games, but didn’t mind them at all. Even better, he seemed to rail you harder after Joel’s visits.

It’s a usual night at Clint’s place. You two are chilling on the couch, his heavy arm around your shoulder, Joel‘s sitting in a lazy boy nearby. The men are sipping beers and watching some old action movie.

Not interested in the plot, you’re scrolling through Tumblr, and of course, at one point, a porn gif graces your dash. Clint notices it and hums, watching a guy eat a girl out on your screen. You feel his lips at your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck.

”Gonna do it to you tonight.”

You smile and bite your lip, shooting him a glance that screams ‘Yes, please!” His voice and his promise are enough to get you hot and bothered.

You put your phone away, cuddle up closer to your boyfriend and rest your bent leg on his thigh. Clint growls and bucks his hips, a huge bulge in his pants impossible to miss, and you gush, ogling it with hunger. It reminds you of the previous night — Clint’s hard cock fucking your mouth, then stretching your pussy so well, his sweat dripping on your bouncing tits. You squirm next to him and Clint hums, sensing your arousal.

He’s barely watching the movie now - his palms are sliding up and down your naked arms and thighs, his breathing is deep and heavy.

He gets ballsy and, not minding Joel sitting nearby, sneaks his hand under your shorts. His thick finger dips into the pool between your folds and he gruffs,

“Fuck, baby.” He immediately brings his hand to his mouth and licks your juices off, making you bite your lip at the sight of his tongue sliding over the glistening digit.

Joel hears Clint’s groans and turns his head in your direction. He doesn’t realise that his buddy is being a horny menace and continues watching the movie.

Clint keeps playing with you - presses kisses to your face and neck, kneads your tit under the top and squeezes your asscheek. By the time he cups your pussy over your shorts, soaking them with your slick, you’ve turned into a complete mess, desperate for any stimulation.

“Need you,” you whisper against his cheek and he rasps quietly, “I got you, baby.”

Not making you wait, he shoves his hand into your shorts, quickly finds his way to your wet hole and pushes two fingers inside.

You swallow a moan, your eyes set on Joel, sitting close, oblivious to the fact that his friend is knuckles deep in your cunt. Clint starts moving his digits in and out, curling them and skillfully bringing you higher to your peak with every stroke.

“Fuck,” you murmur, feeling yourself getting close, and push your face into Clint’s neck, in hopes of hiding the whimpers, crawling up your throat.

“Let it go, babygirl,” Clint whispers and you do. You come, pulsating on his fingers, your eyes squeezed shut. The orgasm is rippling through your body in waves as you’re clinging to Clint’s huge body. When your climax starts to dissipate, you kiss his cheek and give him a satisfied smile.

Your breathing is slowly coming back to normal but then it hitches, when all of a sudden Clint asks,

“Hey, Joel, do you like eating pussy?”

You stare at your boyfriend with your eyes widened, and then at his friend.

Joel furrows his brows and looks at Clint with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.

“Scuse me?”

“You heard me, do you like giving head?”

“Fuck off, Clint,” Joel chuckles and returns his attention to the tv, but you don’t miss a slight blush of his cheeks.

Drunk on endorphins, you surprise even yourself when you push, “Do you?”

Joel locks eyes with you, but you’re not backing down. You raise your brows and stare at him with defiance.

“Yeah, we wanna know.” Clint sneers and shoots you a proud glance. Joel glares at the two of you now, but he probably knows well that Clint won’t let it go, so he replies with a shrug,

“Not really.”

Now it's Clint’s turn to be surprised.

“What? Why?”

“Dunno, not my thing.”

Joel takes a sip of his beer and clears his throat.

He’s always been reserved so you know he would never talk about his sexual life like that. The beer must be coursing through his veins, loosening his tongue.

“Is it ‘real men don’t do it’ bullshit?” You don’t hide disgust in your voice and Clint retorts,

“The manliest thing ever. What the fuck, Joel?”

“You know, what I think,” you turn to Clint with your brows pulled together, “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right person.”

“Or the right pussy,” Clint smirks and you giggle.

Joel’s beet red at this point, his eyes glued to the bottle in his hands, and you start feeling a little bad for the guy. Clint doesn’t seem to care. He’s giddy with excitement when he pulls you close and whispers in your ear,

“How about we introduce him to the right pussy?”

You blink a few times and then your lips curve into a mischievous smile.

“He just needs a good role model,” Clint says, sitting up next to you and pulling your shorts down and off your legs. His eyes are set on Joel, whose brows are getting lost in his hairline when he sees what his buddy is doing.

“This is insane,” Joel groans but doesn’t leave, doesn’t move at all. His body is frozen, his gaze is sliding over your naked ass and thighs.

“You ok with it?” he asks, locking eyes with you and you nod eagerly, biting your lower lip, turned on by the depravity of what’s about to happen. It’s impossible to deny - you’ve craving Joel’s mouth on you. Or his cock stuffing your hole.

You’re dripping and trembling with lust, ready to see what your boyfriend is going to do to you in front of the other man.

“She wants you,” Clint assures his friend, getting up and motioning for you to lie down on the couch.

“Looking like a slut when you’re around. She needs that extra cock. Right, baby?”

Your chest heaves as you whisper a soft ‘yeah’ and Joel rubs his scruffy cheek, hiding a lopsided smile.

Clint sits down at your bent legs and spreads your thighs with his big hands.

“Look at her, Joel. She’s too hot not to share.”

You smile at his praise and pull your top off revealing your naked breasts, presenting yourself to the men fully.

Joel adjusts his bulge with a curse and Clint whispers ‘good girl’ before leaning closer to palm your tit, making you whimper.

“But..,” he raises his brow and turns to Joel, ”this pussy’s for eating. Not only fucking.”

Clint pushes your thighs further apart and presses his hand to your folds. He massages them with his wide palm, spreading your slick over your heated skin, and you moan loudly, relishing the pressure on your cunt.

“Fuckin hell,” Joel murmurs and turns more to the couch.

“Hotter than hell,” Clint smirks and brings his lips to your inner thigh. He slowly drags them to your centre and lightly pecks your folds, tickling you with his facial hair. You bite your lip and start kneading your breast.

“Always start slow, Joel. Little kisses here and there.”

“Jeez, I know how to give head, Clint,” Joel groans, getting up and stepping up to the couch. “I’ve seen pussy before. I jus’.. don’t do it often...”

Clint rolls his eyes and then parts your pussy lips with his fingers.

"Been missing out, man. Bet you'd love to stick your dick in this soft hole, uh?"

Joel curses under his breath, his eyes taking in everything you are giving him. Clint murmurs ‘pretty’ to your pussy, then leans down and pecks your clit, his touch feather-light. You moan and buck your hips, chasing his hot mouth, but he ignores your need and keeps persuading Joel,

"Imagine how wet she's gonna be when you make her come on your tongue a couple times. Sticking your cock in a freshly eaten pussy... shit... a life changing experience, man. I swear you won't regret it."

While Clint’s pitching pussy eating to Joel, his thick fingers are gliding up and down over your spread folds, slightly grazing your twitching bud, pouring gasoline into a bright fire in your core.

"You really want me to eat out your girlfriend, Clint? fuck her?"

"Why not," Clint shrugs and, keeping your lips parted, gives the center of your pussy an open mouth kiss. ”She deserves it.”

“Joel, please,” you whimper, need thick in your voice, and your back arches, when Clint’s tongue draws a long wet stripe between your folds.

You flutter your eyes closed, barely hearing Clint’s comments, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Hnggg… juicy little cunt. Joel, check it out.”

Joel’s looking over you, perfectly positioned to watch Clint play with you.

Clint bends down and sucks your puffy clit between his lips, then releases it with a pop and stares intently at your hole. You feel it first and then you see it, too. They both groan when a clear drop of your slick trickles down from your clenching hole down to your asshole.

Clint looks up at Joel and smirks,

“Want a taste?”

Joel clenches his jaws as you’re watching him with hazy eyes, tiny whimpers falling from your lips again and again.

“I want you,” you admit with the sweetest tone you can manage and the man’s eyes dart from your crying cunt to your glossy eyes.

He pulls his brows and then nods.

“Let’s get her to the bedroom,” Clint offers with a smile and takes you in his arms.

You bite your lower lip, failing to suppress a grin curving your lips, and squirm naked on the bed with anticipation.

“That’s what I’m talking about. The more the merrier, right, baby?”

You nod, sparkles flying out of your eyes, as you take in two hot men on the bed with you.

“Spread ‘em wider,” Joel commands, and you obediently throw your thighs apart as wide as possible, they’re lying on the bed at this point.

“That’s my girl,” Clint praises you and caresses your inner thigh with his hard knuckles.

Your skin erupts with chills when Joel slides his palm from your knee to your hip, gently, reading your reaction, making sure that you’re still on board. You very much are.

It’s the first time he’s touching you, and you shiver, looking up at him with your heart eyes, blown out and full of need.

“Bon appetite, buddy,” Clint pats Joel's shoulder, inviting him to taste his girlfriend’s cunt.

Joel takes a sharp breath and slowly leans down, torturing you with anticipation, but when he covers your whole pussy with his mouth, you gasp and moan his name, already on the brink of euphoria. He flicks his tongue over your clit and then starts making out with your cunt, languidly and sensually.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as a powerful wave of pleasure engulfs you fully.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Clint watches, gliding his hand from your mound, over your heaving belly and to your chest. While Joel’s holding your thighs open, eating you out like it’s his last meal, Clint begins kneading your breasts, pulling at your nipples, twitching them to add fire to your ecstasy.

Joel dives out of your cunt and Clint asks him with a smirk,

“So?“

Joel’s breathing is heavy, licking his lips, his eyes two black pits of lust.

“Fuckin incredible.”

“Ah! Told ya!” Clint rubs his friend’s back with a proud smile and looks into your hazy eyes. “I’d eat her for breakfast, lunch and dinner, man. My baby’s delicious.”

“Thanks for sharing,” Joel mumbles and bends down again to lap at your crying hole.

“Yeah, like that,” Clint praises Joel’s skills when you moan loudly and dip your head back into the pillow.

“He’s doing good, babygirl?”

“Yeahhh, so good,” you mewl, losing your mind at how perfectly Joel’s full lips caress your folds and clit, while his hot tongue is collecting all the slick covering your beating pussy.

Joel’s lewd slurping together with your loud moans fills the room, and the electricity between the three of you hangs heavy in the air.

Clint is watching the show with his eyes dark and intent, palming his bulge, and then finally pulls his cock out.

When you see it spring out of his pants, engorged and leaking, your hand darts to it and you wrap your palm around his hot shaft.

“Nah, beautiful. Don’t worry ‘bout me, enjoy yourself.” He takes your hand off his cock and gently kisses your fingers. “He’s gonna wait for your pussy.”

He holds your hand, and leans down to give you a kiss, heady and passionate, grounding you in your overwhelming pleasure, but at the same time pushing you deeper into the pit of lust.

“Joel,” Clint calls after parting from your lips. “Wanna join you.”

Joel hums with your clit between his lips and it pushes you over the edge. You come crying, your eyes and pussy wet with euphoria, every cell of your body lighting up. The men hold you while you shake, your tits jiggling, your pussy leaking all over the sheets.

“Fuck.. what a sight,” Clint growls, running his huge palm over your trembling thighs while his other hand is gripping his cock.

“She’s beautiful.” Joel’s praise makes you smile through the hard orgasm, and when your body relaxes, you sigh happily and close your eyes.

Clint doesn’t give you any respite, though. A light slap lands on your hip and he growls,

“Need to eat this ass.”

Joel wipes your slick of his bearded chin and asks Clint,

“Can I fuck her pussy after?“

“Sure, man. You’re my best bud, what’s mine is yours.”

You giggle at Clint’s words, feeling yourself like a fuck doll and loving every second of it.

“‘k..,” Joel nods, “Let’s make her come again and then fuck her sloppy hole. If you don’t mind,” he turns to you and you purr,

“Never.”

Clint smiles and kneels on the floor. They manhandle your body so your ass is hanging off the bed and then Joel orders,

“Bend your knees, yeah, like this.” He lifts your legs and presses your knees to your sides, fully exposing your pussy and asshole to their obsidian eyes.

“Damn,” Joel groans when Clint glides his thumb over your tight ring which contracts at his touch, already soaked with your pussy juices.

Your boyfriend starts first.

He positions your ass at his face, holding your hips with his hands and presses his flat tongue to your asshole. You jerk and whimper, already in seventh heaven.

“Oh my god,” you moan and clasp Clint’s hair. He starts eating your ass, slurping shamelessly, drinking your moans and your pussy nectar, while Joel is kissing your inner thigh.

Your eyes meet and he gives you a warm smile, “Doin good, sweetheart.” Joel brings his hand to your face and cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing your heated skin and you purr at his touch, reveling in his warmth, trembling from every lap of Clint’s tongue against your asshole.

You choke on a moan when Joel leans down to your spread pussy and begins rubbing your clit with the flat of his tongue.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps, your thighs start trembling. You run your fingers through Joel’s greying curls and feel tears slide down to your temples when Joel’s tongue finds your entrance and he begins fucking your pussy.

These hot men between your legs, their big hands on you, their mouths devouring your holes— the sight alone can make you come but you fall apart from a shuttering orgasm when Clint pushes his tongue into your asshole and starts fucking you with his hot muscle just like Joel is fucking your pussy hole.

You explode with a loud cry, spraying your juices against Joel’s lips and chin, and he drinks everything he can get, and what escapes his mouth trickles down to your ass where Clint eagerly laps it off your heated skin.

They fuck you all night. Drunk on the unending orgasms, you don’t understand who’s between your thighs, whose cum is spilling into your stretched pussy, but you take each dick happily. They shower you with praise, suck on your puffy nipples, drag their hot hard cocks over your skin before sticking them in your hole again and again.

When your pussy gets filled to the brim, Clint fucks your ass, while Joel watches and jerks off, and then squirts his cum on your hickey-covered tits. Clint licks it off later with Joel’s dick buried deep in your overflowing cunt.

The night is a blur of lust, moans and bodily fluids. The room smells of sweat and sex and you take full lungs of the heady scent before falling asleep.

Early in the morning someone fucks your used pussy again, you have no clue who, and orgasm, dreaming of them both.

When you wake up, you make breakfast for the men, still dripping their loads, your thighs slippery and sticky. They eat and chat, smiling at you from time to time.

Joel’s eyes find yours again and again, they stick to your lips, your neck, your legs, reigniting a fire inside you. Seeing you chewing on your lip and squirming in your chair, Clint pulls you into his lap and kisses you.

At the door before leaving Joel gives you a tight hug and pecks your cheek.

“Thank you for the night, sweetheart.”

You’re leaning against the doorframe, watching him walk to his truck.

“Game on Saturday, Joel. Don’t forget”, Clint shouts to his friend.

Before getting in the car, Joel looks you up and down with his dark eyes and gives you a wink.

“Won’t miss it for the world.”

Clint pulls you in his arms and you smile like a happy cat. You can’t wait for Saturday to come.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback means the world❤️

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @thedilfdiaries @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots

People who were interested in the wip posts (no pressure to read, bbs) @sawymredfox @arcanefox207 @wethairjoel @604to647 @keylimebeag

[ay0nha]

Please Forgive Me | Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch (REWROTE IT)

SUMMARY: You needed to let go of the illusion that it could have been any different. You were both slowly losing yourselves and your patience. Instead, resented for being weathered and callous. But the pain and hurt were still there; nobody acknowledged how it had gone so long ignored.

Where you and Robby explore the first steps towards Ho'oponopono.

PAIRING: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!attending!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.2K

WARNINGS: Canon-typical things, blood, death, smoking, Myrna, ANGSt-heavy, the "Kraken" mentions (mental health is no joke, I have opinions), seizure mentions (also no joke, although used humorously), plot driven by movie magic, reader getting physically hurt, flashbacks, arguments, fluff if you squint, word vomit, therapy session w/Kiara, mentions of terminal cancer, incarcerated patient, razor blades, glass, (let me know if I missed anything, I've been staring at this too long), etc.

Inspired by @skulandcrossbones's post, @xxdrixx's post, and @sunkissedburns' post. Also inspired by Joan Didion, that one Grey's episode, and other things I can't remember, so remind me if I missed things. CREDIT GOES WHERE IT IS DUE.

A/N: So I REWROTE this part because it was just Not It for me tbh. It didn't hold the angst/vibes I wanted it to, so please forgive me (*wink*) if this is confusing or jumbled, I just felt like this fit better for what I'm trying to do. Comments are HEAVILY encouraged; they truly keep me going and motivated to write. Many thanks to @hummusforthewin, @est1887, and @sunfairyy for helping me out! Enjoy.

prologue

“They all say ‘Life doesn’t work that way,’ ‘Live with the consequences and learn,’ ‘No one can cheat the system,’ but I did.” You paused, letting the admission be a placeholder. “Why would I regret that? They want to humanize everything; they just see wanting to die as a crime.”

Kiara always started with a baseline. It helped ease you into conversations you avoided. Yet, today the air was different. You came in with vexation. You kept storing up all that anger. You hoped for it to spill over. Otherwise, you’d drown in it. 

“And you don’t?” Kiara prompted. She was subtle with her interjections, learning your habit to retreat when prodded. 

You’d already mourned what could have been, what would not be, what you couldn't save. It was a daily practice. But this, what got you here, this was different. This didn’t come with the same leverage of sadness and authenticity; this felt radical even for you.  

“I’ve seen so much life and death that it’s become one and the same.” You continued. “I’m not trying to be clever, here…I just—” Another pause before you decidedly gave up. “—don’t get it.” 

Kiara hummed. She balanced her opinions well. She never pressed you too far, but you could tell that with your little progress, she needed to be more critical. 

“How poetic.” Kiara rested her hands on her lap. It was picture professional, minus the smirk settled on her face. “Yet another doctor who thinks they can control life—death. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”  

“Administration doesn’t see it that way.” You welcomed being brought down from a pedestal. It was the last thing any doctor’s ego needed.  “Aren’t I lucky?”

“Who doesn’t?” She challenged, eyebrow perked. “You gave Gloria more paperwork, but more than that,  she doesn’t have the time—or energy to evaluate your morals, frankly.” 

“Dana—

“Please,” Kiara laughed. 

You frowned. 

There was no point in arguing; you’d fallen for the bait you’d spent weeks avoiding. Kiara saw it firsthand, eyes always finding yours when you were both on the floor of the ED. It was easy to brush off, blaming time and urgency. 

Now, you were just stuck, trapped. Your eyes fled to the clock, its slowness insulting you. 

“Everyone’s eyes are always on me, waiting for me to crack with regret, with…guilt…” You held in the bitter laugh, knowing the reaction would be scribbled down. Your humor wasn’t always appreciated. “...but—nothing. I know what I did and I didn’t hesitate.”

As the topic shifted, the spacious room felt like it was suddenly collapsing in on you. You kept your breathing even. You learned young that nobody touched you when you looked sharp, but Kiara’s gaze could see through whatever facade you felt the need to put up. 

“If Robby is who you’re referring to…” She eyed you as she pressed further. 

“Robby?” You scoffed, echoing Kiara’s humor. “Please.”

“Your anger seems pointed.”  Kiara was specific with her words, adjusting in her seat. 

The office felt awfully small.

Robby stood far away from you, leaning against the opposing wall stiffly with hands in his pockets. His hair was a mess, a clear indication of the utter frustration he was in. 

Despite the distance, the tension between the two of you was palpable. He was absolutely livid.

Deservedly so. You should have listened to him and stayed out of it, but you didn’t—couldn’t. Now you had to simply stand and take whatever he was about to throw at you.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, preparing for a half-hearted apology. “I’m so—”

“You—” He straightened himself, finger pointed out in accusation, “—had one job. I asked you to stay out of it— no, I ordered you to stay out of it. And what the hell do you do? The absolute fucking opposite. The actual fuck were you doing?”

Robby’s eyes narrowed deeper, the sharpness of the glare hitting you right in the chest. You flinch. “What makes you think you can ignore the rules? Have you forgotten that I’m your attending? I—”

“Do not pull rank with me.” You snapped. So much for just standing there and taking it. “You know damn well I am just as competent as you are.”

“Competent doesn’t mean that you’re—” Robby paused, taking in a tight breath. His voice stayed level, a refusal to let his anger get the best of him. “You were reckless. Out of line. I have to pull rank if you choose to act like one of the students.  What is not clear here?”

 You can’t help the bitter laugh that burst from your lips. You had a meanness inside you, real as an organ. With a slit down your belly, it might slide out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor just so you could stomp on it. 

“You can pretend to be Adamson all you want, but this morning, you froze.” Low blow. But the ripple of emotion in Robby’s face was satisfying.“ So, sure, I’m fucking sorry for taking things into my own hands when you couldn’t.”

“This was not your patient, and you are too stubborn to understand that. Now she’s dead.” Robby kept going, “Gloria is expecting you this afternoon. You will listen to her if you want to stay here. Don’t fuck up again.”

You tried opening your mouth, but nothing came out; your face was too hot, too hurt, too full of rage. 

“I’m not angry.” A lie.

“What’s your diagnosis then?” Kiara was kind, her tone carrying her warmth. 

Just like most people in the ED, you struggled to show your appreciation for Kiara. She was always present and shared everyone’s bad days. She braved the follow-through once the doctors walked away after the patient stabilized. She not only took on the burdens of the patients, but also the doctors. 

The guilt made you prickle. 

“She was going to die anyway. By my hand or theirs.” You put it starkly. “I just made her fate more bearable…she deserved the dignity…” 

You had never addressed what you had done so directly. It always lingered as something you both just knew. Everyone knew. It was memorable. You sat in the quietness, letting your words sink in, remembering the day the Earth stood still. 

“...what I did was wrong. I was willing to lose my license—prepared even.” Your arms crossed across your chest protectively, your voice becoming hushed. “But Robby—Robby told me I was playing God..…can you believe that?”

The words came to you so suddenly, it felt like you’d lost your breath. They wrapped around you like a boa. You heard them when you slept, and they loitered until you rubbed the exhaustion from your eyes. It had never cracked down on you like this.

“And now, this—” You gestured around you. “It’s a Sisyphean act, never-ending, useless—whatever you want to call the write-up, the babysitting, the obligation, the—t-the…”

One must imagine Sisyphus happy. Robby’s words mocked you. 

“You can convince anyone that I meant well. Robby, though? You’d die trying.” You jeered. “He expects me to be grateful for keeping me here. Prick.”

Kiara was proud; you could see it in the soft look she gave you. The foundation was finally laid bare to explore. 

Yet, you recoiled at your vulnerability. At your harshness. It shocked you, how gentle a tug it took to unravel everything that you built up. Truthfully, you were petrified. The core issue had been exposed, and you felt like a child throwing a tantrum. 

However, it took many years of vomiting up all the filth you’d been taught about yourself, and half believed, before you were able to walk on the earth as though you had a right to be there. You’d be damned to forget that because of him.

—

The ED was slow. 

No one acknowledged it; everyone was too superstitious to. 

The quiet no longer felt like rest. The weather consisted of sleet that kept everyone off the streets. All that could be done was to wait idly for those who were brave enough to come in and those who had no choice but to succumb to the danger of it all. 

The snow fueled your smoke break; it was a subconscious way to find warmth and stave off the anxiety that lingered from your morning with Kiara. Neither was remedied. Instead, your fingers were stiff from the temperature, and there was no relief from how the pit in your stomach grew. 

“I could fake a seizure.” 

“Too ‘boy who cried wolf’…” You shook your head. The strike of your lighter was motivated by agitation. On the first exhale of your newly-lit cigarette, you said, “It has to be a…casual—believable lie.”

“All this for what? Feelings?” Myrna gestured at the air with mocking disgust. “I know a thing or two about a crime of passion.”

“Robby’s allergic.” Something swirled in your chest, but you brought the cigarette to your lips to suffocate it. 

“Oh, honey, I knew you were stupid, but not that stupid.” Myrna cracked with humor. Her insults made you feel electric. Normal. They humbled every egotistical vein in your body. “Robby looks at you with nothing but feelin’.”

“That ‘look’ is….” Disgust? Resentment? Loathing? “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’d bend him over my knee for what he did to you.” Myrna carried on with her opinions, humoring herself as she continued. “I like big butts and I cannot lie…”

Your eyes sparkled with the image. You’d pay good money to see Robby’s face painted with discomfort. His self-control irked you, got under your skin without even trying. It used to drive a competitive friction between you both, one that was light, teasing, even. But it festered to the point it controlled you; you relied on proving a point. 

“Breach of duty, my ass.” She barked. “So you were a drug dealer, so what! I know plenty. God forbid you did something about healthcare in this country.”

“Myrna,” You warned. You wish you were just a ‘drug dealer.’ Instead, you became the judge, jury, and executioner.  “When are you going to stop bringing it up?”

“When you do something better.”  

“It’s temporary, anyways.” You said more to remind yourself. It hadn’t quite stuck as a mantra, but it was enough to get you through a shift. “Family emergency? No—Robby would call my sister and that’s—

“Find an obituary.” Myrna shrugged. “You’ve got four grandparents to choose from.”

“Can’t.” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought caused your lips to tingle with indifference. Deep down, you knew nothing would change.  “Used that one not too long ago, Robby’d sniff that out…”

“You asked me how to get him off your back: seizure.” Myrna snapped playfully, not letting your eyes glaze over for too long. “Give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can start foaming at the mouth.” 

“He’s already onto us.” You didn't have it in you anymore to struggle and fight and suffer; you wanted to enjoy the quiet when you could find it. You smiled. “‘Fruitcake,’ though—that always gets me through the day.”

“Happy to oblige.”  She snorted. “Now, if you really need him gone—I can make it look like an accident.” 

A laugh bubbled through your chest. “I’ll remember that for when I really need it.”

“Listen, girlie…” Myrna gave you the least offensive nickname in the ED. It was why you passed the dwindling cigarette to her; you always played favorites. “...whatever you do, don’t bet on a losing dog.”

You hummed in response. You didn’t need to look too deeply into her words, but you knew they’d ring true when things got too quiet, when you’d want to avoid them the most. 

“I’ve made that mistake before, and lemme tell you: not worth it.” She smothered the roach on her wheelchair, flicking the remains to melt into the snow. “Sad eyes comin’ in, twelve o’clock.” 

The hospital door popped the bubble created. The interruption was overdue. 

“Everything alright out here?” Robby’s voice was traced by the cold air, cautious enough not the call too much attention but aware enough to know you weren’t.  

“Just gettin’ some air.” Your sigh was heavy. Your day was not ruined. Your world was not over. Take a deep breath. It’s just temporary. 

“Patients shouldn’t be out here.” Robby's lips pressed together. You knew he wasn’t surprised, but entirely unimpressed. 

“I don’t clock in for another…” You looked at your watch. “...eight minutes. Not my circus, not my patient.” 

“Myrna.” He greeted her. Robby ignored you, nodding to the nurse who followed him out. “Please make sure someone keeps an eye on her.” 

Before being rolled past him, Myrna winked at you. “Fruitcake.”

Robby stayed quiet, head dipping with feigned politeness. 

You looked ahead, avoiding his eyes. It gave a moment for Robby to imagine the way your fingers deftly played with your lighter. The way your side profile was traced as you exhaled the smoke. The smell lingered, and his finger twitched with desire. 

From your peripheral vision, you watched Robby rock on his heels, wanting to say something. You didn’t smoke often, so he knew nerves formed the habit. His attentiveness made you nauseous. 

“Need something, doctor?” You snapped first. 

“Nicotine lowers the seizure threshold...” He hummed. You focused on Robby carefully, watching how his disappointment fed through his body language. “...but there’s no way Myrna can smoke with those handcuffs, right?” 

“Right.” Your tone was always tight around him. Sterile. “I’ll meet you inside.”

You meant to be firm. To give Robby no option other than to leave you to the cold. However, the more you spoke, the more he lingered. 

“You’re gonna freeze out here.” His hands were deep in his pockets, as if talking about himself. “Coffee’s fresh in the lounge.”

“I’ve got a few more minutes until the frostbite kicks in.” You clicked your teeth with sarcastic resistance. 

Robby left, his attempt futile. He only got a few strides away before bursting. 

“You’ve got to stop—” Robby rubbed his palms to his eyes. “Besides it being extremely unprofessional, you’re doing my head in. You fucked up. Accept it.” 

Your eyes widened. It was early for him to be fed up with you. It usually hit after the day’s first coding, or if Gloria hit below the belt. This was new. Anger rarely settled so explicitly in Robby’s voice. 

You were always quick to retaliate. “You think I enjoy this?” 

“I’m starting to think you do, yeah,” Robby egged you on. He’d come to his boiling point. “We save lives, we work with the circumstances given to us. We strategize. We treat. We cope—

“She swallowed razor blades—” You bit. Prepared.  “—then, a lightbulb, Robby! How’s that for coping, huh?”

“She wanted a break from solitary, do you know how many incarcerated—

“She did what she did because she had to.” 

“That is not for you to decide.” Robby provoked in a low voice. Hissed. “And neither was her death.”

“She was metastatic! What difference would it have made?” Your words were weak with exasperation. Yet again, a repeated conversation. “What I did was safe and comfortable. No one deserves to go through that in prison—”

“She would have received another round of radiation—”

“She was non-responsive to chemo for years.” You laid the well-known facts bare. The patient wouldn’t have made it to the end of the month. It was a surprise that the ED was able to bring her back. “Besides, you know prisons are the first place the shortages affect.”

Robby spoke to you distinctly. Professionally. He didn’t delve into morals or politics, but standards of care, something he was usually willing to be flexible on. He was the first to put himself on the line or take the hit for perilous risks. Yet, now he suddenly remembered standard treatment: evaluations that measure the quality and adherence to established medical protocols or best practices. 

“We did what we were supposed to do.” Those textbook methods always forgot how much empathy could treat. “You went rogue.” 

“This is more than that—”  The air stilled. This was new. Things haunted. Things existed long after they’d been smothered. “—and you know it.”

You remained leaning against the brick building. It’s frigidness bled through your thin scrubs. Yet, you could feel the warmth, the frustration, in Robby’s movement towards you.  

“What are you saying?” The lines of worry between his eyebrows deepened, and hands hands pulled at the ends of his stethoscope to stop fidgeting.  Yet, they couldn’t decide to settle with irritation or confusion.  

“I doubt you would’ve batted an eye for Abbott, Langdon—Jesus—even Whitaker.” You finally confessed the truth, your anger. “They’d get a slap on the wrist. Yet, I’m not allowed to be anything but perfect; you second-guess my every breath, Robby.”

You’d noticed it before, a pattern when Robby was sinking. The days were hard, the hours unrelenting. The times that were harder than others, his inclinations, conscious or not, took control. Robby moved on instinct, but it always revealed how he saw you. 

Now, he understood. You accepted your so-called punishment. You just expected more from him. Disappointment was never a welcome feeling, and it struck Robby sharply, painfully. He didn’t move fast enough to apologize, so you did. 

You pushed off the wall, the eight minutes up. “Forgive me that losing this patient only proved my point.” 

—

Mr. Krakozhia woke up. 

The sedation wasn’t monitored. The fault didn’t fall on anyone when the ED had resources spread thin; no available beds, never enough nurses, and emergencies that required split attention. 

No one volunteered to restrain the ‘Kraken.’ Robby declined Dana’s request for assistance, merely providing a verbal order for sedation. Nurses, inexperienced learners, and you were left to haphazardly fill the gaps. All your strength combined, you still received a boot to the mouth. 

A metallic taste spread in your mouth. You tongueed at the teeth that’s nerves felt stunned. All twenty-eight were accounted for, but blood spilled from your tongue and lip. 

“Oh, he got you—you alright, kid?” Dana laughed sympathetically, pulling you up from where you’d been knocked back. “I’ll keep ‘em off your back for a little. Take a break. You know the drill: direct pressure, cold compress.” 

You had a love-hate relationship with hospitals. You thought they were always too bright with a bleak atmosphere. There were phones constantly ringing, monitors always beeping, people coughing all of the air out of themselves; everything was too overwhelming to the senses.

So, your attempt to decompress, to stop your lip from throbbing against your heartbeat, was always found in the stairwell. They were rarely used and acted as a sound barrier to the city’s whelm. 

You sighed heavily, letting your head drop. 

The tears that fell from your cheeks left dark bruises on your scrubs. Quiet, like they always do. You wiped at your eyes; your tears felt like a burden. But they wouldn’t stop until they ran out. Then, you were still and silent. Because if you opened your mouth, you were afraid you'd never stop screaming.

“Hey—” 

You hadn’t heard the door creak. Or felt the hand that rested on your shoulder. It was the first time in a long time you didn’t flinch. The words I’m fine died before you could breathe them out. Instead, Robby met you at your level, sitting on the stairs next to you. 

“Let’s take a look.” Robby’s gloves were pulled on with dexterity. Your bloodshot eyes were wide, reading worry on his expression. Robby assessed you softly. Even softer when you winced.  “Tender?” 

“Dana told you where to find me?” You exhaled slowly, the edge of defiance in your posture softening into something a little more tired.

“She could only hold me off for so long.” He pulled his gloves off, hands retreating tentatively. “Feeling dizzy, headache…did you hit your head?”

“No LOC, EOM intact, just a busted lip.” 

Your pupils were wide with stress, but they were equal and reactive. You knew Robby wouldn’t press further, but he was reading into every twitch and movement just in case he missed something crucial. But he knew not to misread your calmness, healthcare assault, accidental, incidental, or not, happened. 

For the past few shifts, you didn’t need to avoid Robby. He gave you space, still processing your last interaction. You wouldn’t admit it, as if felt hypocritical, but it was strange not having him close. Even his eyes had stopped tracking you, and it felt like something was wrong. 

It felt like your fault that one day you both woke up, no longer speaking the same language. You hadn’t heard from him since. You couldn’t translate how badly Robby wanted to tell you he knew you didn’t need to be saved, protected. That you needed to be found and appreciated. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Robby started, but you heard an undercurrent of hesitation. Nothing haunted him more than the things he didn’t say. “About what you said…”

You’d been thinking too. 

You knew he’d been trying to catch you for days. Weeks. But his irritability got in the way. Impatience for Gloria got in the way. He had trouble sleeping, and when he was awake, he was vigilant. Then, when you didn’t see him, you knew he carried his sadness to the roof.  

“Let’s not—not now, at least.” Your plea was soft. You cleared your throat, as if telling the tears that pricked your waterline to stop. 

“Okay.” Robby swallowed everything with that tight-lipped, polite smile and nod. That smile that he wore—it didn’t shine. Soft and a little sorry. It settled over guilt.

You needed to let go of the illusion that it could have been any different. Both Robby and you were slowly losing yourselves and your patience. Instead, resented for being weathered and callous. But the pain and hurt were still there; nobody acknowledged how it had gone so long ignored.

You were both stalling, not used to being so close for so long. You both desired one last deep breath, but the air was running out. You both didn’t know how to exist so softly. 

You heard a new tone when people asked how you were, a tone you had not noticed before and found increasingly distressing, even humiliating: these people seemed impatient, half-concerned, half querulous, as if no longer interested in the answer. As if all too aware that the answer will always be a complaint. 

You’d been trained to speak, if asked how you were, only positively. That was healthcare; you were not allowed to not be OK. You framed the cheerful responses. What you believed to be the cheerful response, as you framed it, emerged, as others hear it, more like a whine. 

Do not whine. Do not complain. Work harder. Spend more time alone, you told yourself. 

You listened. 

You did not whine when hunger sawed your body in half. You did not complain when, after you worked for hours, trying to get the sound of a sentence right. You bled politely all over Pittsburgh. 

However, the cold was catching up to you. So was the exhaustion. It weakened your senses and put your emotions at the forefront. You wanted to be held, to be cared for in ways you couldn’t provide alone. Robby was familiar with the feeling, but was better at hiding the ache. 

Now, Robby could handle your anger. Anger was good. Anger meant that there was something he could react to, challenge. But your self-restraint dwindled. The smallest gesture of affection brought a lump to your throat, whether it was directed to you or at someone else.

So, Robby stood, hand reaching for yours. He had the awkward tenderness of someone who had never been loved and was forced to improvise. 

“Ready?” For the chaos.

He pulled you gently, eyes still roaming you for discontent. It felt good, as if one thing were normal. The rest of the shift, you knew he’d be back to lingering, back to playful chiding that would burn your skin, and watching you so closely for any pain he could relieve. 

It wasn’t a long-term solution, but this shift’s abatement. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You sniffed through your words, clearing any emotions that loitered. “I want a good case after that beating.” 

Once you stood, Robby was going to release you from what he suspected was torture. Yet, your grip tightened, palm to palm. You clung to his hand so that something human could exist in the chaos. Hand in unlovable hand, you stay attached until the buzzing took over at the nurse’s station. 

Robby understood why people held hands: He'd always thought it was about possessiveness, saying, "This is mine." But you had revealed to him that it was about maintaining contact, speaking without words, and saying, regardless of everything, "I want you with me, and don't go."

[mandarinmoons]

Nothing more than friends

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gender neutral reader Summary: Faced with his feelings for you, Spencer is caught between confessing or not saying a word, as your presence in his life is something he can't go without Words: 790 Warnings: None

Spencer’s head snapped up as he heard your laughter. His head turned to the way of the kitchen, seeing you hold your hand over your mouth as you tried to control yourself, as well as Penelope wiping a few tears from her eyes and taking a breath to calm herself.

Spencer chuckled at the sight, you were professional yes, but you were also one of the most light hearted people he had ever met. It was hard not to smile whenever he, or anyone, was in your presence and your warmth had an impact on him for the rest of the day. Whenever he was down he knew who to turn to brighten his mood.

As you calmed down from your laughing fit, your eyes met Spencer’s before his glance was back down to his paperwork, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t gawking at you to save his life. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and was hoping they hadn’t turned into a betraying shade of red, he had gotten enough teasing comments from Morgan and if he were to get one more, he was sure to bury himself six feet under due to the embarrassment.

Spencer liked you, more than a coworker and definitely more than a friend, he was aware of that. He would be the dumbest person on Earth if he were to deny it, especially to himself. This wasn’t some fleeting crush he had with Lila Archer for instance, his connection to her was cut as soon as the case regarding her ended and that was that, with you it was different. He saw you nearly every single day, he had opened up to you over the years and it made your connection to each other stronger. It was hard to cut the cord on something so strong.

And that was the problem. Relationships were something that never came easy to both of you, it was one of the things that brought you closer together. You had confided to Spencer about the times you had been mistreated and how it was hard to open up again after every disappointment, he didn’t judge you, he heard you out and comforted you. He saw himself in you, a feeling he didn’t experience very often, and to feel it with you, of all people, only made him fall harder.

“I hope this never changes, what we have.”

The memory of what you said made the smile on his lips fade. Confessing to you was something that always terrified him, but after the night when you had told him those words, opening up about his feelings seemed like a no deal now. 

The bond you two shared felt like something that only happened once in a lifetime, if that. Spencer was skeptical over the concept of reincarnation, but he would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t think about you and him meeting in a past life late at night when he wasn’t able to sleep.

He weighed the pros and cons of the situation seemingly every day. He was so consumed by it that Hotch himself had noticed the decline of the quality of Spencer’s work. He asked Spencer if he needed help, which he declined, and seeing his superior walk back to his office, he knew he was in hot water. You had consumed every part of his mind that it was just as the words Emily once said.

“Just like that, an IQ of 187 is slashed to 60.”

You made Spencer feel dumb and he couldn’t be happier. He was constantly at war with himself in his mind, some say the knowledge someone like him holds is a gift, a miracle even, but you don’t have to be a genius to know that knowing more isn’t always better. It was more of a curse than a blessing and whenever he was with you, he felt relief. With you he didn’t have to be the smartest person in the room, he didn’t have to be the guy who always had the answers, with you he could be just Spencer, the kind hearted man who would make your day with his magic tricks.

That is why he had stayed quiet for so long. What he had with you was one of the most precious things in his life, it was something far too great to risk, so he stayed silent. He sat at his desk, quietly stealing glances at you to get through the day, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of your smile so he could smile as well, but through all of that, he was dying on the inside, slowly but surely, with the words he hadn’t said.

You can find my masterlists here! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[rollforimagination]

Magic Object Idea

Reassembled Painting

Description: What seem to be the painting of a famous artist, but with something wrong. The original was a different painting of another famous artist that was then magically cut in small squares and glued precisely back on to look as the other work. The name of the original is on the back of the frame. It yearns to return its original state.

With an investigation roll of 13 or lower the character doesn’t notice anything, 14 to 17 the character notice the colours are slightly different and in some places wrong, 18 or higher and the character notices the cuts and realise what’s been done to the painting as they read the original painting’s name.

Functionality: once a person stands in a 30ft radius of the painting for a long period of time, the sound of scissor will be overheard repeatedly in the air, this sets the start of the “attack” of the painting. Depending on for how long the character is in sight of the painting, it will try to get their attention and to make them suffer its own curse by:

• Swapping colours of their features, for example making their hair the colour of their eyes and viceversa, or making their skin the colour of their armour and viceversa.

• Swapping two people’s features, in case there are at least two creatures in sight, for example swapping the hair, armour or voices of two characters.

Everything is restored after the character moves 40 feet away from the painting.

To restore the painting the players must either break its curse with magic or restoring it manually in two hours of in-game time where the effects are minimal as the painting returns to its original state. (Make it so there is a way for a character with no art knowledge to know how the original looks like, by either putting the painting somewhere where they can be helped by a professional or maybe by making them find earlier a book of paintings of famous artists)

Once the painting is restored, depending on the character that saved it’s class, it changes form:

Artificer: the painting fuses with their tools giving them a beautiful coat of color, +1 to any checks made using them.

Barbarian: the painting fuses with the barbarian to make tattoos of beautiful art all over their body, +1 to Cha checks

Bard: the painting fuses with the Bard’s instruments, +1 to any attack made using them (magic and not, but only attacks that would damage a creature or more)

Cleric: the painting fuses with their shield, turning it into a fine piece of art dedicated to their god or deity, +1 AC

Druid: the painting fuses with the staff of the Druid, or changes in a similar way their Druidic focus, to make it look like a beautiful representation of blooming nature

Fighter: the painting fuses with the boots of the fighter turning them into a beautiful peace of art, +5ft on all speeds (that are not set to 0)

Monk: The painting fuses with the knuckles of the Monk, marking them with beautiful tiny tattoos, +1 max ki point

Paladin: The painting fuses with the paladin’s blade, turning into to a shining piece of art with its hilt beautiful yet still practical. +1d4 damage dealt using the sword

Ranger: The painting fuses with their bow or ranged weapon, marking with drawings of the hunt, +1 to all Wis checks

Rouge: the painting fuses with the daggers of the rogue, turning them into a deep black colour when they hide but a beautiful piece of art when they don’t, +1d4 to sneak attacks damage

Sorcerer: the painting fuses with the body of the sorcerer as a beautiful tattoo forms on their chest, gain an additional metamagic option

Warlock: the painting fuses not only with the character but with the pact itself that they made with the patron, making your Eldritch Blast look like a beautiful piece of art as it blasts your enemies, +1d6 damage dealt using Eldritch Blast (for Hexblade, it fuses with the weapon and deals +1d4 damage)

Wizard: the painting fuses with the spell book of the wizard, making its cover much more beautiful and depicting the spells inside with drawings too, +1 to the number of recovered spell slots AFTER halving the Wizard level (a 4th level wizard will be able to recover 3 spell slots instead of 2)

Inspiration: the video above, the idea of a painting cut to pieces to form another came to me listening to the story of a Black actress being forced to learn how to act as a White actress.

[saphiccarma]

darkhold wagatha x rio x reader bc mmm they would be so cruel and also so caring

thank you so much @another-fantasy-world for helping with the brain worms. We talked a lot about this so lots of thanks 🙂‍↕️, they contributed A LOT to this so go say hi

Very much 18+ Men and Minors DNI (guys it's like all nsfw and really long. We talked for like two hours about this.)

All three of them use magic for EVERYTHING. They refuse to participate in mundane human activities.

You better believe that this relationship, if it can ever be called that, is the perfect mix of pure torture and absolute pleasure.

It starts off slow, really slow - the corruption. It happens at a pace you don't even realize how much you rely on them before it's too late and you can't leave.

You have free will, at least you think you do. You can leave the house and everything.

But everytime you check your phone or a laptop, the news is surprisingly blank and there's nothing new online.

They let you leave the house, but one of them always comes with you. No exceptions. Whenever you do leave, there's a ringing in your ears, a tightness in your chest, a heavy pull back to the house. It hurts to be away from home.

At first there's no pet play. None at first. But like the corruption, it works it's way.

They told you it was an accident when you wake up with fluffy dog ears and a tail that wags whenver you're excited. (Accident meaning they tried a spell last night on you while you were sleeping)

Agatha lies through her teeth, "We're working on figuring it out. Patience hon." Her fingers trace over your ear and you have to supress a whimper because it feels so good

She would pretend she didn't notice and you would spend the whole day trying to get pets from your owners girlfriends. Rio gives them way too easily, cooing at you and rubbing your ears and stroking your tail. You have to work extra hard to muffle your sounds because she will tease you endlessly.

Wanda is more indifferent, busy studying to darkhold and only giving you a pet or two which leaves you rubbing against her leg and whining.

From that point on a lot more "accidental" spells happen where. It varies from cat, dog, bunny, or bear ears and tail. They tried a deer once. "Handles." Rio had called them.

Wanda acted uniterested but she particularly loved when you were a puppy (cat was Rio's favorite and bunny was Agatha's).

She would have you sit in her lap while reading the Darkhold, floating in the air.

It was just chilling at first, you in her lap, smiling while her fingers run through your hair and trace your ears.

But when you start getting fussy, squirming and whining, she shfits your position. It happens with just a snap of her fingers and suddenly you're proped up in her lap, sitting on her fingers. One wrong move and you'll tip over and fall.

So you have to stay still, perfectly still. Even when she curls her fingers inside of you and presses her thumb to your clit.

"Why are you moving so much?" She asks casually, rubbing slow cirlces over your clit, "Mommy told you to stay still."

The worst part? You can't even cum after that. (Although you do beg Rio which ends up in both of you having to watch as Agatha and Wanda fuck, not allowed to touch yourselves with vibes pressed to your clits)

For titles, Agatha goes by mistress, you call her anything else without express permission and you will be punished. But Rio calls her Aggie sometimes and Wanda usually does Agatha (She's not that submissive)

Rio does ma'am or daddy, depending on her mood. Agatha and Wanda never call her that. Or at least they claim not to, Agatha has called Rio daddy a few times when she was feeling particularly subby and Wanda used ma'am once.

Wanda does mommy or Wands to the other witches. But if you call her Wands then you're fucked.

A list of their names for you: Puppy, Kitty/Kitten, Bunny, Little Bear (sometimes Wanda will say it in Russian or Sokovian), Sweet girl, baby, darling, sweetheart, slut, whore, needy little girl, hon.

They refuse to use babe for some reason.

Agatha loves to use you as a table. Which is quite cruel, in your opinion at least. A table also = a footrest.

She will be reading the darkhold or a book on the couch, completely causal and have a cup of steaming coffee resting on your back, filled to the brim. She's not even drinking it, but you're on your hands and knees

At some point she rests her legs on your back as well, ankles crossed and not caring for how you whimper at the added weight.

(There was a time where did this while you had a puppy tail and it was absolute pain to have that wagging the entire time)

You know that if you spill even the smallest drop Agatha will punish you, but that doesn't stop you from trying to shift your position. Which consequently causees the tea to spill.

It burns but that's the least of your concerns when purple magic wraps around you and you yelp as you're dragged towards the bedroom.

"Such a naughty puppy hm? Can't stay still." She coos, waving her wrist to have her magic tie you up in bed, "Guess Mistress will just have to teach you a lesson."

Agatha's punishments vary from edging to spanking. And today? She chose both. She slapped your ass, having a vibrator strapped to your clit. If you came close? Agatha would pull it way, tutting before slapping your ass again.

And after edging you? She gave you an enchanted strap and used you for her pleasure - you weren't even allowed to cum.

Rio loves to challenge you to do to stuff, often things that were impposible. Who could bake the better cake? She could because she cheated. Who was faster? Her because she cheated.

You had learned it was best not to question it.

Her latest idea? Agatha fucks Rio and Wanda fucks you, whoever cums first loses.

Spoiler Alert: It was you. Wanda decided it would be fun to use magic hands and red tendrils, a weakness of yours. And Rio, the bitch, cast a spell on you that increased your arousal.

So you lost and Rio needed to give you a punishment.

Agatha and Wanda had merely smirked at you, licked their fingers before waltzing out, presumably to study the darkhold but you knew it would turn into more than that.

Which left you alone with Rio and her sadistic tendancies. Those sadistic tendancies that had you blindfolded and gagged, arms tied behind your back and ankles tied to the bed.

You felt the cool of her blade first, dragging across your bare skin, slow and steady.

Then the warm drip of wax, following onto your skin and left to dry only to be scraped up by the knife. It was a back and forth dance that left you whimpering, crying out even when Rio drew 'loser' into your skin with knife before healing it.

She fucked you so hard after that, making you cum over and over again until you were nothing but a sobbing, drooling mess for her, begging for her to stop.

"Nope, you lost sweetheart, that means we don't stop until I'm done."

Wanda's punishments were your least favorite. With Agatha and Rio you got some sort of relief, even if it was short lived. But Wanda was cruel.

If you were too needy, then you would get tied up to the bed. Starfished out, arms and legs spread for her. A ball gag was shoved in your mouth, muffling your whimpers.

Using her darkened fingers, and her magic, she edged you. Bringing you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure before ripping it away.

Each time she would coo, "Shh baby, you will soon. I promise you will."

But you never did because in the end she left you waiting and wanting. Needy for her but tied up and gagged while your thighs shook and she sauntered out like nothing had happened.

Rio walked in not long after that, snickering at your predicament and ignored your pleady eyes instead grabbing what she came for and leaving

Your favorite punishment? The one where you weren't being punished.

Particularly when Wanda fucked up bad. It was very rare that Wanda or Agatha got punished. With you and Rio it was common enough, but the other two? No.

But Wanda was snappy and tried to cast a spell on Agatha which ended about as well as you could imagine.

So now you were getting pounded into by Agatha's strap, allowed to come freely and whenever you want.

And Wanda was sitting in between Rio's thighs, chest to back while the green witch tweaked her nippls. "Doesn't she look so pretty moaning around Aggie's cock?" (special thx to anotherfantasy-world for this line)

The worst part for Wanda was that she could feel every. little. thing. Everything you felt she felt. And she wasn't allowed to come, which made it ten times worse because you had some sense of control in this situation.

You certainly got Wanda's anger taken out on you later, but the aftercare for that was so sweet.

One of the trio's favorite things to do with you was having you kneel. Specifically while eating.

You would kneel in between Agatha and Wanda usually, the former holding your leash. Sometimes it was between Agatha and Rio, but you always knelt next to Aggie.

A black collar tied around your neck, "Witches' pet." while you were stripped of your clothes and forced to kneel there with your head bowed.

Agatha would feed you bites of food, tugging on your leash to alert you and slipping them into your mouth.

You were treated as if you weren't even there, a pet to them and nothing more

[levissslutt]

Behind the Racks

warnings: 18+ MDNI

wc:821

Standing in the middle of Macys, you playfully swatted his hand from your butt for the third time. You had on a floral sundress that left too much to the imagination—it hid all your curves yet your ass sat perfectly, making your man act a fool in this department store.

And truth be told? The way he was looking, you aint mind one bit. Dressed in an off white nike tech, that had his caramel skin glowing—paired with grey dunks. Smelling like success. You clung to him, instinctively needing to be touching him at all times.

That only gave him more room to touch you in the way he was.

“Umm can you fucking stoppit boy."

“You just so damn fine I can’t help it. Lemme taste yo pretty self right quick.”

He had engulfed you from behind now—his face in the crook of your neck, hands snaked to the front.

“Joshua!"

You whisper shouted at the man, but his hand had already slid up from the hem of your dress to your bare coochie, which shocked the both of you. Jumping back you tried to grab his hand but he only chuckled and curled his fingers inside you with ease.

“Joshh oh my god what are you doing-“

He hummed into your ear, grinning like a mad man.

“You the one with no draws on, just ready for me, pussy crying for her daddy." He whispered at the base of your ear.

“I was rushing I forgott- fuck.”

He pressed your bodies closer together if that was even possible,

“Uhuh you forgot.” He chuckled—breathe hot on the back of your neck.

Thank god the levi’s section in this store was hidden from view, not to mention the 60 thousand pairs of jeans thrown about, hid the two of you perfectly.

“I wanna hear you pretty girl, fuck these old people, finna give them a show today."

The two of you were in the middle of the juniors section and here he was— trying to finger you behind a rack of clothes.

He pressed wet kisses to the side of your neck, the jeans you had grabbed just a moment ago hung loosely in your hands, eyes fluttering at the sensation.

"Don't get quite now baby." He cooed.

His fingers worked inside you like they belonged, making you grind into him, already wanting more. His thumb found your clit—making slow precise circles, drawing out the movement.

"What did I say, hmm"

"Joshhh, where in a store- fuckkk."

His pace picked up, your breathes getting shallow.

"I don't care ma I want to hear you." His voice was low, but even.

He was the only thing keeping you up right, his arms held you firmly against his body, fingers working magic into your soaked cunt—head flopped back, mouth hanging open.

The chatter of people close by made you freeze, but did Jey stop?

Course not.

He picked up his pace, fingers hooked inside you as his thumb continued his slow deliberate circles. You were whimpering against him—your head turning into his neck, trying to keep quiet, but he knew your body too well.

You were unraveling for him completely, and he knew it—grinning at you from above—fingering you like the slut you were.

His slut.

"You so wet for me baby, let me hear those pretty moans of yours."

Your head was thrown back into his chest, the Levi jeans you where holding where all but stuffed in your mouth , trying to stop the noises you where making, you where positive if no one heard the noises the lips on your face where making they were definitely hearing the other pair of lips..

You were close—legs completely giving out. His arm wrapped around you like a promise, holding you to his chest. Every tremble and every light moan you made, every whimper, he heard it, he felt it.

Words had failed you, the Levis in your mouth were now soaked from your saliva, and Josh? He was watching you like a hawk, waiting for the moment he felt you clench around his thick fingers. He watched every flutter of your eyes, lashes fanning your pretty little face.

It didn't take long for you to release for him. Your hips bucked into him violently, almost sliding to the floor if it wasn't for his grip on you.

"Come on baby, ride my shit."

His heavy chain tickled your collar bone as he kissed you, scissoring his fingers in you, drawing out your high.

You trembled slightly as he slid his fingers out—grabbing your face he turned you to watch him—licking and sucking on his fingers, his own saliva mixing with you essence. Without warning he shoved his fingers in your mouth—eyes wide, pussy throbbing.

"You taste how sweet that shit is baby, tasting like honey."

You sucked him clean, purposefully dragging your tongue across both his fingers taking them back in slowly, and he watched you with a devilish grin.

"Come on na mama, before somebody call the cops on us."

You giggled, eyes still fluttering as he took your hand in his, walking past a puzzled looking old couple.

Tags: @mselenalovebug @duhitzkay380 @theusotwinzcom @uceyliyahh @brwnlikefoxy @that-90s-girllll @keenagurl @luuvprincess @transparentphantomface @yana3sworld @bebesobrielo @msklassickilla @jeyusosqueen @nayys-world @spiicii @punksyeet @mjonthetrack @sisifromthed @luuvprincess @fafomama @sheaabuttaababyy @bloodlineslut @4milly @prettyfilmz @blkgirlsneedluv2 @seokminieee @tmensah @t4nner08 @bamakakechick @nameless-jamie @thisuserdoesexist @thisuserdoesexist @kia758 @papireigns-05 @possessedmagpie @sleepyspudbrainrot @glitteryearthquakeshark @mamis-girly @rose-bliss @ahudsbbki @yafavkei @vynaissance @astrogirlwrld @mutlivrp @catxo @rheas-ripley @dogwithablog35 @luvlamya @cintatheone @charmed-dreamssss