#I wasn’t thinking on posting this but i did!

[aeyumicore]

between the blades of grass

when sylus, the strongest warrior of the grasslands, chooses you as his mate, you're forced to consummate your union in front of the entire clan.

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.4k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, public sex, voyeurism, outdoor sex, people watching you have sex, missionary, cumming inside, medieval bedding ceremony vibes, NOT continuation off grassland romance (though inspired by it), NOT based off any real world clan, completely made up clan & traditions, implied virgin mc, implied first time sex, use of y/n, dom!sylus, dirty talking sylus, talks of marriage, mating, and some political play.

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3 | twitter inspo 1 | twitter inspo 2

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hello! short fic since i was so heavily inspired by the new sylus memory. this is NOT a continuation of ‘grassland romance’ though it is heavily inspired by the overall theme of the memory. i began furiously writing this when they released the trailer oof i was so hooked. inspired by @/yuchanpaws_ quote tweet linked above!

please note that the clan and traditions mentioned in this fic are completely fictional. however the tradition is based loosely off of the “bedding ceremony” that medieval europe used to partake in!

i will NOT be writing fics for the new xavier or raf memories! i may write for zayne but that is up in the air. i only wrote for this one because i was super inspired by the memory and the fan discourse about it on twitter and tumblr <3

this was actually so fun to write. i might find myself writing more bite sized fics like this, that inspire me rather than feel like me forcing myself to finish them :’) unfortunately that probably means less xavier and raf from now on and only zayne & sylus…

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

You can hardly hear Sylus through the deafening chants and cheers of the people around you. Never in a million years did you think you’d be caught in this situation. The Mating Rite.

Actually, it was customary for the most esteemed members of your clan to partake in the Mating Rite, those of the Elder Tribunal, the high ranking commanders of the various military societies, really any of the most respected members of the community had to participate in the Rite. To prove their bond with their chosen to the rest of the clan, committing themselves not only to each other, but to the clan. 

But you didn’t fall into any of those criteria. While you were under the strict and often suffocating protection of the clan’s most skilled warriors, for reasons they’d refused to share with you, you weren’t someone of the necessary stature needed to be required to partake in the Rite. 

But Sylus was.

The youngest warrior to be sworn into the clan’s most elite and ruthless military society. The youngest to be considered for a commanding position in the militia, a position he turned down many times. He was the most formidable and respected gladiator of your entire clan, and even that of the opposing clans of the Grasslands. 

There wasn’t a soul in all the Grasslands that didn’t know his name. You either envied him, feared him, or wanted to share a bed with him. Maybe all of the above.

You knew the day would come when Sylus would have to choose a suitable partner, and the thought of it inexplicably sent painful pangs down your very soul. The fear of losing him, when you didn’t even have him, was so utterly heartbreaking, you didn’t know how you’d bear it when the time came.

And yet…Sylus wanted you. He chose you.

You’d never forget the way he sought you out after returning from a mission he told you little of, under the massive acacia you’d often lain under, with the silver haired man in question holding you dearly. How you’d flown into his arms upon seeing his distinct form approaching you, his strong hands gripping your waist as he spun you around, whispering into your ear about how he’d missed you in his time away. 

Or when he threw you over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the underside of your rear, a clear mission in his mind as he traversed the Grasslands to the Elder Tribunal’s square. 

“I need to show them I already have a lover.”

The Elder Tribunal had been pushing Sylus’s hand for years now, wanting to see their most esteemed warrior mated, securing his future progeny to that of the clan. He’d been able to hold them off for as long as possible, his responsibility as a warrior and as your key protector keeping him far too busy to find a suitable mate. 

You weren’t exactly sure what changed, what exactly had caused Sylus’s hand to be forced. What had caused him to finally give in, choosing a partner to share the rest of his life with. 

In any case, you found yourself under Sylus’s very naked body, his thick erection nestled firmly inside your quivering walls. He was naked from the waist down, but still wore the traditional garb of the warrior ensemble’s chest harness, the bone embellishments rattling against the coarse leather. There were countless eyes around you, watching the way Sylus slid in and out of you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sylus did his best to use his much larger body to shield yours from the hungry stares surrounding you, wanting to take away even the tiniest bit of your obvious discomfort. You were entirely naked, as was required of women partaking in the Rite, bare and vulnerable before the many spectators. And while the thought of showing off your magnificent naked body off to others excited Sylus, as he knew that it was a sight others could behold but never have like he could, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. 

The warm air breezed against your naked body, only a canvas ceiling protecting you from the elements. It was a tent of sorts, without any walls, to give the crowd the best view of the Mating Rite. Of you and Sylus. 

Even though the air is warm, the, almost muggy, Grassland breeze against your bare skin makes you shiver.

“I’m sorry,” he grits, his jaw slack as you sucked him in so tightly, trying to focus on comforting you and not the way you nearly choked the orgasm out of him, “I’m sorry. I never wanted our first time…to be like this.”

His words make your mind sober up, your eyes focusing on his and not those around you. He used his thick thumb to rub the tears out of the corner of your eyes.

“It’s’okay Sylus,” you gasp, the pain of his thick cock making it difficult to speak, “I-I’m’okay.”

Sylus grimaces, hearing the choke of discomfort in your soft voice. The way your cunt felt around him was so completely and wholly blissful, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel.

“Just focus on me, alright my dove?” he murmurs, his voice gruff with desire. As he continues to rock into you, unbearably gently and loving, he leans down until his lips are a mere inch from yours. 

“Let me take the pain away, hm?”

He presses his lips to yours, inhaling your gasp as he kisses you for the first time. You’d daydreamed about the way his lips would feel on yours, when you watched him train with his fellow warriors, when you’d wash fresh fruit in the brook by the clearing, when he’d watch over you, protecting you from a danger that everyone refused to tell you the truth of.

But your silly little daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing. Nothing could have prepared you for how warm and commanding his lips would be when they took yours. How his tongue, gentle yet insistent as they traced the opening of your mouth, would slip into your mouth, exploring you like he owned you. 

You never could have imagined the way he’d literally take your breath away, kissing you like he’d been waiting just as long to taste you, to have you.

It’s so wonderfully dizzying that you don’t even notice the pain of his member inside you ebbing into a burning pleasure. You don’t notice the way people holler when Sylus kisses you, the way they cheer at the scene unfolding before them. 

You squeak, a mix of a moan and a squeal when Sylus pushes so deeply into you that you briefly see warm white stars clouding your vision. Sylus groans, ripping his lips from yours to breathe out a throaty moan of pained pleasure.

“Not so tight,” he all but seethes at you. You wince at his harsh tone, doing your best to relax your squirming muscles and obey his words. Sylus instantly softens at your reaction, his hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“You’re so tight down here, sweetheart,” he grits, fingers coming down to press on your bare tummy, “It’s making it difficult for me to…control myself.”

“I-Is that…” you whimper, confused by the way he’s making your body burn with an unfamiliar pleasure, “Ngh – bad?”

Sylus chuckles, despite the tortured plea that shines in his carmine eyes, “Bad? Far from it…You feel unbelievable.”

Your heart clenches at his praises, cheeks heating at the sounds his body makes against yours. Flushed at the way people are watching Sylus claim every inch of you, your virtue. 

He continues, stroking your cheek gently, pleadingly, “But it would be embarrassing if you made me…end the Rite so quickly. In front of all these people.”

The implications of his words dawn on you and your eyes widen in a mix of surprise and disbelief. He doesn’t stop his movements even as he explains himself to you, your nails digging into his thick biceps that cage you, blocking your modesty from the spectators.

“I have an image to uphold, after all,” he smirks only half-joking, a well deserved arrogant confidence playing behind his beautiful features, “Only you would make it so difficult for me, little bird.”

“M’not trying to Sy –” you choke out, looking down and trying to focus on the way his impossible girth splits you open, and not the jeering of the crowd. You’re briefly hypnotized by the shiny ring of something filthy that encircles his base, the way his abdomen clenches with every movement he makes. 

You’re snapped out of your trance at the distinct and familiar voices, some distance behind your head. You’re acutely reminded of just how exposed you are, your thighs trying to clench shut on instinct. But Sylus’s body holds them open, his fingers gripping your chin to bring your face back to his.

“Don’t worry about them.”

“I-I just –” you whine, not even knowing what you want to say, unable to stop your eyes from darting around. You squirm when you make eye contact with the hungry eyes around you, recoiling into yourself.

“I can tell you exactly what each and every one of them are thinking,” Sylus purrs into your ear as he leans down to press his weight deliciously onto you, which only earns more hooping and hollering from the crowd, “They’re thinking about what it would be like…to be in my place.”

Sylus smirks when you shiver at his lewd words, his filthy whisperings making you inexplicably and embarrassingly excited. His voice is impossibly heated, a dangerous ferality behind them, “Thinking about what it would be like to be the one inside of you right now.”

You whine at his words, hitting his shoulder weakly, “Sylus d-don’t say that. I only want to think about you.”

Sylus groans, a beautifully deep and erotic moan of satisfaction, “Damn right. You are mine.”

He continues on, so lost in the feeling of your tight wet walls that he begins to ramble uncharacteristically, “I’m sorry, my love. I will make it up to you.”

Before you can even ask for what, Sylus is driving right back into your deepest parts, making your toes curl as you squeal unabashedly, not even registering how people cheer at the way you he fucks you.

He whispers, not paying any mind to the way people applaud the way Sylus makes your body keen, encouraging him to take you harder, “After this, little bird, I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel. Just you and me. I promise.”

As inexperienced as you were, you knew the way Sylus fucked you was otherwordly. His thrusts, both dominating and tender, his hands gentle as they squeeze your breasts, his lips as they caress yours. The way he so quickly blurred the pain to a blinding pleasure, you knew Sylus knew exactly how to use his body. 

Beyond that, you knew Sylus was well acquainted with the female body. The way he fucked you was unreal, quite literally making magic with your joined bodies. The pain had faded away, replaced with an ecstasy that nearly blocked everything else out.

Nearly.

As the whooping gets louder, Sylus only fucks you harder, trying to distract you from the crowd around you, “It’s just you and me, sweeheart.”

Despite Sylus’s comforting words, he himself was still profoundly aware of the eyes on your joined bodies. But it only served to excite him, make him harder. The way all eyes were on you, the beautiful woman he’d chosen for himself, his mate. Something they could stare at but never indulge in. It drove him insane. 

You nod, losing yourself as Sylus’s rhythmic pounding makes your nerves burn with pleasure, in a way that makes you confused and alarmed. You felt lightheaded, the pressure in your stomach overwhelming. It felt like you were losing control of your body, like you might have an accident all over him. 

“Sy-Sylus, I think something’s – nghn – happening!” you wail, “I think maybe we should – ahngh – stop.”

Sylus groans, acutely aware, even if you aren’t, that you’re nearing your very first orgasm. You squeeze him so tightly that he can’t help but meet you at the peak of that blinding pleasure.

“Let it happen, Y/N,” he soothes, trying to mask the fact that he’s about to lose his own mind from how perfectly you’re clamping down on his cock, “You’re close aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen at the realization of what this sensation is, having heard stories from the other women in the clan, almost scared of how explosive you know it’s going to be. Your fingers furiously grapple at the thick ropes of muscles on his back, scratching deep red welts into him. 

“Cum for me in front of all these people, my dove,” he coos, almost condescendingly, “Let’s show them exactly who you belong to now, hm?”

His words drip with absolute filth and it only makes the tension grow tauter, almost like a balloon being stretched to its limits before it pops. You don’t even notice when Sylus’s large hands find  the area where your bodies meet. 

Your eyes, screwed shut at the new sensations of mind and bodily bliss, fly open when he touches your most sensitive parts, rubbing furiously at the crest of your lips. The feeling is so overwhelming your back arches off the thick mat of straw and blankets that you rest on, chasing the sharp pleasure that his fingers bring onto your intimate regions.

“So responsive,” Sylus murmurs gruffly, “Just like that, my heart. Let yourself feel it, hm? For me.”

You’re honestly at a loss at how Sylus can speak to you coherently right now, if he feels even a fraction of the ecstasy he’s bestowing upon your body. 

As your eyes roll back, your mouth parted in a symphony of the most beautiful moans and whimpers, Sylus feels himself being pushed to release. The sharp claps of applause are muted as his ears ring with the overwhelming pressure of how badly his cock wants to release inside you.

For the first time, Sylus stutters, “I-I need to cum inside you. I’m sorry, my love.”

The Mating Rite required the participating parties to unify in the most intimate ways possible, and that included the sharing of essences. And the idea of that…as new as you were to the pleasures of skinship, drove you to madness.

The thought of him filling you so deeply with him, all of him. You couldn’t explain it but you wanted it more than anything you’d ever wished for.

You can’t stop yourself from begging pathetically, “I-I want it. I want you Sy. Please.”

Your voice is practically drowned out by the intensifying cheers of the crowd, but Sylus hears your pleas loud and clear. In fact it’s the only thing he can hear, his brain drowning out anything that wasn’t you.

“Do you?” Sylus smirks, trying to maintain control despite how royally fucked your words rendered him, “So filthy for such an innocent little bird.”

“Then you’d better take it all, my love.”

With frenzied fingers, Sylus sends you careening down the unfamiliar ledge of orgasmic bliss. His thrusts grow increasingly frantic, your cunt convulsing so violently that Sylus nearly wants to black out. You were so unbearably tight that his climax was forced out of him, the warm splash of milky hot seed coating every centimeter of your perfect little hole. 

As he spews into you, he feverishly takes your lips into his, desperate to taste you as his body gave you every ounce of himself. His tongue furiously finds yours, a fierce gnashing of teeth, flesh, and raw unadulterated passion. Your entire body vibrates as he moans into you, his body rocking both of you through a transcendent euphoria that will undoubtedly change your life forever. 

Neither of you can even hear the screams or the toast of applause that erupts all around you, clan members quite literally celebrating at the union of their most prized warrior. 

Sylus doesn’t still, biting the inside of his mouth as he ruts himself into a painful overstimulation. Yet, he can’t get enough of you, not wanting to pull out and be without your warmth, without you.

“The rite has been completed!”

As your body begins to come down from its dizzying heights, your senses start to return, your consciousness becoming vaguely aware of people crowding closer. 

One of the clan elders saunters over, wanting to congratulate Sylus, parade him around like a prize the clan had secured for themselves. Sylus’s body blocks his as he approaches, his head snapping back forcefully when he feels an unwanted presence encroaching on your space, intruding on his brief moment of bliss with you. 

“Sy?” you murmur wearily, your body drained of every last drop of energy, replacing your body with a heavy contentment that weighed you down. 

Sylus doesn’t respond, snapping something at the clan elder, and the other important clan members that had begun to slowly approach. Though you couldn’t hear what he said, you can make out his snarky and forceful tone, a tone you’d never heard him take, especially not with you. It was filled with an authority that would normally never be taken with those of the Elder Tribunal. 

But of course, he was Sylus.

Just like that, everyone is clearing out of the small meadow in which the Rite had taken place, heading back to the central square of the Grassland. The serenity left behind blankets you and Sylus, as he returns his attention back to you.

His manhood is still snug inside you, thick and throbbing again despite the copious amounts of slick dripping from where he still plugs you. Your legs are lazily clung to his sides, his thick body slotted between your shaking thighs. 

“Hey…” he murmurs, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. 

Your eyes flutter open, twinkling when they catch the way Sylus drinks you in. His lips are quirked in a smirk, a classic display of Sylus-esque arrogance, but his crimson eyes are so tender, the sharp lines of his face softened. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your clammy forehead, wrapping his arms behind your back and cradling you in his arms. He hoists you onto his lap, your legs coming to wrap around his waist, his erection still nestled into your sore walls. 

“For what?” you whisper, resting your head on his chest, trying to control the shivers that rack your body involuntarily.

“For doing this. For me.”

You glance up at him, unsure of what to say. You hardly felt like you did him a favor, between the indescribable pleasure he’d just given you and the feelings for him you’d buried deep down. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” you whisper, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever, even though the two of you finally had some privacy. 

Sylus doesn’t speak, holding you dearly as he gazes off into the flat plains of the Grassland, a few large acacia trees littered in the open fields. 

“It was…incredible,” you admit, “You’re incredible.”

Sylus looks down at you, the usual cockiness and arrogance faded, letting you really see into the soft and warm soul of the Grassland’s most revered warrior.

He bends down to kiss you, his lips impossibly soft and patient as opposed to the violent way he’d kissed you earlier. Every touch is a caress, every second precious and fleeting. 

Sylus bites back his groan as he feels himself stirring back to life inside you. He tries to focus instead on how it feels to hold you, to have you. 

He fully intended to make good on his earlier promise, showing you just how thoroughly he could love you. But for now, he just wanted to feel your lips on his, your skin against his. The way he’d always wanted. The way he’d always intended. 

A warm gust of wind sweeps through the meadow, making the foliage dance lazily. For over two decades, you’d lived between these very same blades of grass. Yet as you kissed Sylus, the Grassland had never felt quite so alive.

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[emphistic]

MEDDLE ABOUT

SYN. Being co-stars with your ex-boyfriend of three months is basically hell; or at least, that's what you think. AKA: Sukuna wants you back, whether he's acting or not.

TAGS. actor AU, fem!Reader, mean!Sukuna, exes to lovers, forced proximity, sharing a cigarette, smoking, arguing, eventual smut, Sukuna likes to shut you up with his dick, cockwarming, answering the phone during séx, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, porn w/o plot, use of pet names: baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, my dear (mockingly)

WC. 5.4k (please read anyway 😞)

AN. requested by anon (you didn't specify any genre, so i just freestyled 🤷‍♀️), animated dividers by @/cafekitsune; i'm a sucker for actor AUs; available on ao3; MDNI

“I know you wanna kiss me,” you smiled, leaning closer to Sukuna’s face. Your noses were barely apart, and you couldn’t tell where his breath ended, and where yours started. To be honest, this was far more intimate than any other kiss scene you ever had to film.

“Yeah?” Sukuna grinned, getting equally as close. “And what’re you going to do about that, pretty girl?”

“. . .Fucking slap you, that’s what.” 

“CUT!” The director yelled, groaning in exasperation. “C’mon, people. I know it’s been a long day, but put your differences aside for the sake of one movie, will ya? When you receive your paycheck, you’ll regret all of this ‘huffing and puffing’ you two are both doing right now.”

You exhaled, pulling away from Sukuna. It’s not that you couldn’t remember your correct lines, it’s just. . . You couldn’t take it anymore. Being in the same room as him, breathing in the same air as him, starring in the same movie with him. Fuck, you hated this.

You and Sukuna had broken up exactly three months ago despite having what seemed like a pretty healthy relationship. Seemed is the key word.

Of course, you two had your ups and downs, like an ordinary couple, but what differentiated you two from a normal couple was the fact that you guys both juggled busy careers as an actor and actress. Being booked with interviews, PR stunts, and in general, movies, you and Sukuna didn’t have the ability to spend much time together. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was constantly a multitude of women on his arm during movie premieres. Yeah, you knew those were all for PR, but still, it hurt to see your boyfriend standing with a woman that wasn’t you every day.

At first, you thought you could take it. Being an actress yourself, you had your fair share of rumors and made up scandals. But it came to a point where you couldn’t take it anymore. You and Sukuna broke up, consequently, and fans immediately voiced their opinions and concerns, bombarding Twitter with trending tags, and posting videos on several apps. The internet had been obsessed with you guys as a couple since the first movie you two co-starred in—which was years ago—so their complaints definitely weren’t for naught.

Originally, you thought that your relationship with Sukuna would end on good terms, but boy, oh boy, were you wrong. Sukuna, just mere days after your breakup, was spotted by paparazzi walking around the city with his arm around a girl you definitely did not recognize as one of his current co-stars. And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to hit you up and ask if he could come over to your penthouse right after.

Men, am I right?

You two may or may not have slept together as exes a few times after your inevitable argument about him and that new girl, but rest assured, you did eventually break things off permanently. Well, you thought you did. As if by fate, you and Sukuna were casted as co-stars in an up-and-coming romance movie that had your fans just dying in anticipation of finally being able to see their favorite (broken up) couple together on screen again.

To be frank, you were originally going to pass up the role as the female lead—seeing as your luck had landed you as co-stars with Sukuna—but your manager apparently really, really wanted you to work on the film, saying things like Think of how elated your fans will be and It’s an adaptation from a book that made millions and Just imagine all of the PR and promoting you could do. It took a while of convincing—and coercing—to get you to finally agree to the role since, after all, PR was the main reason for your and Sukuna’s breakup. But, honestly, you would be lying if you said there weren’t any feelings left for your ex-boyfriend, Sukuna.

“I think we should all take a breather,” Sukuna began, jeering, “before someone gets all hot and bothered by just being on the same set as me. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sukuna turned to you, an expression on his face that just made you want to punch him in the nose.

“‘Hot and bothered’, seriously? Don’t make me laugh.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sukuna tilted his head to the side, grinning. “Do you think I’m joking? I could feel the way your heart was racing earlier, when we had to shoot that hugging in the rain scene. Just admit it, this isn’t acting for you.”

He was definitely self-projecting, you scowled just by the thought of it.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. We all know how you really feel,” Sukuna teased, leaning down to your eye-level. His breath fanned your reddening ear as he whispered, “You want me so bad it makes you look fucking stupid.”

And when he pulled away, Sukuna added one last remark, “I know it’s been a long three months for you. Say, how’s that blondie treating you, hm? I bet his dick is as small as his future in acting.”

“Ryomen, just stop.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that with him, and you know that. Just leave me alone.”

You shoved at his chest as you walked off set, your assistants following you promptly with water bottles and towels.

In all honesty, you remembered it like it happened yesterday. Before you and Sukuna became boyfriend and girlfriend, your first meeting was in a movie that you both starred in as the female and male lead. It was a romance movie, of course, that was about a couple meeting on an island while both on individual vacations. You two spent most of your days on set in swimsuits and bikinis, consuming fake alcoholic beverages, and, consequently, sleeping together—after the tension just grew unbearable.

On and off camera, Sukuna had been growing an attraction towards you. I mean, who could blame him? You two had to be near each other while being basically half-naked. And, if your pretty face wasn’t enough to beguile Sukuna, your ass definitely was. From the moment he shook hands with you at your first meeting as co-stars, he knew he had to have you—acting or not.

That movie was the start of the skyrocketing of both your and Sukuna’s career in acting. Fans quickly noted how much chemistry the two of you had together, and how well you two could act out emotions and intimate scenes. What the audience didn’t know, though, was that you and Sukuna had started seeing each other a few weeks after shooting together.

Sukuna had invited over the whole cast and team for drinks after a successful movie premiere, and you two ended up talking and conversing in his kitchen whilst a little under the influence. You two hit it off, and learned that being an aspiring actor wasn’t the only thing you two had in common. One glass turned into two, and two turned into stumbling into Sukuna’s bedroom after everyone had responsibly ordered a cab home.

Waking up the morning after, and deciding it wasn’t just going to be a one night stand, you and Sukuna thus began your new relationship. At first, you two avoided being spotted in public together, but it came to a point where your relationship just couldn’t be hidden anymore and you both decided to go public. The internet responded almost immediately with cheers, enthusiasm, and occasionally, expressions showing how un-surprised they were. I mean, you two had been shipped together almost constantly; making it official was almost expected. 

Years passed, the honeymoon stage was over, your careers were more demanding and busy than they had ever been, and, well, you know the rest.

—

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

A grimace immediately made its way onto your face at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out to you from behind. 

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, turning to face Sukuna as he sat down beside you and slung an arm around the back of the couch, “I was hoping the next time I saw you would be at your funeral.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think?” chided Sukuna, as he brought out a cigarette and lit it.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the couch. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sukuna leaned his face closer to yours, his eyes running down your face and naturally drifting to your lips.

“Unless you’re being your usual asshole-self, and here to annoy me in my dressing room, I’m afraid not.”

After you stormed off set, the director decided it was best to just call it a day and continue filming tomorrow. You went outside for a bit to get some fresh air, before deciding to return to your dressing room and get unready. Stripping down and putting on nothing but your robe, you had sat yourself down on the couch and picked up a magazine, planning on spending a few minutes relaxing before making your way home. Sukuna barging in, despite being off the clock, was something you definitely weren’t expecting. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and if someone found out. . .

“You’ll be in a lot of trouble if my makeup artist comes in here and sees you,” you commented. “Go smoke somewhere else.”

At this, Sukuna’s eyes flickered up to your own, and he removed the cigarette from his lips before blowing out the smoke right in front of your face. Your nose scrunched up, as if on instinct, and Sukuna booped your nose with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I swear,” you began, snatching the cigarette out of Sukuna’s hands, “if I don’t kill you, I hope these will.” Now was your turn to put the cigarette between your lips. You inhaled, and took a deep breath. But, only moments after, the cigarette was out of your hands and abruptly stubbed on a nearby ashtray.

Sukuna looked at you with an intent look on his face. “As much as I find that hot, I’d rather I be the one damaging my lungs. Not you.”

“Looking out for little old me? How cute,” you smiled, your tone sarcastic. “I see you’re not over us, yet, hm? Did that new girl change your mind?”

You leaned closer to Sukuna, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly.

As soon as you mentioned that other chick, Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. It was nothing, we didn’t even hold hands. C’mon, all we did was sit next to each other at a party, and now you’re on my ass about her?”

You shrugged, picking up the magazine you had previously discarded and flipping through the pages with faux interest. “Oh, really? Didn’t look that way to me. You two sure seemed buddy-buddy.”

“Like hell we did. Fuck, do you want me to bring up that twig you were with last week? Kid’s got no meat on his arms. Can’t even call him a man. Is that seriously how low you’re willing to go, babe?” Sukuna scoffed at your lack of attention to him. “Shit’s even worse than a downgrade.”

“You can think that all you want. But I definitely disagree.” You struggled to stifle a giggle.

Sukuna, furrowing his brows, narrowed his eyes at you. “The fuck do you mean by that? Don’t tell me you’ve seen his dick.”

“I dunno, have I?” You turned to Sukuna, meeting his gaze with an equal amount of irritation.

“Must’ve been pretty small, though, if you can’t even remember it,” Sukuna pressed, leaning closer to you, your noses touching, before pulling away. “Whatever, this is boring. Say, how about we get back to where we left off, and practice that kissing scene, hm? I think it’s a great idea.”

“Ryomen, let’s not. You know we’re done. Been done. We’re through.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, is it not obvious? I think it was pretty obvious when you had the nerve to get with a new girl just days after we broke up. And then you have the balls to call me right after the paparazzi catches you two. Really, Sukuna? I don’t mind the idea of us ending on neutral terms, but . . . 48 hours? Two days after we broke up, and you’re already fucking some girl? Way to go, Sukuna.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, baby. We didn’t even kiss, did you see any pictures of us kissing? No. And, besides, it’s called provocation. Honestly, you should be praising me, because it worked in the end, didn’t it? I came ‘crawling back’ like one of your little bitch boys, and what happened? Oh, I remember; you let me right the fuck in to your apartment.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny Sukuna. He was right. And, just the mere thought of what you two did after he hit you up brought heat to your cheeks.

The very same night after pictures of Sukuna and that new girl started circulating around the internet, Sukuna decided to text you:

hey pretty girl,

you up?

You were drying yourself off with a towel when you received two notifications on your phone, and when you saw the contact name, you frowned and turned off your phone without giving a response. Minutes after, there was a ring on your doorbell, and when you checked the camera, lo and behold, stood none other than the last pink-haired man you wanted to see that evening.

When you opened the door, wearing nothing other than a towel around your still dripping body, Sukuna couldn’t help but shamelessly check you out, deciding then and there that this definitely wasn’t going to be the end of your relationship. Of course, an argument ensued soon after, because that’s what life was like dating a dick like Sukuna. Luckily for you, however, Sukuna’s bulge in his pants was bigger than his ego, and so it made up for all of the playful bullying and teasing remarks that he frequently gave.

Sukuna—because he wasn’t born yesterday—knew his looks and charms fairly well, and often used them as a weapon or bargaining chip. That’s why, after you spent a minute or two berating and yelling at Sukuna near your front door, it only took the man one look into your eyes and one sultry comment to have you both stumbling into the . . . bedroom? No, you two had been apart for two days too long, and just decided to utilize your expensive kitchen counters for purposes completely unrelated to cooking.

The next morning, you two woke up—after getting just half an hour of sleep—and didn’t untangle from each other’s limbs until your manager called you nearly a hundred times, and forced you to get up and attend some interview or something. That, however, was not your last night with Sukuna. You two met up—intentionally or not—within the same week, whether it be at interviews or just random outings, and meddled with the other until one of you would fold (usually Sukuna) and consequently do something you would end up not fully regretting the next morning.

This affair continued until you finally came to your senses and blocked Sukuna out from your life in all ways possible. But, due to his bank account, Sukuna did end up purchasing multiple different phones just to be able to contact you. You may or may not have given in a few times, but in the end, you did end up leaving Sukuna for good.

“Reminiscing, are you? It’s okay, I’ve been doing that every night since you left the penthouse,” Sukuna laughed, noticing the way you went silent. You hated the way he referred to his place as The penthouse, and not, simply, his penthouse because, to be frank, for the years you both spent as a couple, you practically lived together despite having individual residences.

“What the hell, Sukuna. Just—Why are you even—?”

Sukuna cut you off, rolling his eyes. “I find it pretty hard to believe that not a single part of you misses me. Don’t lie; lying is a sin, y’know.”

“Sukuna—Excuse me? Don’t give me that shit. ‘Lying is a sin’ my ass. You must have to ask for God’s forgiveness pretty often, then. I can’t believe you want to call me a sinner, I mean, just—just look at you! You’re no saint, either, and you know that damn well.”

Sukuna raised his hands in defense, humoring you. “Woah, looks like I’ve been caught,” he laughed, before getting a little more serious. “But, don’t try to avoid the fact that you’re not innocent. Okay, we broke up due to not being able to make time for each other, and because of how much women I had to be around. Yeah, I get that. But it’s not like I was the only one taking up PR stunts. You did the same, too, didn’t you? So don’t try and paint me out to be the bad guy, when, at the end of the day, we did the same fucking thing.”

Irritated, you pinched the space between your brows. “I barely have any energy to say something to your stupid face right now. We broke up because of that, but also because of how much of a fucking dick you were and are. I knew you weren’t a total angel when we got together but—”

“Look. Do you want a nice guy?”

“. . .”

“Don’t feel pressured to answer, baby. We all know how you really feel.”

“Go. to. Hell. Sukuna. Seriously. This? Again? Do you even know how much of an ass you are? I should deserve an award for putting up with your shit for so long, God—”

“Yeahh, just keep talking,” said Sukuna in a teasing manner, as he leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs apart. You had never wanted to sit somewhere so bad.

“Are you fucking kidding me—mmph!”

You would’ve continued yelling and cursing Sukuna out for being such a dick had he not roughly pressed his lips against yours, immediately shutting you up. Because you still had some self-respect left, you fought back, throwing weak punches at his chest; but when Sukuna caught your wrists in his hands, you knew it was game over. Your muffled complaints soon turned to whimpers and sighs, as you shut your eyes and let your body do the talking.

Minute after minute, you gradually turned to putty in Sukuna’s hands. Fuck, as much as you hated to admit it, you had truly missed this. The feeling of his large, coarse hands roaming your body, tracing your curves, the feeling of his soft, but unruly hair under your fingertips, but most importantly, the feeling of his lips on yours.

At this point, you couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up.

“Sukuna,” you murmured, pulling away for a moment to breathe. “We’re not together anymore. We shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t?” repeated Sukuna, eager to get back to where you left off. “Are you in a relationship with someone else? Am I in a relationship with someone else? No, and no. So enlighten me, my dear, why should we stop?”

“. . .” It was like he was challenging you, except, this time, it was a battle you could afford to lose. You wanted Sukuna, you really did. But admitting it was the hard part. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating every outcome, as Sukuna continued to stare at you with so much desire you could practically feel it.

“Are you hesitating because,” Sukuna paused, “—because you fucked someone else while I was gone?”

You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat; you had never been more conflicted in your life. Placing your hands on Sukuna’s shoulders, you pushed back until Sukuna was sitting on the couch, and you were sitting on top of him—seated on his lap. As if on instinct, his hands made their way from your hips to the curve of your ass.

Sukuna gripped the globes of fat and muscle with a purpose, and let out an exaggerated groan at the missed feeling of you practically sitting on his dick. You were wearing nothing but a dainty, silky robe, and you clearly didn’t cross it over your chest too well, as Sukuna could see almost everything he had been missing out on during the past few months.

“Don’t even think about lying to me. I can feel you throbbing on my thigh, y’know.”

“. . .And?” You raised a brow; whispering in Sukuna’s ear, “What about it?”

Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up and down Sukuna’s neck, the spot you knew he liked you touching. When you broke things off with Sukuna, you didn’t know you could miss being able to trace his tattoos as bad as you did.

“Oh?” asked Sukuna. But when his fingers wandered up your robe, there was a sudden change in Sukuna’s demeanor, and he sucked in a breath.

“Adorable,” you laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shit, baby,” Sukuna groaned, “I bet you were expecting me to come and visit your little dressing room, huh. Even planned ahead and gave me a little surprise. Cheeky thing.”

Just seconds earlier, Sukuna’s fingers had been teasingly ghosting where you wanted him most, but when he noticed the lack of underwear you had on, he nearly lost it. You clearly weren’t making it easy for Sukuna to stay composed, he was sure of that much. Despite all of his belittling and teasing remarks, he definitely wasn’t as unaffected as he let himself seem to be.

“We’ve just been apart for so, so long.” You looked into Sukuna’s eyes, a faux pout on your lips as you looped your arms around his neck and pressed your tits up against his chest. “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck, girl,” Sukuna kissed his teeth. “You’re dripping wet. All for me?”

“Who the fuck else?”

Sukuna’s fingers danced around your entrance, collecting your slick as you pressed your thighs together, trapping his hand between your legs (not like he was complaining, though; that was probably the closest to Heaven Sukuna would ever get in his lifetime). “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.”

It wasn’t a surprise when you pressed your lips against Sukuna’s, bringing him in for another zealous kiss. In an effort to get impossibly closer, your body curved into his, like you were puzzle pieces molded and created just for each other. You two moved in sync, as if you had both rehearsed this before; but, in truth, you two had just made out too many times to count, so kissing Sukuna was basically like breathing air. You needed it to survive, and, it was light work. What more could you say?

The tension and lust between you two grew, and your dressing room soon filled with the sound of sensual desire, moans and quiet gasps, and the creaking of the framework of your unfortunate couch, which had the misfortune of being beneath the two of you.

From the moment you had begun straddling his lap, you had pretended not to notice the growing erection below you; but, by now, it was pretty hard to ignore the bulge pressing against your ass. It was like, during the months you two spent apart, Sukuna’s dick was growing even larger than before. You didn’t remember it being so big. And, just the sight of it was enough to make you lick your lips in fear? Anticipation? . . .Definitely a mix of both.

As Sukuna made a show of removing his belt and pants, he grinned at the evident look of unfamiliarity on your face. “Scared?”

“Of course not,” you quipped, trying to put up a front, but your body betrayed you, displaying otherwise.

“Naturally,” Sukuna mocked, “that’s why I can practically feel your arousal, right?”

You bit your lip, “Shut up.”

Sukuna laughed, pushing the ends of your robe up to rest on your hips, and sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing each cheek with an equal amount of force. Damn, thought Sukuna, he had missed his favorite girls.

“Just because we haven’t done this in a while doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of it. C’mon,” Sukuna slowly repositioned and lowered your hips and spread your legs apart, easing his dick through your cunt, “there’s nothing to be shy about. I know you’ve been missing this.”

It was true, you and Sukuna hadn’t fucked in three whole months, and your body was definitely starting to forget how he felt. The feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s length and size burned pleasurably, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan, which, in turn, just came out as a whimper instead.

Bracing yourself, you planted both palms on Sukuna’s broad shoulders as your lashes fluttered and your eyes shut tight. “So—nngh—So big, Sukuna. God.”

“Bet you’re real glad you decided to accept this role, after all, huh.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glared at Sukuna. “Will you just shut—oh!”

Just as you were about to yell at Sukuna, he decided it was the absolute perfect time to give a rough thrust; and you could’ve sworn you felt him in your womb. Throughout all the years you two had been together, you rarely had the opportunity to actually sit on his dick, and, now that you had the chance, you realized how full you felt in this position compared to how you two usually fucked. Sukuna knew you liked it rough, but this . . . was like nothing you had experienced before.

Sukuna—laughing—leaned down just enough to whisper in your ear, “You were saying?”

“Fuck,” you gritted your teeth. “Just move, Sukuna, goddamnit. What’s the holdup? Don’t tell me the late twenties are catching up to your libido.”

“Ha! in your dreams. I was just thinking of a new way we could have fun. Let’s see, just how long can you go without moving, hm?”

You gulped. “W-What? Why would you—?”

“Because it’s exciting, and spices up things. Don’t you think so?”

“. . .”

As the minutes idly passed by, you grew hot and bothered, and exasperated. You couldn’t believe Sukuna was making you do this. Nearly ninety days you two spent apart, and now that you had gotten back together, he had the audacity to leave you high and dry? In a final attempt at getting any satisfaction, you moved to roll your hips, desperate to create any amount of friction to free you from this everlasting state between Heaven and Hell; but two rough hands abruptly caught you in motion, and swiftly held you down.

“Ah, ah, ah,” tutted Sukuna, in a mocking tone. “Did I say you could move?”

Clearly frustrated, you let out a whine; but as your hands move to give punches against Sukuna’s chest, he catches your wrists in his hands with ease, an evil smile on his face, like a predator that had successfully cornered their prey and was just seconds away from latching their teeth in.

The belt was already pretty loose, so when one of the sleeves on your robe slipped down your shoulder, revealing your bare chest, no one was that surprised.

“Oh?” Sukuna began. “What have we here?” His scarlet eyes roamed up and down your figure, as his grip on your wrists turned almost deathly.

“You . . . bastard,” you—suddenly feeling a bit shy—tried to tug your wrists out of his grasps, in order to cover yourself up, but your attempts were futile. “Let go of me—hnngh, shit.”

Your back arched, body curving closer to Sukuna’s as his lips abruptly wrapped around one of your already hard nipples, catching you off guard. You had never felt so overwhelmed; the feeling of Sukuna sucking on a tit while his dick was buried inside of you—unmoving—was nearly enough to make you cum, despite the lack of movement that Sukuna allowed.

Bringing you out of your dazed state was the sudden ringing of your phone on the table beside the ashtray. Your eyes widened in surprise, as you softly pushed Sukuna off of you. “Just—Just ignore it. It’s not important.”

“Right. But where’s the fun in that, huh?”

“You don’t mean. . .”

“You know what I mean. Answer it, on speaker,” Sukuna pressed. His tone told you he wasn’t going to repeat himself.

With shaky fingers, you reached for the phone, answered the caller, and put it on speaker. “H-Hello? Katayama?”

Katayama was the name of one of your co-stars. Or, in other words, the blonde dude, which Sukuna kept mentioning earlier.

“Hey, you! It’s pretty late right now, perfect time for us to go out and get some drinks, y’know? I’m a bit bored, as of lately.”

You were about to respond with an apologetic declination to his offer, but Sukuna cut you off as he roughly lifted up your hips and abruptly slammed them back down, causing you to choke back a moan, and cover it up with a faux series of coughs. “I’m, ah, a little . . . busy,” you whimpered, wincing at the tight grip on your hips—which was sure to leave a bruise in the morning, “right now.”

“Are you sick?”

“Uhm, no—I mean, yes!” You let out another fake cough just to seal the deal. “Yup, just a little under the weather.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a string of moans and curses as Sukuna continued slamming your hips up and down onto his.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of an extra warm blanket, don’t be afraid to—”

“Hahh.” A breathy moan slipped past your lips, and you could practically see the surprised look that was probably on Katayama’s face right now.

“—call . . . me. Uhm, are you sure you’re sick? You sound like you’re in the middle of . . . something. Is everything okay—?”

“Yup! Yeah, everything is totally okay,” you forced out, with an enthusiastic tone. Gripping Sukuna’s shoulder with your free hand for leverage, you shut your eyes tight as you quickly ended the call. “I’m a little occupied at the moment, I’ll call you ba—I’m gonna go. Bye!”

As swiftly as you hung up the call, you threw your phone across the couch, and let out all of the noises you had been previously bottling up.

“I’m so c-close.” You mewled, now even more desperate than you were before.

“If you dare cum,” Sukuna began, his voice low, “I’ll stop.”

“Sukuna!” You whined, scratching at his back and leaving little crescent shaped marks from your nails on his tricep. “I need to—ahnn!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held onto Sukuna’s shoulders for dear life as he quickened his pace. Lifting your hips up with ease, and slamming them back down with equal force. Fucked out of your mind was not enough to describe your current state, as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your lipstick was smudged across your mouth.

Sukuna leaned down to whisper into your ear, never stopping his movements. “Bet the little blondie didn’t fuck you like this, huh?”

It was obvious that Sukuna wasn’t an insecure guy; I mean, he had no reason to be. He had nice muscles, a good body, overall, sharp features, tempting eyes, and tattoos for days. But, you had to admit, the spark of jealousy was definitely a good look on Sukuna, one that you wouldn’t mind seeing every once in a while, if it meant seeing him like . . . this.

“. . .S-Sukuna, we never—we never even fucked in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah? How long you been without cock, then, huh? Must be why you’ve been acting like such a bitch. I almost feel bad; all this time, my baby’s just been depraved.”

“. . .F-fuck you,” you shivered, body practically shaking with need.

“No need to state the obvious, sweetheart. Fuck, even your tears taste sweet,” Sukuna groaned, licking a stripe up your cheek. “It’s as if you were literally made for me to devour.”

“Please, please let me cum! I’m so—hnngh—close.”

“Yeah, no. C’mon, I know my girl can last just a little longer, can’t you?” Sukuna grinned, biting his lip as he admired your dazed state. He hadn’t been able to touch you in three months, ninety days, 504 hours. If anyone was going to get their fill, it was him.

—

“Oh!” Your stylist exclaimed, after walking into your dressing room and noticing you lying asleep on the couch. “You’re already here. And, Sukuna’s here, too. Wait. . . SUKUNA’S HERE, TOO!?”

[dixons-sunshine]

So Beautiful | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl had never fully shown you his scars before. He was too afraid of what you might think of him if he did. However, after being together for a while, he decided to finally bite the bullet and show you what he had kept hidden from your view for so long.

Genre: Mostly fluff, some angst if you squint.

Era: Prison, pre season four, post season three.

Warnings: Swearing, Daryl is insecure in this (I wanna hold him and reassure him that everything is okay), mentions of past abuse.

Word count: 1.5k.

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble, but it ran away from me lol. I hope y’all like this!

Daryl was breathing heavily. His chest was rising and falling quickly as he tried to control his breathing and ease his anxiety. It wasn’t the first time someone had seen his scars, he tried to remind himself. Carol had seen them. Merle had seen them. Hershel had seen them. It wasn’t like nobody knew of them, but he knew that this time was different.

This wasn’t some random person that had to patch up some injury he had sustained. This was you. His partner. The one he cared for deeply, on a whole other level than he did others, on a level that the archer was sure was love. The one he could see himself spending the rest of his life with, however short that might be. That made you different from the rest. You were so vastly different.

Talks of the abuse the archer had endured had come up from time to time, but only on Daryl’s terms. You never pressed to hear more about his childhood, knowing that Daryl would tell you on his own time if he wanted you to know. And sure enough, slowly but surely, over the months the two of you had been together ‘officially’, Daryl had slowly started opening up to you. However, he had never shown you the scars on his back before. He had allowed you to patch up a wound on his chest before, and that had been the most you had gotten to physically see of the cruel pain that had been inflicted on him in his life.

Until now.

The scars on Daryl’s back were on full display for your eyes to see as he sat on the edge of the bed in your shared cell with him. With his back turned to you, he didn’t have to witness the reaction you would give him. He feared a disgusted reaction, a sharp intake of breath as you fully gouged the extent of the pain he had endured that were gruesomely carved into his skin, a permanent, cruel reminder of his father’s abuse. He feared that you would shrink away from him, that you would see him like the worthless piece of garbage most people in his life had viewed him as, like he viewed himself as most times. And the worst part was that he wouldn’t even blame you if you did.

However, he had not expected to hear your voice calling out to him, that usual softness and love he always associated with your beautiful voice as present as ever.

“Is it okay if I touch them?” you asked him softly, your tone of voice gentle and sincere. You weren’t pressing, weren’t insisting on touching them. You were simply asking, and you would be completely okay with it if he said no.

Daryl did not turn his head to look at you, too nervous to do so just yet. However, after a few beats of silence and contemplation, Daryl hesitantly nodded his head. He anxiously awaited the soft touch of your fingers, but they never came. Instead, Daryl felt a soft, tender prodding from something soft against the highest scar on his back, a slight wetness being left in its wake. As the prodding slowly trailed down the scar and onto the next one, he quickly figured out that the soft prodding was caused by your slightly chapped lips.

Daryl sighed quietly at the oddly comforting feeling, an involuntary shiver rolling over his spine. He closed his eyes, relishing in the comfort your actions were bringing him. Slowly but surely, as your kisses trailed over each scar on his back, his initial uneasiness started fading away, instead being replaced by a sense of contentment and love, all thanks to you.

As you placed a final kiss to the lowest scar on his back, you raised up from the bed and moved to stand in front of him. Daryl ducked his gaze down to the floor beneath him, suddenly feeling nervous all over again, but you didn’t allow him to do so. You gingerly took a hold of his chin with your forefinger and thumb, and you gently tipped his head up, making him look at you.

Looking deeply into the eyes of the man you loved most, you sent him a small, soft, reassuring smile. “You’re so beautiful, Dar.”

Daryl scoffed at your words. “Ain’t beautiful,” he denied your statement. However, he couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered at your words. He had never been called beautiful before. He had always considered it to be a feminine compliment, a compliment reserved only for women, a compliment he reserved only for you. So why his heart started beating faster and his cheeks started burning at your compliment, he didn’t know.

You laughed softly at his denial, shaking your head as if he had said the most absurd thing humanly possible. And to you, he had. It broke your heart that the man in front of you could not see himself the way you saw him: loyal, fierce, kind, unendingly fucking beautiful. There were so many other things that could describe the archer, and almost none of them were negative. Sure, everyone had their flaws, and there was no denying that Daryl had his flaws as well, but they were part of what made him Daryl. They made him the man you loved, and there was little that you wanted to change about him.

Except the way he isolated himself when it mattered most to talk to people, and the way he viewed himself, but other than that, he was perfect.

“Well, you’re beautiful to me, Dar,” you told him, your hand moving from under his chin to cup his cheeks instead. You rubbed soothing circles over the stubbled skin of his face with your thumb, your eyes looking deeply into the ocean-coloured ones of your partner. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Well, I’m the beholder, and this beholder is telling you that you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Your other hand came up to his chest, your fingers gingerly tracing over one of the jagged marks on his broad frame. “These don’t take away from the way I see you, Dar. If anything, it makes my view of you even better. All this shows me is that life threw you a lot of fucking curve balls before all of this, and you prevailed. Do you know how strong that makes you? How brave?” You shook your head with a huff of laughter, the sound one of wonder. “God, I can’t even begin to explain how much these don’t deter me at all. They’re relics of a time in your life you overcame, a time in your life I see you trying not to let define your present and future. If that’s not the epitome of strength, I don’t know what is.”

Daryl was rendered absolutely speechless. You truly believed that of him? All of that? You couldn’t, could you? Unwillingly, a lump formed in the archer’s throat. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe that you thought so highly of him, even after he showed you what he considered the ugliest part of him, physically speaking. However, his heart swelled at the knowledge that you did not view him any differently than you had before. You still looked at him with such love, a love he oftentimes felt he didn’t deserve, but he definitely was not about to throw it away, either.

“Thanks,” Daryl mumbled awkwardly at your high praise of him. He did not know what else to say. He wanted to say so many things to show how much he appreciated your words, how much he appreciated you, but he just did not know how.

You smiled at the singular word that left your partner’s mouth. It was so simple, so underwhelming, so undeniably Daryl. To most people, that simple response would be a punch to the gut after such a heartfelt confession, but to you, the response was enough. Daryl was a man of action, not a man of words. He showed his appreciation to your declaration in the form of his hands coming to rest and your hips, slightly tugging you forward to stand closer to him, albeit in-between his legs. He also showed it in the way his eyes sparkled up at you, the emotions swirling around in his beautiful irises conveying more than words ever could.

“Of course,” you replied softly to his thanks, your hand trailing up from his bare chest, up his face and to his hair. Your fingers ran through his brown locks, gently untangling any knots in their wake. “You have no idea how amazing you are to me, Daryl Dixon, but I promise, for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll never stop trying to show you.”

Daryl’s heart both sped up and stopped simultaneously. Your admission made the archer want to cling on to you and never let you go. He had wanted something, someone like that his whole life. Someone who could look past everything and still love him unconditionally. And he had found it. He had found you, and he certainly did not intend to ever let you slip through his fingers.

“Guess yer gon’ be stuck with me forever, then,” Daryl said in his gruff tone of voice, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

A small chuckle escaped your chest. “I really don’t mind the sound of that.”

[romugh]

THE WIDOW'S LACE - NR

pairing- stripper!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, strappie (n rcv), strappie suckie (r rcv), fingering (n rcv), oral (r rcv), rough'-ish' sex? - i think that's all!

wc- 7.7k (of pure smut) I'M SORRY I'M TRYING TO WRITE SHORTER FICS I PROMISE

a/n- part 1, because YES i have THREE parts ready for this. have fun reading! (big shoutout to @traveler-at-heart; your post made me go feral, i adore you)

synopsis- you find yourself in a stripclub, then suddenly you find yourself in a stripper.

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel - dm or comment to be added to my taglist! x

Natasha wasn’t just any stripper. She was the stripper. The one everyone fell in love with the moment she stepped on stage. Her body moved like sin wrapped in silk, her confidence radiating like a flame that drew every pair of eyes in the club to her. She knew exactly what she was doing, and more importantly, she knew exactly what effect she had on people.

Men and women alike couldn’t help but stare, their lust and admiration hanging thick in the air as they watched her every move. She thrived off it, fed off the power she held over them. They came in hoping for a glance, a smile, a touch. And she delivered—just enough to keep them coming back, but never enough to give them what they really wanted. That was how she liked it. She held the control. Always.

But tonight, something was different.

Amidst the usual sea of desire-filled gazes, she noticed you. You weren’t like the others. Your eyes weren’t filled with the same desperation, the same helpless longing. You weren’t staring at her like she was a goddess to be worshipped. No, you looked at her like she was a challenge. Like you could see right through the seductive veil she’d carefully crafted. It made her stomach twist in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

As she danced, her eyes would flick to you now and again, curious and intrigued. She was used to adoration, not this steady, controlled gaze that almost felt like it was pulling her in. And when the set ended, when her body stilled but her heart raced, she found herself making a decision she hadn’t made in a long time.

She led you to the back room, a place few had ever been. Not because it wasn’t allowed, but because Natasha rarely felt the need to take anyone there. She didn’t need the intimacy the room allowed for, she didn’t crave connection. But there was something about the way you looked at her, like you were waiting for her to slip, waiting for the moment her confidence faltered, and it made her want to see how far you’d push her.

The door clicked shut behind her, the faint thrum of bass from the bar fading into the background as the two of you were swallowed by the dimly lit room. Natasha leaned back against the door, her chest still heaving slightly from the exertion of the performance, but her eyes were as sharp as ever.

“You think you’re something special, huh?” she asked, her voice smooth but with an edge of amusement, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. She tilted her head, watching you carefully, as if expecting you to crumble under her stare like everyone else did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped closer, your movements slow, deliberate, the weight of your presence filling the small space. The air grew thicker with tension, and for the first time in a long while, Natasha wasn’t sure if she was the one in control anymore.

“Do you?” you countered, voice low and calm, your eyes never leaving hers.

Her smirk didn’t falter, but the challenge in your words sent a thrill through her, one she hadn’t expected. She straightened, pushing off the door slightly, closing the gap between you even more, her body mere inches from yours. She could feel your heat, and it made her pulse quicken despite herself.

“You’re not like the others,” she said, her voice dropping an octave as her gaze raked over you, taking in the steady confidence in your stance. “But you’re still here.”

“So are you.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with something that neither of you wanted to name just yet. Natasha could feel the tension, thick and suffocating, like static in the air before a storm. Her body was taut, her skin prickling with anticipation, but she refused to show it. She wouldn’t let you see the effect you were having on her. Not yet.

Then, in one smooth movement, you closed the remaining space between you, your body pressing into hers, pinning her gently but firmly against the door. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat at the sudden proximity, but she didn’t pull away. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Instead, she lifted her chin, eyes defiant even as her pulse raced beneath her skin. “What’s your plan?” she asked, her voice still steady, but with a hint of breathlessness now, a tremor that betrayed the control she was so desperately clinging to.

Your lips were so close to hers now that she could feel the warmth of your breath against her skin. But instead of kissing her, you hovered, the tension between your mouths almost unbearable. She was used to people taking what they wanted from her, always rushing to close the gap, always desperate for her touch. But you held back, and that restraint was driving her mad.

“You’ll see,” you murmured, your voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest, her body betraying her, a flush rising in her cheeks as the weight of your presence pressed down on her. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen next, and the thrill of that uncertainty coursed through her veins like fire.

Then, without warning, your hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back, forcing her to look up at you. Natasha gasped, her lips parting in surprise, but her eyes remained defiant, daring you to do more, to push her further.

“You want this, don’t you?” you asked, your voice steady, commanding.

Her lips curled into a smirk, though her breath hitched slightly under your firm grip. “Maybe,” she replied, her voice dripping with defiance, even as her body arched toward you, craving more.

“Then show me,” you demanded, and with that, you released her hair, watching as she slid down to her knees with a fluid grace that still spoke of her control, her pride. Even now, on her knees, she wasn’t submitting. She was choosing to allow you to do this, and that made all the difference.

She looked up at you, her eyes gleaming with that familiar challenge, and then her gaze flicked to the strap you had tucked out of your pants. Without a word, she leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of it, soft and teasing at first, like she was still testing the waters, still holding on to that last shred of control.

But the moment she tasted it, something shifted. Her tongue darted out, swirling around the tip before she took it into her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours. She wasn’t rushing, no, the Black Widow never rushed for anyone. But there was an urgency now, a tension in the way her hands gripped your thighs as she worked the strap deeper into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with effort.

You watched as she swallowed her pride along with the length of the strap, her eyes watering slightly as she struggled to take it deeper. But she didn’t stop, didn’t pull back. She pushed herself further, her throat constricting around it, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she gagged softly around the toy.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice laced with dark amusement as you thrust your hips forward, pushing the strap deeper into her mouth. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her body trembling as she struggled to take more.

Her nails dug into your thighs, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts as you fucked her mouth, the wet sounds filling the room. Her control was slipping, piece by piece, and you could see the frustration in her eyes when she looked up at you, her gaze filled with a mix of defiance and need.

You pulled back suddenly, the strap slipping from her lips with a wet pop. Natasha gasped, her chest heaving as she panted, her lips swollen and red from the effort, saliva glistening on her chin. She looked wrecked, but not broken. Not yet.

“Something wrong?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

She narrowed her eyes. "You could help," she murmured, trying to regain some of the control she was losing, had already lost. 

“You want help?” you asked, your tone low, teasing. You pushed her head back toward the strap, watching her struggle against her own desire for dominance. She needed this—needed you—but she wasn’t ready to admit it, not fully.

Natasha’s lips parted, taking the strap back into her mouth, but you didn’t let her have it easy. Your hips thrust forward, forcing her to take it deeper than before. Her throat constricted around it, her eyes watering slightly as you pushed deeper. She gagged, her nails digging into your thighs, but she didn’t pull back.

"Is this what you wanted?" you asked, your voice harder now, more demanding. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her body tense as you fucked her mouth, using her. The wet sounds filled the room, mixing with the faint bass from the bar outside.

Natasha choked slightly as you pushed in deeper, but she didn’t stop, her body trembling as she tried to take more of it. But you could see it—her frustration. The realisation that she wasn’t fully in control was pushing her over the edge.

Her breath was ragged when you finally pulled back, saliva glistening on the strap as she panted, lips trembling with effort. Her eyes met yours, and for the first time, she looked... needy. Desperate, even.

“You need more, don’t you?” you asked, gripping her hair tightly. “You think you can handle it?”

She didn’t answer right away, her throat working hard to swallow her pride along with the saliva pooling in her mouth. And then, quietly, she nodded. Just once.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please.”

That was all you needed to hear. You yanked her up by the hair, spinning her around and pressing her up against the door. Natasha’s breath hitched, but she didn’t protest. She wasn’t giving up, but she was giving in.

You crashed your mouth against hers, devouring her in a kiss that left no room for doubt. This wasn’t about control anymore—it was about possession. You bit down on her lower lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from her, her body arching toward you as if she couldn’t help herself.

Natasha's gasp filled the small room, her lips bruised and swollen from your punishing kiss. She should have hated it—the loss of control, the way you commanded her body with nothing more than your presence—but instead, it made her burn. Her skin was flushed, her breath coming in short, shallow pants as you pressed her firmly against the door, your hand still tangled in her hair, holding her exactly where you wanted her.

Her body betrayed her, arching into you, her hips moving instinctively, desperate for any friction to relieve the building pressure inside her. She was wet—soaking, even—and you hadn’t even touched her properly yet. The realisation made her cheeks flush hotter, though whether it was from embarrassment or arousal, she couldn’t tell.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your eyes dark, predatory, as they swept over her flushed face, her heaving chest, and the slight tremble in her legs. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice a low rasp, sending shivers down her spine. “All that control you like to have… where is it now?”

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, but she couldn’t find the words. She had no clever retort, no sharp quip to throw back at you. She was too lost in the way you were looking at her, too consumed by the need coursing through her veins.

Your grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back slightly, forcing her to look up at you. “Answer me,” you demanded, your lips brushing against her ear, your breath hot against her skin. “Where’s all that control, Natasha?”

She shuddered, her eyelids fluttering as her body arched toward you once more. “Gone,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling with the weight of her admission. It was a small crack in her armour, but it was enough. The moment you uttered her off-stage name, the one no one else knew, Natasha’s brain short-circuited.

You smirked, satisfied with her answer. “Good girl.” The praise made her stomach flip, a rush of heat spreading through her as the words sank in. She didn’t realise how badly she had wanted it—needed it—until you gave it to her.

Without another word, you spun her around, pressing her chest against the cold, hard surface of the door. Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands splaying against the wood as she tried to ground herself. You stepped closer, your body pressing against hers from behind, your fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down her spine.

She was tense, muscles coiled tight, every nerve ending on fire as your hand slid lower, lower, until your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her panties. The moment you touched her, a low moan slipped from her lips, her hips bucking back against you, desperate for more.

“Patience,” you murmured against her ear, your lips grazing her skin. “I’m not done playing with you yet.” Your fingers teased her, slipping through her slick folds, but never giving her enough pressure to satisfy the ache between her thighs. Natasha groaned, her head dropping forward, her forehead pressing against the door as she struggled to keep herself together.

But you didn’t let up. You kept her right on the edge, drawing out every gasp, every shiver, every desperate sound she made until she was trembling beneath your touch, her body begging for release.

“Please,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but it was enough for you. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear as you pressed two fingers deep inside her without warning.

Natasha gasped, her whole body jolting from the sudden intrusion, but she didn’t protest. She couldn’t. All she could do was moan, her fingers curling against the door as her body surrendered to the pleasure you were giving her.

You moved slowly at first, your fingers thrusting in and out of her with a measured precision, building her up, making her crave more. Her hips moved in time with your hand, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she chased the release that was just out of reach.

But then, just when she thought she might finally tip over the edge, you stilled your movements.

“No!” The word slipped out before she could stop it, her body still writhing, desperate for the release you kept denying her. She turned her head slightly, looking at you over her shoulder, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please, don’t stop.”

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against her neck as you leaned in closer. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice a low, dangerous rasp. “Begging for it. You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Natasha bit her lip, her cheeks flushing hot with shame and arousal. She should have hated the way you were toying with her, should have fought back, but she couldn’t. Not when her body was burning like this, not when she was so close to falling apart beneath your touch.

Your fingers curled inside her, pressing against that spot deep within her that made her see stars. Natasha moaned, her hips bucking back against you, her whole body trembling as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

“Come for me, Natasha,” you whispered against her ear, your voice soft but commanding. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

It was all she needed. With a sharp cry, her body tensed, her muscles clenching tight around your fingers as she came hard, her release washing over her like a tidal wave. She gasped for air, her body shaking as you worked her through it, your fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was a trembling, panting mess.

When it was over, when her body finally stopped trembling, you pulled your fingers from her, a satisfied smirk tugging at your lips as you watched her slump against the door, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing now as you brushed a strand of hair from her face. Natasha shuddered at the praise, her heart still racing as she tried to catch her breath.

Before she could fully recover, you turned her around again, pressing her back against the door as your lips crashed against hers in a bruising, possessive kiss. Natasha moaned into your mouth, her hands gripping your shoulders, pulling you closer, her body still aching for more, even after the intense release you’d just given her.

Your hands roamed her body, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She shivered at your touch, her breath hitching as your hands moved higher, teasing the edges of her red corset.

“Do you want more?” you whispered against her lips, your voice dark and teasing.

Natasha nodded, her fingers tightening on your shoulders. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice soft and desperate.

She was still trembling, her breath ragged as she tried to recover, but you weren’t done with her yet. Not even close. You pulled back slightly, your lips brushing over her jawline, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her head fell back against the door with a soft thud, her skin flushed, pupils blown wide as she looked at you with a haze of lust clouding her gaze. You could see how desperate she was, how badly her body was craving more, needing to be filled.

Your hand slid down her thigh, strong fingers curling around her knee as you lifted her leg, pushing it up to her chest. The position opened her up to you in a way that made your mouth water, giving you the perfect view of her already slick and swollen entrance, quivering and glistening with arousal. Her panties had been soaked through long before, but you ripped them down her legs now, tossing them aside without a second thought. Natasha whimpered, her fingers clutching at your shoulders as her body arched, her hips instinctively pushing toward you, searching for the friction she so desperately needed.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and dark with desire as your hand travelled back up her thigh, tracing the sensitive skin with teasing slowness. “So fucking wet and ready for me.” You reached between your bodies, gripping the base of your strap as you positioned it at her entrance, the thick head brushing against her slick folds. Natasha’s breath hitched, her whole body tightening in anticipation, her hands curling into fists as she pressed back against the door, trying to steady herself.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely audible, but dripping with need. “Please, I need it.”

You gave a low, satisfied chuckle, your eyes never leaving hers as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear. “I know you do, sweetheart,” you whispered, your voice a low rasp that sent shivers down her spine. You nudged the strap forward slightly, just enough to let the tip press into her, but not enough to give her the relief she craved. Natasha whimpered, her hips bucking toward you, desperate to take more.

“Shh,” you cooed, tightening your grip on the back of her thigh as you pressed her knee further against her chest, opening her up even more. “I’ll give you what you need, but I want to hear you beg for it.”

Natasha bit her lip, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire, but she couldn’t deny how badly she wanted it—needed it. “Please,” she whispered again, her voice trembling. “Please, fuck me… I need it so bad.”

Your smirk widened, and without another word, you slowly pushed forward, the thick head of your strap finally pressing into her tight, wet heat. Natasha gasped, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her body jolted at the sudden intrusion. She was tight, impossibly tight, her walls clenching around the silicone in a way that made it difficult to press any deeper, but the resistance only made you want it more.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, her voice a high-pitched whine as you continued to push inside her, every inch stretching her further, forcing her to take more of you. “You’re—too big,” she panted, her head falling back against the door as her hips jerked forward, trying to accommodate the stretch.

“Shh,” you murmured against her neck, your lips grazing the sensitive skin as you gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You can take it, baby. I know you can.”

Natasha whimpered again, her walls fluttering and clenching around the thick strap, trying to pull it deeper, even though it was almost too much. You could see how tight she was, almost feel how every ridge and fake vein on the strap dragged against her slick walls, sending shivers of pleasure through her body with every inch you pushed inside. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, her chest heaving as she struggled to take more of you, her body trembling with the effort.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you groaned, your own voice strained with arousal as you finally bottomed out inside her, the base of the strap pressing against her soaked folds. Natasha cried out, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her hips jerked forward, trying to take you even deeper. She was stretched so wide around the strap, her walls clenching and pulsing around the intrusion, desperate for more.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and rough with desire as you glanced down at where your strap was buried deep inside her. The sight was sinful—Natasha’s leg pressed high against her chest, her pussy stretched around your thick strap, her slick juices coating the silicone and dripping down her thighs. “You look so fucking good taking all of this, baby.”

Natasha whimpered, her head tilting forward just enough to look down at the obscene sight between her legs. She could see the way her walls clenched around the strap, the way her slick arousal dripped down her thighs, and it made her body burn with embarrassment and desire. She was so full, so impossibly full, but she needed more—she needed you to move.

“Please,” she begged, her voice a high-pitched whine as her hips bucked forward, trying to get you to thrust inside her. “Please, I need you to move.”

Your smirk deepened, your other hand sliding up her thigh to grip her hip as you pulled back slightly, the thick strap dragging against her sensitive walls with agonising slowness. Natasha gasped, her whole body shuddering at the sensation, her head falling back against the door as her fingers dug into your shoulders.

“You’re so fucking tight,” you groaned, your voice low and breathless as you thrust back into her, the strap filling her once more. Natasha cried out, her body jolting at the sudden movement, her walls clenching around the silicone as you began to thrust into her with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Natasha’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, her body trembling as the pleasure built with every thrust. She was so full, so stretched, every inch of the strap dragging against her sensitive walls, making her burn with need. Her hips bucked against you, desperate for more, and you were all too happy to give it to her.

You quickened your pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the small room. Natasha’s cries grew louder, her hands clutching at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as her body shuddered with every thrust. Her walls clenched around the thick strap, trying to keep you buried deep inside her, but you kept up your relentless pace, fucking her harder, faster, until her whole body was trembling, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts.

“Fuck, you’re taking it so good,” you groaned, your voice rough with arousal as you watched the way her body shook, the way her pussy stretched around your strap.  Natasha’s leg was still raised high, your grip on her thigh unwavering, giving you that sinful view of her slick, swollen pussy stretched wide around the strap.

“Please,” Natasha whimpered, her voice a breathless moan as her body trembled beneath you. “Please, I’m so close.”

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear as you thrust into her even harder, the thick strap filling her completely, dragging against every sensitive inch of her walls. “Then come for me,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “I want to feel you come all over this strap.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, her body arching into you as the pleasure built to an unbearable level. And then, with one final, deep thrust, she shattered. A scream tore from her lips as her walls clenched tight around the strap, her whole body trembling as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her gasping for breath.

The moment Natasha came undone, her body arched beautifully against the door, trembling violently as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her walls clenched so tightly around the strap that you could feel the pressure even through the silicone, and the sight of her falling apart in your hands only fueled the fire raging inside you.

You didn’t let up, not even for a second.

With each pull of your hips, the fake veins on the strap dragged against her sensitive inner walls, teasing the oversensitive flesh until Natasha was nothing but a writhing, gasping mess. Her eyes rolled back, half-lidded with pleasure, and her lips parted in a soft, helpless moan every time you thrust back into her. You could feel the way she pulsed around the strap, her orgasm still crashing through her, each thrust prolonging the pleasure, edging her closer to that line between unbearable ecstasy and delicious torment.

“God, you’re so good for me,” you groaned, your breath hitching as you felt the silicone slip inside her once more, filling her to the hilt. Natasha whimpered, her head falling back against the door, her nails biting into your shoulders. Her leg quivered in your grasp, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how utterly wrecked she was beneath you.

With a low growl of satisfaction, you pressed her thigh even higher, opening her up even more, pushing her to the very limit of her flexibility. The new angle had the thick strap sinking impossibly deep, and Natasha gasped, her entire body jolting at the sensation. As her free leg instinctively wrapped around your waist, anchoring herself to you, you felt the shift in her balance—she had nothing keeping her standing anymore, fully depending on you.

“Fuck!” Natasha cried out, her voice cracking as you pulled back and slammed forward again, the wet sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room. “I— I can’t— it’s too much!” You pressed her up against the door even more, using your strength to hold her in place as her body trembled under the onslaught of pleasure, the desperation in her voice only igniting your need for her further.

Her whimpers were nearly incoherent, her face flushed with exertion, but you could see the glint of desire still lingering in her eyes. She was teetering on the edge of overstimulation, but you knew she craved every second of it. She wanted to feel all of it—the stretch, the burn, the fullness. The way the strap forced her walls to accommodate the thickness, how each and every detail of your faux-cock dragged along her inner muscles, heightening her pleasure with each stroke.

"You take it so well, baby," you cooed, your voice dripping with confidence and dominance. "You’re doing so well. Look at you—fucking yourself on my strap like this."

Her breath hitched again at your words, a shiver of arousal rolling through her already trembling body. She was utterly at your mercy, and you loved it. You loved how she fought against the overwhelming pleasure, how she clenched so desperately around the strap, trying to draw it deeper into her slick heat. Her need for more, despite the delicious torment, was written all over her flushed face, her parted lips, her half-lidded eyes filled with lust and desperation.

You picked up your pace again, your hips snapping forward with a relentless rhythm that had Natasha gasping for air, her nails scraping down your back as she arched off the door, her body shuddering with each deep, powerful thrust.

“Oh god—oh fuck,” she whimpered, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The leg wrapped around you trembled, barely able to hold on as her body shook under the intense pleasure you were giving her. Her thighs were slick with her arousal, her pussy dripping with how desperately wet she was, and you couldn’t help but groan at the sight of her coming undone again and again.

“Good girl,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips to her ear. “Look at yourself. Look at how fucking good you look with my cock buried inside you.”

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze hazy as she glanced down between your bodies. The sight made her moan—a deep, breathless sound that sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through her. She could see it—the thick, veined strap disappearing into her, stretching her wide, her swollen folds glistening with her arousal. Every thrust made her slick pussy tighten around the silicone, and the sight of it only spurred you on.

You adjusted your grip on her thigh, pulling her leg even higher, pushing her closer to the door as you thrust harder, deeper, the wet sound of her slick arousal mixing with her breathless moans.

“Oh god—fuck!” Natasha cried out, her walls fluttering violently around the strap as you drove her toward yet another climax. “I— I’m gonna—fuck, please don’t stop!”

Her entire body tensed, her head falling back against the door as she teetered on the edge of another orgasm. Her walls clenched around the strap, trying to milk every inch of it as you thrust into her with a brutal, unforgiving force.

“That’s it,” you groaned, your voice low and commanding as you felt her walls begin to spasm around the strap, her breath hitching as her climax built. “Come for me again, Natasha.”

With one final, hard thrust, Natasha shattered, her entire body jerking as a scream ripped from her throat. Her walls clamped down around the thick silicone, pulsing wildly as her orgasm tore through her, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. She was trembling, gasping for air as her body convulsed beneath you, her slick juices dripping down her thighs, soaking both of you.

You kept thrusting into her, slow and deep, prolonging her pleasure as you rode out her orgasm with her. Natasha’s body jerked with each thrust, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts as her hands clung to your shoulders, trying to ground herself in the overwhelming sensation.

When her trembling finally began to subside, you slowed your pace, easing her leg down from where it had been pressed against her chest, her body slumping against you in exhaustion. Her head fell against your shoulder, her breath hot and ragged against your skin as you gently pulled out of her, the slick strap glistening with her release.

As Natasha’s trembling body sagged against you, her breath still coming in ragged bursts, you could feel the way her grip on your shoulders loosened and her leg let go of your waist. The aftermath of her climax left her shaky, her muscles quivering from the overwhelming pleasure you’d just wrung from her body. But even in her exhausted state, you could sense her lingering need. It simmered beneath her flushed skin, a wantonness that never quite faded, even when she was wrecked like this.

Without a word, Natasha sank down, her legs buckling as she willingly dropped to her knees. The sight alone was enough to send a fresh surge of heat coursing through you—Natasha, her thighs glistening with her release, her hair dishevelled, and her lips parted as she knelt between your legs. Her eyes, half-lidded and dark with desire, flickered up to meet yours, a silent plea for permission lingering in her gaze.

Your hand instinctively found its way to her cheek, fingers brushing across the warm skin as you gently tilted her face up. Her lips ghosted over your knuckles, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin before she shifted her focus downward. Her gaze dropped to the strap still glistening between your legs, slick with her arousal, and you could see the hunger spark in her eyes.

“Natasha…” you whispered, your voice thick with a mixture of affection and desire.

But she didn’t need any further encouragement. Her hands, still trembling slightly, reached for the base of the strap, steadying it as she licked her lips. The tip was soaked in her juices, glistening under the soft light, and Natasha stared at it for a moment, almost mesmerised by the evidence of her own pleasure. Then, with a soft moan, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of the strap, sucking it into her mouth with slow, deliberate movements.

You groaned softly, your hand moving to rest on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as you watched her work. Natasha’s tongue swirled around the head of the strap, tasting herself on the silicone, her mouth moving in languid strokes as she took more of it into her mouth. Her release coated her lips, shining as she sucked the slickness off, moaning low in her throat as she worked to clean the strap.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her focus entirely on the task at hand as she bobbed her head, her lips stretching around the girth. You could feel the pressure of her movements even through the toy, the way she sucked and licked with such dedication. It was intoxicating—the sight of her on her knees, her mouth filled again with your strap, the faint, almost sinful sound of her moans vibrating against the silicone as she sucked her own release off of it.

“My good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and full of praise. “Look at you…so eager to clean up after yourself.”

Natasha whimpered in response, the sound muffled as her mouth slid down further on the strap, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. Her hands came up to cradle the base, stroking it gently as her tongue flicked over the veined surface, cleaning every ridge, every dip, savouring the taste of herself.

You could feel her submission in every movement, the way she surrendered completely to this moment. Her mouth moved with such deliberate care, as if this was another way of showing her devotion, her gratitude for the pleasure you’d given her. The way she worshipped the strap was almost reverent, her tongue lapping up every drop of her arousal, cleaning it with slow, sensual strokes.

“Does it taste good?” you asked softly, your fingers tightening slightly in her hair.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking with yours as she pulled back just enough to speak, her lips still wrapped around the head of the strap.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice hoarse with lust. “So good…”

And with that, she took the strap deeper, moaning as her mouth stretched again to accommodate it. The sight was almost too much—her lips wrapped around the thick girth, her tongue working tirelessly to clean it, her eyes dark and hooded with lust as she looked up at you, completely at your mercy.

You couldn’t resist. With a low growl, you tightened your grip on her hair and gently guided her head forward, watching as more of the strap disappeared into her mouth. Natasha didn’t hesitate, didn’t resist. She eagerly followed your lead, sinking down on the strap with a soft, muffled moan as she took it deeper, her tongue swirling around the silicone as she sucked harder.

The wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working the strap echoed in the room, mingling with her soft whimpers of pleasure. Each time she pulled back, her lips glistened with slickness, her saliva mixing with the remnants of her release as she diligently cleaned the strap. The sight, the sounds, the intoxicating feel of her submission—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but groan in response. It felt so different from just twenty minutes ago, the air now thick with an emotional tension that left both you and her craving more.

“Such a good girl…” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “You love this, don’t you? Love tasting yourself on my cock like this?”

Natasha moaned again, her eyes rolling back slightly as she nodded, her mouth still full of the strap. Her fingers tightened around the base, her tongue swirling with renewed intensity as she sucked harder, her moans vibrating against the silicone in a way that had your own breath hitching in your throat.

You tugged her hair gently, pulling her back just enough to see her flushed, eager face, her lips even more swollen and slick from her efforts. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with lust and devotion, and the sight of her—completely wrecked, completely at your mercy—made your heart race.

“Finish it, once more,” you whispered, your voice soft but commanding. “Clean it all up, baby.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, and with one last, eager moan, she sank down again, taking the strap as deep as she could, her lips stretched tight around the girth. Her tongue worked tirelessly, lapping up the last remnants of her release, her fingers stroking the base as she cleaned every inch of the strap with slow, deliberate care.

By the time she finally pulled back, the strap was glistening with nothing but her saliva. She looked up at you, her eyes hazy with pleasure, her mouth hanging open slightly as she panted for oxygen.

Natasha’s chest heaved, her lips still glistening as she knelt before you, a blend of exhaustion and determination in her eyes. Her body was clearly spent, trembling from the intensity of everything that had just unfolded, yet even in her weary state, a flicker of something more shone through. That relentless desire, the insatiable need to please you, to reciprocate the pleasure you had so generously given her, burned bright within her. It was as if the connection between you two transcended the physical, igniting a fire that she couldn't ignore.

With a shaky breath, Natasha reached for the harness still strapped to your hips. Her fingers, though trembling from exhaustion, worked quickly to undo the buckles, each one coming undone with a soft click. You could feel her need—this wasn’t just about giving; it was about showing you that she was still capable, that she could offer you more. Her eyes met yours briefly, the unspoken plea for permission lingering in their depths before she yanked the harness off completely.

Without a word, she tossed it behind you, the strap landing on the floor with a dull thud, completely forgotten. What mattered now was you—your pleasure, your release.

“Natasha, you don’t have to…” you started to say, but your words were cut short as she leaned forward, her hands gripping your thighs with surprising strength, anchoring you in place.

“I want to,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but resolute. “I need to.”

Before you could protest further, Natasha dove in, her mouth finding you with an eagerness that made your breath hitch. Her lips latched onto your sensitive folds, tongue immediately parting you as she licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your centre, savouring every inch of your heat. A low moan escaped your lips, and as soon as Natasha heard that first sound of pleasure, it was like a spark ignited within her.

She dove in deeper, her tongue working you with relentless precision, swirling and flicking against your most sensitive spots, teasing and tasting in a way that had your head thudding against the door in front of you. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread open for her as she devoured you like she couldn’t get enough. Each stroke of her tongue, each gentle nip of her lips, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and it didn’t take long before you were moaning openly, your hand tangling in her messy hair as you rocked your hips against her mouth.

“Fuck, Natasha…” you gasped, your voice thick with lust and awe. “Just like that…”

Your praise only fueled her further. Every moan, every word of encouragement that slipped past your lips made her work harder, her tongue moving faster, her lips sucking greedily at your clit. She was completely lost in it, lost in the way you responded to her touch, in the way your body trembled beneath her mouth. It was like she couldn’t get enough of your taste, couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made—the way you were falling apart for her.

And as you moaned her name again, louder this time, Natasha whimpered softly against you, her hips involuntarily bucking as if she could feel every ounce of pleasure you were experiencing. The connection between the two of you was palpable, an unspoken bond that seemed to tether your bodies together, each of your reactions sending waves of sensation through both of you.

She could hear the way your breath hitched, feel the way your thighs clenched around her head, and it drove her wild. Your pleasure was her pleasure, your release was her reward. Natasha’s own arousal was building again, the slickness between her thighs only intensifying as she tasted you, her own body responding to the rhythm of your moans, the raw, unfiltered sounds of your ecstasy.

“Oh fuck–Natasha…” Your breath was ragged, your body on the edge, teetering precariously close to that release she was so desperate to give you.

With a final flick of her tongue and a deep, sucking pull at your clit, you came undone. The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, pulling you under in a flood of overwhelming pleasure. Your hands clenched in her hair as your back arched off, your thighs squeezing her head tight as you cried out, your voice echoing through the room in breathless, blissful moans.

Natasha didn’t stop. Even as you writhed above her, she kept her mouth on you, lapping up every drop of your release, savouring every moan, every tremor of your body as you rode out your orgasm. And as you came, something shifted in her—something broke free inside her.

She felt it—the sudden, uncontrollable surge of pleasure that washed over her as your moans hit their peak. It was the mere sight of you, the way you fell apart for her, the way your body shook with pleasure, the way you moaned her name like she was the only thing that mattered that set it off.

Her own release hit her like a lightning strike, her body going rigid as her climax overtook her without warning. Natasha gasped, her mouth still pressed against you as she came, the shock of her own orgasm freezing her in place. The pleasure ripped through her, stealing her breath, her thighs quivering uncontrollably as she came just from the sight of you.

She pulled back from you slightly, her lips still wet with your release, her eyes wide with disbelief as her body shook with the aftershocks of her own unexpected orgasm. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her mind reeling from what had just happened. You were both wrapped in the warmth of the moment when suddenly, your phone rang loudly in the silence.

You reached for it, reluctantly pulling away from Natasha’s gaze. “Yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes, Pepper,” you replied, your voice a mix of disappointment and urgency.

Natasha smiled softly at you, a bittersweet feeling bubbling up inside her as she leaned into your touch, your hand gently stroking her cheek. There was a warmth in the gesture that made her heart flutter, an affirmation of the bond that had just blossomed between you two. She felt seen, cherished, even amidst the whirlwind of everything that had just transpired.

“Tell him to prepare some dessert,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I haven’t had the chance to have mine here. Hopefully next time I will, the menu looks promising.”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as she caught the glimmer of mischief in your eyes. You could see her heart racing, a delightful mix of embarrassment and exhilaration washing over her. The intimate nature of your exchange lingered in the air, and the thought of your teasing words sent a rush of warmth through her.

“Next time,” she echoed softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as the realisation settled in that you would be back for her.

With a final glance at her, you turned to leave, a flutter of anticipation sparking between you two. As you made your way towards the door, Natasha’s eyes followed you, filled with longing and excitement for what lay ahead. And as you stepped outside, you left behind the strap, a tangible reminder of your connection, a symbol of what you had shared.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Natasha alone in the room, her heart racing as she thought about everything that had just happened. She picked up the strap, feeling its weight in her hands, and a wicked smile spread across her lips.

She couldn’t wait for your return. She was already crafting ideas for the next time you’d come back, each thought fueling her desire for you even more. Because this was only the beginning, and she was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that you would both find your way back to each other, intertwined by the widow’s lace.

[immortalmrwavell]

Getting The Job

(Original story posted November 7th 2021. Original story title “Better Life, Cop Life”) This story has been mildly Updated!

Recently Eric’s life had been going down the drain. First he split up with his boyfriend Jake after discovering he was cheating. Then he lost his job due to staff cuts. And to top it off he then lost his old apartment since it was all in Jake’s name. Now his ex was living in their old place with the guy he cheated with while Eric was struggling to find a new job while living in the cheapest apartment he could find. As he applied for shitty job after job he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve all this? Was it all some kind of cruel universal joke?

As he was job hunting, one of the positions that popped up was a job at a small clothing shop called “Threads for Life”. The description of the job itself was extremely vague but he assumed it would just be retail. Working a till and serving customers etc. So he applied.

Surprisingly they were the first to get back to him about his application and in such a short time frame as well. They emailed asking for him to come in for an interview. Of course Eric accepted. Why wouldn’t he? The only weird thing was how close this shop seemed to be. It was just down the road from his old apartment and still rather close to his current one but he could swear he’d never seen or heard of the shop before. He just chalked it up to him being unobservant and forgetful.

On the day of the interview Eric found the shop just where it was said to be. Even after seeing it though, nothing clicked. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t here before. He shook the odd feeling off however as he stepped up to the front door perfectly on time and looking his best.

Upon entering he was greeted by a middle aged man who introduced himself as the owner of the establishment, Tony. The two exchange greetings before Tony ushered Eric to follow him. Eric expected to be taken immediately to an office but instead Tony simply walked through the many isles of clothing with him while chatting casually about the shop and its history.

Before Eric had assumed this to be a simple clothes shop. One that sold shirts, pants and all the rest like most other shops. And it did. But something Eric was quick to notice was how most of the clothes seemed to be matched together in outfits. Rather than being separated into different sections, almost all the clothes in the shop had already been prematched. There were plenty of casual combos like t-shirts and jeans or shorts and tank tops however as they moved from aisle to aisle there were a very noticeable amount of clothes that seemed more like costumes.

Some were more understandable like suits. But a lot of the others?… Eric took note of medical scrubs, fireman uniforms, motorcycle gear, handyman clothes, police uniforms, cowboy costumes, construction clothes and so much more. Eric also couldn’t help noting that none of the clothes seemed to be marketed towards women. He supposed the shop specialised in men’s attire specifically. Still he couldn’t help but find the layout of the store to be… strange.

“Soooo… Eric was it? Before I can give you a job. I want to ask you a couple questions.” The owner said as he sat down on a cushioned stool near the back of the shop, prompting Eric to do the same.

Eric of course agreed to this as questions were standard procedure for almost any interview so he was ready for it..

“Okay first question then. Growing up, did you ever have any dreams of who you’d eventually become? What job you’d want to strive for? What kind of man you’d want to become?” Tony asked.

It was a strange question for sure but Eric still pondered it for a moment before answering. “Well I don’t think I was ever dead set on anything but I remember wanting to be something along the lines of a fireman… or a police officer maybe?”

Tony nodded, seeming pleased with that answer. “Okay then second question. Are you content with the current direction your life has taken or would you still like to fulfill that childhood dream if you could?”

Eric chuckled at the bizarre question. “Well… my life hasn’t exactly been going in a good direction recently. If I could change some things I would. But if you’re asking me whether I’d wanna become a cop then… I just don’t think I have what it takes.” He gestured down at his body. “I’m thin and lanky. Don’t really go to the gym that much and I’m not all that good with confrontation. To be honest I just don’t think I have the right mindset to be a cop you know?” Eric huffed before looking back up at the owner. “And no offense but what does that have to do with me working here?”

Tony didn’t answer at first. He just smiled before standing back up again. The owners eyes glanced around the store, mainly at all the costumes and then turned back to Eric.

“Alright. I think I can give you a job.”

Eric was surprised when he heard that. All he’d done was answer two silly questions. He tried to query as to how those questions even mattered but Tony simply asked Eric to follow him. Confused as ever, Eric did just that.

The pair made their way back down the isles of outfits. They passed by the suits, doctors scrubs and all the other costumes yet again. Only the weird thing was now that Eric was getting a closer look at them, he started to notice how real the costumes looked. They weren’t just silly fake costumes you’d wear to a party. They were the real deal! Actually looking as though they belonged to real firemen and real doctors. Even the tradie outfits looked dirty as if they’d been used for actual tradie work.

Tony stopped in front of the police uniforms. Eric was quick to notice just how real those looked as well. Not just uniform but genuine looking police badges as well. Not to mention the radio, utility belt and even a body cam that all looked completely real. As if they’d been taken directly from actual cops and put on display.

“Pick one.” Was all Tony said.

“What? Seriously?” Eric was baffled. This had to be some kind of joke right?

“Oh come on. Humour me a little. Pick one out.” Tony urged, patting Eric on the back. “Though if I were you I’d certainly pick that one.” The shop owner pointed out a specific uniform amongst the selection. Eric didn’t really see why it’d matter which one he chose as they mostly looked the same anyway.

Eric sighed. “Fine, I’ll pick that one then. Now what? Want me to go try it on.” He joked only to be met by an affirming nod from Tony.

“Changing rooms are just over there.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at the man but decided what the hell. He took the uniform off the rack along with the equipment. Tony then picked up the large black boots and placed them on top of the uniform in Eric’s hands. Eric shook his head as he turned and walked off towards the changing rooms.

He shut the blue curtain behind as he stepped into one of the stalls. It was a fair bit bigger than he’d expected it to be. Eric sat the uniform down on the bench before striping himself down to his boxer briefs. After setting his own clothes to one side, he began to get dressed in the police uniform.

First thing he did was pull on the pants which he found to be rather baggy. He sat down to prevent them from falling as he grabbed the shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it up. He made sure to tuck it into his pants before grabbing the utility belt and strapping firmly around his waist. He still couldn’t believe it had a real taser attached to it and everything. Lastly Eric slid his feet into the heavy black boots which were clearly a couple sizes too large.

With that Eric stood up to take a look in the mirror. He looked ridiculous. The uniform was far too big and baggy on him. He looked like he was playing dress up more than anything. He slid his hands into his pockets as looked at himself a little more, amused by the uniform. Though as his hands dug around in the pockets, he realised something was in one of them. It was small and metallic. Eric pulled it out to reveal a name tag with “J. Desmond” engraved on it. Jokingly Eric decided to pin it to his shirt for a laugh.

Eric shook his head again at how silly this all was. Why had Tony made him put this one anyway? With a shrug he was just about to start taking the uniform off, not wanting to look stupid when he stepped out of the changing room. But before he could even start unbuttoning the shirt, he began to feel…weird. Like a warm wave of pure pleasure began flowing over him. A wave so incredible that he almost didn’t notice his body starting to change.

His upper body was first to see a transformation. His back widening significantly as his flat chest began to bubble and swell into two thick hefty pecs. Pecs that grew larger until they started to strain his shirt slightly. The same shirt that’d been hanging loosely off his frame moments ago now starting to fill out at an alarming rate. Especially as his shoulders bulged to the size of cannon balls while his traps grew to match. His waist grew larger but tighter at the same time as fat melted away in place of pure raw muscle. Showing itself even more so in the form of abs. They weren’t chiseled washboard abs, they were thicker and softer than that but still impressive all the same.

But his arms. They were what really caught Eric’s attention. Partly thanks to the cop shirt he was wearing being a short sleeve which gave him a full view of their transformation. He got to watch as veins pulsed across his skinny twig-like arms as though they were being pumped full of unseen energy. And then with pain or warning they started to swell. His previously non existent biceps began hulking into reality as the muscle beneath his skin inflated. It should’ve been impossible. Seemingly gaining mass from nothing. But his eyes witnessed it all. His forearms expanded rapidly while his hands cracked and thickened. His biceps continued to balloon with power and size until they stretched his sleeves. Only then did they finally stop. His veins subsided as his arms reached their new colossal size.

His upper body might’ve been massive now but his lower body was getting ready to catch up. Eric’s waist and hips had already widened enough for the waist of the cop pants to fit securely. Now it was his legs turn to catch up.

In seconds they put on an unbelievable amount of sheer muscle mass. It was as though someone had plugged an air pump into his legs and started filling them up. But it wasn’t air. It was pure real muscle. Eric couldn’t help but groan a little as his pants began to feel tighter. He leaned against the wall of the cubicle for support as his thighs and calves continued to bloat thicker and more powerful by the second. The once baggy cop pants now fit him like a glove. But it wasn’t just his legs. His backside started to swell as well. His once average butt growing into a juicy muscular bubble ass that strained against the back of his pants perfectly. Not to mention his feet cracking and lengthening similar to hands. Growing multiple sizes until they fit perfectly inside the black cop boots he had on.

When the next change kicked in, Eric’s eyes widened as one of his hands instinctively flew towards his crotch. Grabbing his bulge tightly as even that began to swell and grow. His eyes began to roll back as his cock snaked down one his legs, growing girthier in the process. Meanwhile his balls followed suit as they bloated into fat heavy nuts full to the brim with cum.

His body was complete but his head still had to change. A stinging sensation came over his face as it started to morph. The shape of his head and all of his features altering dramatically until he was unrecognisable from the man he once was. His new look being much sharper and masculine in a way that would’ve screamed high school jock had he been a little younger. All the while the light stubble he’d always carried grew into more of a short well kept beard while the messy mid length hair he adorned shortened into faded crew cut.

“Fuuuuuck…” Eric groaned as the transformation subsided at last. There was a clear difference in his voice. It must’ve been altered with the rest of his body. He found himself looking back into the mirror with amazement. No longer was he that scrawny pale figure of a man he’d seen reflected all his life. Now he was… buff. Really buff! And hot as fuck!. It was unreal. The uniform that was more or less falling off him moments ago now clung to him as though he were made for it. He couldn’t stop himself from running his hands up and down his torso, feeling a set of strong abs hiding under his shirt before drifting back up to squeeze his power new pecs through the fabric. He never thought he’d actually have fucking pecs but here he was now! Groping and kneading them.

In all the excitement his cock began to firm up. Eric could feel the blood rushing to his crotch as his growing erection created a clear outline in his pants. He smirked as he brought both hands down towards his crotch. Gently he rubbed his hands across the length of his dick through his pants.

Eric looked back into the mirror before bringing both arms up into flex. His already hard cock twitched at the sight of his biceps bulging, threatening to rip his sleeves in the process. The strength he felt flowing through his arms… No, his whole body was intoxicating! With his left hand Eric proceeded to grasp and squeeze his right bicep. It seemed impossible, like he was living in a lucid dream!

Just then Eric thought of something he’d always wished he could do. He’d never been buff enough to do it before. But now? He lowered his arms to his sides, stood up straight before flexing his chest. His pecs bounced. Eric’s eyes widened in amazement at the sight of his new muscle tits jumping underneath the shirt. He bounced them a few more times before cupping them again with a sense of pure wonder flowing through him. “These feel fucking amazing…”

Once he’d finished admiring his pecs, Eric remembered something else that’d grown. He turned his back to the mirror and looked behind. His cock twitched extra hard this time as he caught sight of his muscular new cop butt straining against his uniform pants. He couldn’t help himself. Before long his greedy hands were reaching back and grasping at his thick bubbly ass. “Oooohh fuuck.” He growled, feeling just how hefty they were. “My ass is fucking huge!…” Eric murmured aloud, lost in the pleasure. So lost in fact that he didn’t even notice Tony peering through the curtains. Watching with a horny gaze as Eric squeezed and groped his fat new ass. Even watching as Eric went as far as to place his hands just under his ass cheeks and start jiggling them, dumbly laughing as he did.

Eric felt his cock pulsing and bucking uncontrollably as he played with his cop butt. So much so that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Soon enough he spun back around to face the mirror again before unzipping his pants. Tony continued to creep in on the show while Eric shoved a hand into his underwear, struggling to free his erection. With a little effort however Eric was able to let out a satisfied sigh as his girthy python sprung free. The thing must’ve been around 9 inches long and insanely thick. It was every man’s dream cock.

A slapping noise could be heard from the changing rooms as Eric began smacking his cock against his hand while he admired it. Every smack sent a pleasurable shiver through his body. He had to stroke it. He was just able to wrap his hand around its full girth before he started to pump. It had to have been at least three times more sensitive than his old cock as Eric couldn’t stop cursing while he pumped it.

He began to jerk faster as he looked over his new body in the mirror again. His handsome bearded face and buff body. How thick his legs were. How buff his arms had become. How massive his chest had grown. Just looking at it all reflected back at him allowed him to jerk off furiously. He then looked down at his cock. He loved seeing it. Soooo thick and excited as some precum started to drip from the tip. With how sensitive it was and intensely he was pumping it, Eric could tell he was gonna to blow any moment.

He turned to his left, getting a perfect side view of his body. He couldn’t help but fixate on how much his ass stood out. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching his free hand back towards it again. Before long he was groping his ass and jerking his cock all at the same time. The new cop was having the time of his goddamn life!

“Fuuuuuuuccck!” That was enough to send him over the edge. Tony, who was still watching, saw Eric's ass clench and his cock erupt with an enormous load. One so big that it shit cum all over the benches adjacent to the new cop as well as his old and now ill fitting clothes. His cock continued to buck and twitch for a good few moments afterwards. Shooting a few more times as it covered the floor in front of him with cum.

“See. I knew you’d like that one.” Tony finally made himself known as he pulled back the curtain.

Eric whipped around, still panting a little. “Fuck I… my deepest apologies sir… I couldn’t stop myself.” He tried to reason.

“No need to apologise Officer.” Tony smirked as he glanced down at Eric’ softening cock, still dripping cum. “Most find it hard to contain themselves after what you just went through. So no need to worry. I’ll even get it cleaned up for ya.” The store manager smiled innocently.

“Officer?…” Eric repeated what the other man had said to him as though it weren’t the truth. It sounded weird and off putting to hear someone call him that. So why did it sound so right at the same time?

“Well you are a Cop now. Officer James Desmond to be precise, so you better get used to hearing it.” Tony nodded towards the name tag that was pinned to Eric’s shirt.

Hearing that name triggered something inside Eric. Memories of being Cop flooded his mind along with a bunch of other unfamiliar memories. He still remembered who he used to be but now he had a whole new life filling his head that made his old one feel like a fleeting dream. A new life as Officer James Desmond.

“Thank you sir. You have no idea how grateful I am for all this…” James stated, his new manners kicking in right away. Immediately after he tucked his fat new cock back into his pants before pulling up the zip. “But I’ve got to be back at the station in half an hour.”

“No worries Officer! I completely understand. You head off and I’ll be sure to get all your ball batter cleaned. Might take me a while though.” Tony joked, earning a chuckle from James.

“Heh sorry sir. Got myself a pair of bull balls down here.” James gave his crotch a quick squeeze. “Well I’m off. If you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask for me down at the staton.” He said, passing by Tony as he exited the changing cubicle.

“Oh don’t worry I will.” Tony replied, giving James’ ass a smack as he passed. He continued to watch James’ ass shake as he sauntered away up until the sexy new cop reached the front door.

James hopped into his car, not even noticing it’d been morphed into a cop car, before starting up the engine. As he drove towards the station he couldn’t help but daydream about plunging his cock into some other hot cop’s ass or having another cop fuck his new bubble butt. Surely some of his buddies down at the station would be down for some fun. According to his memories he seemed to recall catching his own partner checking out his ass a couple times…

Back at the shop. “Another life bettered and another hot stud on the streets. A pretty good day I’d say” Tony sighed to himself with a smile before turning back towards the changing room. Looking over at the huge mess of Cop nut he now had to clean. “Well… best get to work.”

[occamstfs]

Start-Up

Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.

Couldn't let all these other authors have all this fun without me! Here's my own take on the theme of Viral Transformation! Now I did muddy the waters a bit by setting my virus story at a social media start up but I think it works haha! Do check out the stories by all the other amazing writers who took part!!! -Occam

There was something strange going on in the city today and Gabriel wasn’t quite sure what the cause was. It’s not like there’s a commotion or anything, on the contrary; the streets were quiet but there was just something sinister in the air. He works for a new social media start-up in the wake of most of the big platforms collapsing, succinctly named Web. Gabriel didn’t have a ton of faith in the app and was growing increasingly tired of dealing with the CEO’s inane demands but hey, as long as checks keep clearing.

Reuben’s, said CEO’s, most recent crusade was banning the use of any competing sites or networks on company property, which unfortunately includes Gabriel’s personal devices. Who knew start-ups could be so draconian, though when the rich boy in charge has a fleet of lawyers and the lowly programmer just needs to make ends meet that’s how it goes it seems. All this to say, Web is thus far incredibly unsuccessful as a news platform and poor Gabriel is unable to see the chaos going on in the city behind closed doors as he walks into work.

The programmer artfully misses chyrons scrolling past telling all men to stay indoors and not to make unnecessary journeys as he mindlessly scrolls on the app he has spent countless hours producing. “Ugh.” Gabriel rolls his eyes as he sees post after post from thoughtless gym bros. Reuben swears this is a massive demographic for them but the programmer has constantly spoken up to the contrary. What could they possibly gain by making yet another platform for men who could barely read. Any indulgence or encouragement towards this demographic was sure to push away more reasonable, serious people.  

Eyes still glued to his phone in search of any shred of news, Gabriel doesn’t notice the state of the receptionist as he wanders past to take the elevator up to the office, “Morning Ron.” Only after a few seconds with no response does the coder finally tear his eyes away to see the young man in quite a disheveled state. He chokes back a gasp as he sees Ron quickly remove the hand that was shoved in his pants as he too only just notices the presence of his fellow man, “UHH Morning Gabe- I was just uhhh, getting something out of my pocket?” His rapid movement sends the sound of fabric tearing through the air as whatever remains of the button up he was wearing falls in pieces to the floor.

Desperate to put this encounter behind himself Gabriel mashes the close door button in the elevator. “Ron can’t have been masturbating just now.” he assures his reflection in the elevator doors. “He’s a good kid, smart kid.” He says of the man maybe five years his junior. Still, at the very least Gabriel is surprised that he came to work wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit? He can’t help but summon the intimate look at Ron’s body he just received and can’t imagine how the receptionist bulked up so quickly? He can’t think of a single occasion of Ron mentioning going to the gym. 

Elevator clicking ever upwards he figures Reuben must be to blame, first he wants lunkheads using our app and then he convinces employees to waste time at the gym. Ah! That stupid gym! Gabriel punches a fist into his own palm as in the back of his mind he remembers the CEO taking up valuable office space to create a company gym for any employees to make use of. One of the many ‘benefits’ of working on Web. “God I hate startups.”

The elevator doors clink open and Gabriel exits to find the office space seems to be a ghost town. No one is using cubicles and he only sees a few of his fellow department heads have made it in so far. He grumbles to himself, “God-damnit if today could have been work from home I’m leaving now…” Despite his irritation, he enters his office and immediately starts getting to work. Waiting on his desk is a short list of suggestions on how to improve the platform from Rueben, which he promptly discards with little ado. Checking his own to-do list for the day he finds a one on one scheduled with one of the few coworkers he actually respects, Alexander Blainely, head of marketing. 

Most of the other executives were yes men, but Alexander seems to have an actual head on his shoulders. Gabriel always finds their meetings far more stimulating and productive than most other drudgery that goes on in this office. Returning into the open workspace, Gabriel shivers as he feels something in the air yet again. Completely unplaceable, it’s almost certainly nothing, but he remains on edge. His discomfort only grows as he nears his friend’s office and his hitherto directionless uneasiness finds a source. Hearing somethin a little more than disconcerting he whispers under his breath, “what the fuck? Is that moaning?” 

Barely audible when he shuts the door of his own office and wanders into the otherwise silent suite, it increases in volume with each step towards that of Alexander’s quarters. Gabriel grits his teeth and rages in his own mind for trusting anyone in this god-forsaken venture to treat their job with a shred of dignity. Arriving at the door and confirming that the man is clearly exerting himself somehow with a clear disregard to decency in their shared workspace, Gabriel scrunches his face and takes a deep breath. Hesitating at the thought of catching someone he had thought was a compatriot in flagrante delicto, his ire overcomes his usual prudence and he barges in. Never could he be prepared for the sight that awaited him.

Alexander sits on his work desk masturbating with his eyes closed as he rapturously traces over a muscular body that Gabriel flat out knows he has never had before today. Tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping with drool as if he were a dog, Gabriel can’t help but loose a gasp as he sees with every pump of his cock, with every fervent breath and heady gasp from Alex, his body is continuing to change. 

Seconds pass and his skin browns with an unnatural tan under the LED lights in his office. Meanwhile he continues to surge larger, biceps already larger than when Gabriel stumbled in, the head of marketing’s shoulders pack on muscle as his neck thickens and his whole torso widens with strength. Thighs bulge meatier as his cock quivers higher, stretching inches further into the air as his already massive balls pulse larger. Gabriel’s gasp announcing his presence, the masturbating man opens his eyes and, almost as if it were a defense mechanism he loses control and cums.

Gabriel can’t tear his eyes away from the titan at the moment of his release. Every already massive muscle on his body expands as veins bulge out from the clear stress of the transformation. As load after load shoots out in inhumanly quick succession, Gabriel freezes as he sees facial hair and body hair that somehow already looks shaved begins to decorate his beyond masculine form. Sweat glistening off the man’s sculpted body makes him aware of the aura of musk that has clearly been filling this room, one that is impossibly similar to the general malaise that he has been assailing his senses all morning. Finally realizing what is happening in front of him, Gabriel slams the door shut and sprints down the hall, accompanied by nothing but his own gasps of exertion. 

He doesn’t take a second to think until he’s safe back in the sanctum of his office. The only place since this morning where he hasn’t felt the dreadful haze that he only just became totally aware of. Hopefully safe here, he allows himself a moment of reflection, connecting his brief encounter with Ron and his unfortunate meeting with what can’t have been Alexander. “Fuck it.” He starts to pull out his cell to check the news but before he can make any progress, he realizes there is something warm and sticky on his shirt. Looking down to see what it is he immediately drops his phone and tears off his suit. God. Some of that must-be imposter’s cum got on his button up. He throws the shirt away and scrubs at his skin where the man’s fluids got on him with fury. Using hand sanitizer like it’s a cure he scrubs and scratches until his skin burns red and raw. 

After he’s confident he’s done all he can to remove any trace of Alex from his body, Gabriel grabs the backup shirt he keeps in his desk for just an occasion as this. Or rather, in case he spills coffee on himself or some other accident that makes sense at all. His mind craving any degree of normalcy the thought of coffee stays with him. Oliver should be making it in about now. His pulse begins to quicken as he feels concern for the intern, in fact it’s racing far faster a tempo than it usually reaches at its most accelerate. Putting his hand on his wrist as concern for himself eclipses that of Oliver he finds both come to a head as his door opens and he falls out of his chair in shock.

“Jesus Oliver, knock next time!” The programmer shouts cowering behind his desk. Oliver quickly sets down his handful of mugs and goes to help his boss up, “So sorry Gabe! I just saw you were in and you usually don’t mind at all.” Standing up, Gabriel inches behind the intern and quietly closes the door, he looks Oliver up and down for anything out of the ordinary. “Are you, feeling alright Ollie?” The man purses his lips and pats himself down, clearly not in the same headspace of his usually stoic boss, “Well, I believe I am sir? Is, uhm, everything alright with you?” Oliver’s eyes flicker around the room seeing the discarded clothes and taking note of his boss sweating more than usual. In fact Oliver isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the man really sweat at all, “Did you want me to switch for an iced coffee?”

Gabriel rubs his face and is similarly shocked to find himself sweating, “Ugh. I think this job might be getting to me. Have you seen anyone else in the office today?” Oliver puffs his cheeks and looks at the mugs he set aside, “No actually? Now that you mention it, Ronnie wasn’t even downstairs which seemed weird. I mean he’s always on that grind to try and impress Rueben.” Gabe scratched his beard and grimaced, usually he’s quite adept at compartmentalizing, it’s how he hasn’t blown up at the CEO thus far. But the impossibility of what he saw in Alexander’s office has left him shaken. His heart rate begins to rise once more as his mind returns to that scene. 

In fact, it’s not the only thing that begins to rise. Suddenly his uncontrollable mind latches onto the image of Alexander’s cock expanding and then blowing its load and Gabriel’s own cock begins to stir. His face burns with blush as he can’t help but dart his eyes to see his usually unimpressive cock begin to inch its way larger down his dress pants. For his part Oliver, used to taking verbal cues follows his boss’ eyeline and balks as he sees the man thoughtlessly go to grab it. Oliver is struck speechless as the ever stark programmer bites his lip and begins rubbing his cock through the linen pants, “Jesus, uh- Uhm- Sir!?” 

Immediately alert he wipes his face and sucks up the drool that was apparently beginning to pool in his throat. Gabriel grabs a tissue and wipes his brow, fervently apologizing to the intern, “I am so sorry Oliver. I don’t know what…” Oliver quickly waves him off, not so much bothered by the behavior as surprised. “D- Don’t you worry about it Gabe, er sir. I’ll just be out here if you need me!” He backs into the door before stepping out with an awkward nod, leaving the coffee cups behind. Gabriel debates whether or not he should report himself to HR before he slams his fist against his desk chair as he remembers they haven’t an HR department. 

Rage at his shitty start-up returning at an elevated degree he gets his head back in the game, despite the best attempts of his wanting package and balls growing bluer by the second. Concerned for whatever seems to be going on in this office, or worse in the world at large, he goes to the internet once more. Without much thought at all he opens Web and starts scrolling to find any information of use. Unfortunately for the higher functions in his mind the programmer is immediately assailed by the mindless user base he so disdains, and rather than feeling the ire he always does towards the dullards and hellions. Instead he finds himself possessed with a desire to drink in every last bulging muscle that presents itself.

Coworkers, friends, reporters- Everyone Gabriel has deemed worthy of attention on the nigh-worthless platform he is forced to use, even those who are straighter laced than Gabriel, have been posting smut on main. Industrious man he may be, the programmer is indeed but a man of flesh and blood, and that blood is rushing through him at a breakneck pace to give him the most intense erection he’s ever enjoyed. 

It’s partially why he’s so adamant about diversifying their app, a weakness in himself for the male form; a weakness that whatever corruption that is beginning to rise within him is gleefully taking full advantage of. He tries to stay focused, return to his concerned research, but after taking a gasping breath he realizes that his own body has begun to produce the musky air that must be spreading the impossible changes he’s trying to get to the bottom of.

Staring at the bulging pecs and hairy asses of men he once respected, Gabe struggles to pay attention to anything but the cock begging for his attention as it begins to create a wet spot halfway down his leg. The zipper halfway undone by the growing beast alone is fully ripped asunder as Gabriel can’t help but full on masturbate in his office, just as he walked into Alexander doing but minutes ago. He tears off his button up with uncharacteristic aggression as it begins to impede his jacking off. As soon as his arms are exposed his attention leaves the app and begins to hone in on his own body. God has he always been so hot?

Gabriel flexes his biceps and smirks as he sees them peak higher than he’s ever imagined they could before now. Raising his arms also exposes his pits, a hotbed for musk and whatever impossible contagion hides within it. He forces his neck to crane down into his pit as sweat begins to stain the undershirt that is rapidly filled with new mass. Intended to be deliberately loose, pounds begin to pack onto his chest and push the garment to its brim, the cotton fabric sticks to his chest tight enough that it would be a struggle to get it off over his new pecs, hearing the sound of fabric straining his cock grows even harder at the idea that perhaps he won’t even need to take it off. He’ll just grow large enough that his massive body will destroy it for him.

This thought flitting through his mind, Gabirel loses whatever shred of self-control remains and goes all out in enjoying the changes happening to him. Rubbing his hands across his sweat-covered tank top and feeling the burning muscles building themselves underneath it. The sound of fabric straining and tearing fills him with pleasure he couldn’t fathom before now as he nears his first rapturous release. Sweat drips from his pits as they grow thicker and curls stretch further afield as to be ungovernable, ever focused on the task of spreading his scent. Steady streams of pre trail down his cock, lathering his hand as his whole body quivers with the anticipation of ecstasy.

Before it can arrive however he receives a scheduled video call from the man he wants to hear from less than any other. Clicking accept as he must, the disdain that Gabriel has always held for Rueben quickly comes to a head. Greeted with the image of a more muscular, just as juvenile, version of the CEO filling his screen, Gabriel can’t help but grit his teeth in rage. Hearing him laugh and flex as he begins playing with the special effects in Zoom, Gabriel doesn’t have a moment to realize that he’s continued to masturbate. Instead,  much like when Alexander was surprised, his anger triggers him to cum immediately with no restraint, shooting loads all over the underside of the desk, his still thrusting hand, and the computer screen in front of him. 

Rueben laughs even harder at the sight, his voice duller than ever as he chastises the programmer, “Yo bro huh! Don’t take out your anger on the little guy! You should head down to the company gym and put that aggression to good use bro huhuh!” Gabriel narrows his eyes as veins bulge in his neck. Unhappy that the CEO might have a point, he promptly slammed the shutdown button on his computer and stumbled to his feet, quite off balance from his powerful orgasm. 

Quickly appraising his filthy condition, he shrugs at the cum covering his skintight clothes. Whatever, the gyms sure to be disgusting anyway, despite just enjoying release his cock bounces at the idea and he bites his lip to avoid smiling in excitement. Something at the back of his mind desperately begs for a second to realize he’s almost lost himself beyond measure. Unfortunately, with another deep breath of his own b.o. the man’s eyes fog over and he lumbers out of his office. 

Turning with an awkward smile as he hears the head programmer’s office open Oliver starts to say, “Hey boss, hope your-” before his mouth falls agape at seeing the disheveled lug that wanders out. Still unsteady on his feet as they begin to tear the expensive leather shoes he had on, the man stumbles forward and catches himself on the intern’s shoulder. “Buh, sorry uh, Oll’” grimacing at the stain he left on the young man’s shirt, he wipes it in further and nods before heading off, “I’m uh… Gonna go check out the gym.” Oliver stares at what he can only guess is cum that his boss just smeared into his shirt before going off to the gym. Rather than confusion at his boss’ behavior or disgust at the surely hazardous substance on his shirt, he can’t help but sniff as something in the air begins to make him feel warm inside. 

Sprinting down the emergency flight of stairs Gabriel leaves a cloud of musk in his wake as he works up more sweat than his body has ever produced before. Each bounding footstep skips an arbitrary amount of stairs as his legs lengthen. Quickly does he lose the few shreds of clothing that remained stuck to his growing form. After his feet finally burst from his shoes he leaves a clear trail of sweaty footprints that could surely be tracked by anyone who wanders past. Though any poor fool who should wander near enough to smell the slovenly detritus in Gabriel’s wake would likely find themselves lacking motivation to do anything but immediately lose their mind to senseless pleasure then and there.

Arriving in the gym Gabriel hungrily eyes the scene and is less than thrilled that he seems to be the only man present. Opting to throw on some clothes for no reason than to feel the friction of fabric against his sweaty skin he finds stained sweatpants littered on the floor and throws them on. After gratuitously appreciating his reflection and adding to the Pollock painting of stains that litter the posing mirror of their company gym, Gabe throws himself intuitively into every machine. He delights in the tension and pull of every straining muscle and grins through the pain as they bounce back larger than with every repetition. 

He doesn’t spare half a thought about wiping down machines, and clearly whatever boorish louts used them previously didn’t either, much to his satisfaction. Each second of his body changing upstairs during his too brief session of self pleasure holds nothing towards the edification, the perfection, he enjoys now as he throws himself into a workout. It’s far more intense than his meager body should ever be able to maintain. Sweat drips from him like a waterfall as hair fans out across his form, rapidly expanding from shaved stubble into fluff that would hold and spread his scent for hours to come.

Taking a break to take a photo of his new beyond exuberant self, as he stands across from the mirror his cock instantly hardens and inches to its almost foot long length down the leg of his sweatpants. Immediately it begins dripping pre down his hairier thigh as he screams in bestial abandon. His brain is so far gone the idea of posting the steamy pics of his sweaty form on Web doesn’t even occur to him. Instead the only thoughts remaining to fill his mind are those to return to the gym and get back to the important mission of increasing his virile strength, or the even more pressing desire to fuck anything that moves. Unfortunately for him he can’t produce a single actionable step towards that end. So he shall simply enjoy his new body by his lonesome until some equally horny man stumbles into the company gym.

“God what is up with me today.” Back on the tenth floor Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose as he is overwhelmed with another headache. Ever since Gabriel paid him the brief visit on his way to the gym Oliver has been getting them with increasing frequency. He removed his shirt, not wanting to wear something fouled by whatever was covering his boss’ hands but the damage was already done. The idea that not wearing a shirt in the office is inappropriate moves further out of reach by the second. The intern scratches the back of his neck and grumbles as he feels a soreness in his arm and traps, paying no mind as his fingers trail through thicker hair spreads down from his hairline towards his shoulders. Typing away at his computer, each keypress moves slower than the last, his hands cramp as they suddenly bulge larger.

Taking the smallest second to appraise his changing form Ollie’s eyes widen as he sees there are two unmissable weights now hanging on his chest, sitting on a small gut that he has been making concerted efforts to do away with. Feeling up the new pecs he blushes as he feels stubble prickle his fingers. Rubbing them and feeling muscle give way to his thicker hands he can’t suppress the grin on his face as he feels the prickly hairs quickly thicken and curl longer, painting his chest with a beautiful forest of hair. His dick immediately surges to the largest size it can achieve in the confines of his dress pants.

Awash in feeling every new inch of his hairier, more powerful body Oliver stands up and gasps as he sees abs clearer than anything underneath the new layer of hair on his stomach. His knees give way as his hips uncontrollably thrust while he stares down at his form growing sexier by the second. He barely catches himself from falling with his right hand on the table as his body continues to hump his pants to no end, while his left trails across his body to discover the new surprises that cover each and every inch. Hesitant to trail towards the package bulging larger in his crotch, he traces his abs back up to his chest and rests on his clavicle. There does he find the greatest surprise yet, barely gracing the tips of his fingers, a beard beginning to push out on a face that has always been unfortunately clean shaven. 

While it took browsing Web and the intrusion of his workplace enemy for Gabriel’s conscious mind to give in to the euphoria of being a new, greater man, the feeling of a beard inching thicker on Oliver’s face is more than enough to give himself over to anything. This alongside whatever corrupting virus is coursing through him to cause these changes, it’s no wonder he falls to the floor and begins thrusting a hole in his pants. His meaty thighs and monumental ass make light work of his dress pants as his cock angles itself upwards, out of the waistline of his impossibly tight underwear. Even while in the process of spraying load after load into the carpet of his office, his balls continue churning, always heavy and ever wanting more release. Ever demanding he find more avenues to spread his changes and heighten his own bliss. 

Now laying on the floor, every exhilarating movement packs more pounds of muscle onto his bulging new body. More pressing than that however is the pelt making its mark everywhere it sees fit to spread. His pubes grow thick enough that no light shall ever touch the base of his cock again before they spread upwards to paint his stomach with dark curls. The deodorant he threw on this morning hasn’t a breath of a chance against the new musk that issues forth from his pits as the bushes therein grow thicker than that on his head before stretching outwards to connect with those new heady hairs he so delighted in on his chest. The hairs around his nipples grow thick enough almost to hide them as he continues frotting against the carpet.

His biceps burn with the effort of holding his body up as veins bulge down the diameter of his meaty arms, thick strands of hair quickly trailing behind to make clear his undeniable masculinity. He feels new curls itching against the back of the elastic band of his underwear as it only just hangs in there. Dark curls reach up the small of his back and quickly race to cover his ass cheeks like fuzz on a peach, creating a seamless jungle of curls from his hairy inner thighs to a dense thicket still inching higher on his back; growing into a forest perfect to be grabbed by anyone lucky enough to ride his prodigious cock.

After an especially vocal release, his shoulders burn as his traps bulge larger, which brings a certain someone’s touch to mind. Sniffing the air he finds himself in a haze of his own musk, though the musk smells awfully similar to that of the man who almost started masturbating in front of him. Following his more sensitive nose, the intern crawls over to Gabriel’s office and confirms his suspicions. Oliver smirks as he imagines that the horny freak is probaly equally wanting of a fuck buddy. 

Pulling himself up to his feet on the doorway, he grunts as his knees wobble a bit and his cock tries to convince him that humping the floor is good enough. Staying strong and holding the human instinct that some things are worth the effort, he walks on feet hairier than paws and wider than flippers to the elevator where he begins a descent to the company gym. Snapping a picture to text his boss he smirks as he thinks despite what Gabriel always says, perhaps working in a start-up has some perks after all.

It isn’t clear precisely what happened on the Fall day when men across the Bay Area began changing into, well, sex-crazed beasts. Some assume it was some strange chemical leak. Others say that it was some spontaneous evolution, though to what end such pleasure seeking changes could help a species is unclear. Some particularly conspiracy-minded folks think the whole thing was a ploy by a Social Media startup that was taking off with men precisely like the ones who changed. Though at the end of the day it doesn’t quite matter how or why they changed but how to prevent it from spreading. Across the nation, men of every walk of life are rapidly changing despite taking the best precautions. 

Closing gyms, quarantining those changing, racing to find any treatment to help those losing their minds and their bodies. Nothing seems to help as every day more men are blowing up with muscle, growing hairier with symptom spreading musk, and losing themselves to their uncontrollable lusts. At this point it’s seeming like there’s nothing that could possibly be done to stop the spread of changes, but hey, at least it seems like they’re happy.

[vitalverstappen]

Just Pretend - L. Norris

summary: a terrible night out in London may end up with you meeting someone new

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

warnings: drinking, a creepy guy flirting at the bar (not Lando), swearing

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i was going to post something completely different today but bc Lando won yesterday, i GUESS i'll post this against my will

The club was the last place you wanted to be tonight. Going out was never your thing. If you were going to drink, you’d rather have a glass of wine on your couch than be in a stuffy club with sweaty, smelly bodies. 

And yet, you found yourself out in a club in London. Your friend group decided to take a vacation out exploring the cities of Europe - cafes by day and the clubs by night. The sticky floors and loud music was overwhelming. 

It didn’t help that some guy was trying to talk to you. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have gone up to the bar alone. It was supposed to be quick, simply getting yourself a new drink and then returning to your friend group. 

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” The man asked 

“Going back to meet up with my friends, actually” You answered as you grabbed your drink from the bartender. You sidestepped to the left to avoid the guy, but he followed, blocking you from leaving.

A smirk danced across his face as you looked at him. “Oh come on, you don’t wanna stay for a chat?” 

“No, not really” You replied, your voice lacking any interest in the guy. He wasn’t ugly, just nowhere near your type, “Look, I need to get going” 

“Why don’t I come with you? Make sure you get to your friends safely” He suggested. Shit.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t think…” 

Panic filled your mind as you tried to think of an excuse to get this guy to go away. Your eyes scanned the room for any signs of your friends looking for you. They all were in a circle, dancing to the music blasting through the speakers. It took a second glance around the bar to find an escape route.

On the other side of the bar stood a guy around your age who looked nice enough. His hair was a curly mop that sat on top of his head and his smile shined brighter than anything else dim light. You made eye contact with the boy, to which you responded with a distressed look. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes darted between you and the creep that was standing with you. 

“...I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that” You finally answered 

The man you were still stuck with scoffed “Boyfriend? I don’t see him anywhere” 

“He’s over there” You said, motioning in the general direction that the curly headed boy was in. 

Before the creep could say anything, you were able to push past him. You could feel his eyes piercing through you as you made your way through the crowd. As much as you wanted to go straight to your friends, you knew if you did, the guy would keep pestering you. 

As soon as you walked up to the curly headed boy, you rambled, “Look there’s this creepy guy who’s been bothering me all night and I have no idea where my friends are and I’m tired and I just wanna go home. I really would appreciate it if you helped me out and pretended to be my boyfriend and hopefully get the guy off of my dick.” The words came out of your mouth faster than you thought was humanly possible. 

Apparently, the guy thought so too. The lights were on, but no one was home as he yelled “What?!” 

You sighed before leaning over to him, your mouth only a few inches from his ear. “Just pretend you’re my boyfriend for a minute!” You yelled over the music 

The boy looked you up and down before shrugging and placing his arm around your waist. “Yeah, sure, which guy is it?” 

A thankful smile was plastered on your lips as you yelled back a thank you before motioning to the guy from before “The weirdo standing at the bar all by himself”

The curly headed boy nodded as he made eye contact with the guy at the bar. He watched for a few moments as you danced with the boy, letting the music take over temporarily. The smell of his cologne took over. It was expensive, notes of leather, but also lavender filled your senses. It was a scent you could get used to. 

Once you were sure that creepy guy was gone, you relaxed. 

“Thank you again. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” You said 

The boy shrugged “It’s nothing really. I’m just surprised you’re here alone” 

A laugh escaped your lips “I wasn’t when I first showed up. I was here with some friends, but honestly I have no idea where they went.” 

“Some friends they are” The guy said “You wanna hang with me and my crew?” 

“I don’t see why not” You shrugged 

As the boy, who you quickly learned was named Lando, led you to his friends, the two of you introduced yourselves. He told you he was a racing driver for a team you had never heard of, and that he travels a lot for work. 

“So you’ve never heard of Formula 1?” He asked, confused 

You shook your head, “No. Honestly, I’m not really into racing” 

“Well maybe I’ll have to teach you about it” He suggested as he pulled you in tighter, almost as if he was proud he had you. “So do you come around here often?” 

You shook your head “Honestly, I’ve never been”

“Really? Why are you here then?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed just like they were minutes prior

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system, or if Lando was that easy to talk to, but you explained the trip that your friend group was going on. His eyes were focused on you as you told him each city that your group was supposed to be going to.

“Well, if you need a tour guide around the UK, let me know. I’d love to show you my stomping grounds” He offered

A smirk danced across your face as you took out your phone “I might have to take your offer, though I’m gonna need your number first” 

“That would help” Lando chuckled as he took your phone, putting in his number. He then led you to a group of men and what seemed to be their significant others. 

“There you are Norris! We thought we lost you!” One of his friends said as the two of you walked up 

“Nah, just grabbing a drink, and saving someone from a creep” He said “This is y/n” 

Lando went down the line of his friends and their significant others. From what you could remember, there was Charles and Alexandra, Pierre and Kika, George and Carmen, and Oscar and Lily.

“So you trusted him to save you?” The girl you remembered as Kika asked, a playful smile on her lips 

“Yeah, it was a last resort kind of a thing” You joked back 

Suddenly, going out to the club didn’t seem so bad. The rest of the night was spent getting to know Lando and his friends, drinks and laughs overflowing. Now that the weirdo from earlier was long gone, you let the alcohol finally hit you. The rest of the group was also fairly drunk, shown through the giggles over nothing. 

Whether the two of you were dancing, grabbing another round, or just talking, you and Lando were inseparable. Whatever connection you had with Lando, you knew he could feel it too. He had to be touching you somehow the entire night, if it was the brush of his fingers against yours, or your body pressed up against his. 

The club slowly emptied as the night drew to a close, though neither of you wanted it to end. Lando’s friends were all long gone by the time the two of you left, but neither of you cared. He insisted on walking you to your hotel, ensuring that you made it back safe. 

“If you had told me this morning that I’d be helping a girl escape some freak, and that it would lead to one of the best nights I had in a while, I would not have believed you” Lando laughed 

“Neither would I” You agreed, a smile on your face “But I had the most amazing time”

You said your goodbyes, promising that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw each other. He had said he’d show you around London after all. Lando watched as you disappeared through the hotel lobby door, neither of you able to shake the feeling that it was the start of something beautiful.

“Thanks guys for leaving me, I really appreciated it” You said as you walked through the door to the suite you shared with your friends. 

All of the girls were gathered in the main room, debriefing their night. As you announced your arrival, jaws dropped and eyes widened. A chorus of “I'm sorry’s” and “We tried texting” filled the room. You could only smile. 

“I actually had a great time. You’ll never believe how it went” You said as you sat yourself down on the carpet, ready to retell the last few hours.

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

~

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

~

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

~

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

~

Part 2

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[mossyeyeballs]

TW: mentions of pretty much everything terrible. 🍇, trafficking, all of the above.

CLASS OF 09 RANT, FLIP SIDE SPOILERS

Ok not my usual post (I’ve posted twice ik but shush) but what the freak was the flip side??….. I was a huge fan of class of 09 + the re up but this game was so.. what’s the word….. dog shit? Even if we ignore half of the game being about the creators weird foot fetish, the sl@ve ending was so unnecessary. I feel like the only thing in that route that was worth writing was the issue in retail work and that wasn’t even the star focus, let alone side focus. The main plot of that route was the counselor having some weird illegal 🌽 warehouse, jecka finding it, and then him blackmailing her into human 🚙 🚙 ing?

The only ending I thought was necessary IF THAT was when Jecka found Nicole after the sue a side ending from re up. I thought it did a decent job at talking about sue a side victims, and how nobody really cares about them until it’s too late, And even then they only care for a week or so and then move on.

But the Jeffery dying one was the most out of place in my opinion (unfortunately it beats the foot ending.) For starters, Nicole was really out of character imo, like yeah she��s talked about wishing Jeffery was dead before, but her actually killing him just out of boredom is so odd. Her entire character is “I don’t put effort into anything unless it benefits me.” Killing Jeffrey was not only ALOT of effort, but she gained absolutely nothing. On top of that, saying it’s different than doing. Like how she talked about wishing her mom was dead, but then when she had a heart attack, she panicked. Plus, she PLANNED on making Jecka take some of the blame on his death, which she stated in past games she wouldn’t do. She literally never put Jecka in harms way, let alone jail if it didn’t also benefit them both. But this didn’t, she just did it to do it.

While we’re talking about Nicole being out of character, I feel it valid to mention her and Jeckas dad. For obvious (and gross) reasons, I won’t be detailing this, but her doing that to Jecka wasn’t fully out of character, but still odd. Like I mentioned earlier, Nicole never really did anything to spite Nicole, so I find it odd that she did in this game. You could blame it on “oh she’s a sociopath she doesn’t care.” But I don’t think that’s inherently true. Yeah, I guess it’s canon she’s a sociopath, but in that case they do a bad job at consistency. She’s shown in both games 1 and 2 caring about people she’s close with, whether it’s Jecka, her mom, or even Emily in one segment. So I find it completely random that she did this to Jecka over something as small as not sharing how she got into foot work. Jeckas done much worse stuff to Nicole, and Nicole just didn’t care because they were friends, or didn’t feel the need to put effort into doing something if she did care. So yeah, Nicole basically screwing Jeckas dad over something so little felt out of character.

One of the few things that bothered me the least, but I feel the need to mention was the foot work stuff. Not because it was out of character, i fear I’ve seen worse stuff mentioned in that game. But I guess the way it was portrayed as less of a story plot and more of the creator trying to live out his fantasies. He himself has stated Jeffrey is basically a self insert, so the whole being sexually obsessed with Jecka and her feet felt REALLY weird. Compared to Nicole’s my space favor thing, this just felt dirty. For comparison. Both Jecka and Nicole took up sex work to keep a home life or lackthereof, they both got money from strangers to do sexual things, and they both hated doing it. But why did Jeckas feel so much more personal and gross? Because the actual sex work was shown. In graphic detail. And all of Jeffrey’s (the creators) personal thoughts were stated with no backlash. Jeffery literally asked Jecka if she would 🍒feed him, and he was excused. When Nicole was asked the same hing from the same guy, he was insulted, yelled at, even told to leave.

So, creepy creator who’s obsessed with his barely legal characters, Jecka being sold to 🚙 🚙ing agaisnt her will, Jeffrey being murdered for no reason other than a giggle or two from his haters, Jecka accidentally killing Ari cause she was drunk driving, feet fan service, and fan service in general aside, the game is left only with the regular drug and alcohol abusage we always see. which in the game that was advertised as a new experience felt really stale and honestly left me bored. The ONE SINGULAR time during this game that I giggled was when the hat man appeared in the Ari route.

If you’ve fully ignored everything I said in this, maybe didn’t care, or didn’t even read it. Id just like to mention for everyone that the creator of this game said that anybody who disliked him, his games, his writing, or his humor were kid diddlers. In full seriousness. So yeah, no shock this game was bad, but I guess I shouldn’t have expected better from someone who thinks his haters are all child likers. All this being said, I enjoyed class of 09, and the re up. I’m hoping the anime episode that comes out soon with be a decent save. all of THAT being said, I don’t support this creator. I don’t support his actions, I think he’s a shitty person who’s made some shitty jokes, but made some not so shitty games that I decently enjoyed. I also haven’t bought them, so none of my money has gone towards him or his projects. I in NO WAY support him. Thanks for reading.

Feel free to comment down some of your own opinions if you feel so inclined, I’m interested in what everyone else thought of this game :))

[drewsarms]

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི A little of the writing was inspired by this post!! For my baby @shawtycoreee !!! I hope you guys enjoy! Send me some asks too!!

𐙚: hick!rafe x toots!reader get into a fight and make up

𐙚 : warnings: violence (fighting), angst, use of “daddy” , faux fucking, 18+ mdni !!

From the moment you woke up you were ready to get on your man’s last nerve. To be fair he wasn’t paying a lot of attention to you lately. Going out with his friends. Coming home drunk. Not listening to when you’re yapping about god knows what. It’s not that you didn’t trust him or had concerns of if he didn’t love you. He was a sweetheart to you in every way possible. You got to see a side of him that no one else did. But something was off and you had to know what the problem was.

Rafe was working late tonight. By the time he got home you’d usually be in bed but tonight was different. You wanted to let him know just how much he pissed you off. When he pulls up in the driveway he was surprised to see all the lights still on. He hurried inside to see if anything was wrong.

“Baby, uh, you there?” Nothing. He walks further into the house and sees you sitting on the kitchen counter. “You didn’t hear me come in Toots?” You didn’t answer him. You knew just how to piss Rafe off and that was not answering his questions. He drops his bags and walks towards you. “You know I don’t like that shit. I asked you a question goddammit.” He points a finger in your face. You look away. He puts his finger on your chin and you push him away. “You know what fuck this shit.” You jump off the kitchen counter following him around the corner. “Where the hell are you going?” You say throwing your arms up in the air. Your voice starts breaking. “To fucking relax. I can’t deal with this shit right now.” Tears start to form in your eyes. To think that he didn’t even want to talk this through hurted you even more. “What shit are you referring to? Since we’re on the subject I can’t deal with your shit anymore either.” He turns around and raises an eyebrow. “Hey! You better watch your fucking tone little girl. I am not in the fucking mood.” He says walking towards you. Backing you against the wall. “I don’t give a fuck what mood you’re in. You’re pissing me off and I want to talk to you about it.” Rafe rolls his eyes at you and starts to walk away. “I really can’t fucking do this.” He mumbles. He walks to the kitchen to grab a beer and you follow right behind him. He’d be damned to think that this conversation was over. He brings the beer up to his lips and before he can take a sip you snatch it throwing it against the wall making a mess. “You’re such a fucking dick!” When you turn away you can hear him unbuckling his belt. It made you even more pissed if he thought sex was going to be the answer to the argument. You were caught by surprise when you felt the cool leather snap hard against your ass making you jump. Before you could turn around Rafe grabs you by your neck. His mustache tickling your ear. “You’re gonna fucking regret that.”

Rafe throws you on the bed. You can’t admit you’re a little scared. Not because you made him mad (that’s something you’re used to) but because he’s not eagerly trying to fuck some sense into you. “Get that cute ass up in the air.” In an instant you listen. He chuckles at your eagerness. He runs the cool metal of his belt buckle against your ass making you shiver. Five more harsh slaps from the belt hitting your ass filled the room. You try to apologize but all that’s coming out is whimpers and sniffles. “Quit that fucking crying Toots. Don’t act so sorry now.” A feeling of emptiness comes from behind you. You don’t feel Rafe. You start to wiggle your ass out of neediness. “D-daddy?” you say through cute little cries. You feel his jeans press against your panties. His hard cock feels like it could break through the material. He grabs your hips and starts fucking into you. He was teasing you and you hated it. “Wanna show daddy how sorry you are?” You whine as you start to twerk against his clothed dick. He slaps your already sore ass making you gasp. “Daddy please fuck me! Please!” You look back at him and he has this sinister look in his eyes. His once bright blue eyes turning dark. It turned you on and scared you. “Uh uh I thought I was such a dick shug?” He looks down at you backing your ass up against his dick. “Doesn’t seem like it’s a bad thing now does it? Not with the way you’re shaking your ass against me.” After what felt like hours of torture you finally heard him unbuckle his belt. “Get those fucking panties off.” You eagerly reach back and yank them off spreading your legs even more so he can have a perfect view and easy access to your pussy. You can feel him line his self up with your entrance. Rubbing at your leaking, sensitive clit. You start to kick your feet in protest. Desperately trying to push his cock in your pussy by backing up against him. “Daddy! I’m sorry please I won’t act up again! Just please fuck me-“ Your little fit turned into moans as he pushed himself all the way inside of you. Every time he fucked you his dick felt bigger and bigger. “I don’t want to hear your whining and shit ever again. When I come home I want you to be my good little girl. You don’t ask me questions. You don’t get mad if I’m at work all day. You got that?” You nod your head in agreement. The pleasure becoming too much for you to speak. He pulls out and starts rubbing your clit. “I asked you a question angel.” You look back at him with teary eyes. You reach for his face giving him the most desperate and sloppy kiss. A string of spit connecting your swollen lips together. “Yes daddy! I understand! I’ll be your good girl!!” He gives you a sweet kiss to your forehead before sticking his cock back in and filling up your sweet cunt.

━━⊱⋆⊰━━

As the two of you layed in bed together he realized he never got an answer out of you. “Baby you awake?” he asks in a whisper. “Barley,” you managed to say in your sleepy voice. “I guess I did fuck you good then.” The both of you laugh. “But uh, nah you-you never told me what the problem was.” You sigh as you sit up to look at him. Tears start to form into your eyes. “I never complain because I know you do so much for me. I hate to seem so ungrateful but sometimes you don’t listen to me. Sometimes I never get to see you. I just love you so much and I don’t want to loose you.” You can hear Rafe sniffle. He sits up now holding you in his arms. “Toots. I can’t promise you everything in the world but what I can promise you is that I am never leaving. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I need you beside me. You’re all I have. I’d be a goddamn fool to ever let you leave. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Tell what I need to do to make it up to you.” You look up at him. Your tears still flowing because he’s never really this vulnerable. “Mmm, $300 dollars every week?!” The two of you laugh as he pushes your head back into the pillow, laying back down next to you. He kisses your temple. “You got it sugar.”

Taglist: @fae-of-prey @bunnyrafe @starkeysprincess @drewstarkeys-world @drewspinkbunny @venic-bxtch @nemesyaaa @justafangirls-blog @rafecameroninterlude

[n0tamused]

Have you by any chance seen someone on Twitter posting a translated version of Xiangli Yao's daily schedule? How about writing something like what his schedule would be with the reader (already in a relationship) maybe on a day off? Something like: 8:00 AM - get up and start day 10:00-12:00 AM snuggled in bed with y/n as a result. Or - 4:00 PM - prosthetic maintenance. ambushed from behind. (Imagine nuzzling him from behind while he tinkers with his hand 🥺) Something like a bunch of small drabbles in 1 work? I guess finding someone to write for him awakened something in my brain, I'msorry.

A/n: I have heard of this schedule but tbh I didn't see it myself before I got this request lol, I really find the idea sweet so I hope I did it justice! And no need to apologize, I am happy to write for Xangli Yao

Contents: Xiangli Yao x GN!Reader, fluff, short drabbles, established relationship not proofread

Saturday:

08:30 - Wake up

It’s been many years since Xiangli Yao has practiced this continuous cycle of waking up at certain times, to the point he did not need an alarm clock anymore. It was 8:14 when he came to his senses, morning light sleeping through the blinds and softly caressing his eyelids to open. He turns away from them, shifting sluggishly underneath the blankets, knowing that work wasn’t waiting on him today. 

He is greeted by your sleeping face, relaxed and soft as the few spots of light from the blinds danced over your cheeks and lips. The light didn’t seem to disturb you, something he was thankful for as he shuffled closer and wrapped his good arm around you, bringing you closer to his warmth as he nuzzled his nose into the top of your head, breathing in your scent as your hair tickled his skin. He feels you mold into his shape, your sleep heavy arm going underneath his and over his side, the blanket keeping your shared warmth trapped, shielding you from the chilly morning.

09:30 - make breakfast with my beloved :) 

Well, it may have been 9:10 by the time you both willed yourself to leave the comforts of eachothers arms. It was hunger that pulled you both from bed, stumbling into the bathroom. Xiangli Yao was next to you as you washed your face while he brushed his teeth. He handed you your toothbrush after you blindly found the towel next to the sink and brushed your face dry. 

Although he had gotten used to being the one to prepare breakfast for both of you during workdays, the weekends did allow more time, and so Yao did try to listen to you more when you said you wanted to help or do more of the work since you don’t usually get the chance to do so. He did convince you some times before, letting you so simply sit aside and look pretty while he whips you up your favorite, but today wasn’t that day. You woke up with more energy and a craving for good quality time and to get your hands busy.

What ends up happening is a table full of food, a big but balanced breakfast of veggies and fruit and needed protein. While you were setting up the table, Xiangli Yao poured you both the juice you made the weekend. He may not think about it too often, but he always feels like the richest man in the world when he shares mornings like these with you.

13:00 - go to the market, restock groceries

His prosthetic arm is holding the basket while the fingers of his other hand are intertwined with yours. Xiangli Yao was yet to become truly used to these public displays of affection, but he never disliked them. The thing was that such little acts of affection flustered him so much at first and he’d rather not catch someone ogling him while his cheeks are red as the tomatoes you were looking at now. He was used to it, he tells himself as he slowly lets your fingers slip from his hold when you say you can use some of the tomatoes. He remembers you mentioning a recipe some time ago that required a good amount of tomatoes. He helps you pick out the best ones and he adds it to the basket after the purchase is done. Although today’s shopping trip ended with more bags than either of you expected, Xiangli Yao vehemently refused to  allow you to carry any of the bags.

You ended up stopping at the local dessert shop, purchasing a few sweet goods for home. You mentioned how the chocolate cake he got looked oddly similar to Xiang-LEE. Now he couldn’t unsee it..

16:00 - prosthetic maintenance(p.s. keep your back guarded!)

How oddly homely it felt to have your arms around him while he tinkered away on his mechanical arm..

Although at first you only observed him from the doorway, he chose to skillfully ignore you when you began to sneak closer, almost as if he couldn’t see you from the corner of his eye. 

You knew he knew too, but it's a game you both chose to play every evening when the sun began to lean in to kiss the mountains. 

You hum as you put your chin on top of his head, peering down at the assortment of open wires and metal plating scattered about on the table. There's a screwdriver in his good hand, and he's clearly doing something, but you're unsure what. Perhaps you'd ask one day, tell him to explain how his arm really works, but that is not today.

He feels you leaning in and kissing his cheek and then his temple.

“The meal is soon to be done. Don't keep me waiting all alone at the table, Xiangli Yao”

19:00 - Free activities 

Xiangli Yao can't help the chuckle that escapes him as he witnesses your scowl and furrowed brows, and all for the little board game with black and white pieces. You've won the round from last night and he deemed it appropriate to ask for a rematch, although he only wished to make you blow off the steam. You've been rather stressed this week, perhaps some back and forth of the game could allow a reprieve.

“You've been thinking about your next move for quite some time now, my love…” he tries, a smile plastered on his lips, both amused and sympathetic.

“...I got it…shh” you return, pushing your chin into the heel of your palm. He hums in response, and another few heartbeats of silence pass before he sees your face light up, as if a star had whispered the next act into your ear. Your fingers deftly move across the board and move your piece across the checkerboard.

“Checkmate!” 

He laughs, his chest shaking with joy as you beam at him. You beat him. Again.

22:30 - bedtime

Mornings are where Xiangli Yao thrives. He is a morning person to the last bone in his body and on work days it is not rare for him to rise before you and his alarm, but they don’t bring him nearly as much relief and joy as bedtime does. Your sleepy face as you go to brush your teeth and change into your bedwear always has his heart softening, his own movements slowing down as his entire body yawns for the comforts of the mattress and comfortable blankets.

He is sitting at the edge of the bed, tinkering with his prosthetic arm for the last time and setting it aside on the table right next to his side of the bed. His prosthetic is cold and rather uncomfortable to sleep with for both of you. From behind he hears you exiting the bathroom and the sound of your bare feet against the floor hurrying up has him turning around to see how you crash into the bed, your face buried into your pillow with a low groan, a breath of relief as weight is taken off your feet.

He shuffles, telling you to get under the blankets while he turns off the lights. Once he remembered you both joking about being afraid of the dark, and although it was all just a joke - Xiangli Yao has been the one to turn off the lights since then. 

He hums as he returns, sliding under the blankets and finding the warmth of your body with searching fingers, pulling himself closer until he was wrapped around you. He buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent before laying a lingering kiss to your cheek, bidding you goodnight. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[criminal-act7]

Don't mess with my man

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Blk reader

Genre: fluff (for once)

Summary: One day during a case, Spencer gets jealous of some officers flirting with you, so he stepped in to get you. Since then, the BAU team has noticed your closeness and teased you both about your obvious feelings. During a night out, you get jealous when a woman flirts with Spencer, prompting you to step in and claim him as your boyfriend.

Warnings: jealousy, mild possessiveness

Notes: This song is stuck in my head. I also posted this on my K-pop blog, but I took it off real quick.

Spencer stood in the corner, his arms crossed, watching you as you spoke to the two young officers. The way you commanded their attention was effortless, a mix of professionalism and that unique charm of yours that always made people gravitate toward you. You were explaining to them what you did in the BAU, your hands moving expressively as you broke down your role with clarity and confidence. But Spencer could tell—the officers weren’t just listening because they were interested in your work.

They were flirting with you.

And, as usual, you hadn’t noticed.

It had been like this ever since you joined the team. At first, Spencer found your energy irritating. You were too happy, too bubbly, especially for someone working in a unit as serious and grim as the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He couldn't understand how you could be so cheerful when your job involved dealing with the worst of humanity.

But then, he saw you in the field. The first time he saw that shift—how you could still be warm and engaging, yet instantly serious and direct when needed—something shifted in him, too. You weren’t naive. You were strong, and your optimism was a choice, not a weakness.

He hadn’t meant to warm up to you. But you made it impossible not to. You were funny, kind, a good listener. You brought an energy to the team that helped them all, even in the darkest moments. And to top it all off, you were beautiful. But Spencer couldn’t ask you out. He didn’t think you’d be interested in him. Why would you be? You were the life of the party, the person everyone liked, and he… well, he was awkward, introverted, more comfortable with books than people.

Which is why he found himself here, leaning against the wall, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching the officers flirt with you. He clenched his jaw, feeling a knot in his stomach. You deserved better than that. They didn’t even care about what you were saying; they were just focused on how you looked. But Spencer knew you—really knew you—and he liked you for so much more than your appearance.

As he watched, one of the officers laughed a little too loudly at something you said, leaning in closer. Spencer rolled his eyes. They were so obvious.

You, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, smiling politely as you continued your explanation. Spencer knew you weren’t interested—you were always so professional when it came to your work. But it still bugged him. You sat on the desk looking pretty, and you didn’t even realize how pretty you were. Your soft wine colored off the shoulder top, complemented your brown skin with your light blue washed jeans. Your hair was braided up which was usual but this was a fresh this time. Then you wore your glasses they were fake but you liked having a different look to you and Spencer liked it. It was something about your glasses that made you ten times more attractive.

Morgan, ever perceptive, glanced between Spencer and the officers before smirking. "Pretty boy, I know that look," he teased, sidling up to Spencer. "You’re not jealous, are you?"

“What? No,” Spencer replied quickly, pushing his hands into his pockets, trying to keep his face neutral.

Morgan chuckled, clearly not buying it. “So you're just gonna let them flirt with your girl like that?”

Spencer bristled, his voice defensive. "She's not my girl."

Morgan raised an eyebrow and leaned in a little closer. "The way you're eyeing her says otherwise, jealous boy."

"I'm not jealous, and those guys aren't even that good looking," Spencer shot back, a little more heat in his voice than he intended. He looks at the guys again as they say something to make you giggle.

Morgan barked out a laugh, clapping a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. "Wow, you really are jealous. It’s okay, man. Happens to the best of us." Spencer tried to brush it off, but he couldn’t help glancing back at you, still in conversation with the officers. They were standing too close, and their smiles were just a little too wide for Spencer’s liking. He wondered what was so funny? It couldn't had been about the case.

“You know Hotch is gonna round us up soon,” Morgan said, his tone shifting to something more serious, though still playful. “You should go get her, pretty boy.”

Spencer furrowed his brow. "Why do I have to get her?"

Morgan grinned, stepping back toward the other room. “Because I'm not the one sitting in the corner jealous," he sang teasingly, disappearing through the doorway.

Spencer sighed, glancing one last time at you and the officers before pushing himself off the wall. Maybe Morgan was right... but he still wasn't sure if he was ready to admit it.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his heart pounding a little harder than usual. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he couldn’t just stand there any longer.

"Hey," he interrupted, his voice calm but firm, "we need to wrap up here. We have a briefing in ten."

You turned to him, flashing that bright smile of yours. "Got it, Reid."

The officers seemed disappointed but nodded, glancing at you one last time before walking away. As they left, Spencer stayed by your side, and you gave him a curious look.

"Everything okay?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Spencer shrugged, trying to act casual. "Yeah, I just... thought it was time to go."

You smiled again, this time softer, more genuine. "Thanks for the rescue. Those two were nice, but I think they were more interested in... other things." You say as Spencer nods at you of course you picked up on their disinterest of the original topic.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Why didn’t you say anything sooner?" you ask him confused as to why didn't he come to get you earlier. Spencer hesitated for a second, unsure of what to say. Then he looked at you, his heart racing, and said, "I didn’t think you'd notice."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the air between you shifted. It was subtle, but it was there. You smiled again, this time more thoughtful. "I always notice you, Spencer." You go into the room taking a seat. Spencer couldn't help but blush at what you said. When he goes in the room Morgan looks at him smugly as he takes a seat next to Emily while you sit in the front next to Rossi. Before he could ask how it went Hotch started talking.

The case was finally wrapped up, and you were just about ready to head back when one of the officers approached you, flashing the same charming smile he’d been using all week. Spencer, standing off to the side, rolled his eyes. Not this again.

The officer started his usual routine, laying it on thick. “You’re really something, you know that? A top-notch agent and, well, very easy on the eyes,” he added with a wink. You were about to say something but the guy cut you off.

Before the guy could even work up to asking for your number, Spencer decided he’d had enough. He walked over, his long strides quickening as the officer’s compliment landed. “Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Spencer said, cutting in smoothly, “but we really need to get going.”

The officer blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Oh, can I just—?”

“Sorry, no time,” Spencer replied quickly. Without giving the officer a chance to recover, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, steering you away from the conversation. “We’ve got a flight to catch.”

You let Spencer guide you, surprised at the sudden shift. Once you were a few paces away, you glanced up at him, an amused smile creeping onto your face.

“Spence, what was that about? You’re acting weird.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice a little too fast. “I mean, we do have a flight, and Hotch is waiting for us. He’s our ride.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Right.” You knew Hotch was still inside talking to the sheriff. Spencer tried to focus on the path ahead, but the warmth of your shoulder under his arm and the way you were looking at him made it hard to concentrate. “What? We do need to go,” he added, but you could hear the slight defensiveness in his voice. You just smiled, not pushing the subject for now, but filing it away for later. Spencer was acting strange—endearing, but definitely strange. And you had a pretty good idea why.

Later on the plane, you were sitting with Emily and J.J., enjoying some much-needed downtime. It didn’t take long for them to start teasing you.

“So,” Emily began with a mischievous grin, “what was up with those two officers back at the precinct?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, how did you know about that?” you asked, glancing between the two of them. You had thought the flirting had gone mostly unnoticed, at least by everyone except you and Spencer.

J.J. laughed, leaning in a little closer. “It was kind of hard not to notice. Those guys were practically hovering around you the entire time.”

“Yeah,” Emily chimed in, “the way they were looking at you? They were definitely interested. Did they give you their numbers?”

You shook your head, smiling at the memory of Spencer’s intervention. “Nope. Spencer got to me before they could. Honestly, I’m glad. I didn’t want to have to turn them down like that. They weren’t my type.”

At that, Emily and J.J. exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter. “Spencer got to you first, huh?” J.J. teased, a knowing gleam in her eye.

“Oh, this is even better than I thought,” Emily added, smirking. “So, did our genius save you, or did you just let him swoop in?”

You felt your face flush. “Come on, it wasn’t like that. He just... helped me out of an awkward situation, that’s all.”

“Right,” Emily said, drawing out the word as if she didn’t believe you for a second. “Sure, just helping you out.”

Their teasing continued, with both of them throwing in playful comments about Spencer’s timing and how convenient it was. Despite your protests, you couldn’t help but smile at the whole situation. Maybe there was more to it than you were willing to admit.

Meanwhile, a few rows up, Spencer was sitting next to Hotch. He had a faint smile on his face, one he didn’t even realize was there. Hotch glanced over, noticing the unusual expression.

“Everything okay?” Hotch asked, a little confused by Spencer’s out-of-character behavior.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, his voice calm but laced with an odd sense of contentment. “Everything’s fine.” Hotch said nothing more, but a flicker of understanding crossed his face. He had a pretty good guess at what was going on but kept it to himself.

Across the aisle, Rossi leaned over to Morgan, who had been watching the whole scene unfold from the start. Morgan smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “My man,” Morgan whispered, nodding toward Spencer with approval.

Spencer, oblivious to all the glances and whispers, sat there quietly. Nothing between you two had really changed, but the way you’d looked at him earlier, and the fact that you’d let him whisk you away from the officers—it felt like the start of something, something... And for now, that was enough.

After the case, the team couldn't help but notice how close you and Spencer had become. Whether it was holding hands absentmindedly or you resting your head on his shoulder during long flights, it seemed like you two were always in sync. To anyone watching, it was obvious that something was going on between you two, but to you and Spencer, you were just friends. Sure, there were feelings simmering beneath the surface, but both of you were oblivious to them.

One day, after a particularly long and exhausting case, Hotch decided the team needed a break. As a reward for all the hard work, he gave everyone the next day off. To celebrate, Emily, Garcia, and Morgan started making plans to go out that night. Morgan, always the social one, immediately turned to Spencer.

“Come on, pretty boy, you should come out with us,” Morgan said, nudging Spencer, who predictably shook his head.

“I don’t really think—” Spencer started, but then he overheard Emily ask you if you were coming along.

“Are you kidding?” you said enthusiastically. “I’ve been dying to go out. I just need to go home and change first, but I’ll meet you guys there.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, but when he saw the excitement on your face, he changed his mind. “Actually… I think I’ll go too.”

Garcia, overhearing this, snickered to herself. “Reid is so whipped,” she whispered, watching the two of you walk ahead together.

Emily, unable to resist, leaned in and quietly shared, “Did you guys notice the other day on the plane to South Dakota? She was holding Spencer’s hand the entire flight, and she didn’t even realize it.”

Morgan grinned, adding, “Oh, and last week? She fixed Spencer’s hair during the briefing, and the guy practically lit up like a Christmas tree.”

As the three of them exchanged knowing looks, you and Spencer, now a few steps ahead, suddenly noticed the group lagging behind. You glanced back and asked, “Hey, what’s going on back there?”

Morgan, Emily, and Garcia immediately straightened up, all of them wearing innocent expressions. “Nothing!” they chorused in unison, clearly hiding something.

You gave them a skeptical look but shrugged it off, turning back to Spencer as the two of you continued chatting. Meanwhile, behind you, the trio exchanged glances, silently agreeing that it was time to take matters into their own hands.

“So, what’s the plan to get those two together?” Emily whispered to Garcia.

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” Garcia replied, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. “They’re halfway there already; they just need a little push.”

Morgan chuckled. “Count me in. Let’s make sure tonight is very interesting.” As you and Spencer unknowingly walked into their plot, you continued to talk about your plans for the night, completely unaware of the matchmaking scheme brewing behind you. For now, you were just looking forward to a fun night out with your friends—and, of course, Spencer, who somehow made every moment feel just a little bit better.

Garcia, Emily, and Morgan waited at the bar, excitement buzzing in the air as they plotted their next move to bring you and Spencer together. Emily had devised a plan, making up an excuse about why Spencer couldn’t ride with them, and it had worked perfectly. You had hesitated at first, unsure about being a bother, but Spencer insisted he wanted to come with you, making you feel a little more at ease.

The three of them settled into a booth, sipping drinks and keeping an eye on the entrance. Emily leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, what’s our game plan for tonight? We need to get them talking more, maybe even dancing.”

Garcia nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely! And we should definitely have Spencer and her sit next to each other when they get here. That’ll give them a chance to get closer.”

Morgan leaned back in his seat, smirking. “You guys are way too obvious. It’s going to be hilarious to watch him squirm.”

Just then, they saw you walk in, and the conversation halted. You looked stunning in a fitted dress that hugged your figure perfectly, and the knee-high boots you wore added a fierce touch. Garcia couldn’t help herself. “Wow, look at her! That dress is incredible!”

“Check out those boots!” Emily added, eyes wide. “She looks amazing.”

Morgan grinned widely, his gaze shifting to Spencer, who was right behind you, taking in the sight of you with an appreciative look. “And look at Spencer. He’s practically checking her out.”

As if on cue, Spencer reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist, and you smiled up at him. “Oh my God, Derek!” Penelope exclaimed, barely containing her excitement.

It wasn’t until you spotted them that Spencer lets go of you as you pulled Spencer over to the table. As you approached the booth, you spotted them and your face lit up. “Hey, guys!” you greeted happily, your voice brightening the atmosphere around the table. “Sorry I’m 30 minutes late!”

“Not a problem at all!” Garcia said, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Morgan chuckled, leaning forward. “We were just getting an eyeful of your fashion choices. You look fantastic!”

“Thanks!” you replied, a little bashfully. “I wanted to look nice for tonight.” You paused, glancing at Spencer, who stood next to you, his expression unreadable.

“Well, it’s working,” Emily said with a wink. “You definitely caught our attention.”

You grinned, appreciating the compliment. “I’ll get the first round. What does everyone want?” you asked, taking out your phone to note their orders.

As you walked away to the bar, Emily, Garcia, and Morgan wasted no time in turning their focus to Spencer.

“So,” Emily started, feigning innocence, “what do you think of her outfit?”

Spencer, caught off guard, stammered, “Uh, it’s…nice.” He quickly looked away, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.

Garcia giggled, nudging him playfully. “Nice? Is that all you’ve got, pretty boy? She looks stunning!”

“Come on, Reid,” Morgan chimed in, a teasing grin on his face. “You’re clearly checking her out. Don’t hide it!”

Spencer sighed, knowing he was trapped. “I just—”

“Just what?” Emily pressed, leaning in closer. “Do you like her or not?”

“I mean, she’s great,” Spencer finally admitted, his voice a mix of admiration and embarrassment. “We’re just friends.”

“Right,” Garcia said, barely containing her laughter. “Friends who hold hands and check each other out.”

“Reid, you’ve got it bad,” Morgan teased, leaning closer. “You can’t even hide it.”

Spencer shrugged, attempting to play it cool, but the flush creeping up his neck gave him away. “I just think she looks great,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Morgan chimed in, pointing at Spencer. “Seriously, man, you were totally checking her out.”

Spencer shook his head, trying to play it cool, but the slightest blush crept into his cheeks. “We just drove here together; it’s not a big deal.”

Emily smirked, leaning in closer. “Not a big deal? You were holding her waist! What happened when you two left? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Spencer replied quickly, trying to keep his tone light. “I just stayed in the car while she changed at the apartment.”

Morgan chimed in, pointing at Spencer with a teasing grin. “Seriously, man, you were totally checking her out.”

Spencer shook his head, trying to play it cool, but the slightest blush crept into his cheeks. “We just drove here together; it’s not a big deal.”

Emily smirked, leaning in closer. “Not a big deal? You were holding her waist! What happened when you two left? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Spencer replied quickly, striving to keep his tone light. “I just stayed in the car while she changed at the apartment.”

“Yeah, and you let her go out in that dress?” Emily shot back, her eyebrow raised.

“I mean, that’s none of my business. We’re not together,” he said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Not yet,” Garcia piped in, her enthusiasm unabated. “But you act like it. Make your move!”

Before Spencer could respond, Emily glanced around, her expression shifting slightly. “Where is Y/N, by the way? She’s been gone for too long getting those drinks.”

The three of them turned their heads toward the bar, and then suddenly caught sight of you on the dance floor. You were laughing and dancing with some girls, completely in your element.

Garcia, eyes sparkling with mischief, nudged Spencer. “You should go get her!”

Spencer hesitated, watching you dance. The way you moved, carefree and joyful, made him smile to himself. He didn’t want to interrupt your fun, but the teasing from his friends was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Come on, don’t just sit there,” Emily said, nudging him again. “You’re missing your chance.”

“Yeah, man, go get your girl!” Morgan chimed in, his voice playful yet encouraging.

Spencer felt the warmth of their gazes on him, urging him to take action. He glanced back at you, laughing and dancing as if the world didn’t exist. Maybe he could just watch a little longer, but as Emily’s teasing began again, he decided he didn’t want to be the wallflower anymore.

“Okay, okay,” Spencer finally relented, standing up from the booth. He took a deep breath, feeling a rush of determination. “I’ll go get her and grab the drinks.”

As he walked toward you, he could feel the weight of his friends’ encouragement behind him, but he also felt a thrill of nerves. This was different. You were different. With each step, he knew he wanted to take that leap, and tonight might just be the night. He continues to watch you dance your body moving to the beat of the song. You were having fun that was clear he admired how much your smile lit his whole world. He didn't want to remind you about the drinks so he went to the bar got the drinks himself and went back to the table.

You were on the dance floor, having the time of your life, but as the music slowed and your feet began to ache, you made your way back to the booth. Emily, Garcia, and Morgan were already there, sipping on their drinks, and that’s when it hit you—you had completely forgotten to bring them their drinks.

"Sorry, guys! I got caught up," you apologized, genuinely feeling bad.

“No worries,” Morgan grinned, glancing over at Garcia. “Spencer took care of the first round. He was supposed to come get you, but you were a little busy dancing.”

You chuckled sheepishly, glancing around the bar. “I’m sorry again. I didn’t realize.” You had to remind yourself to get the next round of drinks and spend two drinks on Spencer. Feeling guilty that he had to pay for drinks you offered to get in the first place.

“Speaking of which,” Emily said, leaning back in her seat with a smirk, “Spencer was supposed to be getting us another round, but he’s taking his sweet time. He’s probably distracted by the blonde at the bar.”

Your gaze snapped to the bar, and sure enough, Spencer was chatting with a tall blonde woman, who was laughing and leaning in a little too close for your comfort. You rolled your eyes, muttering, “She’s Cute,” in a snarky tone crossing your arms. As you eyed her up and down from a distance.

Garcia’s eyes lit up at your reaction, picking up on the jealousy you were trying to hide. “Ooh, look at you,” she teased. “She’s been talking to him for the past 20 minutes. Seems pretty cozy, huh?”

You waved your hand dismissively. “He’s just being nice. That’s how Spencer is.” You say Spencer was a nice guy especially when it came to women. He wasn’t awkward as most people saw him at least not with you. You both were inseparable spending time with each other in and out of work or talking late at night after cases.

Emily, always quick to stir the pot, leaned in closer, her voice playful. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you replied, too quickly. The word came out sharper than you intended, which only made Morgan grin wider.

“Right. You’re not jealous at all,” he said, teasing you further. “Because, you know, you haven’t been clinging to Spencer this whole time or anything. It’s not obvious that you like him.” You tried to laugh it off, but their teasing hit a nerve. You didn’t deny your closeness to Spencer, but you weren’t about to confirm it either. Who wouldn't fall for Spencer? He was nice, smart, caring for his friends you included, and he good looking in your eyes. You especially liked when he spoke his nerdy genius facts, you always liked learning and you soaked up his facts like he was storyteller of facts.

“We’re just friends.” You say as that was the truth despite you wanting to be more. You knew feeling jealous was wrong but if Spencer wanted to date someone it was out of your control.

As the others exchanged knowing looks, you found yourself glancing back at the bar. The blonde was still there, her fingers twirling a strand of hair as she laughed at something Spencer was explaining. Your stomach twisted, and you hated that you felt this way. Spencer wasn’t yours, and he could talk to whoever he wanted. But still… something about it didn’t sit right with you.

Morgan, noticing your silence, nudged you again. “You sure you’re not jealous? Because it kinda looks like you are.”

You straightened up, forcing yourself to stay calm. “She’s a tall, bleach blonde with a 36D cup, and she’s probably pretending to understand whatever Spencer’s talking about. She’s got nothing on me. And besides, the only blondes I like Spencer with are Garcia and J.J.”

Emily and Morgan exchanged a glance, and Garcia practically cackled. They could tell you were trying to downplay your feelings, but your words only revealed how fired up you really were.

It wasn’t until you saw the blonde reach out and touch Spencer—first his arm, then his hair—that you had finally had enough. “You know what? The next round’s on me,” you said, abruptly standing up from the booth.

As you strode toward the bar, Garcia couldn’t contain her excitement. “Oh, this is it. This is the moment!” she squealed, practically bouncing in her seat.

Morgan and Emily high-fived, pleased with how their little mission was playing out. They had been waiting for a moment like this, and now it seemed like you were finally about to act on your feelings.

You didn’t care what anyone thought anymore. Watching that woman touch your Spencer like that ignited something inside you. As you approached the bar, your heart raced, but your steps were confident, purposeful. Spencer might not even realize what was happening, but you knew one thing for sure—you weren’t going to let some random blonde take your place by his side.

You approached the bar quietly, trying to catch the conversation the blonde woman was having with Spencer. She was leaning into him, laughing and commenting on how good he looked for an FBI agent. A wave of possessiveness surged through you, and before you could think twice, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Spencer, caught off guard, glanced up at you, confusion flickering across his face.

“Hey, Spence, did you get the drinks for the others?” you asked, casually resting your chin on his shoulder. The blonde woman looked at you eyeing you like you did her. You swayed back and forth and Spencer as usual let you. To him and you this was normal but you wanted to give her the idea that he was taken.

“Oh yeah, that’s right! I’m sorry, I forgot,” he mumbled.

“No worries, I should’ve gotten the drinks when I had the chance,” you replied sweetly.

The blonde wasn’t done with him though. “Spencer! You were saying?” she interrupted, her voice laced with annoyance as she tried to pull his attention back to her. But it was all on you as you two had your own conversation.

Spencer blinked. “Huh?”

You leaned into him more, almost daring her with your eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” you asked, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Yes—” Heather began, but Spencer quickly cut her off, clearly sensing the rising tension.

“No. Not at all. We were just talking about our jobs at the BAU… Oh, Y/N, this is- uhhh Heather! Her name is Heather,” Spencer introduced her awkwardly, stumbling over his words. You didn’t move from him, still holding onto his shoulders as if to make it clear to Heather that Spencer wasn’t going anywhere.

You eyed her up and down and rolled your eyes. “Heather, huh? Cool name. I'm Y/n ” you said, not bothering to hide your disdain. You reach past Spencer to shake her hand trying not to be rude to Spencer.

Heather’s smile faltered slightly. “You work with Spencer?”

“Oh yeah,” you replied, turning to Spencer with a sweet smile as you ran your hand through his hair, fixing it just how you liked. “We work tons of hours together, we're really...close aren't we, Spence?” you ask looking to him for his answer. Spencer didn’t understand it but he knew you were acting strange. Your tone the way your body language was different.

Spencer nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, we do. Actually, we just got the day off tomorrow!”

You rolled your eyes again, internally groaning. As much as you adored him, he was too polite to recognize that Heather was blatantly flirting. Or maybe he did know but wasn’t sure how to shut it down. Or he could be interested in her but you didn’t let that thought linger any longer.

Heather’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, are you free tomorrow night?”

Before Spencer could even think of answering, you spoke up. “No, he’s not,” you said quickly, your voice firm.

Heather blinked, clearly taken aback. “I was talking to Spencer,” she said, her voice icy.

“And I told you, he’s not free,” you repeated, stepping closer to him, almost in front of him now.

Heather wasn’t giving up so easily. She gently nudged you aside, leaning in closer to Spencer. “Anyway, Spencer, are you free tomorrow?” you felt your body get hotter by the second she spoke. The urge not to hit her when she touched you, as you knew you'd be wrong if you did.

Spencer shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. “I—uh—I mean—”

Before he could finish, you cut in again, your jealousy bubbling over. “He has a girlfriend,” you blurted out, shocking both Spencer and Heather.

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and you could feel his gaze on you. If he didn’t know you were jealous before, he definitely knew now.

Heather crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. “I don’t see her, and he hasn’t mentioned her.”

You stepped forward, standing your ground. “I’m right here.”

Heather’s eyes narrowed as she looked you up and down. “Please. You’re just jealous that Spencer’s interested in me. You don’t have any claim on him just because you work together.” Spencer looked at you wondering what your next move was, you didn't deny that you were jealous not once. Nor did he deny that you were his girlfriend, he could but he didn't want to. He tries not to smile but then he looks back at you as you grew quiet.

You were practically shaking with anger, but her words hit you harder than you expected. She wasn’t entirely wrong—you weren’t Spencer’s girlfriend, and this was starting to feel like a massive embarrassment. But just as your thoughts started to spiral, Spencer stepped in.

“Here are your drinks, miss,” the bartender said, sliding the drinks over to you and Spencer. He thought this was the perfect time to get the two of you away from Heather and back to your friends.

Spencer set the drinks down and took your hand in his, placing his other hand gently on your shoulder. His touch was grounding, and when he spoke, his voice was calm and reassuring. “It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have anything to prove. I’ve got the drinks; let’s head back.” He wanted you to know there was nothing to worry about, he wasn't interested in Heather. Not even attracted to her, as he holds your hand and whispers in your ear how you're here to spend time with friends and have a good time. You smiled, feeling instantly soothed. He knew just what to say to ease your frustration. You look at him and he looks at you with hearts in your eyes like nothing else mattered. And it didn’t. The two of you leave heading over to your friends. But Heather wasn’t done though.

“Spencer, wait—if you’re free tomorrow, call me,” she said, handing him a napkin with her number on it.

Before you could react, Spencer turned and walked back to the bar, trying to give the napkin back. “Look, you seem really nice, and you’re very pretty, but I’m not interested.” You didn't notice Spencer wasn’t by your side at first but Emily and Penelope gave you a look as you turned to see Spencer stuck again. You leave the drinks at the table and go back over to Spencer. You sneak up from behind him listening to Heather’s desperate attempt to get with your genius.

Heather huffed, clearly not taking the rejection well. “Come on, Spencer. Are you really just trying to spare her feelings?” Heather refers to you as Spencer thinks about his next words carefully.

Spencer shook his head. “I’m not sparing her feelings because we work together. I’m sparing your feelings because I love her. For a long time and she feels the same way” Spencer says confidently as Heather scoffs.

The confession hit you like a ton of bricks, and you stopped in your tracks, staring at him wide-eyed. Did he just say he loved you? Well this was the time for you to say what you needed to say.

You stepped in front of him, your heart racing. Spencer looked at you, his expression soft, almost hopeful, as if he wasn’t sure you heard him. He didn't know what you were going to say, but he felt

“My name is Y/N, I have a name so say it.” you said, snapping back to Heather. “And you’re right. I am his coworker. But I can have him anytime I want to. So, thank you. You gave me the strength to fight for the man I love, but I’m not going to, because I’ve realized there’s no competition. You can't compare to me. This is my man, together or not and he certainly doesn’t want you, maybe if you weren't so desperate Heather you'd know that. So go find your own man and don't touch mine. We’re leaving now. Goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, Spencer following closely behind, still reeling from what just happened. You called him yours. You were actually jealous and to him you looked pretty hot. He was used to you being so nice and he's seen you angry during cases but this felt different. Spencer takes you hand as you go back to the booth where your friends were waiting. The moment they saw the two of you, a chorus of cheers erupted from the table, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Finally!" Garcia squealed, clapping her hands. Emily raised her glass, and even Morgan was grinning ear to ear.

"Looks like the mission was a success," Morgan teased, and Spencer just shook his head, smiling, as he held your hand a little tighter. The two of you didn't discuss your obvious feelings not while you were being teased. But you both knew at sometime in the future hopefully tomorrow you'd talk about it.

As you and Spencer left the bar that night, you insisted on driving him home. The night had been fun, but you felt like there were some things left unsaid—especially after the events at the bar. Spencer agreed, quietly watching you as you drove, his eyes curious but gentle, clearly wondering what was on your mind.

When you pulled up in front of his apartment, you turned off the engine but didn’t make any move to get out. Instead, you turned to face him, gathering your thoughts before speaking.

“I wanted to talk about what happened earlier,” you began, your voice a little hesitant. Spencer raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

“I know I kind of... jumped in with that girl, and I didn’t handle it the best way,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands on the steering wheel. “It’s just... I got jealous. I don’t usually get like that, but when I saw her flirting with you, I couldn’t help it. And I guess that’s because—well, because I have feelings for you, Spencer.” You took in a deep breath looking up at him, waiting for his reaction. Spencer’s eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I figured that might’ve been why you did it,” he said, his voice gentle. “But... I should probably confess something too.” Your heartbeat quickened as you waited for him to continue.

“I was jealous too,” he admitted, his gaze dropping slightly. “Remember those two guys at the police station about a month ago? They wouldn’t stop flirting with you, and... I hated it. I didn’t know how to deal with it, because I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way about me, and I didn’t want to risk messing things up between us.”

You blinked in surprise. “You were jealous? Of them? They're not my type”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’re funny, kind, smart, beautiful—why wouldn’t they flirt with you? But it drove me crazy. And then tonight... seeing you claim me like that at the bar... it was, uh... kind of hot, to be honest.”

Your cheeks warmed at his confession, and you laughed softly. “Kind of hot?”

Spencer smiled a little wider, his eyes brightening. “Okay, very hot,” he corrected. “But more than that, it just reminded me how much I care about you. I guess what I’m trying to say is... I’ve had feelings for you for a while. And after tonight... I think it’s pretty clear that I’m your man now, just like you said.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned closer, gently pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, sweet, and everything you had hoped it would be. When you finally pulled back, Spencer was grinning, a little dazed, as if the kiss had left him breathless.

“So... does that mean we’re officially a couple?” you asked, still smiling.

Spencer nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I’d say so.” The two of you hold hands and sit in silence as Spencer looks at your lips again.

"Can we kiss again?" Spencer asked, his voice soft and a little shy, making you chuckle.

“You don’t have to ask, Spence. Just do it.”

Without hesitation, Spencer leaned in, and the two of you started kissing again. This time, it was deeper, more passionate. His hand rested gently on the back of your neck, and you found yourself pulling him closer, your fingers running through his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss became more intense.

Spencer responded eagerly, his other hand settling on your waist as you melted into each other. The air in the car felt warmer, filled with the heat of the moment. His lips moved against yours with a newfound confidence, and you could feel the electricity between you, making your heart race faster.

As you both paused for a breath, his forehead resting against yours, Spencer smiled, his breath a little ragged. "You know," he whispered, "this might be the best night of my life."

You laughed softly, still catching your own breath. "Well, it's not over yet."

Spencer's eyes sparkled at that, and before he could say anything else, you pulled him back in for another kiss, losing yourselves in each other all over again.

When you finally needed to cool down you leaned back in your seat, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying the shared understanding between you.

Then, Spencer’s smile turned teasing. “You know, I kind of like jealous Y/N. It’s a new side of you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, shut up. I wasn’t that jealous.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You totally were. You didn’t even let me answer her when she asked if I was free tomorrow.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I was jealous,” you admitted, laughing. “But only because you’re mine now.”

Spencer’s smile softened at that, and he reached over to take your hand, intertwining your fingers. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both sat there for a little longer, basking in the comfort of your new relationship. It felt right—like everything had finally fallen into place. And as you sat there holding hands, you knew that this was just the beginning of something special between you and Spencer.

Monday morning, you and Spencer walked into the BAU together, and Garcia was waiting at her desk with an eager smile. "So... how was the date yesterday?" she asked, practically buzzing with excitement.

“It was great,” you answered, though you couldn’t help but smile when Spencer, standing beside you, started launching into the specifics. “We went to the museum, grabbed dinner, and—”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Spence, she doesn’t need to know everything.”

“Oh, but I do!” Garcia’s eyes gleamed. “This is exciting! You two are finally together.”

As Spencer talked, you felt a strange mix of pride and awkwardness. Being at work with Spencer now that you were officially dating felt... different. You weren’t used to having your relationship on display for everyone, and it was obvious that the team was already tuned in to every detail.

J.J walked in, noticing Garcia's unusually happy mood. "What’s going on with you today, Garcia?"

Before Garcia could answer, Emily and Morgan jumped in. "Oh, you don’t know? Y/N and Reid are finally a couple," Emily said with a grin.

J.J’s eyes widened. "Wait, what? How did that happen?"

You overheard the conversation and turned toward them, about to say something when Garcia started recounting the story of how jealous you had gotten at the bar.

"It wasn’t like that—" you began, but Spencer, with a teasing grin, added fuel to the fire.

"You wouldn’t even let me speak to that girl when she asked if I was free!" he teased, nudging you lightly.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "I told you I was sorry the other night," you muttered, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

"Oh my God, you two are really a couple now!" J.J laughed.

“Who’s a couple?” Rossi’s voice suddenly chimed in as he entered the bullpen.

“Y/N and our pretty boy,” Morgan answered with a proud smile.

Rossi chuckled, nodding in approval. "Well, it’s about time! How did this happen?"

Spencer, now getting into it, started explaining the events at the bar to Rossi and J.J—how you got jealous when the blonde woman was flirting with him, how you interrupted, and how you eventually claimed him as "your man." The others listened with wide eyes and amused smiles.

“And then Y/N called Reid ‘her man,’” Morgan added, laughing. “From there, it was all over.”

You were starting to feel more and more self-conscious as they recounted the whole night. You tried to defend yourself, your voice growing softer. "It’s not like that... I just... I mean, it wasn’t planned or anything, it just happened."

Spencer, sensing your discomfort, gently took your hand again. "There’s no need to be shy," he said with that soft, reassuring tone that always put you at ease.

Emily smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I know, right? Now she gets so shy about it, but the other night she was ready to throw down at the bar!” The whole team burst into laughter, making you even more flustered.

Feeling like you needed a break from the teasing, you gently let go of Spencer’s hand. “I’m going to the conference room. We’ve got a case to focus on,” you said, retreating to the room where the briefing would take place.

As you left, Spencer continued filling J.J and Rossi in on the rest of your date, telling them how sweet and simple it was—just dinner and a movie, but it was perfect.

A few minutes later, you called out from the conference room, “Guys, Hotch wants us all in here.”

They all looked at you, still grinning and throwing teasing looks your way as they made their way to the room. Despite the light-hearted teasing, you couldn’t help but smile. Your relationship was out in the open now, and it felt good, even if it was a little overwhelming at first. But there was no time to dwell on that now—there was another case to solve, and the team quickly shifted into work mode as the briefing began.

[eringobragh420]

Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Black!Reader Summary: Damian and his girlfriend are on vacation, and the couple gets a little carried away. Warnings: NSFW, obviously, lol. Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! Sex, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, Daddy kink, cum. 18+ Notes: Can't believe I'm posting so soon, but this story flowed so well because the idea was lovely ❤️❤️ Taglist: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend, @terrortwinunicorn. If you’d like to be added, please let me know! Requested By: @wrestlingbaby. Hope you enjoy!

Dinner by the water was truly an experience to be had. The warm salt water drifting in from the shore, the crashing of the waves of the ocean, and a beautiful man to share it with. Damian sat across from her, sipping his wine, his attention not as occupied with the scenery as it was on her. She grinned, shaking her head, taking a drink from her own beverage. Of course she loved his attention, but sometimes she wasn’t able to stop her heart from skipping a beat.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said. “Puerto Rico is amazing.”

“Of course, mi vida,” he replied, voice deep, like smoke on velvet, and she squirmed in her chair. No matter how many times he spoke his native language to her, especially when it was in the form of a pet name, she couldn’t control her body’s natural response, which was increasing arousal and, consequently, a wet pair of panties. “Did you like the food?” He nodded at her plate, the contents of which were blocked by the glasses of wine and water peppering the tabletop.

“Boy, what do you think?” she asked, lifting one side of the plate to show she’d finished everything.

Damian guffawed, “That’s my girl.” They finished their respective drinks at the same time. “So, you wanna dance or take a walk on the beach?”

She glanced at the water, the inviting sand, the setting sun, then to the dance floor on the other side of the railing from where the restaurant tables were located. “Why can’t we do both?”

Smirking, Damian stood from the table and offered her his hand. She placed her manicured hand in his, eyes alight as she watched the diamond bracelet, gifted to her by Damian just that morning, slide down her caramel skin, catching the light, sparkling, much like her eyes whenever she looked at her boyfriend. He helped her to her feet, and their hands clasped as he led her to the dance floor. A salsa number was pounding through the speakers, and she danced her way amongst the people. She was grateful Damian had insisted she learn how to salsa before they’d left for the island, especially when he turned to her, raising her hand until their elbows were bent, and his free hand snaked around her waist, his fingers delving within her braids as they hung beautifully down her back. 

“Let’s salsa,” Damian grinned before starting the dance.

There were only a few times she missed a step, Damian not noticing as his eyes were locked on hers, his body moving confidently and, dare she say, sexily. He gently pushed her away from him so she could spin, and then he brought her back, this time her back against his chest. Their hips moved in sync as their knees bent and they sank closer to the floor. Coming back up, she bent forward, hands on her knees, and rolled her hips this way and that, slow, fast, slow again. She knew what her ass did to him. His heavy hands claimed those hips, thumbs pressing into the flesh of her cheeks, and he yanked back, molding them together. She glimpsed him over her shoulder, grinning, and Damian shook his head, wearing his own iniquitous smirk.

“Let’s go walk,” she suggested later, tugging on both his hands to lead him out the exit. They headed toward the beach, but she stopped just before they encountered sand. She removed her sandals and handed them to Damian.

“Oh, I guess I get to carry these,” he teased.

“You better be happy,” she advised, “I coulda made you carry me.” Damian stopped to consider. She looked at him, instantly knowing that expression. “Don’t you dare,” she warned. “Last time you did that, you ripped my dress on one of your rings.”

“I’ll be more careful,” he said, and lunged. She squealed, barely getting three feet from him before he snatched her waist, spun her around, and tossed her over his shoulder, never once losing possession of her sandals. A smooth, successful mission, and she couldn’t help but feel turned on. One of his arms held tight to the back of her knees to hold her fast against him, leaving his free hand many an opportunity to slap the ass he loved, squeeze it, make it bounce. She could only giggle, returning the same gestures to his ass, though she was fairly certain they didn’t have the same effect on him as his did on her.

Damian brought them near the edge of the water before he placed her back on her feet. Next to them were several unoccupied lounge chairs. He wiped one off, and then wiped it off again after she complained she saw sand. He laid down, bringing her with him, and she cuddled into his side. He smelled so good, and he was so warm and firm. She hiked her dress up a bit so she could lift a leg over his. One hand immediately claimed the exposed bottom of her ass, the other gripping her thigh.

“So obsessed with me,” she smiled, mumbling against his neck. She sprinkled kisses all along his skin, hand sliding down his abdomen. His hand on her ass changed its grip from playful to indecent groping. 

“You saying I shouldn’t be?” Damian breathed.

“I’m sayin’ I love it,” she whispered in his ear, kissing the lobe then licking up the shell.

“Mmm you keep going like that …”

“What? I’m gonna get fucked out here on a beach in Puerto Rico?” Her hand made it to the bulge in his black jeans, massaging only here and there, rubbing the head with the pad of her finger. His hips jolted then and the grip on her ass was just this side of painful. “Got anymore threats?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he growled, turning to look at her. “Ride this dick or I’ll throw your ass in the ocean.”

She sat up on an elbow. “Boy, you throw me in that ocean before I get my hair up, I’ll drown your ass and they’ll never find the body.”

Damian’s chuckle was dark, nefarious, and he grabbed a handful of those braids so he could bring her closer. “I love when you get all intimidating,” he said. 

She giggled, the both of them knowing she was the furthest thing from intimidating, but she went with it. “Then you better take that cock out,” she murmured, touching a nail to his bottom lip, “and don’t make me tell you again.” There was no fighting the grin on her glossy lips, as this role was rather far from her comfort zone, but Damian, being with Damian, made everything in life easier. 

Still clutching her hair with one hand, eyes holding hers, he reached down with his other hand and deftly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the jeans, and the mixture of the sound of his zipper lowering and the waves crashing nearby, she felt a flood between her folds. Glancing down just in time to watch Damian unleash his big cock from its cage, she whispered an obscenity, bit her lip. 

“So,” she said, sliding down his body. “I guess you probably want me to suck you … or lick you …”

“Fuck yes, I do,” Damian moaned.

“Well, I think you better ask nicely,” she grinned.

Damian’s own smile was strained and he shook his head. “Please, baby, put your pretty mouth on my cock.” She thought about asking him to do it again, but her need was too great, and so she wrapped her glistening lips around the head, applying gentle suction, tongue lapping at a bead of precum. Damian fell back against the chair, eyes closed. “Fuck, that’s it. God, you’re so good at that.”

She smiled around him, basking in the praise, and she took him further into her mouth with each bob of her head. His moaning became louder and louder the more and more she was able to fit in her mouth. She pulled back slowly, sucking hard this time, cheeks collapsed, lips bruised, and she popped off. She placed a few butterfly kisses on the underside, a tiny lick there, and then she pulled away, jerking him with her hand. The one with the gorgeous bracelet, and she had to stop and admire as the jewelry jiggled and sparkled as she pumped Damian’s own gleaming cock.

“I’m gonna ride this dick, Daddy,” she whispered, and Damian suddenly grabbed the base of his cock, glaring at her as she stood. She giggled, sliding her panties down her satiny legs, and before the garment could touch the sand, she grabbed it and gently stuffed some of it into Damian’s mouth. He groaned, clamping his lips around the lacy material.

Straddling him, she slowly sank onto Damian’s rock hard member, throwing her head back as he stretched her inch by agonizing inch. Hands on his chest, she raised her hips until he nearly fell out, then she slid back down, coating his cock with all the slick that had been collecting since the salsa. “Shit,” she cried, “you fill me up so good.”

Damian grunted, “Because you’re so fucking tight.”

She could still see the restaurant where they’d eaten and danced not too far in the distance and she moaned, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It was then she noticed her boyfriend had lowered the sleeves of her dress enough that he could also pull the front of her dress down, revealing her perfect breasts and hardened nipples. He instantly leaned forward, her panties falling from his lips, and took a dusky nipple into his mouth, flicking with his tongue, nibbling with his teeth, and the squeal that escaped her lips might have been embarrassing if she wasn’t so caught up in the moment. Her hips accelerated, riding him fast, hard, and Damian groaned.

“I’m gonna cum,” he confessed.

“Inside me,” she panted, bouncing, mesmerizing Damian with her perfect tits. “Cum inside me, Daddy.”

“Yeah?” Damian breathed. “Is that what you want? Want me to fuck a baby into this tight pussy?”

“Fuck yes,” she moaned.

The couple felt more comfortable, despite her being on birth control, when Damian wore a condom when cumming inside her, but there were decidedly no condoms within reach, and Damian was never able to say no to this gorgeous woman riding his cock. He gripped her breasts, grazing her nipples with his thumbs, and she clenched around him, crying out, as she came. Damian shouted next, shooting rope after rope of his thick cum deep inside his girlfriend’s soaking cunt, and fuck, this felt way better without a condom. 

“Damn,” she smirked, and their lips came together. “Let’s do that shit again.”

Two-and-a-half months later, she sat on the couch in their living room, alone, waiting for Damian to come home. The television was on, but she paid no attention to it. She could only stare at the box on the cushion beside her—a plain, white box, wrapped in a satin white bow. She was excited about the contents, though it had taken a few days to work her way out of shock and into excitement. Damian was gone for Raw, but she expected him back any moment. She thought maybe she knew how he would react—probably how she had: shock followed by excitement—but she didn’t want to assume either way. She had to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

The front door opening nearly sent her out of her skin, and she rolled her eyes, attempting to relax herself before Damian saw her. He left his luggage by the door and bent over the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and covering her neck and cheek in kisses. He mumbled how much he’d missed her, missed holding her, smelling her, kissing her, all the while removing his sneakers before he climbed over the couch and fell onto the cushions beside her. Despite her nerves, she grinned, kissing him with everything she had, just in case this was the last time.

“Wanna go upstairs?” Damian slurred against her mouth.

“Of course,” she replied, “but first … I got you a present.” She grabbed the box and handed it to him, maybe a little roughly, but she was worried she wouldn’t be able to let go.

“Awesome,” he said, “but maybe I could open you first …”

She shook her head. “Present, then me.”

Damian pulled at the bow, lifted the lid, and paused to read the note taped there. 

Daddy, we haven’t met just yet, but something tells me you’re going to be amazing

After a very long, unsettling moment, Damian removed the tissue paper in the box to reveal a white onesie with words in script on the front which simply read Hello, Daddy. He gingerly lifted the garment from the box with both hands, cradling it, and as small as it was, it was miniature in Damian’s grasp. His thumb caressed the word Daddy. She watched silently, utterly shaking, allowing him to soak in the news at his own pace. When he did finally look at her, his eyes were wet, though no tears had fallen just yet. 

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, cleared his throat, and tried again. “When, uh … when did …?”

“When did you knock me up?” Maybe humor would ease the tension? He nodded. “Remember Puerto Rico …?”

He quickly understood, nodding. “And the birth control …?”

“You know how they say it’s only 99% effective … I guess we’re the 1%.” Damian nodded again, still staring at the onesie. “Please say something,” she begged, near to tears herself.

Damian let go of the onesie so he could scrub his hands over his face, and that couldn’t be a good sign, she thought. But then he sniffed, and she realized he was wiping away those tears that had finally fallen. He picked up the onesie and fell to his knees on the floor in front of the couch. He unfolded her legs so he could fit between them, and he positioned the baby’s clothing over her flat stomach. Wrapping his arms around her middle, locking them between her back and the back of the couch, he first kissed her belly and then laid his head there. She let out a breath, tears falling freely, and she held him.

She cleared her throat. “So you’re happy?”

Damian raised his head to look up at her. “I’ve neve been happier in my life. I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

** Mi vida - My life

[carnelianly]

hi bae i recently followed you and i love every single thing you’ve posted,,, idk if this is a safe space but… like hitting art… him letting you and telling you he loves you and kissing you after

omg this is definitely a safe space babe let’s talk about this!!

hi this is my public service announcement that this is not a healthy relationship dynamic and you not ever put your hands on your partner. that is not okay irl unless there is expressed consent. this is also a very romanticized depiction and theoretically there should be more discussion and communication okay okay, end scene and with that out the way->

the first time you hit art being during an argument. you slap him after he says something a little too provocative, because art’s always been the type to say things to try and get under your skin when he’s mad. like he’s trying to get you to react and be the bad guy, stoop to his level.

but you slap him for saying something just a little bit too out of line, and the whole argument comes to a screeching halt as he stumbles back, holding his cheek in his hand as he looks down at the floor, and then back up at you in fear. he’s petrified.

and you just look baffled with yourself, not even realizing that was something you were capable of. you look down at your hands, like you didn’t know they could do that, and then back up at him.

he gulps. he thinks he’s in for it. but there also a weird feeling he can’t quite place. there’s that rush of adrenaline he got from the hit, and that bubble of shame welling up in his stomach.

he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but it kinda felt good to watch you lose your temper, for you to break and fall from that pedestal he puts you on, and to see you for what you are. and you look hot when you’re angry. for a good second there he thought you were gonna kill him, and it was horrifying, sure, but.. god, is he getting hard?

he’s definitely lightheaded, standing there completely still, as if if he didn’t move, you wouldn’t notice that he’s getting turned on from the fact that you just hit him. you slapped him. you hurt him, god it stung so bad, why is he so fucking turned on from it?

“art?” you murmur, not wanting to cross the distance yet, “i… i’m so sorry, i.. can i get closer and take a look?” you sound unsure, tense, like you’re afraid that he’s upset at you. of course you’re worried, but he can’t help that it’s a hit to his heart. you’re worried that you’ve just ruined everything and he’s biting his lip trying to keep in the horniness.

he nods at your question, and you come closer, tentatively reaching out to pet his cheek, “oh.. oh baby, i’m so so sorry, i.. i really didn’t mean to do this. that doesn’t change what i did, but—“

“hey,” he cuts you off, trying to ease your nerves, “i’m not mad at you. we’re okay. you’re okay. it didn’t hurt that bad, just for a second there it stung.” and you sigh, closing your eyes.

art never told you how hard he came jerking off in the shower that night. he couldn’t have asked for sex right then and there, you were so frazzled and distracted and it wasn’t the right time, but thinking about how mad you looked for him going until he came so hard he was seeing stars.

a couple weeks later you’re making out with him on the couch, lips on his, straddling his lap, before he gasps out, “slap me,” his words move past his lips in a daze, he doesn’t even realize he said them until it’s too late.

you pull back, brows furrowed, “…what? uhm.. art, if this is some kinda joke—”

“no, baby, i.. i mean it.. please hit me, like last time. it was so hot..” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your neck delicately, “please, baby.”

and he eventually gets you to oblige, a good amount of begging usually works on you. so you slap him again, and he moans this time, surprising you both, but there’s something so hot about how his face contorts into pleasure when you slap him.

you lean back in to keep making out with him, and your hand brushes his cheek sweetly, as if apologizing, but he doesn’t need that. he needs you to hit him again and again until he gets dizzy.

and this begins the cycle of passionate make out sessions being routinely interrupted with a slap on his cheek or some other form of pain like your nails digging into his skin, carving moons into him.

and every time, without a doubt, he looks up at you with the most pleasure-filled look in his eyes and he mouth hanging open as he smiles slightly, whispering, “i love you,” even as his skin tingles from the aftermath. and when you lean back in to kiss him, gripping his face roughly, especially right over the sensitive skin you slapped, he knows you love him too.

[allieslobster]

I posted my opinion on the whole mike monologue so I wanted to also rant about this.

Why? WHY!!! WHYYY WHAT IS THE POINT?! No, but seriously like what is the point of this love triangle? I don’t understand the point in this conflict if it isn’t going to be resolved in a way where the audience goes “ohhh okay now i understand.”

And no, no I will not accept the theory that Will is being used to uplift mike and eleven’s relationship because how is that fair? Yeah, that’s super smart to use the gay character to uplift a straight relationship despite expressing Will is madly in love with Mike. They could have gone such a different route in expressing Will’s queerness like showing really rely on his family for support, meeting a love interest in California, or not needing a love interest and just working on accepting who he is.

But, they chose to again and again SHOW will longing over Mike. Just emphasizing the love triangle, every shot of Mike and El consisted of Will being in the background, or watching them but they always really highlighted Will’s presence. Why? Why all of this if the season five resolution to this whole love triangle is just going to be Mike saying he doesn’t feel the same but will always support Will and then continues to be with El despite it constantly being shown that they really just don’t understand each other.

I completely understand all relationships have conflicts, and despite me believing that even if byler wasn’t a thing I still wouldn’t ship mileven, a part of me also believes that if Mileven was set up differently I would support it more. Because yeah, they can argue and that’s normal but I constantly see people side with El and I want to give her a hug, too. BUT, let’s keep in mind that mike also feels unloved in this relationship.

Eleven doesn’t come to Mike for anything deeper than just superficial connection, she RAN away from Mike at rink o mania. Mike doesn’t come to El for anything deeper because why would he? He told her he was trying to understand, and that he’s been bullied and she dismissed that. It’s unfair to the both of them, and we know Mike has it in him to apologize and be understanding because that’s what he does for Will all of the time when he immediately realizes his wrongs and apologizes for it instead of blaming him. And Will does the same, always reassuring him.

I don’t get why people think it’s so crazy to ship byler, there was literally a whole scene of them in the van just expressing themselves and communicating even if Will wasn’t being honest. Will was sacrificing something for Mike, trying to uplift him and I think in season 5 when or if mike finds out he was lying, it’s going to spark a huge conversation.

There’s a reason this was tweeted.

This just goes hand in hand with the notion that season five is going to be will and mike centric all mixed in with the paranormal. Where Will and Mike’s connection is what saves them in the end just like it did in season two. BYLER ENDGAME!!!

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Never Letting You Go (Jason Todd)

Summary: Jason's afraid he's going to lose you.

Warnings: Flangst, every jason x reader i post will be is ADULT!jason x reader

WC : 970ish

Read on ao3!

-

The night sky was clear for once, a rarity in Gotham. You sat on the fire escape outside your apartment, the cool metal beneath you a grounding sensation as you looked out over the city’s sprawling skyline. Despite the beauty of the moment, your thoughts were elsewhere.

Beside you sat Jason Todd, his legs stretched out in front of him, the familiar weight of his leather jacket brushing against your side. For once, there were no patrols, no dangerous missions—just the two of you. You should’ve felt at ease, but the way Jason had been acting lately was gnawing at you. He’d been quieter, more distant, like something was weighing on him, and it was starting to scare you.

You couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Jason,” you began, glancing over at him. His face was cast in shadows, but you could still see the tension in his jaw. “What’s going on? You’ve been… different lately. I feel like you’re pulling away.”

Jason didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained on the horizon, staring at something distant, something only he could see. After a long pause, he sighed, his breath a soft puff of air in the quiet night.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally said, his voice low, rough, like he didn’t want to say the words out loud. “About us. About what we have.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden wave of anxiety washed over you. This is it, you thought. He’s going to leave. The idea of him walking away, of losing him, was too much to bear. But you steeled yourself, bracing for whatever he was about to say.

“And?” you prompted, keeping your voice steady.

Jason shifted, turning his head slightly to look at you. His blue eyes, usually so sharp and defiant, were softer now, filled with something raw and vulnerable.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The words hit you like a wave, and all the breath seemed to leave your lungs at once. You blinked, not expecting that. Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing you expected.

“Jay…” you began, but he wasn’t finished.

“I’ve lost a lot of people,” he continued, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were clenched into fists in his lap. “I’ve had everything taken from me—my life, my family, my identity. But you… you’re the one thing I have left. The one thing that makes me feel like I’m still… me.”

You felt your chest tighten as you listened to him. Jason rarely opened up like this, and when he did, it was always hard to hear just how much pain he carried around with him. But you also knew that this—you—mattered to him more than anything else. And the thought of losing you terrified him in ways he couldn’t even begin to express.

“I’m scared, okay?” Jason said, his voice growing more desperate, more raw. “I’m scared that one day, something’s going to happen, and I’ll lose you. And I won’t be able to handle it. Not again.”

Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers lacing through his. His grip tightened immediately, like he was afraid to let go.

“Jason,” you said softly, scooting closer to him, your knee brushing his. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.”

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “You say that now, but Gotham isn’t safe. I’m not safe. Everyone I care about—everyone I let in—ends up hurt. Or worse.”

You could hear the self-blame in his voice, the guilt that never seemed to leave him, no matter how hard he tried to outrun it. Gently, you cupped his cheek with your free hand, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you repeated, your voice firm, but filled with love. “I’m here. I’m staying. I know what kind of life this is—what it means to be with you. But I chose it. I chose you. No matter how dangerous it gets, no matter what happens out there, I’m not leaving.”

Jason closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. For a moment, you just sat there, your hand on his cheek, his fingers still gripping yours like a lifeline. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with that same vulnerability, that deep need for reassurance.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“Don’t say that,” you said softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “You deserve love, Jason. You deserve happiness. And I’m not going to let you push me away just because you’re scared of losing it.”

A small, almost broken laugh escaped him, and he shook his head, the tension finally starting to ease from his shoulders. “How did I get so lucky?” he muttered, half to himself.

“You’ve always had me, Jay,” you said with a smile, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. “And you always will.”

Jason’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just held you there, like he was grounding himself in your presence. Then, slowly, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed against his chest, his warmth surrounding you.

“I’m not letting go of you,” Jason murmured, his lips brushing your hair. “Not now. Not ever.”

“Good,” you whispered, nuzzling into his neck. “Because I’m not letting you go either.”

For the first time in a long time, Jason felt at peace. There was no fight to prepare for, no looming threat waiting to steal away the people he cared about. For once, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to lose the one thing he loved most.

And that was enough.

--

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