#also want his fingers in my mouth but that's neither here nor there

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

not stealing ur man but he has some of the finest hands here livestreaming fr LOL

Mille MILLE listen. His hands are so pretty and hot oh my god. They're one of my favourite parts of him. Like:

[kitten4sannie]

dolce and gabbana

pairing: san x guest! reader (fem)

genre: pure smut with a tiddlywink of plot

summary: san can’t seem to get you off his mind after sitting next to you during the latest D&G showcase, so he has no choice but to get you on his dick instead.

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: some alcohol use, subby until he’s not! san, dommy mommy who folds instantly when san asserts himself! reader, both reader and san mutually go after one another despite knowing one of them is MARRIED (hoes will be hoes what can i say <3), reader’s husband is a dick ofc, misogyny (from said husband), cheating, seduction, exhibitionism, mommy/daddy kink….. (i’m weak okay,,), teasing, ITS BIG BTW AND CURVED……, only praise and pet names (omg who hacked k4s???), groping, fingering, kissing, dry humping on a couch in a very crowded room, one neck bite, san cums untouched, oral (receiving), squirting, one singular pussy slap, san puts reader into a mating press on her husband’s side of the bed just for funsies, manhandling, size kink, breeding kink, creampies (sannie cums a lotttt)

a/n: as a pudding since day 1 i am in absolute shambles thanks for asking <3 and YES im very aware i posted yesterday but the fic demons cannot be silenced!!! and just fyi i’m sure san was very grateful and absolutely brimming with excitement to be at the show!! the way i wrote him here does not reflect his actual feelings towards anything,, its just a silly fic and i wrote what i wanted lol. also i wish i could tell you how many times “dolce and gabbana that’s on my titties~” played in my head while i typed this out 😭😭 (also i did not proofread this whatsoever so forgive me if there are errors) but anyways, i hope you enjoy :33

song recs: la romana by bad bunny, rover by kai, planet goddamn by mac miller

San knew eyes would be on him. Why wouldn’t they be? He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back to showcase his alluring, feline-like eyes, his sharp, angular features that could give someone a fatal cut if they looked for too long, and most importantly, he was all decked out in a sleek black custom-made top that perfectly adorned his broad shoulders and chest, one that even cinched securely around his impossibly tiny waist. Of course it did. It had been custom fit and made just for his body. Even the tailor had jokingly mentioned that Michelangelo himself must’ve sculpted him to perfection in the heavens before San was born, but San wasn’t laughing. He perfected his body through his own sheer willpower and determination alone, to be the best that he could be for his own self — and if people just so happened to drool over the results of his hard work, then that was simply a perk.

Holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the many camera flashes, he continued to make his way down the walkway, offering many of the starstruck guests a courteous, though charming smile, wondering if their wandering gazes were due to his breathtaking ensemble or what was sitting just below it. The thought tickled him. It continued to amuse him throughout the afternoon, taking picture after picture with eager guests and wealthy tycoons alike, quite pleased with himself when neither man nor woman could seem to control themselves around him, their eyes always drifting downwards to look San up and down like he were next up in an auction, their mouths pressed to their champagne flutes in an effort to quell the thirst they felt, their free hands lingering just a little too long on the small of his back when they bid farewell to him.

San relished the fact that these poor starving individuals could never get a taste of him, no matter how incredibly rich or influential they were. None of them would get a bite of the forbidden fruit without permission from God.

It was then that the show started, various eye-catching models sashaying their way across the aisle to showcase the latest D&G collection, all displaying their own unique set of features and charm. All flawless and angelic in their own right, but they were almost predictable in that way — like mannequins made solely for the rich and beautiful to gawk at. San couldn’t help but look past them, only focusing on the expensive, tailor made clothes that were framing their perfect bodies. And after a while, he almost seemed to grow bored. Of what, exactly? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sheer gaudiness of it all, the lack of self awareness for things that really mattered in the modern world, and the almost nauseating amount of self-sucking the rich individuals around him seemed to be fond of doing. San would’ve pondered it more when somebody near him gently patted his thigh, causing him to look down at the small manicured hand, the diamond ring around your finger glinting in the light like a warning sign.

“Are you bored like I am?” you whispered softly into his ear from beside him, giving him a quaint smile when he turned his head to face you.

San blushed, leaning slightly in your direction. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, don’t worry. None of these drones will be able to notice.” You motioned your head to the crowd around you, their phones in hand, all whispering to each other about how revolutionary the new collection was, despite it looking eerily similar to the fall one from the year before. “You could whip your cock out and no one would bat an eye.”

“Oh?” San studied your flirtatious smile, then looked down just to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him. Yep, the ring was still there — and it probably cost more than a starter house. Delighted by your forwardness, San took it upon himself to tease you, reaching down to slowly unbutton his slim-fitted pants. “Well, if that’s the case…”

Your cheeks turning bright red, you reached downwards to shield his crotch from view, looking up at him with wide eyes, your faces now impossibly close. “I-i was fucking with you! Don’t actually take out your dick…”

San’s sharpened eyes flitted from your gaze to your cherry red lips, letting go of his zipper to gently take your hand in his, pressing it firmly down onto his thigh. “Yet…?” he challenged huskily, wondering if you were like all the others and would yank your hand back, scoff in disgust, and pretend as if it had never happened. It was then that San felt you squeeze your warm hand into the meat of his thigh, your fingers just barely pressing into the inseam of his pants.

“You can be a good boy and wait till the after party, can’t you?” you asked in a lower, sultrier tone, pressing your lips to his cheek to leave your mark on him, your hand moving further up his thigh, only pulling away when you felt something hard press into your palm. Smiling sweetly, you leaned in again, this time allowing your lips to brush over his. “Good things come to those who wait.”

And just like that, you turned forward to focus on the models all gathering onto the stage at once along with the designers, clapping along with the rest of the crowd when they all took a bow. You blew a kiss to one of the designers who caught it and pretended to put it in his pocket.

Still breathless from your short encounter, San nudged your thigh with his own, biting into his lip and tasting the sweetness of your lipstick. You nudged him back, glancing at him through the corner of yours eyes, licking at your own lips, like a predator would before pouncing on their prey.

San couldn’t believe he had finally met someone like you. There was a serpent in his garden — and he couldn’t wait for it to swallow him up.

-

The after party was predictable as always — strangers binge drinking and snorting powder off of your previously pristine marble tabletops, others telling embellished stories about their latest trip to their private islands to various locked-in acquaintances, some off doing god knows what in your many empty guest rooms, and you could not, for the life of you, care about what your husband was currently cackling over with his close friends, focusing on the crackling wood sitting inside the fireplace you were all huddled near. When you inevitably ran out of champagne, you patted your husband’s leg so that he could remove his arm from your waist.

He looked down at you with indifference. “What is it?”

“I need more champagne, honey. I’m going to get some.”

Your husband’s face scrunched up. “Haven’t you had enough? If you drink anymore, you’re going to lose your nice figure.” He looked to his friends for validation who simply nodded along in agreement.

Your husband’s chauvinistic comments didn’t bother you anymore, just his persistent presence in your life. He was like a mosquito that was always trying to drain you, one that you could never seem to swat away. Well, nothing a little dick couldn’t fix. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall the tailor coming in this morning for an emergency visit to alter a certain suit,” you mentioned, this time pushing your husband’s arm away from you, surveying his now quiet friends with an unbothered look, before wandering off, not registering the insecurity driven ramblings that your husband was sending your way.

Once you made your way into the crowded loft, you searched your surroundings for what you were looking for, humming at the sight of the pretty boy from earlier sitting on the large plush couch in the corner, a half-empty champagne flute in hand, his attention on one of the models that had walked for your husband’s collection a few hours earlier. He was even more handsome now that you could study his captivating details, your eyes drifting over his bulky frame, from his large arms and shoulders, to his delicate waist, and down to his spread thighs, zeroing in on what was between them, knowing that the beautiful stranger was blessed in more ways than one based off what you had felt earlier.

Without hesitation, you slowly made your way across the room, your stiletto heels digging into the fur carpet below with each concentrated step, licking your red lips when the model placed one of her hands on San’s thighs and squeezed it, his suddenly submissive expression causing more knots to form within your core. You were going to make him yours.

San could barely hear the pretty model’s words over the loud music and the many overlapping voices inside the loft, not knowing what to say when she moved closer to him, clearly going in for the kill. It was then that someone stood over him, their heel nudging into his loafer. He looked up, his once hazy eyes opening wide at the sight of you standing above him with a bottle of champagne in one hand, your other hand already cradling his face. “M-miss…there you are…”

“Here I am,” you purred, running your fingers along his jaw, satisfied with the fact that your lipstick print was still visible on his tan skin.

San gulped, just about spilling the drink he was still holding onto, unknowingly spreading his thighs open further, as if he was giving you an unspoken invitation to climb onto his lap.

Humming, you lowered yourself into his lap, your plush thighs and ass pressing snuggly against his lower half. “Look at you,” you cooed softly into San’s ear, not caring to give the now fuming model any attention, lowering the cold champagne bottle in between your bodies, chuckling at the soft whimper he let out when it pressed into the exposed sections of his skin. “You’re such a good boy, saving a seat for Mommy like this. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes, I am, s-so good for you…”

“Then, be good and open your mouth,” you purred, lifting the almost empty bottle and pouring some into your mouth. San’s jaw slowly dropped, not knowing that he was already beginning to drool. You didn’t mind, clutching the sides of his heated face and pressing your parted lips onto his, transferring the sparkling alcohol to him, but not without running your tongue over his.

San brought his hands up near the sides of your ass, his fingers trembling, not knowing if he was allowed to touch you, whimpering into your mouth when you sucked the alcohol off of his tongue.

“You can touch, baby.” You reached for his wrists and brought his hands underneath the hem of your short dress, gasping when he squeezed the softness of your ass in between his ringed fingers and began to slowly guide your hips, your clothed cunt rubbing back and forth over his stiffening cock. “Mm, someone’s eager, hm? You’re a naughty one, making the main designer’s wife grind on your cock like this in front of everyone.”

“It’s…Mommy’s fault…” San murmured near your ear, rolling his own hips up into yours, making you feel every inch of his trapped throbbing cock each time he ground himself into you, biting into his lip at the sound of your breathless moans, swearing he saw your grimacing husband from over your shoulder.

“My fault, huh? Mommy should make up for it, shouldn’t she?” you sighed back onto his heated skin, pressing kiss after kiss onto his collarbones, dragging your tongue along the constellation of freckles he had on his neck, making him shudder underneath you.

“Uh-huh…” San moaned out, your hand suddenly squeezing into and sliding back and forth over his erection, your thumb repeatedly rubbing over the pronounced tip, knowing he was staining his expensive pants with sticky pre-cum. “F-fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that…”

“So sensitive, baby, you’re so cute…but you’re not the only one, you know? Look what you did to Mommy~” You gave his balls a gentle squeeze just to hear him whimper, before letting go, instead reaching for his hand again and leading it between your legs, moving your soaked panties to the side just in time for San to fill you up with two thick fingers.

“You’re so wet…” San groaned, unable to keep himself from adding another digit inside your slick hole, beginning to pump them in and out of you, allowing the both of you to listen to the obscene squelching sounds your cunt made each time he finger-fucked you. Something switched inside of San when you began to whine and whimper, and fuck yourself back on his fingers, your eyebrows screwed upwards, begging him for more with your teary, half-closed eyes. “So fucking wet just for me, huh? Hey, Miss, did you know your husband is standing just across the room? Think he’s hard knowing I just got his pretty little wife wetter than she’s been in her entire life?”

“B-baby, don’t tease me like that,” you whispered, not wanting the control you had over him to slip out of your grasp, grabbing onto his shoulders, accidentally causing pieces of his solid outfit to fall off and land onto the leather couch.

“It’s San, Miss, but you can call me Sannie if you wanna be a good girl for me,” he chuckled, shoving his fingers into you up to the knuckles, rolling your clit around underneath his heavy thumb. “And, I’m not teasing you, my love, he’s really watching us, and he looks like he wants to kill me.”

Just as you looked behind you to catch your husband’s displeased gaze, San began to ram his soaked digits into your spasming cunt, feeling his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck. “O-oh my god, Sannie, oh, fuckkkk…”

Just as your warm arousal began to pour out onto his fingers and lap, San bit down into the area where your neck and collarbone connected, letting out a few stunted groans, his hips jolting up into yours, coating the insides of his designer pants with white.

“Did you just…?” you began, before San stuffed his fingers into your mouth, growing quiet and sucking your arousal off of them. He pulled them out with a pop, but you didn’t even get the chance to continue your question because you were suddenly being lifted up into the air, strong hands clutching your thighs, your legs hooked around San’s waist.

Your defeated, emasculated husband was just a blur when San carried you through the crowded room and up the stairs, not stopping until he got to the largest room at the end of the expansive hallway.

“Which side does your husband sleep on?” San asked, once he stood at the foot of the kingsized bed.

“On the right. Why do you–O-oh,” you gasped as he quickly laid you out on the right side of the bed and lifted your dress up, forcefully spreading your thighs open so that he could bury his face in your cunt, repeatedly lapping at your slit and clit over your soaked panties until he couldn’t take it, reaching up to tear your panties off with ease. “Sannie, baby boy, what’s gotten into you?”

San looked up at you with dark, dilated eyes, reaching up to his broad body to rip off the rest of his outfit, his solid muscles flexing as he closed his fingers around your waist, yanking you lower so that your cunt was closer to his face, looking like he was about to eat you alive. “Daddy’s hungry,” he simply replied, diving back into your cunt to lick and slurp up your juices, tonguing your hole just to feel you clench around him, his nose nudging your clit as he ate you out like a starved man.

Sooner or later, you began to shudder and pant, tugging at the ends of San’s sweaty hair, your thighs pressing into the sides of his head until he forcefully held them down, quickly moving his head up and down as he dragged his tongue roughly over your throbbing clit, his focused eyes never leaving yours. “S-sannie, I’m really, fuck– I’m gonna cum…!”

“Cum for Daddy,” he demanded gruffly, stuffing three fingers into your cunt and pounding them into your g-spot, lifting your ass up with his other hand so that he could catch the stream of arousal that suddenly squirted out of you, some of it inevitably soaking into the satin sheets below you. San licked your juices from his lips, going down to give your puffy cunt one last lick to savor your taste, before standing up from the bed and unbuckling his pants.

“Y-you….Did you get possessed by a demon?” you asked half-jokingly, unable to keep your thighs from trembling, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist.

“And if I did? You’d still let me fuck you, wouldn’t you?” San smiled devilishly, his dimples appearing, kicking off his pants and running his closed hand along his curved, dripping length. He pressed his thighs against the side of the bed, running the tip of his cock over your lips, watching fondly as you sucked and licked the beads of pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

“I would.” Lifting yourself up so that you could completely rid yourself of your disheveled dress, you reached up for the handsome stranger, licking the saltiness from your lips. “Now, come here and show Mommy just how much Daddy wants her.”

San wasted no time climbing back onto the bed and folding you up into a mating press, leaning back to send a few wads of spit onto your cunt, smacking his hand against the wetness for good measure, before he plunged himself deep inside you.

You just about screamed, not ready for San’s unusual size and shape, the curve of his cock rubbing deliciously along your tightening walls each time he pounded himself into you. “S–ann–ie…! It’s so big, fuck– so good!”

“Aww, poor baby’s never had a big cock stretching out her pretty pussy before, huh?” San cooed into your ear, pulling all the way out, just to slam himself back in, hitting your g-spot dead on, making you cry out deliriously. “You’ll never be able to go back to your husband after this. You’re gonna be begging for me to take care of you from now on….” San pressed his lips against yours, sucking on your tongue as you moaned out for him. “Want you to cum for me again, baby…Squirt on my cock, okay?”

“S-Sannie, it’s too much,” you whined out, dragging your nails down his broad back, your toes curling just as San punched your next orgasm out of you when his curved cock once again came in contact with your g-spot.

As you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure, San licked your tears away, gently pressing his lips into your cheek and jaw, shushing you. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s here for you.” He clutched you close, holding still inside you, as his cock began to twitch. “Here it comes, princess, just for you.” A hot, creamy stream of cum began to shoot out into you, completely drenching your insides with his load.

You could hardly speak at this point in time, solely concentrated on the pleasure that still had a hold on your sore body and the warmth that was filling you up to the brim, suddenly realizing that your husband really wasn’t going to be happy with you. “Y-you shouldn’t have…nnnngh….”

San continued to roll his hips into you, his eyelids fluttering, groans spilling from his throat, your cunt still milking his pulsing cock for all it had, which was a lot, to say the least. Once there was nothing left to give you, San leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your lips, not caring that you had left your lipstick all over him. “Can I ask you something, baby?”

“Y-yes, San?”

San smiled, his glossy brown eyes glistening in the light. “When you have my baby, will you have the heart to tell your poor husband that it’s actually mine?”

Panting heavily and trying to process what the handsome stranger just said, you finally came to the realization that you let someone who didn’t even know your name possibly impregnate you. Well, at least you had something to talk about over breakfast with your husband, rather than hear him go on and on about his latest collection.

“I’m not sure about that one…”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Hm?”

“Should I name our baby Dolce or Gabbana?”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Sweet Tooth

Homelander x GN! Reader

Summary: Homelander is a regular customer at your little coffeeshop, visiting anytime he craves something sweet - you, in particular. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, cussing, HL is horny and also a douche Words: 1,575

"Seriously, Y/N? Who the fuck drinks a milkshake at 8am?"

Ah, there he is. You almost got worried because he ran late today.

"What are you, five? Grow the fuck up." That said, the gruff man in front of you pulled out a few loose dollar bills, cheekily slamming them on the counter. "One for me too, please."

You smirk, putting the cup down after slurping it in one go. Ouch, brainfreeze. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

That's what he likes most about you: Finally someone that can take a fucking joke. People he usually surrounds himself with are either afraid of him, or got a damn stick up their asses.

Communication wasn't really his forte without someone dictating the lines he'd have to say. But with you it came refreshingly easy, that back and forth was so enjoyable that he almost felt human.

"Coming right away" you chant, already busying yourself with the ingredients. "With how often you're ordering this drink, I should name it after you."

Homelander snorts at the well-deserved mockery, unable to keep his mouth shut since you look so adorable when irritated. "As you should, considering I basically fund this place."

"Hey!" you put a warning finger in the air, lighthearted voice earnest now. "I can tolerate a lot, but that's no joking matter."

Okay, the location you were able to afford was neither central nor in a remotely good part of the town. It was so small that there was only space for two tables, and the interior honestly decaying.

But at least it was honest work, and you did the best you could.

"With the new Starbucks across the street I'm basically bancrupt." Oh godfuckingdamnit, he fucked up. Homelander here to unwind, and certainly not to listen to you whining about your insignificant little life.

Maybe Vought should send you a check, though - losing this spot would be annoying.

Initially Homelander came to your café out of sheer coincidence, wanting to calm his nerves after his first encounter with Sister Sage. He took a longer stroll through some shady alleyways, hoping to run into some lowlife to rip apart...

...instead, he found you. A pathetic excuse of business and surely not even remotely close to achieving the American Dream, but whatever.

John had found himself entranced with the cheesy decoration, a desperate attempt to make a place like this feel cozy. He secretly admired people with the ability to make anywhere feel like home.

Well, the menu looked good enough that he decided to treat himself with something sweet as matter of exception - and now it had become part of his daily routine.

Things had just settled like this, with you offering him your sincere company while he'd cryptically vent about anything on his mind.

"Here: For my favourite customer!" you cheered proudly as you presented him the shake. "Made with extra love."

"Secret ingredient, huh? You're just nice to get an extra tip" he tries to hide the insecurity behind a sassy remark, but you instantly parry his claim. "What, why, because you're so generous? Nonsense. You're just lucky you're so cute."

It was no lie, really. John had a rough shell and wore his heart on his tongue, but you appreciated his honesty and the good conversations you shared.

As you were rummaging in the kitchen counter, he couldn't help but notice how you turn down the radio despite continuing to hum the song it was playing. He once told you about having misophonia, and how much he hates modern pop music. You actually listen to him, consider his feelings unlike the imbeciles he's used to.

"Woah, maybe tune it down with the sugar, darling" he thought aloud as you poured yourself a coffe. Damn, he needs to save himself after this one - but the only thing he comes up with sounded more like a backhanded compliment at max. "You're already sweet enough, don't ya think?"

"Charming as always, I see." Your face contorts into a mixture of confusion and amusement at his words, and feeling bold you turn around, giving a provocating slap to your own ass. "As long as the fat goes into the right places."

John bites his bottom lip at the sight of your tight leggings framing your curves too well. Yeah, that'd be a great place to dig his fingers into. Some cushion wouldn't bruise or make you whine if he'd become a little rougher. Shit, his pants feel awfully tight right now.

"You're staring." Seeing him being the flustered one for a change sure was a great feeling, considering that he was very aware of his own good looks. So you decide to get him off the high horse, playfully poking his soft belly. "Also, you're one to talk."

Homelander shifts on the barstool, closing his legs so you wouldn't notice his cock twitching in anticipation at the sudden proximity. God knows how often he had daydreamed about slamming you onto the next best surface and fucking you stupid.

"You really shouldn't be mean to someone that could spit in your drink." He smirks, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned forwards until his unfairly handsome face was just inches from yours. "Joke's on you - I'd savour every last drop."

The audacity. You physically fight rolling your eyes at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting. "Sometimes I think you're the most obnoxious person in the world, John."

Liar, he thinks to himself.

Nothing is hidden from his abilities, neither your raised bloodpressure nor the scent of the wet spot forming between your legs. He prided himself on that fact. And yet you stand there all taken aback, trying to play coy. Cute.

Well, it wasn't as if you had no interest in him. He's been coming here for weeks and you're still working up the courage to at least give him your number - but he was so incredibly out of your fucking league that you never considered actually going through with it.

Homelander on the other hand decided he had let the opportunity slip for way too long already. Except for both of you the shop was empty as always, and even if it wasn't he wouldn't care. Hell, he'd already imagined what it would be like pounding you naked against the display window to show every passenger who you'd belong to from now on.

"John, I-"

"Shh" he hushed you, his silencing finger lingering on your lips. You pulled away, just to be caught by a firm hand on the back of your neck. "Tell me if I should stop - but we both know what you want me to do to you."

Oh, he's insufferable.

Honestly, you should just slap him and tell him to go fuck himself - but a primal need had already shut down the rational part of your brain. "Damnit John, will you kiss me now or do I need to fuck that shiteating grin out of your face?"

Shit, what's not to love about you?

"Hands up in the air you two shitheads, this is a robbery!"

Un-fucking-believable.

While you immediately went into panic mode, seeing a weapon up close for the first time in your whole life, John nonchalantly leaned against the counter, an aggravated groan escaping his throat. "Dude, worst fucking timing."

"John, don't provoke him-" He threw a hand up in the air, signalizing you to be quiet. "Stay behind and let me handle this, sweetheart."

You nod quietly, John shielding you with his body as you shakily paced behind the counter. A shot was fired and you shrieked at the sound, apparently the criminal wasn't exactly patient or he just didn't like your customer's tone.

"John! God John, are you alri-" Your words got caught in your throat as you saw the shell fall to the ground. Must be the adrenaline clouding your view, but there seemed to be not a scratch on his body. He winks cockily at you before turning around, using the lasers in his eyes to make a quick end to this before you'd involuntarily get caught into the crossfire.

"So, is the drink on the house or what?" The hero jokes unfazed after just having spread literal brain matter on your tiles.

You were still trembling when he squatted in front of your cowering self, reassuringly patting your back. This shit is like second nature to him, and sadly the little empathy he possessed had dulled over time. "I told you to stay down, silly."

As soon as you've calmed down to a certain extend, you pulled your savior's baseball cap from his head, revealing disheveled blonde hair.

"Are you the fucking Homelander?!"

"Can't deny that after what you've just witnessed" he answers truthfully, offering you a hand to get up. "Took you long enough to figure out, though."

Your strained pants turned into hysterical laughter, probably due to the shock. "I-I honestly have no words."

That means he wins today's banter, he jubilates internally. You could've been a little more thrilled about the reveal of his identity, though - but hey, you can show him your gratitude later on.

"Thank you, I guess." You finally release the breath you were holding, tension leaving your body as you collapsed into his arms. Police sirens could already be heard fast approaching. "I- could you please bring me home after the investigation is over?"

"Sure" he tries to hide his excitement, cradling your exhausted self against his chest. "If you don't mind, I'll take you to go."

[korpuskat]

Metal in Flesh

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (GN, has a vagina) Rating: E WC: 4.4k Warnings: None, it's pure smut & fluff. A special thank you to @statuetochka for indulging my silly ideas & drawing his hands so much. ===

He tastes like his machine oil. Freshly cleaned, not a trace of dirt between his purple-painted joints. It’s hard not to flex your tongue against him, to explore the little creases in his plates that tease the side of your tongue.

But the hand on your jaw and the precarious placement of his fingers- two under your tongue, his thumb on top, keep you still. He’s exploring. Though it’s not your tongue itself that he’s examining. He drags his thumb down, making the object of his obsession spin- a particularly strange feeling that is still novel even after so long healed.

It’s only taken him a few months into your relationship to notice- or at least to ask about it.

“…Why?” Is the particularly succinct question he comes up with.

“Becath aylikith”

Ramattra’s gaze lifts ever so slightly, from your pinned tongue to your face. Reluctantly, he lets go. You push saliva over your tongue, wetting it before you try speaking again.

“I said, because I like it. I like how it looks.”

“Aesthetics?” Ramattra tips his head, looks down to your lips. You obligingly open your mouth again and present the jeweled rod again. This time, he just looks at it, rather than trapping the muscle for investigation. “I would think that should hurt rather badly just for aesthetics.”

“It did.” You confirm. “When I first got it, it hurt a lot, I couldn’t even eat the first day. But it’s all healed now. Doesn’t hurt at all.” To prove it, you catch the bead on your top lip and pull your tongue sideways, making the entire piercing rotate again. “Besides, you’re in no place to judge; I know you also changed stuff on yourself for how it looked.”

He scoffs, “That is hardly the same. Repainting my enamel coat isn’t remotely painful, nor did it impair such a basic, important function as eating.” He touches the purple plate at the back of one hand with the other. It’s more subconscious than anything, but you still watch his hands with that same fascination. “Besides, my modifications aren’t exclusively aesthetics.”

You grin widely. That kind of stubbornness, the mild disdain in his vocoder… It’s so easy to goad him. “Neither is mine! It has a very good use, actually.”

Ramattra’s head actually bobs as he modulates a disbelieving noise, “Really? Exactly what functional purpose does a metal rod in your mouth serve?”

Excitement washes over you and you don’t bother trying to hide it. “I can show you! I’ve kind of been meaning to for a while, actually, but you keep insisting I don’t have to.” This alone makes his head twitch to the side, perplexed, intrigued. You reach for his hand, and he happily allows you to take it and bring it back to your face, much too curious.

Here, you pause and stare up at the dark slits for his optics. His huge fingers caress over your cheek, cool and firm against your skin as you gently kiss the circular rubber pad of his palm. Ramattra hums softly- which breaks into a stuttered, staticked mess of a noise as you lick that rubber pad. He can feel it, you’re almost sure given the twitching of his fingers against your cheek. Those pads are sensitive, meant for traction and precision- you know he must feel the warmth, the softness of your tongue completely surrounding the hard point of the piercing’s ball. Even with your spit, the metal drags against rubber, catching on the textured ridges.

“You--” His voice cuts out, glitches sharply as though gasping. It’s a rare treat to see him worked up, indulging his own desires, so you bask in the roughened sound of his voice and the dull hum of his ventilation system ramping up. “I should have known it would be that...”

You grin again, then kiss his palm innocently, as though you don’t feel the warmth that’s now radiating from him. “I did want to use it sooner. You’re too selfless for your own good.” You pull on his arm and he allows you, lets you trail kisses up the smooth plate of his forearm. “Can try it now, though.”

His nod is sharp, firm enough to jostle the endcaps of his mane. “Yes, perhaps I would… enjoy that.”

You snicker, but don’t comment on the breathy tone his voice takes, already dysregulated from a single lick, don’t comment on how quickly he sits on the bed that he’d gotten for your sake nor the speed with which he releases the latches on his pelvic plate. Air rushes from his vents again, almost like a sigh as his cock bobs freely.

You might never get used to it, knowing that he made something so obscene just for you… The thrill of it- of all of him- rushes through you, makes your belly heat. But you set that aside for now, instead pushing the golden joints of his legs apart and lowering yourself down to your knees. Which only makes your growing desire ever worse.

Like this you’re so very, very aware of how big he is. Built for war, he dwarfs you in every way. Beside you, his thin, bird-like legs are almost up to your shoulder, just barely giving you enough room to comfortably lay your arms on his thighs. Looking up at him… He sits so stiffly, one hand curled into the previously pristine sheets, the other is curled across the lowest part of faceplate as though obscuring his mouth. Shy, maybe, you think. Would make sense- he doesn’t particularly enjoy receiving one-sided attention. So, you smile up at him, rub your hands soothingly across his canvas-covered thighs and hope that soothes him.

Finally, you let your eyes wander back down his body. Slowly, you ease your hands in from his legs until they brush the base of his cock, where the silicone meets his inner frame. Without any lubricant it’s a dry, sticking feeling, but it’s still enough for you to hear the hum of his fans pitch up in anticipation.

He’s been so patient, so nice to finally let you try this, so you only tease him a little more. You straighten up and stare up at his faceplace, hands moving firmly onto his cock as though you’re going to take him into your mouth immediately. He tenses, waits the sudden onslaught of your mouth around him-- and finds instead your soft lips laying against the smooth head, pressing a delicate kiss to the silicone. Ramattra’s legs twitch,, a little whiny noise coming from somewhere inside him-

And you lower your head down, dragging the tip of your tongue from the base of his cock all the way up. His ventilation kicks and a staticked gasp slips from his vocoder. With only the tip, not yet letting him feel the jewelry, you lick at him, you flick your tongue against the soft ridge at the head of his cock until you think you might break him.

Ramattra hisses your name, somewhere between a plea and a threat. Desire surges in your core again, but you think he's been patient enough. Slowly, deliberately letting him watch as you move- you open your mouth and ease his tip past your lips.

Immediately, Ramattra groans, both hands twisting into his sheets as he processes your warm, soft mouth on his cock. He's big enough that even just his tip makes your jaw twinge in annoyance, but you relax your muscles and urge him further in. His body bursts with heat, already struggling to keep up with the hot air that’s soaking his processors- but that's not quite the reaction you were expecting. So you press your tongue firmly against the underside of his tip- though you aren't sure if Ramattra's cock is particularly sensitive here too- and drag the piercing over the ridge.

A high-pitched noise spits from his vocoder, almost a yelp as his whole body flinches. You'd almost worry you hurt him, that the metal was too rough on the silicone, except for the rough, rolling gasp that comes after. For Ramattra it's a distinct feeling- your mouth all soft and inviting and one firm bead of resistance that pushes back against him, that emphasizes each stroke of your tongue along his cock. It's addicting, one tiny piece of metal in all of that plush flesh. His hand lifts- nearly burying itself in your hair unbidden, but he kills the impulse- tries desperately to be still for you.

You gently bob your head, working up to a slow rhythm. With each motion you keep your tongue moving, sweeping across the silicone. Each time you move down, you try to take in more of him, slowly inching his cock deeper until he's prodding at the back of your throat. The first touch makes you gag, your mouth tightening around him as spit floods your mouth- and Ramattra's hips jump, momentarily fucking you mouth- and he moans.

You clit throbs at the single rough thrust, at the absolutely musical noise from his speakers- his need completely betrayed with the strain on his synth, the first touches of static to his voice. A desperate whimper escapes you just knowing that you're the one making him feel like that and Ramattra sucks in air in turn, his fists curled so tightly you can hear his actuators whining.

Even just listening to his pleasure, knowing you’re the one causing it-- it's all too much. You take him in deep again, sucking his cock with purpose, but you slip one hand between your legs. Trying to keep your focus on him is nearly impossible when you can hardly think with how badly you need to be touched. You shove your pants down and the first touch on your clit is near ecstasy. Sucking his cock, hearing his appreciation alone has left you swollen and soaked, trembling with pleasure as you moan shamelessly around his cock. You circle your clit and shiver, the pace of your tongue on him stuttering-

And this time, Ramattra doesn’t stop the impulse. Ramattra's fingers curl into your hair. You expect him to push you down, that his self control is broken, that he'll fuck your throat and-

he pulls you up. Your scalp stings softly, but you can only mewl in confusion, in desire- how must you look to him? Your own spit covering his cock, eyes glazed over in lust, one hand working yourself with a desperation- and Ramattra catches your arm with his other hand. You whimper, a mindless plea of no, please don't stop- as he pulls again, draws you up, up off the floor-

And you think for a moment he's going to fuck you, to get you in his lap-

“Come here.” His voice is almost unintelligible, harsh with static. He doesn’t even let you comply, dragging your body onto the bed with him as he lays back. Your head spins, too clouded to understand what he wants- which is fine, because he moves you exactly how he's thinking. He pulls you on top of him, legs spread wide over his broad chest and then spins you around so you're looking at his cock again.

That's all the prompting you need. Still spit-slicked, you take him into your mouth again. The new angle is different, unusual- his cock arcs down towards your tongue, making it easier to take him deeper-- and making the press of your piercing into him all the more intense. Ramattra makes some noise behind you- and you would try to squeeze your hand beneath yourself to keep rubbing, but with your belly pressed to his, it’s too tight a fit. The metal of his chest would dig into your wrist too much. But your clit aches, too needy to be ignored. Desperate, you rut your hips against his chest, hoping to find any friction at all against his hard bands of armor-

And Ramattra's big hands land on your hips.

He pulls you back- back as far as he can without dislodging your mouth from his cock. You want to ask, can't seem to understand what he's doing- until each thumb slips between your legs. You moan softly, try to question what he’s doing, but if he hears you, he makes no response. Ramattra parts your folds, revealing your pussy. Warm air washes over your sex- another rush of his ventilation- and you whimper, twisting in his hands at the embarrassment of him looking at you so closely.

You don't expect the press of cool metal directly to your clit.

The temperature makes you jolt away from him, but his hands keep you still, keep your clit trapped right against his faceplate as Ramattra moans. All crackling and ruined, his voice is vibration right against your clit- and you finally understand. You bob your head again, determined to keep those noises coming from his synth.

You sink down on him, taking as much as you can. Ramattra purrs against your pussy, a low rumble that makes your hips twitch, rutting back against his face, your clit rubbing delightfully on the divot between his faceplate and jaw. It’s so primal, needy-- and Ramattra’s grasp on your hips shifts, pulling you towards him again, urging you to keep going. You’re so close already it’s hard to hold any rhythm, but he helps, pushing his mouth against you each time you come up on his cock- and each time your piercing catches the tip he moans, a bolt of static pleasure rumbling directly into your clit.

You can’t help it. You dig your nails into the coverings on his thighs, try desperately to focus on him, on making him cum- but the sound of him, the taste of his cock, and the incessant buzzing of his moans against your pussy are too much. Your rhythm breaks entirely as he pushes you over the edge. Your own noises are muffled, lost to the silicone in your throat. Metal hands keep your thighs spread as they twitch and try to close around him, forcing you to feel as he moans, praises you indistinctly through your orgasm- the words lost against the overwhelming feeling of the continued vibration of your clit.

You can’t think, the pleasure too sharp, too strong- you try to squirm away, to get any relief, but his grasp shifts, one arm now wrapped around your waist to keep you still. The other presses to the back of your head. His hips lift- and he as fucks your mouth desperately.

Ramattra moans, all static-garbled and needy, still rumbling against your pussy. And still you work your piercing against him, match his careful pace with hard licks of your tongue- and each panting, growing moan you can feel him getting closer, every Ah, ah, ah- buzzing harder into your clit as acute pain- a raw overstimulation that only builds into whimpering, twitching second wave that makes your whole body tremble in his hands-

And it’s your hips throat twitching around him again that makes him gasp- the rushed intake of air and firm press of his face against your pussy in a long, droning note as he overloads entirely. His hips thrust up into your mouth one more time before steam rushes from his vents, fills the room with hot air and every joint in his body goes lax.

For a long time you lay there, shivering and boneless. His arms are a pleasant, heavy weight across your back, a good counterpoint to the weak shudders your body gives from time to time. Your clit and throat ache, but it’s a monumental task to move yourself just enough to no longer be choking on his dick or have your over sensitive clit pressed to his firm metal. It takes three tries on your shaking arms before you can manage it.

You lay there, limp and much too tired to try to extricate yourself further from the heft of him. Instead, you close your eyes and enjoy the silence, letting your body relax and cool off until the soft harmony of Ramatta’s internals returns. First, the hum of his processors, then the fans of his ventilation resume, much quieter than they had been before- then his lights return. Positioned as you are, you don’t see his array’s lights, but you do watch as the indicator lights in his cock turn from a yellow- muddied by the purple tinting in the silicone- to green, to finally red.

Ramattra’s fingers twitch on your back, and you laugh slightly as he mimics clearing his throat. He gently lifts your hips and helps you roll off of him, but with a limp waving request of your hand, he then helps you to turn around and lean against his broad chest, half on top of him again.

If you had any energy left at all, you’d be embarrassed- or perhaps aroused again- at the sight of his faceplate; he’s soaked. Everything between his optics down to the tip of his chin is coated in your wetness.

And yet when he speaks, “I apologize I was… overly enthusiastic.” It’s all contrition. One hand touches the side of your neck, a silent voicing of fear of injury.

Instead, you press your face to his hand and he meets you halfway, stroking along your cheekbone with unspoken reverence. “But you liked it?” While his voice has been perfectly reset, yours is still rough, rasping from the strain on your throat.

“I…” He starts- and immediately his fans hum louder again. Your lips barely crack into a knowing smile before he admits it, “Yes. It was… enjoyable.”

“See, more than just aesthetics.” You say, melting onto his chest more, idly stroking at the long pistons mimicking collar bones.

“I suppose I have to agree. You can hardly see it to begin with.”

“Maybe you should give me a piercing you can see, then.” You say it offhanded, a little joke-

“What? I couldn’t.” Ramattra shoots back immediately, “I have no experience with that.”

And his rejection only makes the idea more appealing, more real. “No, wait, think about it! You could research how to do it and where. Your hands wouldn’t shake, you’d be able to center it better-- I bet you could even design it yourself…” You grin and look up at the dark slits for his optics, half pleading. “Come on, at least you’d be saving me money and a trip out.”

Ramattra’s hands on you stop moving, but he doesn’t pull away. So completely motionless, you know he’s processing it, mulling the idea over. “You… want me to pierce you?”

“Well. Yeah, I guess? I mean I like piercings and I think you’d do a good job… and…” You blush softly, finally averting your gaze from his as though this is somehow more intimate than sucking his cock until he overloaded and cumming on his face twice. “Maybe I kinda… like the idea of having jewelry that you made, that you put there…”

His design on your body. It’s not just intimate; it’s possessive. A silent, private mark of your relationship… If you weren’t not so thoroughly spent, it might bring another wave of heat between your legs. He must have come to the same conclusion, because something shudders in Ramattra’s chest.

“I see.” He says coolly, as though you don’t feel the streams of hot air that again slip from his vents. “Then, I will look into it.”

In all, it takes Ramattra three days. Three days before he’s guiding you into his workshop and lifting you up onto his desk. The thrill of how easily he picks you up- big hands cradling your rib cage as he sets you onto the metal surface- always makes you a little giddy. Even more so is the little purple velvet box that sits nearby. You reach for it-

And Ramattra snatches the box up with a tut, “No peeking.”

“Fine.” You sigh exaggeratedly, watching as he skims over the tools he’s acquired in the last half week. A bottle of antiseptic, forceps, a marker-- and your eyes wander to a small package of needles. Your stomach tightens a little just seeing them, so you look at him instead, distracting yourself as Ramattra finishes his preparations. “Where did you decide?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead gently putting one finger under your chin and turning your head away. His other hand drifts over your ear- and eventually catches the little flap in front of your ear canal between thumb and forefinger. “Here.” His hands abandon you, turning back to his tools and grabbing the marker. “It is called the tragus.”

You hum in acknowledgement, but otherwise keep still as he focuses on your ear. Carefully, methodically- Ramattra touches the tip of the marker to your skin.

He draws your chin back towards him, examining the dot he’s made from the front before retrieving and handing you a mirror. “This is… acceptable?” He prompts as you look at your reflection. You could almost laugh; the ink of the marker is perfectly centered- likely is, mathematically. You knew he’d be good at this.

“Yeah, it looks perfect.” You look at the mark a moment more, picturing jewelry in its spot. It is… a strange location. “Why’d you pick this one?”

Ramattra pauses, his turn towards his tools a little too intentional. “If you wish to remove it later, any scarring should not be too disruptive.”

Something tightens in your chest. You reach out to him, gently touch his forearm. His head only slightly turns back towards you, just enough for you to see the corner of one slit. “I’m not going anywhere.” You say it, squeeze his arm again and hope he’ll internalize it this time. His only response is a small hum, an acknowledgement of the words, if not their meaning. So, you redirect him. “Can I see the jewelry now?”

Again, Ramattra hesitates, but caves with a halting, “Yes, I suppose so.” He holds the box a second too long- so tiny in his big hands- but offering it to you.

You don’t even hide your ecstatic grin as you take it- too excited at the possibilities. His designs are always so sleek, but you don’t know what he would choose for you to wear. You crack open the box- and the first thing you recognize is the color. Purple- the exact shade as his accents, as his jaw. But it’s not just his paint- you hold the tiny box closer and squint. It’s almost an inverted teardrop shape, but not quite. There is a silver dot embedded in the lower half, the point that would be sharp is clipped, a notch taken out of the wider top… You look at it for a moment longer- and your excitement melts into something warmer, recognition.

“It’s your chest plate…” You murmur and reach for him again. Only the lower half is visible under his tan cowl, but Ramattra stands still, lets you lift the soft fabric to reveal his own inverted teardrop- the purple latch right in the center of his chest.

“There’s more…” His voice falters, rasping through a whisper, strained with the same feeling that’s twisting in your throat.

You look back to the jewelry, unsure how there could be more meaning lain into it- but you take it from the little velvet cushions that hold it in place- and understand. The back of it is green with tiny golden lines etched into it. A circuit board. You brow pinches for a moment, dragging a nail over the back- feeling the protective coating over the circuits. It’s too small, too clipped to be functional. Just decorative, symbolic?

“When I…” He starts and stops, stepping closer to you- laying one hand on the outside of your thigh. “When I installed…. that I also had to replace and redesign some chips that were in my hips for functionality. I… kept the originals.”

“This is… you?” You murmur, tracing the tiny golden threads again. An actual chip from his body… “Or, was part of you?”

Ramattra nods stiffly, watches as you examine the tiny thing. “It’s… acceptable?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle, “I love it, Rama…” then hurriedly put the jewelry back in its box and shove it back towards him. You rub at your watering eyes and force out a tight, “Hurry up and pierce me before I cry.”

Ramattra nods again, shifting easily into his practiced movements. He swaps your ear with antiseptic and dips the piercing into the bottle, laying it on a sheet to dry as he picks up his tools. You focus on his faceplate and stare up at him as he steps in front of you. He waits there a moment- soaks in your gaze before touching your chin and urging you to turn your head just as he had earlier.

You close your eyes, don’t look as he clamps the forceps down.

“Breathe.” His voice rumbles, so close to your ear. You shiver, but obey- taking in the cool air of his workspace, the scent of his oil, relax into the warm proximity of him-

And as you exhale he pierces you. Hot pain washes over the whole side of your head. You clench your teeth, try not to flinch as he moves quickly, replacing pieces with a smoothness that you should’ve expected from him.

“Good,” He praises, still low and quiet and so close to you- and finally he pushes his design into the backing.

Ramattra steps away, but you grab at him- hands landing on the silver handles at his hips. He stops, turns towards you- and the tears you’d managed to suppress before being stabbed boil over.

“Does it hurt? I-”

You’re crying before you can even wrap your arms around him.And realizing you’re crying into his cowl- your face pressed right up against the exact plate he used as a design makes you weep harder. But he steps right up against the table and shushes you, strokes your back with an affection no one else has even seen in him.

“I love you,” You manage between shoulder-racking sobs- and something inside Ramattra shudders.

So quickly he adjusts, no longer holding you to his broad chest, but near doubling over, half lifting you off the table to press his faceplate into your shoulder. He buries himself in the warmth of your body- and shudders again as your grasp scrabbles over his back, no longer cinched around his tiny waist, but sliding up under his cowl, grabbing at the long bars of armor and holding yourself up against him.

“I love you so much,” You murmur to him, half broken by sniffles- and he squeezes your ribs in turn.

[honeybeefae]

From DumeDoresArmy: For smutty Tuesday can I request high lord eris and his mate please ( either when he becomes high lord or just a peaceful afternoon your choice )

anything for my high lord eris bb, ANYTHING also this was SO CUTE AND FUN AND I LOVE IT

High Lord and Lady (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+, Semi-Public Sex, Dirty Talk

You were the very image of beauty. Eris made sure you were wearing the finest dresses, cloaked in the prettiest jewels, you wanted for nothing. After becoming High Lord, he was quick to name you High Lady, daring anyone to disagree as he personally put the crown on your head.

No one did, of course. Eris was terrifying enough without the title of High Lord, but now?

He was unstoppable.

The throne room erupted into applause when the two of you stood, your heads high as you smiled at your mate. It was finally over; the battle was won, and his father was six feet under. Well, he was actually charred to a crisp, but that was neither here nor there.

"It's time for the feast, my Lord." One of the advisors whispered to Eris, avoiding eye contact.

"Go ahead. I need to speak to my High Lady alone." He waved his hand dismissively, taking your hand and leading you to a side door by the thrones.

"But my Lord, your-" The advisor tries to call him but he quickly shuts up with a glare from Eris, gulping whatever words he still had to say. You looked behind you, watching as the music and party started without you, before a light tug brought you back to your mate.

"What's the matter?" You ask, watching him shut the door behind you. "I thought everything went well. Did you see something? Or someone?"

"Shhhh," Eris whispers, pushing you against the cool, mossy stone of the hallway. His hand cups over your mouth and your eyebrows furrow as you give him a quizzical look. "Everything is fine, my love."

"Then why are we back here and not out there?" You mumble through his hand, frowning.

"I had to pull you away...to admire you more closely," He smirks, grabbing one of your hands and guiding it down until you could feel his straining erection through his leathers. "Seeing you up there with this crown, dressed so refined, it took all of my strength not to take you right there in front of everyone."

Your eyes widen, and your breath catches as he grinds his hips against the front of your dress, his forehead dropping to touch yours as he groans quietly. It grew several degrees warmer as you try to shimmy out of your dress, wanting to feel his lips and the cool air against your skin.

However, a loud knock on the door makes the both of you jump as the advisor speaks through the door. He asks if everything is alright, to which Eris sends him away with a snappy response before those amber eyes turn back to you.

"We don't have much time..." You murmur, raising your hand to cup his jaw and trace his bottom lip. He regards you for a moment, fighting some battle inside his head, before he crashes his lips against yours.

"We have enough." He moans, biting down on your lip until you taste copper. "Take off your underwear. Now."

You don't hesitate, hiking up the skirt of your dress and sliding it down your legs. He watches as he undoes the laces of his pants, not bothering to take off his embroidered jacket or shirt. A giggle escapes your lips as you hold out the lacy fabric on one finger, dangling it in front of him teasingly.

Eris all but growls and pushes you back against the wall, your crown tilting slightly as he grabs your legs and wraps them around his hips. You moan when you feel the tip of his length rub against your folds, coating them in your slick that was getting more and more wet.

"I wonder what the other lords and ladies of the court would think if they saw you like this," He chuckles darkly, grabbing your face and squishing it between his fingers. "To see their High Lady taking her mate's cock, watching her beg for it."

"Please, Eris!" You moan, opening your mouth when his thumb presses against your still-bleeding lip. He groans when you start to suck on it and swirl your tongue around.

"Just like that, little fox," He praises, stilling his ruts so that he can line himself up to your hole. "Beg for it."

"Fuck, I need it. I need your cock so bad, High Lord." You mewl, watching as his demeanor changes over the title use. "Fuck me, use me, just please-"

You don't have time to finish the sentence as he thrusts into you in one go, stretching out painfully. It doesn't phase you, though; your body craves the pain with the pleasure as he starts fucking you carnally.

"Cry for me, my love. Let them hear you," Eris demands, his own crown falling forward as wisps of auburn hair fall out of their intricate braids. "Mother above, you're fucking perfect."

Moans and whines are all that you can vocalize as you wrap your arms around his neck for leverage, your pussy aching at the power of his thrusts. He was no better, his head forehead resting against yours once more as you watch each other come closer and closer to the edge.

Your hips go down just right and allow him to rub against your spot, your nails threatening to rip through his jacket as you scream. Eris grins, baring his teeth, as he focuses on hitting it over and over again. He plays your body like his favorite instrument, making you sing a song only he can compose.

The music and laughter come under the door, reminding the two of you where you were supposed to be, but this only spurs your mate on further.

"One day, I will fuck you on your throne," He growls, kissing you fiercely. "Have everyone watch how good you take my cock, how greedy your little pussy is for their High Lord. Would you like that, my love? To show everyone how you are mine and I am yours?"

"Y-yes!" You whimper, mouth hanging open as the coil in your lower abdomen starts to tighten.

"You may be their High Lady but deep down, deep down, you're just my little whore, aren't you?" Eris whispers into your ear, his hands falling to grab your hips bruisingly as he increases the speed.

"Fuck, yes!" You nod, your walls starting to flutter around his length. "Always yours, only yours, fuck Eris please I'm so close!"

"Good girl," He snarls, forcing you to look at him. "Good fucking girl. Cum all over my cock, my love. Make sure everyone hears you come undone."

It takes no further encouragement as you shout his name, your moans turning to cries as he fucks you through one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your entire body shakes, your vision zeroing in on his face as you watch him follow you in bliss.

The pulsing of his cock as he paints your inner walls makes you groan, your name falling off of his lips like a prayer as he slams inside you two more times before stilling.

Both of you are struggling to catch your breath as you come down from your highs, your legs shaky as he slowly lowers you back to the ground. Eris watches as you try to get back to presentable, fixing your crown before turning to fix his as well.

You stop when he grasps your wrists, stopping you from stepping away and instead pulling you into his chest.

"I love you, my High Lady." Eris smiles, a genuine one that makes your heart stop.

"I love you too, my High Lord," You raise up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, straightening out his jacket. "But feel free to treat me like your whore anytime."

Eris laughs boisterously, grabbing you and kissing you once more before the advisor starts feverishly knocking again.

"In a minute!" You both call out, giggling at the frustrated huff on the other side.

[ilycosy]

subby whiny coryo🤭

sub coryo is literally my fav kind ,,, how did u know are u in my walls ??!?!? this is w post!peacekeeper him bc ... i love the buzzcut

also :) hi tbosas fandom !!

you could hear his footsteps before you officially see him, returning back from the districts to you. his footsteps are heavier than last time— and he seems to have bulked up, broad shoulders now more muscular than scrawny like before.

you smooth out your dress before wrapping your arms around his neck, allowing him to take the lead while in public. his buzzed head tickles the side of your neck as he breathes you in, hands finding their way to your soft hips. he hums in contentment.

"c'mon, coryo, we have a party to go to." you mumble against his shoulder, knowing that the last place he wants to be is a party. but it'd help his social status, especially since the plinths are throwing the party.

by the time you both had cleaned up for the party and arrived, many people were downing posca like it was water (which, you could argue that it was to the elites.) so you and coriolanus didn't have to do much socializing, a simple nod and compliment going a long way.

you were engaging in a conversation with a random elite, somebody that neither you nor coriolanus cared for, when you felt a hand sliding from your back to your ass. you didn't bother with looking, already knowing that it was your impatient boyfriend.

coriolanus was an uptight and elitist boy when you met him, just beginning at the academy— he still is, but now you like to think that he's become more of a man than that boy you knew. so eager to prove himself and his power to everyone, including you.

his hand attempted to go up the dress, but you stopped him before he got ahead of himself. "my love," you said with a small laugh, resting your hand on his bicep. "will you please get me something to drink?"

he almost pouted before realizing what you asked of him, you never drank. his small frown turned into a charming smile as he pressed a soft kiss to the inner corner of your mouth, "of course my dear."

which is how you two ended up here, in the bathroom of an extravagant house belonging to a family that honestly shouldn't even like coriolanus. making out like he was about to go back to peacekeeping (which, he'd never do. he missed you too much.) your glossed lips left sticky colorful marks on his pale skin, marking him as yours.

your hand was wrapped around his pretty weeping cock, slowly jerking him off while you kissed him dumb. drinking up the whines that left his mouth while he grinded into your hand, his pent-up self finally being able to be relieved after the time in the districts.

"did ya' miss me?" you asked teasingly, thumbing his tip while he tried to steel himself. his blue eyes welling up with tears as he shys away from your hand, his cock leaking precum all over your manicured hand. "did you coryo?"

he gulped, which would've looked a bit silly if you both weren't so turned on. he nodded, his reddening face blurring together as tears slip. "missed y'so much miss," he slurred, a throaty noise coming out as he hid in your neck. "needed you, s'much."

you giggled and pressed another kiss to his bruised lips, licking them until he opened his mouth— only to pull back and let him pant openly. "well you have me now sweetheart," you assured him, pulling your hand away from him to rest your precum slicked fingers in his open mouth. "what do you think we should do? to make up for lost time.."

[carolinaoceanblvdbaby]

Gemini Mars

kyle broflovski x reader SMUT

A/N: hey y’all!! my old acc got terminated :( so this is a repost. also, ofc, kyle is aged up. don’t be weird. also this is your warning that this is smut. i ain’t your mom so i can’t tell you what to do but this right here is me telling you that this is smut.

꧁☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼꧂

It was shocking that Sheila Broflovski had no qualms about Kyle and you being up in his bedroom with the door shut with how overprotective she was but honestly, she could never imagine her son doing anything inappropriate in his life. If she knew what disgusting and vile things her son was doing to his girlfriend up there, they would only be allowed in the living room with adult supervision.

Upstairs, Kyle’s television was playing. Neither Kyle nor you were really paying attention though. Both of you had your phones out, scrolling mindlessly. Your For You page on TikTok was full of astrology videos. You found them entertaining but you would definitely be lying if you said you weren’t trying to figure out how you could subtly get his birth time from Sheila. Double tapping one video, you scrolled to the next one. Reading the text on the video, you learned more about mars signs and what your mars sign can say about your sexuality. What a shame you didn’t have Kyle’s full birth chart but based on the chart you drew up without birth time, Kyle was a Gemini mars which honestly made sense with the way he was fairly quick to anger but when he wasn’t, he was the nicest guy in the world. Quickly, you typed into Google ‘mars signs kinks’. The search results told you gemini mars were into dirty talk, fingering, hands, talking their partner to orgasm, tend to get turned on by glasses and intellect,oral fixation, french and open mouthed kissing, toys and just overall sensual and vocal sex. Too bad you didn’t have the birth time so you could know the house his mars falls in. Wondering how accurate it was, you just decided to ask him.

“Hey, Kyle?” You asked

“Hmm?” Kyle hummed, not looking up from his phone

“What are you into?” You asked, grinning

“What do you mean?”

“Like, in bed. What are your fantasies? Desires? Kinks?” Your stupid grin never left your face

“No.” Kyle kept his eyes on his phone, frozen but you could see a deep blush on his freckled skin

“Yes, tell me!”

“No.”

“Kyleeee, come on! I’ll tell you mine!” You tried to bargain

“Okay, fine.” Kyle put his phone down and looked at you, his face still red but he had a slight grin

You paused to think and then you began your monologue. “Hmm, your fingers are so long, sometimes I wonder what they would feel like in me. I wanna wrap my fingers around your cock and pump it till you cum all over my tongue. I wanna suck you dry. I want your tongue in me. I wanna swallow your cum. I want your balls slapping against me. I want you on top of me, pounding so hard into me. I wanna hear how good I make you feel and I want you to hear how good you make me feel. I want my walls to clench around you, squeezing your cum into me and all over my walls. I wanna watch you slip your fingers in and out of me in the mirror. I want you to hold my wrists over my head while you fuck me stupid. I wanna straddle you and make out with you. I want to drain your ball of cum. I want it from behind. I want you to fuck me against the wall. I want you to feel me cum all over your face and oh my gosh, I want you to cum all over my face. I want you to talk dirty to me. I want to taste myself when you kiss me. I want you to praise me, tell me how good I’m doing and I am a good girl. I want you to just pound me from behind as your fingers circle my clit. I wanna sit on your face while you eat me out. I wanna make love to you to Lana Del Rey. I want you to fuck me with your glasses on, you’re so hot wearing them. I want you to do disgusting, vile things to me and I want to do disgusting, vile things to you. I just want nasty sex with you.”

Kyle just simply stared at you during your foul monologue, blushing before responding.

“You are nasty, y/n.”

“Oh come on, Kyle! Tell me what you’re into!” You groaned

“Or I could just show you?” Kyle grinned mischievously as he crawled on top of you.

“Please.” You sighed as you circled your arms around his neck and his lips were on yours. They were soft and just so utterly perfect against yours. He parted your lips with his tongue, grazing against yours while his hand cupped your face. His hand slipped underneath your shirt, cupping your lacy brasserie and you softly moaned. He stopped kissing and touching you immediately. You yearned for his touch again. He placed his thumb on your bottom lip while cupping your face again.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet. Don’t want my mom catching us. Think you can do that for me?” He smirked and you nodded, needing him. His lips were back on yours and his left hand slipped under you to unhook your bra. You quickly slipped your shirt off as well as your bra. Kyle grazed his lips over your neck and you couldn’t help yourself, you let out a soft whimper. Of course he pulled away.

“I fucking told you to be quiet, why couldn’t you control yourself?”

“You do things to me.” you grinned at him and he immediately sat back down next to you and grabbed his phone. He went back to scrolling on his phone.

“Kyle, what the fuck are you doing? I swear on all things holy I’ll be quiet.” Kyle put his phone back down and slipped over you, kissing you roughly.

“You better.” He mumbled against your lips and then trailed his lips down your neck again. This time you kept your mouth shut. He tongue darted out as his lips moved down your neck, over your collar bones, and then to your breasts. He licked each of your nipples, making them hard. You bit your lip and tried so hard to not let out a whimper. You reached down to the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. You ran your hands over his bare chest and pulled him close to you, kissing him hard. He returned the kiss but didn’t let it last for too long as he clearly had other plans for you. Kyle yanked your pants down and spread your legs. He kissed the inside of your thigh before running one of his slender fingers through the hood of your soaking wet cunt.

“You wanted my fingers in you? Yeah?” He teased you as he continued lightly touching your needy cunt. You nodded and he grinned up at you, proud of the way he got you to react and proud of you for staying quiet.

“You’re such a good girl, yeah? Being so quiet for me and, fuck, you’re so wet for me, honey. Aren’t you?” He grinned

“Yeah, just for you.” You whispered softly

With confirmation that he didn’t need from you, he stuck two fingers into you. You bit your lip so hard that you almost drew blood. Kyle tantalizingly brought his fingers in and out of you at such a slow pace it could be considered torture. He brushed his thumb over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sighed with pleasure.

“Shut up.” Kyle took his fingers out of you and the absence of them was practically painful.

“I’m sorry! Honey, I swear I’ll shut up!” You pleaded with Kyle but he crawled on top of you and parted your lips with his fingers that were just in you.

“Clean my fingers with your mouth since clearly you wanna use it. Suck them, now.” So you did, you were a good girl for him, weren’t you? Your tongue swirled around his fingers and you cleaned your juices off of his fingers.

“Good girl.” He praised you, smiling lovingly before pulling his fingers out of your mouth. He went back to between your legs and he grasped your thighs, pushing them apart. Kyle’s mouth hovered over your cunt. The sight of Kyle about to eat you out sent a fucking flood right to your core. His tongue darted out and parted your cunt like the red sea. You bit your thumb to stop yourself from moaning his name and getting caught. Your fingers weaved in between his ginger curls as his tongue swirled around your labia and avoided your clit. You desperately needed him to give some attention to your clit but he refused. He was teasing you like the asshole he was.

“Please.” You begged him, barely audible, knowing what you were risking.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I won’t give you what you want, baby. You don’t want that, do you?” Kyle pulled his lips off you and scolded you. You nodded, begging him to continue. His tongue returned to your sopping cunt and his lips sucked your clit into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your clit and you thought you were gonna die, it felt so good. With a pop, he released your clit and widened his tongue. Kyle licked up and down for a few minutes, then vortexed your clit again. He repeated the cycle only a few times before you came all over his face. He came up grinning and kissed you. You could taste yourself on him, exactly what you wanted.

“Wanna suck your big cock, Kyle.” You could tell by the look in his eyes that you had flipped a switch in him. He laid down next to you and pulled you under the blanket. You grinned up at him as you unzipped his pants and pulled them down. His hard cock sprung out and your mouth watered for him. His cock was so delicious. You spit in your palm and started jerking him off. His head fell back as you slid your hand up and down his big cock.

You then focused your hand on the base as your tongue licked the tip. You licked the tip of his cock softly and then your other hand moved to cup his balls. Fuck, you just wanted them in your mouth but your didn’t wanna take away the attention you were paying to his hard cock so you spit in the hand that was cupping his balls before returning your tongue to the tip of his cock. Kyle ran his hand through your hair and gently pushed your mouth a little farther down his cock. You took this as a sign that he wanted you to fully take him in your mouth. So you did and you bobbed your head up and down on his dick, still playing with his balls. You repeated your motions, bringing him close to cumming. He tapped your head, letting you know he was close. Soon after he tapped on your head, his cock twitched on your tongue and just a second later his cum shot to the back of your throat. You swallowed like the good girl you were and crawled out from under the blanket. His still hard cock grazed your stomach as you crawled on top of him and kissed him.

“Kyle, you have to take me right now.” You whispered to him and he immediately flipped you over.

“Gonna fuck you so good but you gotta be quiet, remember?” You nodded and he stuck his cock in your wet cunt.

“Shit, Kyle.” You whispered in his ear as he began to move into you, hitting you at the perfect place.

“Gonna breed you, baby. Wanna pump you full, yeah?” You had no idea where that came from but it did something to you and you rutted your hips into him at a faster pace.

“Please, Kyle. Breed me.” Whispering in his ear, you softly whined at a level only he could hear.

“Yeah? You want me to breed you? Gonna do it, baby. Gonna pump you full. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His whiny little ‘yeah’s went straight to your core.

“So close, Kyle.”

“Yeah? You can do it, honey. Cum all over my cock.” He talked you through a mindblowing orgasm and you were completely cock drunk for him.

“Fuck, Kyle.” You shook with pleasure and the way your walls clenched around him had him cumming right after you. He painted your inner walls with his seed. Kyle kissed you lovingly as he slowly rode out his orgasm and then pulled out from you.

“That was perfect, honey.” You told Kyle as you both quickly redressed.

“I’m glad.” He kissed you and you laid your head on his chest.

“How the fuck am I going to walk past your mom when I leave after that?” You laughed and Kyle chuckled

“Don’t make eye contact or talk to her.”

“That's rude, Kyle! I’m not gonna do that!”

“Then you gotta act like I didn’t just fuck you stupid, yeah?” He grinned, referencing your monologue of what you were into and you laughed

“Also, my glasses? My glasses are a turn on for you?” Kyle asked

“Yeah! I just think you look extra hot wearing them because you look extra smart!”

“Oh yeah?” He asked you as he reached over on his night stand for them and put them on.

“Oh yeah.”

“Might have to wear them more often, huh?”

“You just might.” You mumbled against his lips, grinning

[myuni-moon]

#Ink Splotches

—Synopsis: Dan Heng has never liked being reminded of his past, but no matter how hard he tries, some things just stay.

—Pairing(s)/Character(s): Dan Heng x GN!Reader

—Genre: Yandere (Sensitive content ahead)

—Warning(s): Dark content, yandere, possessive, stalking, Dan Heng is a creep that likes to watch people sleep, reader's gender isn't specified but they're described with the word "pretty," reader is shorter than Dan Heng, a/b/o-ish themes (Dan Heng goes feral), mentions of hypothetical choking

—Word Count: 2.4k

—Note: Some of these I'm making up, so please discern the information here as just headcannons for Dan Heng. Most of this was written prior to any updates about Dan Heng's past, so please excuse the discrepancies. Also this is darker than some of my previous works, so proceed with caution.

Dan Heng never liked discussing his past, never did enjoy doing anything that reminded him of it either– save for a few things, of course. He liked reading. Him deciding to use the library as his quarters alone was a testament to that. If that wasn’t enough, you could always catch him reading in his spare time with the few pocketbooks he stored under his coat. It was something he used to do on slow days when he hopped from one station to another, and it stayed with him even after joining the Express. He liked the food in the Xianzhou Luofu, too. Despite the initial hesitance, he came to enjoy the multitude of flavors that coated his tongue. The cuisine may have been similar, but it was so much better than the staleness of his day-to-day in the past. 

Most of all, he liked calligraphy– though it was an activity most inhabitants of the Express didn’t exactly know he partook in. Dan Heng couldn’t quite remember how he learned it or when he even did (out of his own mind wanting to block out any memory of that time), but the hobby gave him peace of mind. There was something about the careful concentration of the brush on parchment and the orderly manner in which each stroke was placed that lulled his mind into a quiet away from the chaos of time. Perhaps that’s why he never felt all too bothered by the constant whirs of the machinery that surrounded his quarters. The constant white noise distracted his mind just enough for him to dwell on anything but the skeletons in his closet.

The low table before him was ready and set, and the door remained locked to any outsiders that could interrupt. The scroll was blank, but the brush in his hand had already collected ink. The dark liquid dripped onto a container as Dan Heng stared into the white void in contemplation. He sighed. Doing calligraphy that day was meant to calm him, something to ease him out of whatever stressed him.

The data bank whirred on and on, yet no matter how many minutes passed, his hands could conjure nothing– neither a single stroke nor flinch. If anyone were to watch him, he’d look like a statue. It was quiet. It was peaceful even if nothing even happened. However, disarray plagued his mind and soul.

It was simply a stray thought at first, something just a little more impulsive than how he usually thought of his companions. You looked tranquil, he supposed as he kept watch that night. Belobog was cold, and he could see your breath puff out of your mouth with every rise and fall of your chest. The campfire’s heat tickled and licked at your skin as it illuminated your features with a warmth that painted you in an innocence far divorced from your typical image. Even when the hardships of battle befell your little party, you always slept soundly, peacefully. Dan Heng remembered a time when he wished for that too– to sleep as if the horrors didn’t haunt him at night. The way the shadows danced across your face, the wrinkle of your nose whenever a stray snowflake found its way a little too close, or the twitch in your fingers as you searched for warmth– he craved it if he was being honest. Maybe too much, even because every time he stayed up, he always stared at you sometime into the night. 

You looked pretty, he admitted a few nights later. Once again, he had taken the role of lookout. Again, he watched you with fascination and envy. He twirled a tassel of your jacket around his fingers, careful not to tug hard enough to awaken you. It was like a switch was flipped in his head because as he looked at you now, he could feel something in his spine tingle. An urge long buried and forgotten with the rest of himself that was slowly trying to dig itself out from the facade of indifference he put together. He tried composing himself first, isolating his mind and shoving whatever it was that tried getting out back into the deepest, darkest parts of his brain. 

It was okay after that. Dan Heng was back to normal, and everything went back to how it was before. Once you completed your mission, you all went back to The Astral Express. Himeko and Pompom welcomed you back aboard, and Mr. Yang dismissed you all to your rooms to rest before setting out on trailblazing once more. As per usual, Dan Heng only holed himself up back in his room with the piles of data he compiled during your time in Belobog to be sorted. The blue screen before him had already started to burn his eyes as he propped his elbow on the desk. His head rested on his palm. He had already read through half the files when someone knocked on the door. Instinctively, he checked the time. It was way past the time for someone else to be awake at that hour. It couldn’t be Himeko, Mr. Yang, or Pompom; he knew they went to bed earlier than the rest of the crew aboard. March was unlikely to be awake either because he had already heard her snoring a few hours ago. That only left–

“Dan Heng, are you still awake?” You.

The man gulped as he jumped to his feet, and his heart thrummed beneath his ribcage. His footsteps felt heavy, slowly making his way to the entrance. In hindsight, Dan Heng shouldn’t have even paid attention to your call. Maybe it was the fatigue and tiredness that relaxed his self-restraint, enough for his hands to get a grip on the handle; however, he was more than used to snapping himself back to reality. In a sliver of a second, he was able to catch himself. All his muscles seized up, and his breathing went ragged. 

Just what was he doing? His control over himself had slowly been slipping, and for what? There was no warning, no transition. There was no logic either in why his usual disposition had crumbled. There was nothing unusual from that first night, and it didn’t feel any more weird the days after. In fact, everything was just how it normally was for him. Sure, he loosened a few restraints and came to terms to the thoughts floating around his head - but that was rational, surely. So, why did static start to settle under his skin the longer he kept you outside? Why did his nails dig into his palms every time you laughed? Why did he feel like breaking the door down when he could just simply open it?

Nervously, Dan Heng eyed Cloud-Piercer, stowed away in a corner of the room. The orb in its clutch glowing ever so faintly in the dim brightness, its calm twinkle a stark difference to the instability swirling within his veins. With his current condition, it was dangerous. Extremely so. He wanted to tell you to go away, to have the others take him far from the rest. His unshakable calm was slowly diminishing, and his fears of losing control only made it worse. But something in him just didn’t want to.

“Dan Heng?” God, could you just stop saying his name? He could feel himself slipping.

“Dan Heng, are you there?” The handle started to rattle, his shaky hands flexing as he fought for control.

“Dan Heng, open the door, please?”

The mechanisms of the door whirred as it slid open. You stood so close, too close to what he would deem safe. Yet, the moment he saw you, everything went quiet. It wasn’t just the dead silence of space. The thoughts in his head had calmed down. The pins and needles that pricked his fingertips had vanished. It was as if nothing ever happened. Dan Heng blinked, bringing his palm up to his chest. His heartbeat was normal– stable even– as he gazed down at you. The strangeness of the whole ordeal shook him. Never in his life had he experienced the way his mind and body tumbled the moment before. He’d have to alert Himeko or Mr. Yang of the changes the next morning. 

“Is there something you need?” His demeanor returned to normal, too. 

You looked down at the ground sheepishly, shifting your balance from one foot to another. Your lips were pressed together in a thin line, leaving your cheeks to puff up. Your gaze even shifted from side to side until you looked up at him. Innocent, he noted. Your eyes reminded him of a doe’s. “Well, I couldn’t sleep. I just thought you might be awake, too.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but can I stay with you?” 

He wanted to say no, to bring back the iciness on his tongue and the dismissiveness of his tone. Yet, before he could even think to say it, his mouth had already moved. “Alright.”

You smiled so sweetly, immediately slipping beside him and into his room. His arm brushed your skin as your fingers grazed his knuckles. The hairs on Dan Heng’s body all stood up. A static washed upon his ears, drowning out all other noise as if it had been stuffed full of cotton. It was a minuscule interaction, but it was electrifying. But just as his senses dampened, they would heighten. Soon, he found himself hyper-aware of the beat of your heart, the way he could count each beat with only his ears. His eyes had zeroed in on your movements, everything slowing down cinematically– which he would have found humorous if it weren’t for the fact that something animalistic started to crawl its way out of Dan Heng’s carefully maintained self-constraints.

A part of him howled, growled, and gnawed for him to shed his shell. A beast, running only on its instincts, began to awaken after being forced into hibernation. His humanity couldn’t battle against it, and it could only give way to the feral force lest Dan Heng risked losing himself completely. 

Can’t you smell them? It crooned at him. He could– fuck, he definitely could. You smelled so sweet to the point his mouth started to water with every whiff he took. Your scent was so appealing, and he wasn’t even referring to body wash or cologne; it was just you. You never smelled like that before. Maybe it was because of his true nature coming to light that he was able to, but he couldn’t help but want to be enveloped by it. 

Don’t they look so perfect, so pretty? You did. You always did even when he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. He could just imagine the cute smile you showed him seconds ago, and he couldn’t help but want to release a guttural purr at the fact that it was directed toward him and him alone. Then it hit him.

You want them all to yourself. That’s right. Dan Heng wanted you all to himself. 

After all, what was stopping him? If he really wanted to, he could just knock you out on your next adventure, abduct you right then and there, then take you to wherever he saw fit– as long as it meant keeping you with him without having any such disturbances. You’d think a more rational– dare say, human– part of him would’ve realized the morality of his thoughts, perhaps even chase them away and put himself into self-confinement until he came back to his senses. But no.

No, if anything, it only served to smooth out the rough edges of his devious plan. Starting with places to go when he finally had you in his grasp. The routes from place to place, just to avoid other trailblazers and authorities that may have picked up on his bounty. Suppose he’d use drugs or physical force to get you to be cooperative enough to go with him (as if you’d have a choice). Then when he was sure you two were finally alone, he’d put his claim on you with a bite to your pretty neck– but that didn’t sound as appealing as giving you his mark right now. All he needed to do was wrap his hands around your neck and-

A crack snapped him out of his stupor and away from the image of you in his mind. Dan Heng retracted himself back into the present. His draconic gaze settled on his workplace before clicking his tongue. He had applied too much pressure to the brush; one remnant still sits in his hand while the other half had found itself in a farther place. The paper was in no better condition. In some areas, the ink had bled through, creating large splotches of dark, foreboding circles on the page. What were supposed to be detailed strokes had become near-erratic in the time span he was stuck in his imagination. The man frowned and sighed. 

However, his eyes brightened when they flit to the very center of the page. Amidst all the chaos and rage that had been thrown into the work, your name remained neat in the expanse of Dan Heng’s mental deterioration. Fitting, he supposed. 

Without another word, he cleaned up. He didn’t need March barging in and finding the evidence of his deep affection for you. He disposed of the calligraphy brush (begrudgingly. It meant he’d have to go back to the Luofu to attain another). 

Straightening himself out, he left his room towards the parlor. Pom-pom, as always, came to greet him. The small bunny skipped over to him, tilting its head as it inspected him. The conductor of the Astral Express pointed to his robe.

“You’re not usually this untidy, Dan Heng.”

Dan Heng looked at the area the bunny referenced. On his green robe, typically free of any stain, was a noticeably-sized black dot. It must’ve been from his haphazard movement earlier. If he didn’t exercise any self-control, he might’ve let out a laugh under his breath.

“It is nothing,” he waved a hand dismissively. Truthfully, it felt almost entertaining to see the naivety of the conductor to the obscenity happening within its very own train. He thought it was poetic– comical, almost– how it looked as if it had been a subtle sign of the corruption happening to Dan Heng. Or maybe, he’d always been this way, waiting for that sick part of him to finally run rampant. Dan Heng side-stepped and proceeded on his way as if everything had been fine. His lips curled into a smirk the moment Pom-pom could no longer see his face. 

“Just an ink splotch.”

[cinnamongorll]

Wildflower - chapter 2

read on ao3 🤍 previous chapter 🤍 masterlist 🤍

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Synopsis: Joel Miller is an infuriating constant in Alex’s life. As her dad’s best friend and smuggling partner, she can’t seem to avoid him no matter how hard she tries.  When a weapons trade off goes wrong and Alex becomes the next target in a dangerous revenge vendetta, Joel is forced to uphold the promise he made to his friend to protect his daughter from the dangers of the post-apocalyptic world. But when Alex and Joel reluctantly grow closer, and she starts to peel back the layers of animosity between them, Alex realises that nothing is what it seems and that trusting Joel might be more dangerous than anything outside the QZ walls. Series tags: dbf!Joel, age gap (Joel is late 49, FMC is 26), older man/younger woman, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean Joel, protective Joel, dark Joel, sexual tension, smut, mutual pining, feral Joel, first person pov, angst, more tags to be added, ultraviolence Joel. Chapter warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. Also, Joel is pretty mean in this one, sorry xx Word count: 6.5k

_________________________________________

Chapter 2:

“Yes.”

The word leaves my mouth and the firm grip on my face disappears before I can prepare myself for the loss of my anchor.  

Joel’s hands retreat to rest against his thighs, fingers curling into tight fists. His head is turned away from me, scanning the crowd, tracking the movement around us. Without his grip, my body deflates and I blink, trying to catch my breath. The air pulls and pushes against the inside of my chest, forcing my mouth to remain open in desperate gasps which neither fill my lungs nor bring me any sense of relief. 

Mourners, witnesses, and survivors just going about their day crash into us from all sides. The square is becoming smaller and smaller as more people file past the stage where the wooden structure stands, where the bodies swing, where my - 

“Joel,” I bite out, my stare burning into the side of his face. 

His head drops towards me. When his eyes catch mine he winces as though caught off guard by the grief that’s splattered over my face. 

“What?” he demands under his breath as his gaze detaches from mine almost immediately, back to scanning buildings and people. I’m abandoned, alone in my confusion.

Someone crashes into me and I stagger to the side, into another man who growls out a loud curse and pushes me away from him. I’m lost in a sea of bodies and screams, my heartbeat roars in my ears as another elbow digs into my side and a foot slams on top of my own. 

I grunt in pain as I twist and turn in the waves of people. I can’t see Joel and, with every push and shove, I’m dragged closer and closer to the gallows. My hands reach out, grabbing at clothing and arms and anything that will stop me from moving towards my dad’s swinging body.

I want to scream. I can feel it crawling up my throat again as another shoulder carves into my chest, but I remember what Joel said. The awareness of guns scanning the crowd seizes my throat and I feel myself choke out a gargled yell that I couldn’t quite keep contained. 

Who are these people? What happened to my dad? Where is Joel?

He told me to trust him, that he’d get us out of here. But he let go, and now I’m floating helplessly in unknown waters, in a battle with no knowledge of my opponents. 

I’m spun around with the flow of people and my eyes catch sight of my dad. 

It’s like someone has reached into my lungs and stolen all the air I’ve so desperately consumed, like I'm being suffocated from the inside. My heart moves at a hummingbird's pace, rippling and thrashing against my thin jumper. 

For a moment I think that time has stopped, but, no, it's worse than that: time keeps moving. People around me keep pushing, my legs keep stumbling. If time stood still, if everyone would just stop moving for a second, I was sure that I could figure this out, that I could wake up from this nightmare. 

I’d realise that this is all a mistake, a misunderstanding. I’d realise that, no, that isn’t my dad up there, it’s someone else, of course. This is someone else’s nightmare, not mine. Please, god, can everyone just STOP. 

Please.

STOP.

I don’t realise I’m saying the words, screaming them, even, until the hand I’ve come to  intimately recognise slides across my open mouth. 

His chest is pressed against my back, his mouth drops to my ear. 

“Don’t turn round, don’t make a sound. Just keep movin,’” Joel growls in my ear.

Something resembling relief pumps through my bloodstream and, by some miracle, my legs don’t falter at the malice in his tone and I fulfil his demand. My legs keep moving, fortified by Joel’s own stride that shadows my own. 

I can’t see anything past the sea of people that I’m swimming through. But Joel does, and he grunts directions in my ear as we weave through the square. “Left” “Right” “Stop” “Keep goin.’” His hand has dropped from my mouth to rest casually on my shoulder, like he does this all the time. 

I realise quickly that this is a performance. Joel is a puppet master, pulling at my strings, pushing me around in some dance I don’t know the moves to. I don’t even know who’s in the audience, who is watching us… who wants us dead. 

I feel Joel stiffen against me at every shove I face as I try to follow his commands, and I hear him unleash low warnings to those who get in our way: “watch it” “move.” 

I shiver at the cold authority in his voice, and those around us do as well. I can sense, though, that Joel is holding himself back, that he could easily clear those who cling to us. But I have enough awareness to understand that Joel is using the violence of the crowd to our advantage; embracing the anonymity of being another stumbling victim in an ocean of people travelling in numerous directions. 

When the sight of legs and shoes give away and I begin to get a clearer view of the ground, I feel Joel’s grip on my shoulders tighten and I’m swept into an alleyway.

His movements are too quick and his hold on me is too strong for any protests to leave my lips. My back hits the brick wall hard and a choked gasp unleashes from my throat as my eyes flash up to meet Joel’s face which is once again turned away from me.  

We’re in a small alleyway, it’s dark and muggy, and as my eyes dart around the space I see tipped bins, leaking unfamiliar fluids onto the cracked concrete, and piles of discarded clothing against the walls. I shiver despite everything, despite the two hands that are holding firm to my shoulders, pinning me against the wall. 

“Joel, what’s happening?” I whisper. 

His eyes drop to mine. Joel is breathing heavily, he’s standing so close I can feel his chest rise with every quick breath. It takes me a moment to notice the ire in his eyes, but when I do, I press my back harder against the wall behind me.

“Told you not to make a sound,” he grinds out. His gaze is unfocused, darting between me and the street to my left which continues to pump out people moving in different directions, some escaping the horror in the square and some desperate to steal a look. 

“And you told me you’d get us out of this, but all you’ve done is lose me in the crowd and get us trapped in an alley,” I retort, enjoying the sudden anger that pulses over my skin. It feels much better than fear. 

Joel stiffens and his hands flex against me, increasing their pressure on my shoulders. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ smartass,” he seethes with his jaw clenched, pupils flaring. 

I know I should be frightened by Joel’s anger. I know what he’s capable of, I know that he could leave me here to get killed and I know that he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But for some reason, I feel a strange sense of immunity. 

In fifteen minutes, my entire world has gone up in flames. I’m standing in the ash pile, waiting for the next fire to catch. 

Joel’s anger isn’t a new threat, it’s an old one, familiar and predictable. The blaze that he ignites is one I like to run my fingers over, enjoying the heat of the burn. 

I tilt my chin up, meeting his narrowed eyes. “Tell me what’s happening, now.” 

He scoffs as his head swings towards the street, then after he’s satisfied that the crowd is still thick, his eyes find mine again. The anger is rippling off him in waves, along with something else that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in Joel: fear.

“You agreed to trust me.”

I shift to stand straighter. His grip eases to let me. 

“Trust only works if it goes both ways.” 

I watch Joel’s jaw move as he digests my words. Then, his eyes fly upwards, a long breath releases from his mouth and he purses his lips. 

My own breath huffs out of me when I realise I’ve won. 

“We took some weapons from the wrong people,” he reveals in a low, grumbling voice as though every word is a struggle. 

“You mean you stole them?” I challenge. Goosebumps trail over my skin as my brain fills in the blanks, jumping to conclusions.

Joel’s chin drops in a sharp nod. 

“Fuck,” I sigh as my eyes follow the movement in the street before returning to his black stare in the dim light of the alley. 

“So what? The people you stole from are the ones who - who,” my throat catches and I swallow roughly, unable to verbalise the reality that I’m confronted with.

Joel’s silence is answer enough. 

I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes but I’m quick to blink them away. Anger still bleeds out of me and I’m not ready to stem the flow yet, it’s the only thing holding me from  breaking down. 

“Who’s idea was it?” I demand, pushing forward, forcing Joel’s grip on my shoulders to loosen. “To steal the weapons?” 

Joel straightens, standing taller. I can practically feel the rage rising in him. Too bad - I’m angrier. 

I plant my palms on his hard chest and push. “Are you the reason he’s dead?” I attempt to sneer but my voice comes out choked and raw. I watch as Joel takes a step backwards, his eyes somehow darkening further. 

My breaths grow heavy as I wait for him to retaliate; to deny my accusation or push back even harder, to pin me to the wall or even turn and walk away. But he doesn’t, Joel just stares down at me, his eyes roaming over my face as a muscle jumps in his cheek. 

I’m disappointed, I realise after a few seconds. I wanted the push back, I wanted the fight. So, I try again. 

“This is your fault, isn’t it? They’re here because of you,” I taunt, stepping into the space he vacated until my chest almost grazes his. My head is tilted up, my eyebrows are raised. 

Joel says nothing but I watch with satisfaction as his breaths grow sharp and fast and my snide smile lengthens. 

“You got my dad killed, and I’m gonna be next because of you,” I fume, lifting my hands to his chest again to unleash another inch of my anger. 

But my fingers don’t even graze the dark material of Joel’s shirt before his hands wrap around my wrists as he forcefully twists my body around until my arms are pinned behind my back, secured with one hand while the other wraps around my throat, pulling me against him. 

I struggle, shaking my shoulders, attempting to kick his legs, but with every retaliation I feel the grip on my throat increase.

My anger gives way to fear again and, as the red cloud clears, I realise that I’ve been walking along the tightrope of Joel’s fragile patience, and with those last words thrown his way, it snapped, leaving me dangling at the mercy of his sick punishment. 

Joel is sneering in my ear, I can practically feel the snarl on his lips as he grunts and pants while securing my complete submission. 

“Keep talkin’,” he taunts with a growl along the shell of my ear. I’m gasping now, my mouth is open wide but only a minimal amount of air is allowed to enter. 

I feel Joel’s laugh rumble against my back as his grip suddenly eases and my chin drops against his arm as I gulp down the precious air that he refused me.  

“I made a promise to your dad to keep you safe,” he hisses as I land another kick to his shin. I bite my lip when he pulls me closer and my eyes squeeze shut when his hand hovers over my neck like a warning. “But if I hadn’t,” Joel pauses and grunts out a harsh, humourless laugh. “I would’a left you out in the open for a bullet to find you.” 

My body goes limp in his hold. I’m still gasping, greedily swallowing air in case his hand once again finds itself wrapped around my throat. 

“I don’t want your help,” I manage to croak. 

“Too fuckin’ bad,” Joel drawls as he finally realeases me, and I stumble forward, my hands reaching up to cradle my neck before I spin around to face him. 

“Choking me isn’t a good way to get me to trust you,” I cough out, pinning him with my stare.

Joel considers me for a moment, his eyes skimming down my face until they drop to my trembling hands. He looks away quickly and I watch him blink a few times before he wipes a hand over his forehead and turns back towards me. Some of the malice has disappeared from his face. He looks tired, defeated, almost.  

“You already agreed, sweetheart,” Joel replies, but his voice has lost all its fight. “Only way we’re gettin out of this is if you follow my lead.” 

He’s right, I know he is, but my agreement gets caught in my tender throat. 

When I don’t answer, Joel steps forward.

I flinch.

He stops, immediately, and something resembling remorse ripples in his eyes. 

“Got it?” he demands slowly, carefully. 

I look out into the street. The crowd is starting to thin, if we don’t move now, we’re going to lose the cover it gives us. 

“Got it,” I reply. But my response doesn’t sound like a willingness to survive this situation he’s got us in, it sounds more like a sign that I've lost. 

………………………….

We walk side by side through the streets, Joel’s hand is wrapped loosely around my wrist. 

I keep my gaze forward, focusing on putting one foot in front of another. As we move, Joel murmurs quiet commands, altering me when he wants to turn a corner, letting me know that there’s no sign of the snipers, telling me to walk quicker. 

Soon, through the fear and horror that drenches my vision, I recognise where we’re headed. 

“Don’t tell me we’re going back to my apartment,” I whisper sharply. 

Joel doesn’t respond but his footsteps are harsher across the pavement. 

“Joel,” I hiss as I continue to stare straight ahead. “If people are looking for us, our apartments are the first place they’re gonna look.” 

His face whips towards mine and I know I’ve snapped his patience again. 

“We need a place to lay low, to figure this out,” he explains with a biting tone. “And unless you’ve been breakin the rules, no one knows where either of us live.”

My stomach drops but I don’t let my steps falter.

“Fine, okay.”  

My dad had strict rules to keep our heads down, not to make friends, to make sure that we were never noticed. By all accounts, we lived like ghosts in the QZ. 

Joel’s right, no one should know where either of us live. 

In theory. 

His name sits on the tip of my tongue, ready to tell Joel about the one person I gave my address to. But I can still feel the strength of his hand wrapped tight around my throat, warning me that my next misstep might hurt even more. So I keep quiet. 

I broke his rule, just once. Theo would come when Joel and my dad had left, knocking on my door, stripping off my clothes, dipping my body onto my mattress, grunting my name. 

It was casual, fun, inconsequential… right? 

I feel Joel tug on my wrist and I quicken my steps, head down as he leads me home. 

…………………….

My legs give out as I step into my apartment. 

I slide down the wall beside the door as the weight of my new reality is forced down on my shoulders. 

He’s dead. 

He’s not coming home. 

My ears are ringing, my heartbeat is screeching in my ears, drowning out the sound of Joel’s footsteps as he locks the door, steps around me and strides to the window, pulling down the makeshift blinds. 

The apartment is plunged into darkness until he finds the lamp and turns it on. 

Immediately, I’m coated in flickering yellow light and I have to cover my mouth to keep the sob from erupting. Or maybe a scream, I don’t know. 

Joel is talking to me. I can’t hear him but I can see his mouth moving and his eyebrows furrowing when he notices I’m not responding. 

He throws his hands in the air and turns, walking until he reaches the rug in my dad’s room. I squint my eyes when he rolls up the edge and opens the compartment under the floorboards that I hadn’t realised he knew about. 

When he turns back around, there’s a gun in each hand. 

Are they some of the stolen guns?

My hand drops from my mouth as he walks closer, and my chin tilts up to meet the look he’s pinning me with. His eyes survey my face, probably condemning me for the tears that wet my cheeks and the red splotches that stain my skin. 

I expect him to shout at me, to tell me to get up, to stop crying, to stop being weak. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, Joel reaches out, gun dangling from his grip. 

I blink up at him, lines forming on my forehead as my grief stricken mind attempts to understand what kind of game he’s playing.

“Take it,” he commands when I make no move to accept. 

I shake my head quickly and drop my limp hands to the floor. 

“I don’t know how to use it,” I confess, exhaustion clipping my voice. My pride is overshadowed by my grief and fear as I reveal my weakness to the man who had held my life between his hands less than an hour ago. 

His eyebrows shoot to the roof. “You’re jokin.”

Despite my numbness, a fierce pulse of mortification still shoots through my body. 

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking,” I fume as I push myself off the floor and straighten my spine.

The gun hangs between us. 

I’m reminded of the night before, when it was me who handed the gun to my dad. If I take the weapon from Joel, will I meet the same fate? 

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, then cross my arms over my chest before my gaze finally lands on Joel’s face. He’s watching me with that reluctant curiosity again and I squeeze my arms tighter to shake the chill of his attention. 

Eventually, he shakes his head and pockets one of the guns. When only one remains in his hand, Joel nods at me.

“Watch.” 

His command has my eyes flashing to his hand, gripped tight around the gun. Joel’s veins are like ropes rippling under his skin as he waits for my full attention. 

“Point down, check it’s loaded, safety off, point, shoot.” 

His instructions are short and blunt but I find myself mesmerised by the movements he makes. Joel’s fingers look like they were moulded to wrap around the handle of a gun. They ache power and scream pain. 

I notice the blood on them, too. Blackness curled around his nail beds and a red tinge staining his knuckles. 

I force my eyes back up to his, and I swallow when I find him already surveying my expression. He looks like he’s taking note. 

“Understand?” he asks roughly after a moment. 

I nod, and accept the weapon into my hand when he tries again. It’s heavy, like the weight of what it means is dragging me down. 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

Joel sighs and rubs his neck, his muscles straining under his shirt. 

“To protect yourself while I’m gone,” he says calmly, still watching me with close attention. 

“What? Gone? Where are you going?” questions spill from my mouth and Joel’s eyes hit the ceiling again before he turns and marches towards the radio by the window. 

I’m on his heels, matching his steps, begging for answers. Panic has attacked my chest, firing lightening bolts of fear throughout my body. 

When he doesn’t turn around, without thinking, I reach out a hand, meaning to land on his broad shoulder and force him to meet my questioning glare. But he catches it before I touch him. Once again, Joel’s hand is wrapped around my wrist and he holds my arm in suspension between us, reminding me of the power he holds in his body. 

“Stop askin’ so many questions,” he grunts before dropping my arm.

I choke out a laugh. It’s so absurd, his absolute refusal to let me in on his plans. 

“Are you being serious? You’ve told me next to nothing about what is going on and now you’re leaving? I have a right to know where you’re going,” I argue, my words are frenzied and breathless. 

Joel dismisses my desperation with a cruel shake of his head, like I’m a child who’s reached their curiosity limit.

His hands curl into tight fists and I involuntarily take a step back until the back of my legs meet the cushions of our worn couch. 

Joel tracks the movement with a sharp inhale. 

“I’m gettin’ us a way out of here, that’s all you need to know,” he answers before turning and stalking towards the apartment door. 

“Out of the QZ?” I blurt out, my voice loud and pleading as I follow his brutal path. 

“You wanna stay here and get killed? Be my fuckin’ guest,” he calls over his shoulder. His threat is meaningless after confessing the vow he made, but a part of me wonders how far his loyalty to my dad goes. 

I swallow down the scream of frustration that threatens to erupt from me, and I dig my nails into my palms, imagining that they’re wrapped around his throat instead. 

“I’m coming with you,” I declare, straightening my spine, trying to appear taller, more capable. 

Joel freezes at my words, his hand paused on its journey to the first lock on the door. I can feel the weight of the sigh he releases before he turns on me, striding forward until he’s towering over me, consuming the space around us with his dominating presence. 

I can practically see the seconds that we’re wasting ticking behind his eyes. Every moment is on the clock now, counting down to those snipers finding us. 

“You’re stayin’ here, end of story,” Joel proclaims with a tilt of his head that has goosebumps rising again on my skin. 

I picture Joel walking out the door, leaving me here alone, unable to shoot, unable to fight, just waiting for him to return. Left to face the cold fury of my grief in this dark apartment that’s coated in memories of the man who now swings from a thick rope.

I consider begging, getting on my knees with my hands clasped and staring up at Joel while I plead with him not to leave me here, to let me come with him. 

I hate this. I hate depending on Joel Miller of all people. My dad’s psychopathic friend. 

But he’s all I have. 

“Don’t leave me,” I plead, scanning his face, searching for any sign of a living breathing person behind the wall of stoicism that he’s built. 

I watch as his eyes narrow and he grits his teeth. 

“Grow up,” Joel scolds, and with one last withering look, he returns to the lock.

His words are like a blow to my stomach and I cough out a choked breath. Heat rises in my cheeks as mortification and anger ripple under my skin. 

I stagger backwards as he pulls the door open. My questions lay unspoken, having died by Joel’s sword of cruelty. 

He turns before leaving but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I wonder if he fears what he’d find in them.

Then, Joel says the same words he uttered last night, before everything went to hell. 

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid.” 

……………………….

The gun is on the table, resting just a few inches away from my fingers which drum on the hardwood surface. 

He left me, he fucking left me. 

I’m seething, every bone in my body is groaning under the weight of my rage. My fingers tap to the rhythm of the thoughts that shoot through my mind. Questions, visions, worries, and regrets meld together into a ball of nausea that surges in my gut. 

I don’t know how long Joel has been gone. Minutes or hours, I can’t tell. The blinds are still drawn and the only light that illuminates the space is the broken lamp that mocks me with its flickering light. 

I imagine myself lifting the gun from the table and following after Joel, surprising him with my capability, shocking him into telling me the truth. 

My eyes squeeze shut until I see nothing but darkness, erasing the vision entirely. 

I wouldn’t even know where to start. I can barely touch the gun without flinching and I don’t have a single clue where my dad’s connections live. He didn’t want this life for me, and I’ve always been content in trusting him with my safety. 

My fingers stop drumming and lift to push into my eyes, turning the darkness into a bright searing orange behind my lids. 

Now my past indifference in learning how to protect myself has caught up to me, and I have to trust Joel fucking Miller with my life. 

What a sick joke. 

I drop my hands to the table with a loud thud, enjoying the slight burn that flashes up my arms when they connect with the hard surface. 

With my palms flat, I push myself out of the chair and stand, inhaling long deep breaths as I turn in a slow circle, taking in every inch of the home that’s closing in on me. 

I wince when my eyes find that broken bulb, bathing me in its fractured glow.

Without thinking, I’m moving towards it, gripping the cold metal stem with my hand and slamming down towards the floor. The light ceases immediately. Glass splatters around my feet, latching onto the laces on my boots and implanting in the rubber sole. 

Sharp breaths claw out of my lungs as I stand over the carnage. My relief is mixed with sorrow as I drop to the floor, my legs shaking as they make their descent. 

The glass bites into my jeans but I can’t see their fractured points. The apartment has collapsed into shallow darkness, faintly illuminated by the threads of daylight that leak out the corners of the blinds Joel pulled down. 

My face is wet again, I can feel the tears drip off my skin, landing somewhere I can’t see. 

My breaths are ragged like the fragmented edges of the glass rubble I rest on. I don’t know how to see past this darkness, I don’t know what my life is going to look like when Joel returns. I’ve been dragged into a mess I don’t even know how to begin to clean up. 

All I know is that Joel and my dad’s smuggling enterprise might have been more dangerous than I thought. 

I lean forward, lifting my arms to cradle around my bent knees as my hair falls around my face like a black veil. 

Joel is capable, I remind myself. If anyone can get us out of this, it’s probably him. He’s a dick but he knows what he’s doing. 

My teeth capture my bottom lip as I consider the frightening reality that despite every bit of survival instinct he has going for him, Joel still managed to get himself targeted by a group strong enough to infiltrate a QZ. 

So Joel can make mistakes, afterall. 

I inhale a shaky breath, but the exhale doesn’t come. 

A loud bang rattles the apartment door. My head swings towards it, hair flying around my face. 

I don’t move, I don’t breathe.

Another bang, a fist hitting off the wood with enough force to shake the doorframe. 

This isn’t Joel. He wouldn’t make that much noise. His knocks are quiet, contained, covert. 

My heart starts to pound. 

This isn’t Joel. 

Panic slams into me. I have to move, I have to hide, I have to do something. 

My hands land on the glass speckled floor and the fractures bite into my skin as I push myself up, moving my legs as slowly as possible. 

I’m standing when I hear the voice. 

“Alex!” it calls. “Are you in there? Open up!” 

Shit. 

I race to the door, my feet crunching over the lamp’s debris. I don’t even look through the peephole, I know exactly who is behind the door. And if he doesn’t shut up he’s going to get us killed.

My fingers are rapid as they release the locks and pry the door open. 

Theo stands on the other side, his chest moving quickly like he’s been running. I don’t give him a chance to catch his breath. I grip his arm and pull him into the apartment, shutting the door quietly. 

“Did anyone follow you?” I demand, sliding my eyes across his face before I turn to deadbolt the door. 

“Follow me? Alex what’s going on?” he asks softly, his eyebrows pinched and mouth gaping. “I saw your dad -” 

My back meets the door. I raise a hand, stopping him. I beg him with my desperate stare to not say the words. My mind is so fragile right now, one more reminder of my dad will shatter it entirely. 

“Did anyone follow you? Please, just answer the question,” I plead, making a considerable effort to calm my voice.

“No, of course not. Why? Is someone looking for you?” Theo asks, stepping closer. 

I drop my head into my hands with a heavy breath. “I don’t know,” I mumble into my palms. 

Strong arms wrap around my middle and pull me into his warm chest. I drop my hands to curl around Theo’s back, fingers gripping the soft material of his t-shirt. 

“What’s going on? You can tell me,” he whispers into my hair. 

“I can’t,” I murmur into his chest.

I can feel Theo try to pull back, to meet my eyes in the dim lighting, to uncover what’s happening, but I’m not ready to let go yet. I just hold him tighter, basking in the comfort of his touch. I allow myself to disarm for a moment, to let the weight of the last few hours fall onto me. 

My breaths come easier, I can feel my mind begin to settle. My thoughts are clearer. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say when I drop my arms back to my side and peel my cheek from the safety of his chest. 

Theo brushes a hand across my hair, tucking a few strands behind my ear. “Alex, please. Are you okay?” 

“He’s dead,” I croak out, blinking up at him. Theo is only half visible in the light and I appreciate that I can’t see the pity I’m sure is shining in his eyes, just as I also appreciate the fact that he can’t make out the full extent of the devastation and fear on my own face.

“I know - I came as soon as I saw. I’d heard they had caught a bunch of smugglers last night but I had no idea your dad…” Theo trails off, leaving the rest of his words to remain unspoken, like my dad’s occupation always was. 

“Come on,” he breathes as he takes my hand and leads me through the darkness to the couch. 

I sink into the cushion as Theo wraps an arm around my shoulders. He’s always been good at calming me down. 

In the back of my mind, a voice yells at me, telling me that he can’t be here. What if someone followed him to this building? What if Joel comes back and finds him - 

An image of Joel pointing a gun at Theo’s head flashes across my vision. 

I stand quickly. Theo’s arm falls to the back of the couch. 

“Alex?” he asks, sitting forward.

I shake my head and send a small smile in his direction. “I’ll just be a second.” 

My legs tremble as I walk towards the kitchen. I run my hands through my hair, tugging at my scalp, begging myself to think of some excuse, some explanation for why I need Theo to leave, to protect himself, to stay away from me, to not get caught up in this mess. 

I’m standing at the table, my fingers pressing into the wood. The gun sits inches away, predicting a future I want nothing to do with. 

“Alex -” 

Theo’s voice is cut off by the sound of locks exploding. 

I swipe my hand across the table, grabbing the gun as I drop to the floor. My hand covers my ears as my mouth opens in a silent scream. 

The open door illuminates the apartment in a bright, exposing light. From under the table, I see a man I don’t recognise march towards Theo.

“What are you -” 

A trigger is pulled and I watch in a state of absolute horror as my friend’s head swings backwards with the force of the bullet that shoots through his skull. 

My hands pile over my mouth, feverishly holding in my scream. My gun is pressed against the side of my face. Every inch of me is shaking. I can’t move, I can’t feel anything but terror. 

The man turns and I know with a sharp pulse of dread that he’s spotted me. It locks my muscles and steals my breath. 

At least I didn’t have to live too long in my grief, I think. 

What are you doin’? MOVE

My eyes flash open at the imaginary sound of Joel’s voice rattling through my skull. 

“What do we have here?” the man taunts as he stalks closer. I wonder where he’ll shoot me? In the head like Theo? Or maybe the heart, let me bleed out slowly?

“Are you hiding?” the man laughs and his feet pause their movements. “Seriously?” 

I grit my teeth, confused at the man’s taunting. There’s something in his tone like he wants me to fight back, like he wants to punish me.

I think of my dad, and how hard he tried to keep me from this life. I blow out a trembling breath, he wouldn’t want me to die like this. 

From my position, I can’t see anything but the man’s feet planted on the other side of the table. The gun shakes in my sweaty palms as I try to remember Joel’s instructions. 

“Point down, check it’s loaded, safety off, point, shoot.” 

Blood roars in my ears as I follow the rhythm he showed me. The man continues his taunting, but I can only vaguely make out his snide remarks, trying to bait me out from under the table. 

Seconds later, the safety is off and I shoot before the man can react to the sound of the soft click. 

A strangled yell ricochets off the walls of the apartment and I tip backwards with the force of the gunshot. 

I hit his thigh, I think. 

I’m in shock but my brain still screams at me to move, to get out of here, to use this distraction to my advantage. 

My ears are ringing, and I can see a cloud of blackness enter the corner of my eyes that tells me that fainting is a real possibility, but I tighten my hold on the gun as I begin to crawl. 

I release a sharp, guttural scream when my head is lurched backwards as a hand wraps around my hair with a blaze of white hot pain across my scalp.

The gun drops to the floor as my hands fly up to grip my head, to try and block my attack. 

“You little bitch,” the man snarls in my ears as he pulls harder, dragging me upwards until I’m standing. I stumble and struggle in his grip but he doesn’t let up his vice like hold. 

“Guess you’re not so different from your dad then, are you?” he grunts out as I attempt to slam my back into his chest. 

My life is hanging by a very weathered thread and yet my eyes still prick with the mention of my dad. 

“If this is about the weapons,” I gasp out through gritted teeth as he increases his hold on my hair. “We can sort this out - we can pay you back.” 

The man’s answering laugh frightens me more than the sight of his gun. 

“You think this is about some stolen weapons?” he demands, his voice is blaring in my ears and I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut. 

For a short moment, myself and this man both pause in a display of our mutual confusion but the cold rim of the gun that finds my temple ends our short truce. 

I release a trembling breath. In fear or relief, I’m not sure. 

“Shit.” 

Something hot and sticky splatters against the back of my head and I drop to the floor, released from the man’s brutal hold. My eyes open when my body hits the ground. I can’t hear anything, my limbs aren’t responding to my commands to move, to get up, to run. 

Am I dead?

Hands land on my shoulders and I twist around, throwing my arms around and kicking with all the strength I didn’t know I had. My eyes are wide but they’re unseeing. I’m moving too quickly to focus on any single thing. 

Whoever is touching me is strong and once they land a firm grip on my shoulders, I’m pinned to the floor with only my legs to continue fighting for me. 

“Alex, stop.” 

My body goes limp, following the command without question. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the terror from my eyes.

“Joel.” I slur his name as his face appears above me. 

He’s furious. The line between his eyebrows looks like it's been carved out with a knife. 

“You hurt?” he demands, his voice sends shivers down my aching spine.

I shake my head and wince when the movement sends another wave of dizziness to wash over me. 

Joel seems unconvinced. He releases one of my shoulders to search my body for wounds. Flames erupt under my skin where his hand grazes me.

When he’s satisfied, Joel leans back until he’s on his knees, perched over me. 

The black cloud that darkened my vision has returned, curling around the edges like ink in water. My breaths can’t keep up with the pace of my heartbeat. 

Joel frowns as he looks down at me. 

“You left me,” I murmur.

Then the black cloud claims me as its victim.

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

@kaseyconnour @casa-boiardi

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Hey!! Thanks for reading!! I'm going away again for a few days and then I'm starting my new job so I'm going to try and aim for a new chapter every 2 weeks - hope that's okay 🤍

[minniethemoocherda]

Just A Friend To You

A/N: Thank you so much to @pkmndaisuki for agreeing to be my beta reader for this fic! I never would have spotted any of my spelling mistakes otherwise lol! Please go check out their amazing X-men art! I hope you guys enjoy the fic! I know I don't post that frequently but I am trying my best to help keep this ship afloat! Xxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

From across the diner, Morph watched as Jubilee and Roberto inched ever closer to one another, neither of them quite yet taking to leap to touch.

Ah, the perils of young love, Morph thought. Although it wasn't as if the perils of love stopped once you became an adult. Something that they knew all too well as they turned their attention to the man sitting opposite them.

When Logan had learnt that the two teens were going on a date, he had demanded that he chaperone them. After many protests, Jubilee had agreed, on the condition that Morph also came along to make sure Logan didn't stab anyone, namely Roberto.

Which was how Morph came to find themselves that Saturday afternoon, watching a date, whilst on a not-date with the man they were in love with.

Most times when they and Logan were hanging out they would be roughhousing, or watching TV, or playing basketball. But here there was nothing to do but just enjoy each other's company. It was nice.

Morph wore their usual human form but with dark jeans and a pink crop top that they may or may not have borrowed from Gambit's wardrobe.

Wolverine was reluctantly wearing a buttoned shirt, because Jubilee had demanded that if he insisted on stalking them then he should at least look presentable. Morph was pretty sure that Logan had stolen his shirt too, probably from Scott, especially given that it was at least three sizes too small for him. He'd had to roll up the sleeves to hide how short they were and left the two buttons undone as it wasn't wide enough to fit across the expanse of his chest. Not that Morph was complaining about the view.

Nor were they complaining about the sweet potato fries that came with their burger.

"You should try one of these," Morph told him as they dipped one of those said sweet potato fries in ketchup.

The next second, Logan leant over the table and bit the one that Morph had been holding between their fingers. Which under different circumstances could have been romantic, but instead reminded Morph of when their old family dog would steal scraps of food from the table.

"I didn't mean that one you animal!" Morph cried, throwing a fry at his face.

But Logan bit that one too, catching it in his mouth, which then spread into a wide grin. With the ketchup dripping from his teeth onto his white shirt, he really did look like an animal.

In retaliation, Morph stole one of his onion rings which Logan protested with a "Hey!" But didn't otherwise complain.

Of course, that was when Roberto finally got the courage to make a move and draped his arm over Jubilee's shoulder.

Morph heard the familiar snikt of Logan drawing his claws from under the table.

"Calm down Wolvie." Morph said, reaching under the table to wrap their hand around his wrist. "I doubt he's gonna try to jump her in the middle of a diner. And even if he did, Jubilee can handle herself."

"She sure can." Logan said, his snarl turning into a proud smirk as he put his claws away.

Now, Logan might say that he didn't like kids, but Morph had seen how he interacted with them.

He always gave into Jubilee's demands to go shopping, or play video games with her, no matter how much he said he wouldn't. And when the teenager needed a non-judgmental shoulder to cry on, he was always there.

Morph knew Logan didn't want kids of his own, and in their line of work they couldn't really blame him. But still, they couldn't help but think it was a shame. He really would make a good father.

It was just one of the many reasons why they loved him.

Suddenly the waitress appeared next to their table and Morph realised that they were still holding Logan's wrist. They quickly retreated it back.

Thankfully, the waitress appeared not to notice, too busy trying to balance an overstuffed bowl of ice cream, sauce and sprinkles in her hand that she placed on their table.

"We didn't order that, lady," Logan told her.

"I know. The girl over there did," the waitress replied, pointing over to Jubilee where a similar looking desert was placed upon her table. When Jubilee caught them looking her way, she waved a cheeky grin and Robert just looked confused.

By the time Morph looked back, the waitress was gone and Logan was digging a scoop out of the ice cream.

"What?" Logan shrugged, shoving the spoonful into his mouth. "I ain't gonna waste free food."

Melted ice cream dripped down Wolverine's chin adding to the collection of stains on that poor shirt, and Morph took a scoop themselves to try to distract themselves from that train of thought.

They had to admit that the dessert was pretty good, not too creamy yet not too solid with a perfect balance of ice cream and toppings.

Logan must have thought so too because as he licked his spoon he let out a low rumbling moan. Morph knew that in this form, they had to have been blushing at pink as their t-shirt. Not even Logan dipping one of the left over fries in to it could lessen their blush, so they did their best to hide it by ducking behind the large bowl as they ate the remainder of the monster of a dessert.

But try as they might, Morph couldn't distract themselves from the thoughts in their head. Logan had to know how this looked right? The pair of them, sharing a dessert. Morph swore they had already seen some of the other diner patrons giving them funny looks. Maybe Logan didn't care? Or maybe he wasn't as hyper-aware about appearances as Morph was?

At least their internal breakdown didn't last for too long, thanks to Logan's never ending appetite.

Morph glanced over at Jubilee's table to see that they had finished too.

Now all that was left was to pay the bill.

"I'll get it." Logan said, grabbing some bills from his trouser pockets. "I'm the one who dragged you into comin' with me."

"Wow, a burger, some frees and a free dessert. You really know how to treat a girl." Morph teased, as if the idea of Logan ever treating them to a real date would be a complete joke.

"Fine." Logan snorted, handing the money over to the waitress. "Next time I'll persuade that Roberto kid to take Jubilee some place fancier."

Next time? Morph felt their stomach somersault.

"Well, if you insist on taking me somewhere fancier then we will have to get you a new shirt," they said, pointing to where a third button had now snapped free. They tried to hide the fact that they felt left like they were about to puke up their own gloop.

"Why? You not likin' the view?" Logan said through a smug smirk.

"I like not getting kicked of restaurants more."

"So you do like it," Logan stated, that smirk turning predatory.

Wait, was Logan actually flirting with them? No, of course not. That could not be happening. This was just their usual banter. Right? Morph must have gotten so caught up in how the pair looked that their brain must have tricked itself into believing that Logan was flirting with them. Yes, that's what must have happened.

Of course that was when Jubilee decided to interrupt.

"I thought I told you to wear something decent!" She cried, grabbing Logan's leather jacket from where it was draped over the back of his chair and throwing it over the exposed expanse of his chest.

"I wore a shirt didn't I?" Logan protested, shrugging the jacket on properly. "Besides, Morph said they liked it."

Jubilee turned her accusatory glare towards them.

"Okay first of all, I never said that. Also I was the one who told Logan that shredding his only shirt wouldn't get him out if wearing one in the future so this-" Morph waved their hands in Logan's general direction. "Is not my fault."

Jubilee stared up at the ceiling but she was unable to stay annoyed for too long as Roberto placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and when her gaze once again found his and a smile once again graced her face.

"Whatever. Me and Roberto were going to go to arcade if you two insist on stalking us."

Morph glanced towards Logan and was surprised too see him shaking his head.

"Nah, you kids go ahead. We got our own plans."

Jubilee looked between them, a suspicious smile on her face that had Morph's stomach churning. But for once she chose to keep her mouth shut simply waving them both goodbye.

"You kids have fun!" Morph called after them.

"But not too much fun." Logan grinned making Roberto's brown skin pale as the teens headed for the door.

Despite their teasing, Morph truly was happy for Jubilee. Robert was a good kid. They were good for each other. Roberto helped to keep her grounded whilst she showed him the light around them.

Morph watched as Roberto reached out his hand and Jubilee didn't hesitate to take it in her own. Morph knew that it wasn't easy for the pair of them easier. As an Afro-Brazilian and Asian-American couple, they too drew their own fair share of less than happy looks. But the two teens ignored the stares, only having eyes for each other.

"Not that I'm complaining about getting out of babysitting duty," Morph said getting up from the table. "But I wasn't aware that we had any plans."

"We're going bowlin'." Logan stated, getting up himself, when he suddenly refused to meet their eyes. "If you want. 'Cus we still haven't been since- I mean we ain't been in a while."

Morph chose to believe that Logan's uncharacteristic fluster was because he had reminded them of how they still hadn't gotten the chance to go bowling together since they'd been freed of Sinister's control, and not the fact that he'd accidently made it sound like he was asking them out on a date.

"I'd love too." Morph quickly covered up the sincerity with a joke. "As long as you promise not to act all stabby when I beat you."

Logan snorted.

"As long as you promise not to act all bratty when I win."

"No promises."

As the two of them left, Morph couldn't help but glance down at Logan's hand as it swayed between them. They hoped that one day, they would have the courage to take his hand too.

[em-harlsnow]

em idk if ur still doing those tiktok trend requests but my god the "can you watch my boyfriend real quick?" trend is making me SCREAM, i think you would have fun with that one! 💗

hello!!! yes i am still doing it whenever I see one I like. I love this trend, it’s so funny!

Ian may have tiktok, but he’s not very social media oriented in general. Mickey gets nervous when people post pictures of him online anyway because of the cartel, even though Ian’s like 90% sure they won’t see Carl’s twitter with 11 followers.

But then there’s a trend he sees, and he can’t not do it. He just has to try it on Mickey and if that means forcing him in front of a camera, so be it. It’s not like he’ll post it.

Mickey’s eating breakfast in the kitchen when Ian sees the trend and it’s the perfect opportunity. He clicks onto his camera app and starts recording, propping it up in front of Mickey on a candle and making sure he can see that it’s filming.

“Fuck is this?” Mickey asks with his mouth full.

Ian ignores him, instead speaking to his phone. “I need to go out for a bit, can you watch my husband?” He says, smirking, and tussles Mickey’s hair when he starts to leave.

Mickey waves his arms around, clearly confused. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Grocery shopping, don’t turn off the camera.” Ian calls back, half way out the door.

“Is this some kind of freaky role play?” He hears Mickey yell after him, but he’s already gone.

//

Mickey’s husband is an idiot.

Once he’s gone and has neither confirmed nor denied that this is a weird role play thing, Mickey glances suspiciously at the camera.

“What the fuck?” He mutters to the empty apartment. “He’s a fucking weirdo.”

He continues eating, finishing his cereal but it’s weird being watched by Ian’s stupid phone.

“Uh… I’m eating my niece’s Froot Loops.” He tells it, holding up his spoon to show the camera. “Ian says I eat like a twelve year old, but Ian eats like a 90 year old so he can’t fucking talk.”

The phone doesn’t reply, just records him silently.

Mickey sighs, tapping his fingers in the counter. “Why’s he always got me doing shit like this?”

He makes eye contact with the camera and glares at it. “This is stupid.” Blowing out a breath, he tries to figure out what Ian wants him to do with this. As he does, he twists his ring around his finger and it gives him an idea. Slipping it off, he presents it to the camera. “See this? This is our wedding ring. We got it engraved last year. Fuck, Ian’s gonna love that I’m talking about his stupid sappy shit. Mine has IG on the inside and his has MM, because he’s soft as fuck.” Even as Mickey mocks him, there’s a shining happiness in his eyes.

Something else catches his eye, and he gets up to grab the flower bouquet on the kitchen counter, bringing it over to the phone. “Look. I got the asshole these. Blue roses. I think they’re fake or they were painted or some shit, but still.”

He sighs again, wondering what else he can show the camera. “I’m tryna find out what he got me for my birthday. I figure he must have hidden it somewhere around here but i can’t find it. Ian won’t tell me.” Mickey leans in close then, whispering at the camera. “Between you and me, I think he’s got it stashed at Lip’s house. But I got it covered, I’ll find it. I got a plan-“

The sounds of keys turning in the lock interrupts him, and he looks to the door guiltily. When Ian comes in, they grin at each other and then Ian kisses Mickey’s head.

Addressing the camera, he says, “I hope he was well behaved.” And then stops recording, watching Mickey roll his eyes.

“What was the point in that, man?”

Ian shrugs, and looks forward to watching it back.

—> send me a tiktok trend and i’ll write a fic!

-> also let me know if you want ian’s reaction to the video

[141shousewife]

NSFW Price x Fat Wife Drabble >:)

Minors DNI I will EAT u like a nerds gummy cluster

Length: 1.2k Words

CW: NSFW, ANTI DADDY KINK PRICE!! Price x Fat reader, Implied Black reader, Price is married to reader, Female Reader, condescension, mocking, fingering, PiV, dirty talk,

THIS IS ONLY MY OPINION! DON'T EAT ME PLEASE

Also if u have a problem with the reader being fat n black.... IDK what to tell u gworl.

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I have one main qualm with Price x reader NSFW content. I see one reoccurring theme/headcannon:

price = daddy dirty talk

And I hate to say it but everyone else is wrong about it and I am the one who to is correct.

Price, when called daddy, looks around for a child. Being a middle aged white man with a grown in beard- accidents do happen with chubby cheeked tots who grab onto his unsuspecting leg in grocery stores and assume that he is their father.

John has been called "Daddy" many times in his life, and since he is a man who aims to please, it's been more than once that he has let it slide during one night stands.

But with you?

His girl??

His WIFE????

Price does not like to be called daddy. His spine shivers and his body rejects the implication that your attraction to him is rooted in a negative experience with your own father.

He prefers to be called other things

"Baby" especially when you call him for dinner, "Honey" is nice when you're calling for him in front of others to show your love from him, "Sweetheart" specifically when you're angry with him- because he loves the way that you maintain warmth, and lastly "John"

That one is Johns favorite because he hears it the most between breathy moans. His name is barely audible when it slides out of your mouth as his hands work you over and make you needy and pliable.

But daddy is not one that he would choose.

But does this mean that John is sterile and boring in the bedroom ?

Not even close.

John puts his ALL into pleasing you.

He loves to catch you right as you're getting into bed for the night. He always starts with watching from the bed as you stand in the bathroom finishing your bedtime routine. Where John's head lays he can see your back as you rub the last of your sweet smelling lotion onto your wide shoulders and soft arms and tie the bow at the front of your bonnet. When finished- you turn around and wow.

Wow.

Wow.

John is raking his eyes over your round and soft body, covered in a flowy pink night dress and he could just cry over how beautiful you are. Your body sits beautifully beneath the dress, your nipples poking through and visible from the coolness in the room, your arms shifting into being crossed over your chest-

"-Baby, did you hear me?" Your sweet voice beckons him back to reality as your brown eyes graze over him for any recognition of being lucid.

"I'm so sorry honey, I was thinking. What did you say?" John immediately feels guilty for missing what you said and instead oggling you like a dog would do a slab of meat.

"I said what are you looking at me like that for?"

John looks at you. Caught. Red handed. (more like red tip right now but that neither here nor there")

The smile that spreads over your face immediately says: 'i know what you want- and im prepared to give it to you.'

He looks at you and lowers his tone into a rasp. It hits you in a way that makes you feel like you can't deny him his requests.

"Come -ere."

Your body seems to walk toward the large plush bed without your permission.

You look at him doe eyed "what?" You can't tell why you're also whispering but it feels right.

He, in one move, tosses the comforter off of his lower half and sits up to grab your wide hips.

"You're acting like you caught me with my hand in the cookie jar, but you're just as wound up as me. Aren't ya?"

You stare at him breathlessly not realizing that the previous question was not rhetorical

John reaches him hand up and under your night gown and rubs your slit through your panties.

"I said: Aren't ya?"

You feel dizzy and unbalanced from the sensation and grip onto his shoulder to steady yourself.

"I am- I want you to- hah -touch me. Please"

You normally aren't this sensitive but the way that he is talking to you is making you weak.

"Look at me. Where do you want me to touch you. Cmon use your words?"

You try to just moan in response as he slows his pace.

"God- you're difficult. Is this it?"

John quickly inserts his fingers and begins pumping them as you hold onto his shoulders and writhe from the contact.

He only continues to rub the spongy spot inside of you and speak to you in a cooing, mocking tone- "What? That feel good? Are you gonna keep fucking yourself on my fingers until that cum drips down my wrist?"

You start to feel the heat and coiling in your stomach about to snap.

"Yes, John, please!"

Right as your vision is about to white out in pleasure, you tell John pulling his fingers out.

Whining in frustration you push out "John I was so close why would yo-"

The rest of you sentence is cut off as John stands up and moves behind you and roughly bends you over, making the excess fat on your body jiggle with the impact of you hitting the bed and pulling off your panties.

Your complaints are quickly silenced as John grabs for a pillow to put beneath your soft tummy. You moan clench around nothing as he lewdly leans down and spits on your entrance to make himself fit well.

"Your pussy is such a hungry little thing- you just needed some proper dick to shut you up huh?"

Your eyes begin to roll back into your head as you feel the rough stretch of John repeatedly pushing his dick inside to the hilt, exiting, and pushing inside again.

You can barely breathe- let alone form thoughts when he fucks you like this.

His raspy moans and quiet curses only push you closer to you orgasm.

He quickens his pace and you know you are done for- you aren't going to be able to hold it.

"John, pleasepleaseplease. I'm gonna- I'm- "

Completely invested in making you crazy- John slides his hand around your wide hip and plays with your clit and begins to talk into your ear in a condescending tone.

"You're gonna what huh? What are you gonna do? Are you gonna cum all over this dick baby?"

You can't even respond because that statement makes your vision completely go away as you babble incoherently and make a mess down John's thick, hairy thighs.

You don't notice during your orgasm but as you squeeze down into Price you begin to fuck back into him, roughly slamming your round ass onto him, making John completely incapable of holding out.

John fills you with a keening low moan as you finally begin to slow down

"Babyyy- fuck. -hah -just like thatttt."

John grabs onto the fat of your hip and buries himself inside and gives you the last of his orgasm.

He pulls out, cleans you off, lets you use the bathroom, and gets into bed and wraps his arms around your soft waist.

As you both quietly breathe slower and slower John finally speaks with an eyeroll-

"You definitely knew what you were pulling with that outfit. You know I'm a mumu man.

[generalhumancloudalmond]

Puzzle

Platonic!Yandere!Kafka x Child!Fem!Reader

'I thought after his death he would give me his projects, not the child, if I would help him! Stop looking at me like that! You useless, short-lived brat!'

You sat quietly in a stall on the territory of the divination commission and prayed to all possible aeons that neither the cloud knights nor the monsters of Mara would find you tonight. In your hands, you randomly sorted through the puzzle that your father gave you before his death, now more than ever it helped you calm down and distract yourself. Ideally, you wanted to escape from Xianzhou and never come back. Such a short-lived brat as you have nothing to do here.

Suddenly, your peace was disturbed by approaching footsteps. Knights?... Mara's monsters?... In the blink of an eye, you prayed that they were knights. If someone will gonna find you, then let it be knights! However...

There was a growl. The man in front of you was like a wild beast that was about to pounce on you. You saw him swing his sword sharply, and have already managed to say goodbye to life.

"Bladie, listen to me..."

Tears immediately ran down your cheeks when you realized that you were almost killed. The fear of death hit you so hard that you practically didn't hear what that woman was saying to her friend.

"Child, could you please vacate this kiosk for an indefinite amount of time?"

Not remembering yourself, you flew out of a small room and sat down nearby.

"Thanks. Also, could you be very quiet?"

You nodded your head, unconsciously, and clamped your hands over your mouth. You're lucky that this woman was too busy at that moment, and you had a couple of minutes to recover.

Out of the corner of your eye, you started watching her with curiosity and caution. Your little fingers were still sorting through the puzzle. After a couple of seconds, you looked into the corner of your eye again and shuddered when you caught her gaze.

"Hmm... And what is a kid like you doing late at night in a place teeming with monsters? Are you lost? Or maybe you're hiding from someone?"

Your heart skipped a beat and she laughed softly at your face.

"So you are hiding. Relax, I won't give you away. To tell the truth, I'm hiding myself."

Her smile was sly, but her voice was soothing.

"What is that in your hands? Some kind of puzzle?"

"Y... yes."

"Can I take a look?"

"Of course..."

Hesitantly, you approached her and carefully handed her the puzzle.

'Among all the places and options where we could meet, this is it. I see.'

Her face was relaxed and even satisfied as she twirled in her hands the thing invented by your father. Suddenly her hand came down on your head and lazily patted it.

"Are you good at solving this puzzle?"

"I... Not... Not really..."

"I see. Then I can offer you my helping hand in this matter a little later..."

The future may be completely different, but as a rule there are common points in it. And for some reason, your meeting with Kafka became such a point. It intrigues her to some extent. What is so special about an ordinary timid child?

Despite her maximally relaxed facial expression, her eyes are sharp and they study you very carefully. Kafka sees your indecision and understands it, but...

Does not accept it.

"Listen, you won't deny me my desire to help you, will you?"

[yukinarinn]

Childhood bestfriends to lovers Ethan Landry x Reader?? (W smut) 🙏

Feel Something - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

contains: smut, soft!dom!Ethan, sub!reader, p in v, a bit of angst (?), both of you losing virginity

A/N: Hi, I don’t know how good this is and I don’t know why is mostly angst (it’s in fact just a little, but still) I wanted this to be kinky asf but instead I kinda trauma dumped, lmao. I hope it’s still okay tho!

You and your friends were at Sam and Tara’s place, including Ethan who was always either behind you or right next to you. You didn’t mind since you knew each other since childhood and are the closest and form the closest bond. So it’s safe to say this friend group is still new to you both. University just started a few weeks ago and you have a hard time getting used to New York and every new thing.

“So, any ideas of what we should do?” Mindy said as she playfully pinched Sam’s arm while Anika gave her a weird look but ignored it.

“We were thinking of watching a movie tonight, perhaps?” Samantha suggested and all of the looks were fixated on you and Ethan now. They knew he doesn’t really like movie nights and that you just can’t stand still for 2 hours straight.

“Thing is..” you began to speak, taking this a bit personal since you think they’re just messing around or something. “I didn’t want to be here today, but Ethan asked me to come and I couldn’t say no.” you eye-sideying him as you try to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, me neither. Chad also invited me.” He cleared his throat as Chad just showed him the middle finger. Whispering a “What a bitch”.

It seems like these two get along very well, but in reality, it’s really not like that. They need to fake their friendship and how cool they are just because they’re roommates, which is bullshit. You could’ve been his roommate instead, but due to obvious reasons, it’s not allowed.

“Even so, we don’t have drinks nor popcorns or anything to eat.” Quinn remarked. “Shall one of us go to the supermarket, then.”

You stared at her confused, why going to a supermarket? it’s too far away right now and you don’t even know how long this will take. It’s supposed to be a movie night, not waiting for Chad or one of the girls to go buy shit.

“Supermarket? there’s literally the shop by the corner!” Ethan replied and you nodded, biting your lip as you look at him intensely while it seems like he isn’t aware of you doing it.

Quinn turned and came closer to him. “Listen here, bitch. You may be my brother but I’m doing you a favor right now, don’t be dumb and keep your mouth shut.” She replied back with a more arrogant tone.

Her look dropped on yours suddenly and you clear your throat. Her sister has always took the.. parental role for him since their mother is unknown even to this day. You couldn’t never really get along with her.

“And you too, y/n” Quinn smirked and turned to everyone. “We might not like the snacks one of us will buy, so why don’t we all just go and buy stuff individually?”

Oh, you get it now. It’s not that you would mind, but since when she knows about you having a thing for her brother? Either way, you thank her.

Everyone sighs and heads towards the door, finally. But not before Chad and Tara looked back at you, asking if you’re coming as well.

You shook your head and they raised their eyebrows, well, Tara. You could tell Chad had a slight smile printed on his face.

Once you heard the door closing and eventually locked from the outside. You both let out a loud sigh. You hated the living room so much for some reason, so you go upstairs towards Tara’s room with Ethan right behind you.

“Do they let you just walk around their house like that?” He chuckled and closed the door behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the bedroom. It was perfect for a date. Her tastes are indeed cool.

“Do I look like I care? Come sit beside me, why so nervous?” you asked. But you were kinda nervous as well, you did everything together, everything but not being this close to each other ‘till now.

Ethan nodded and sits next to you, but doesn’t hold eye contact at all. The tension was already here. You didn’t know why it felt so weird being like this.. it’s not the first time you were alone with him, or with a guy in general.

A few seconds pass and you were still not saying or doing anything. You bite your lip and turned to him, but he already was going to break the ice before you did.

“Y/n, I know we don’t talk much about this but I do care about you and I wish you never let any guy hurt you.”

The random words coming from his mouth made your heart race. You never liked talking about this topic and preferred not to talk about other men in front of him. You bite the skin of your lips and look down, scared that he would notice how vulnerable you actually can become if you talk about past relationships.

“I technically came here to have fun.. you know..” You whisper, leaning towards him, smelling his cologne. “I don’t think we should talk about everything I’ve been through with other men.”

He smiled and rubbed your cheek with his long fingers, this is one of the few times he has touched you like this. He never dared to even touch you by accident, but when he did, he would apologise. But to you, there was nothing to apologise for.

“I think we should, now that we’re alone. Talk with your best friend, y/n.” Ethan looked you up and down, slightly biting his bottom lip. You didn’t know why he’s trying to bring this subject up but you felt like talking to someone about your love life. “Vent to me.”

You nodded and sighed. “So what do you wanna know? you already know all of my exes.” You felt ashamed of saying it out loud, ashamed of yourself that you dated so many. But Ethan just stared at you, letting you continue but there’s nothing to continue about.

“I know how you feel right now and trust me, you shouldn’t think of yourself like this. You dated all of them because you felt empty without someone to take care of you, worship you.” He says those words in such a deep and gentle tone. It makes your heart melt and you involuntarily put your head on his shoulder.

“You know me so well,” you whispered. “Do you want some dating advice? is this why you’re so invested in this conversation?”

“No.” He chuckled but went back to a serious tone which only made you feel bad for ‘ruining’ the mood that is supposed to be serious. “You know I’ve never dated anyone and that I would screw things up in my first relationship anyway.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“You screwing up? look at me, I ruined my relationships because I couldn’t feel anything towards them. They left me with a bitter taste of what love truly is.” You start sobbing and squeezed Ethan’s hand. “Maybe I’m just unlovable and.. I can’t love someone, either.”

Ethan looked at you and put one of his fingers under your chin to lift your head up from his shoulder, making you look at him. Eyes filled with tears and your lips were puffy already. You gave in and now he knows how vulnerable you can be at times, another one who knows.

“Don’t cry, you’re not unlovable and you could love someone. You just have to meet the right guy.” He gently grabbed your shoulders, massaging them while you’re trying to break the eye contact.

You were staring at him like you’ve seen a ghost, and you got more surprised as soon as he wiped your tears away with his index finger, his finger slowly moving down to your lips.

“You’re not broken if that’s what you think,” He got extremely closer to you, his lips just a few inches away from yours. “Let yourself feel something with me.”

Before you could say anything, he pressed his lips against yours, your eyes widened. But it didn’t take much longer for you to slowly close them and kiss him back with your hands around him. Pushing your lips more against his.

He wrapped his hands around your waist, squeezing it as he pushes you onto the bed on your back while lips still locked together and he crawled on top of you, biting your lower lip to make you open your mouth and enter his tongue in, desperately searching for yours.

You moan into the kiss as soon as you feel his tongue on yours and his fingers playing with the waistband of your lace underwear. The fact that it was so easy to him to touch your private parts because of you wearing only a tight red dress, was turning him on even more.

He didn’t want to tease you much though, so his fingers found their way to your already wet cunt, massaging your clit slowly through your panties. Making you break the kiss immediately.

“E-Ethan-“ you moaned his name, which only made him get harder and you wetter by how he was stimulating you.

Ethan continues to play with your clit while you involuntarily squeeze your legs, which makes him laugh and use his other hand to spread them again.

"It's obvious you haven't been touched in this area much," he says amusedly as you roll your eyes, unable to form coherent sentences.

He bites his lips and moves your panties to the side, pressing his finger against your now exposed clit. You start gripping the sheets.

"I-It's too much!" You tilt your head back, and Ethan takes advantage, pressing his mouth against your sensitive neck, lightly biting the spot.

"Really? But I haven't even penetrated you yet!" He smiles and licks the now reddened bite mark.

You didn't expect your best friend to take control and do with you everything no other boy has done before. You feel your body burning with pleasure and desire. The feeling is unfamiliar, but you love it.

He takes his finger away from your clit and you moan in frustration, almost wanting to beg him to give you more. He smiles innocently and takes his shirt off, revealing his muscles and abs. You blush slightly at what you’re seeing. Definitely not expecting this.

But your gaze immediately drops when Ethan pulls his belt down along with his pants, throwing them somewhere on the floor. He's hard as a rock, and you have no idea if it will fit. You gulp when his boxers vanish along with his clothes. You see it, and it's big.

"What's wrong, princess? You should know you have to beg if you want it that bad." he teases. "By the way, are there any condoms around here?"

"Y-Yes," you stammer. "On Tara's nightstand. Chad and she are insatiable." You start laughing together.

He opens a pack of condoms and slowly rolls one onto himself, while you undress in front of him and lie back. Eagerly waiting for him to be on top of you again.

"Please..." You spread your legs.

"Please, what?" he chuckles as he teases your wet pussy with his tip.

"Fuck me!" You beg, and he grins, leaning in to passionately kiss you as he enters slowly, groaning while you start to whimper in pain as you feel him stretching you out.

He didn’t move, he’s letting you adjust to his size. Even though it’s confusing because you’re crying and your legs are shaking. He’s about to pull out but you stopped him.

“Are you… a virgin?” He asks you, confused of your look and the way you’re breathing. You nod slightly.

“Just like you.” You replied, a slight shake could be found in your voice. He rolled his eyes, almost annoyed at the fact that he didn’t know you still were.

“Why didn’t you tell me, baby? I could’ve made this more special to you, to both of us.” You groaned at the pet name and smiled, trying to forget the pain as if never existed.

“But this is special, Ethan. I’ve actually wanted you for so long.” You pulled him closer. “Move, I’m going to be fine.”

He nodded, still unsure of what to do and started thrusting it in and out of you, making you roll your eyes in pleasure and instinctively wrap your legs around him.

Ethan groans in your ear as he feels your hand running through his curly hair. You open your eyes wide when his finger quickly rubs your clit.

"Please, don't stop, keep going," you say, your eyes searching for his, and he whispers in your ear in a sensual manner.

"What a good girl," he praises, and your walls tighten around him, making him whimper and bite your neck without any gentleness. You put your hand over your mouth, tears of pleading in your eyes.

"Don't cover that pretty mouth of yours, let me hear you," he moves faster inside you. "I'm close," he whispers.

You moan loudly, struggling to respond. “Me too-" Ethan presses his lips on yours, taking your lower lip between his teeth which made you open your mouth, enough for him to slide his tongue in as he pounds in you faster. And with one final thrust, you cum all over his dick and he catches his own orgasm, releasing into the condom.

He slowly pulls out, sweat visibly on his forehead as he throws the used condom into the trash can next to Tara’s bed. You’ll make sure to throw it somewhere else before she sees it.

“That was amazing!” He tells you, laying on the bed visibly tired but proud that you’re finally his.

You turn to him and smile, searching for his hand. “I’ve wondered what it’s like to touch and feel something, but now I know.” you lean closer and peck his lips.

“Does it mean you’re giving me a chance?” He asked, you could see how the look on his face changed and how his eyes are basically sparkling.

You nodded. “Yes, but we have to put our clothes back on now, the bitches will get home soon.”

[chosoniisan]

caught in the middle ▶︎▶︎ choso + suguru (r18)

➤ pairing: kamo choso | reader | getou suguru

➤ setting: modern, non-curse au (uni au, specifically)

➤ genre: smut!! (a little dark, just a lil')

➤ caution: threesome (ish); a splash of d*bious c*nsent (coercion); oral s*x (p & v); rough treatment

➤ summary: according to suguru (no thanks to choso), you're too inexperienced for your own good; he intends to change that

➤ authoress' notes: I was struck with the idea of choso and suguru tag teaming you, and so this was born plus I haven't written smut in so long and wanted to dust myself off. my hope is that I can make this into a lil mini series, because I'm keen to continue exploring the concept of suguru showing you & choso the ropes when it comes to the downright nasty. I'm also keen to playing into a degenerate characterization of suguru, but that's neither here nor there :')

“Remember what I said—don’t let her cum before I do.”

Would you have preferred him talking to you rather than over you?

Who knows, but what you do know is that either way you’re the last one who’s primed to contribute any sort of coherent response. And how could you when you’re currently suffering from acute choking-on-Suguru’s-girth disease of which your symptoms include aching in your jaw, saltiness clinging to your palate, and, of course, an affinity for only breathing through the mostly muffled, the utterly debauched.

But he’s only one accessory to the crime of ruining you from both ends with the other half of the blame resting on Choso’s shoulders, coupled with you resting entirely on his face. How much “persuasion” went into this arrangement is a story for later if ever, particularly when Choso’s not flattening his tongue for another pass across the seam of your lower lips, as though a consolation for drawing back at the last second. 

“. . .That doesn’t seem fair to her,” he pitches in your defense, and for that he has your appreciation, even if speaking up for you brings with it the fanning of his breath, teasing of his pinked tiers where you’re most sensitive. It isn’t a perfect solution. . .or much of one at all, considering he makes a point to return to the source of intoxication, courtesy of a rogue flicker over you in that empty space—not so much with the ripple effect that sends you sputtering around Suguru and wishing he isn’t crammed so deeply in your mouth. “She always likes it when I eat her out, and I really want her to cum on me. . .”

Just like Choso’s blatant admission, so too is the embarrassment scorching through your insides, bubbling up over the expanse of your face; though you can only contemplate craning back since Suguru is enough steps ahead of you to crown his fingers through your hair. Suffice it to say, you aren’t going anywhere besides the engorged length of him, filling you up to the absolute brim. (Clearly addressing Choso’s knack for oversharing to your detriment will also have to wait for another time. And honestly, you’re not entirely sure you would have gotten through to him when he’s this overtaken by the peachy pit between your legs.)

Off the heels of abashment, you falter a bit as those pesky digits relinquish their hold on your tresses once Suguru’s commanded your compliance again. He’s silkly devious that way, tracing the pads of his fingertips across your cheek at first before his thumb presses at the corner of your lips and strains the tender flesh even further around his member. Unlike earlier, his sunglow gaze is trained wholly on you and no one else, nursing a glossy sheen atop your skin (then there’s Choso who isn’t helping your case either, wetting saliva over your folds). “Don’t you think that’s selfish of you?”

Is what Suguru says in the same moment that he’s devolved into using his hand on your face to guide you even further onto him, until he’s bobbing dangerously near the back of your throat, preluding what’s to come. Though as for the right now, he’s thoroughly effected by your oral sleeve, those last vestiges of self-constraint gradually falling to the wayside in a wash of heartthrob red laying claim to more and more of his face. “You have me to thank for this—yet you’re only concerned about getting off yourself.” His chiding has an edge of something else, which persists in obscurity as you’re beholden to a punctuated ram throwing you off kilter. “I didn’t think you were a selfish girl. . .” he trails off there, leading you along his very short leash. “Tell me I’m not wrong about you.”

You don’t tell Suguru anything—instead, you offer a semblance of a nod, accompanied by an even greater offering of slickened reverence to his cock as you work him feverishly into your mouth, skimming over the vein webbed on his underside. That sets off the chain reaction of him folding over you with a malted groan spilt from his lips, and in the meantime you rear your hips back, hoping Choso takes the hint to sympathize with your plight of not wanting to fall over the edge too soon. Because if he keeps at his previous pace, you have no doubt in your mind that you’ll be reacquainted with the sort of rapture only he knows how to indulge you in.

Surprisingly, Choso is receptive to your wordless plea even while he steers you back onto him with hands curled over your sides; the hum of a sigh inked in relief strums through him as he stitches himself back to you in earnest. Like each ticking second spent away from your heat was a second shaved from his existence. He’s measured for once with his devotion, smearing beads of your wetness to pave the way for his tongue breaching past your pleated slit and settling between your inner walls with a sinful ease. From you, there’s a whine that splinters into pieces the moment it hits the air as you’re realizing (belatedly) that you severely underestimated Choso’s proclivity for cultivating you into pure bliss.

It's too late now with his one-track mind and equally fervent ministrations, so you try to make what you can out of the situation in spite of electricity sparking over your nerves, the incessant bubbling up in your stomach already signaling the beginning of the end. And you need look no further than the weight of Suguru seeded on your tongue. Choso might be stealing a good chunk of your attention, but that doesn’t stop you from fixating on the sting at the outer edges of your lips from a tight fit or the soon-to-be mottling over your knees trying to keep yourself steady in the midst of a deterioration into downright battering. How quickly demanding bruises through Suguru like a contagion, the strain that’s cured only from your undoing by his hand, and so you’re left with no choice but to let yourself be caught up by him, in him, for the sake of him.

“You know. . .you’re not very good at this,” Suguru remarks as if he isn’t fiercely warming himself between your lips, because only he could pull himself together enough to tear into you with a breezy tinge in his wake, the proverbial salt in your wound. Sooner rather than later, his hand finds itself tangled at the back of your head, dragging you right down to the base of him, and your scramble to smother your gag reflex (and Choso in the process) through a hail of full-bodied quaking merely proves his point. “You’re lucky I’m willing to teach you how to properly suck dick, since Choso clearly isn’t giving you enough practice.”

Speaking of—it’s right then and there that Choso takes the opportunity to really spear you on his tongue.

He isn’t taking that dig too well.

Problem is. . .his displeasure is misplaced, or at least it feels that way when his fingers move to split open your folds so he can bully and prod at the spot that has you blinking back stars in collapse. A whine sets the stage for your frantic writhing atop Choso, trying your best to dislodge him for your own good, but he’s resistant to coaxing of any kind when you’re falling apart at his beck. It’s one thing to bear through an unrelenting Choso, molding you to the shape of his sticky sweet pleasure, but it’s another thing entirely to keep your head above the waters of gratification whilst swallowing down every inch of Suguru’s cock.

And he doesn’t make it any easier for you, you who’s allegedly rough around the edges in the craft of obliging a man. Breathing might as well be a luxury what with Suguru beating your throat raw with his swollen tip, and there’s no finesse in the way you fumble your tongue over him; either your efforts aren’t clumsy enough to warrant a snide affront or he’s far too consumed with chasing after his own end through you. (You’re inclined to think it’s the latter more so than the former.) Beneath the chorus of depravity suffusing the room, your heart is heavy against your ribcage, and you can only hope that Suguru acquiesces first, even if that means holding your nose to his c—

Lips seal around your clit with particular fervor.

Oh, no.

No no no no no.

A sweeping arch invites itself over your back in the same beat that you instinctively squeeze your thighs around Choso’s head, surrendering even more of yourself to his gluttony. It’s a vicious, depraved cycle because with every convulsion racking down to your bones, you’re anchored back to him gorging on you with little abandon, utterly remorseless that he’s driving you out of your mind. Ecstasy is oh so malted, tastes like a milk & honey delicacy while Choso can’t seem to decide whether to savor your pulsing clit or root through your tightly knotted, dripping wet clutch. Though it’s the bitter part of that sweetness sobering you up before you have a chance to feed into the velveted hunger that’s ravaging as it is rosied:

“You really don’t listen, do you.” His infliction isn’t the slow, too slow drag of his shaft along your tongue nor is it him relinquishing your mouth to slide along the side of your face. And neither is it the obscene tap, tapping of his ruddy cockhead against your cheek, streaking a mess of juices over the once untouched canvas of you.

Blinking bleariness from your vision and yet his moonless gaze, crackling at the edges, is clear as day—says there’s no need to wait long for true retribution.

 “I guess, I’ll have to give you a lesson in obedience, too—my treat.”

[anyasathenaeum]

hi,, i don't see many fics like this, b-but what do you think ab pregnant sex w vash? 👉👈 *drops mic and runs away

A/N: GODDAMN YES, YES, YES. THIS IS A BRILLIANT IDEA. PERFECT. THANK YOU ANON, MY BRAIN IS NOW ALL ABOUT THIS

Warnings: MINORS DNI, AFAB!reader, reader is able to be pregnant, mentions of pregnancy, nsfw writing, smut to the max, female terms are used, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (even though reader is already pregnant, PRACTICE SAFE SEX PEOPLE), super soft Vash, Vash has a huge thing for pregnant!reader

To say you weren't expecting this to happen was an understatement.

Neither you nor Vash had been aware that human-plant hybrids could exist, and so, when you discovered you were pregnant, it had been a shock to you both.

Your body had begun to adjust, and given that your baby was a hybrid, your pregnancy had been progressing differently than a typical human pregnancy - your baby was growing faster, forcing your body to adjust faster and more intensely than it would've with a regular pregnancy.

Vash had become extremely protective of you as your pregnancy continued and your baby grew, his near-constant hovering a sign of his love and worry for you as you carried his child. He always ensured to be near you, showering you in love and affection, doing his best to take care of you in every possible way.

"(Y/N), you're not supposed to lift anything heavy! Here, let me do that!"

"Mayfly, don't stand on a stool like that! What if you fall?! You could really hurt yourself and the baby!"

"What can I do, my love? How can I make things easier for you?"

However, what you also hadn't anticipated, was how attractive Vash seemed to find you now that you were pregnant, your belly swollen with his child. His hands were always on you in some way - resting protectively over your belly, pressed to the small of your back, wrapped around your waist, gently massaging the back of your neck, Vash always had to be touching you somehow.

And in bed? Vash was insatiable.

"V-Vash! H-Hah, slow down, I- sensitive!"

Vash's tongue continue to swirl around your sensitive bud after already drawing several orgasms from you, his fingers continuing to stretch you open and thrust into you simultaneously, stoking the fire of desire deep within you yet again.

Your hands had long since buried themselves into Vash's hair, tugging on the roots hard enough to get Vash to moan into your pussy, pulling a moan from you in turn.

"S-Sorry, Mayfly, you just- you taste so good. Can't get enough of you."

Vash's eyes were wide and filled with desire and want as he looked up at you, as well as something softer - love, and tenderness, and a kind of deep-rooted happiness, despite the fact that his mouth and chin were coated in your slick. He couldn't help but smile at you warmly, as if he wasn't in the middle of eating you out like you were the first meal of a starved man.

You could feel the heat rising to your face as Vash gazed at you, especially when you saw Vash's gaze drift to your swollen belly, a fire evident in his eyes. Something about you like this, in his bed, your belly round with his child, drove Vash to the edge, a single word echoing over and over in his mind as his desire for you grew and grew and grew: "Mine."

"Vash... please..."

Your voice was whiny and desperate for him, begging him to continue touching you, to feel him against you, in you.

"Patience, my love, patience," Vash replied, snapping out of his trance with a gentle smile on his face.

Vash took great care as he adjusted you, tucking a pillow beneath your hips to shift your belly to your side, "I want you as comfortable as possible, Mayfly."

Of course, despite Vash's desire and increasing need for you, he was still kind and caring and loving, putting you above all else.

"I love you, Vash," You whispered to him gently, reaching up to caress his face with a gentleness Vash had never felt before, a tenderness so genuine that it brought tears to his eyes.

"I love you, too, Mayfly. My love... my (Y/N)."

Vash took your hand in his much larger one as he spoke softly, pressing the gentlest of kisses to the palm of your hand before pressing your hand up against his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut as he reveled in your touch, at how much love Vash felt for you and just how badly he wanted to give you every possible thing in life.

"Yours," You panted softly, reaching down with your other hand to stroke Vash's cock oh so gently, "I'm yours, Vash."

Vash twitched as soon as he felt your hand on his cock, and he bit down on his lip to stifle the moan escaping his lips at the feeling of your touch. Every time you touched him, Vash felt like it was the first time all over again - his body reacted to you like it was, becoming highly sensitive to your touch, to your scent, to your warmth, to you.

"H-Hah! Mayfly, I-I-"

"Shh," You cooed gently, stroking his cock a bit more firmly, feeling precum leaking from his tip as you did so, "Let me feel you, Vash."

Vash couldn't help but whimper at your words, his desire feeling amplified as he watched you touch him, as he watched you make him feel so good, your gaze warm and loving and yet, still filled with desire for him.

You could feel Vash's cock twitch in your hands, and that, paired with the whimpers and moans and gasps escaping Vash's lips, let you know that he was getting close to release. And so, you quickly let go of him.

"(Y/N)!"

The whine that Vash let out was desperate and soft, causing you to squeeze your thighs together in anticipation and desire. You gave Vash a few moments to come back down and away from the edge, before taking him in your hand again and lining him up with your entrance, letting his cock brush through your folds and feel how soaked you were.

You could see Vash's eyes widen as he felt how wet you were for him, and you couldn't help but smirk a little as you watched how his eyes got even bigger as he slipped into you at last.

"Ha-ah!"

A broken gasp escaped Vash at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, your warm walls squeezing him and enveloping him in the most intimate and perfect way. You let out a moan as Vash sheathed himself all the way inside you, the feeling of his cock stretching you out overwhelming you.

"V-Vash!"

You couldn't help but call to him as he began to thrust gently, taking care not to move too hard or too fast so as to not jostle you or your belly too badly.

"(Y/N)! G-God, (Y/N), you feel incredible," Vash babbled against your lips as he continued to thrust into you, absolutely drunk off the feeling of you tightening around him, "You're so beautiful, (Y/N). So beautiful. You look so beautiful carrying my child, (Y/N), God, s-so beautiful."

Vash felt your pussy clench down hard on him as he spoke, and he couldn't help but moan and move a little bit faster, a little deeper, all his thoughts and emotions and words spilling forth without him being able to stop himself.

"S-So beautiful, (Y/N), you're beautiful like this, belly swollen with my child, with our child, so beautiful, y-you're amazing, I-I love you, (Y/N), God, I love you! I love you so much!"

"I love you, V-Vash!" You moaned out in reply, feeling your body tensing as your orgasm approached once again, your fingers intertwining with Vash's by your head. You couldn't help but turn your head and kiss his fingers gently as he continued to thrust into you, cries of pleasure escaping you both.

"O-Oh, God, (Y/N), I-I'm gonna cum, I-"

"Vash!" You cried out, feeling your orgasm hit you full force as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, causing your pussy to clench down on Vash so tightly that it immediately sent him over the edge, too.

"I love you, (Y/N), I love you," Vash mumbled as he kissed you passionately, feeling himself spill into you as his orgasm washed over him, his seed coating your walls.

Once you both calmed down, Vash slowly withdrew, allowing himself to collapse next to you as he panted softly, his arms pulling you into him and enveloping you in his gentle embrace.

"I love you so much, Vash," You mumbled against his skin, resting your head against him as you tried to catch your breath, just enjoying the feeling of Vash's skin against yours.

You felt Vash brushing your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his eyes filled with such love and tenderness that it warmed you down to your soul.

"I love you, too. You mean everything to me, (Y/N). You're my world," Vash whispered to you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before moving his hand down to your belly, caressing it gently, "You both are. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe. I promise."