#angular angular pipes

[cute-little-crow]

You’re in a particular mood whilst in the midst of intimate shenanigans and it’s about to get you in a whole heap of trouble. Or when you ask them…

“Is it in yet?”

feat: Rafayel, Sylus, Xavier & Zayne (separately)

tw: female reader, brat behaviour, regretting decisions, smut smut and more smut, edging, overstimulation, temp play, light bondage (held bodily), all the boys bringing out their Dom sides to varying degrees, spanking, oral fixation, creampies, hair pulling, phew sorry if I missed something

“Excuse me?”

“What? It was an innocent question,” you huffed, biting your lip and glancing towards the ceiling light over his shoulder.

You could feel the hard length of Rafayel’s cock twitch within your walls, his hand, splayed wide at your hip, tensed until his fingertips pressed harder into the soft yield of your skin.

The urge to squirm was growing more intense, but then he would know. He would know you were goading him. Hell, he probably already knew given the narrow of his violet hued eyes and the crease forming between his eyebrows.

When he didn’t speak, didn’t move, barely drew breath, you piped up once more—pushing your luck too far.

“All I asked was if it was in yet. What’s the problem, Raf?”

Rafayel hissed.

The unnatural noise made you jump, a pathetic moan tumbling from your lips when the jerking motion nudged the tip of his cock against your swollen pleasure spot.

“Brat…” he seethed, pulling out of you and leaning back to spread your thighs wide apart. “And to think I was being so nice to you. Clearly, you don’t want nice.”

His long fingers splayed out on your sensitive inner thighs, holding you down on the bed with your cunt gaping and flexing from where he had just been buried. Arousal dripped along your slit until it dribbled to the sheets below.

You reached from him, squalling from the sudden empty feeling but he pushed away your hand and gave a stern shake of his head.

“Rafay—”

“Hush. Don’t speak. Let’s see how long you can last, hm?”

Gripping the base of his cock, he spread his knees wider so he was closer to you once more. The fat tip leaked with precum which he smeared around your entrance before pushing into you, but stopping when the tip disappeared.

It felt delicious and your skin warmed all over from the sensation. You keened, attempting to roll your hips upward only to be stopped by a firm grip.

“Oh? You feel it now… shame.”

Frowning, you licked over your suddenly parched lips.

Rafayel was pissed.

It turned you on to see him darken; from the colours swirling in his eyes to the shadow falling over his face to his entire demeanour growing sterner, everything more angular and sharp.

Again he withdrew and let his cockhead slap against your puffy clit, far from gentle. Your nerve endings were on fire, sweat gathering on your hairline.

Over and over Rafayel repeated the process. He gave you only ever an inch and never for long enough. Your stomach was in knots from the treatment, the continued smacking of your swollen pearl which he would reach down and tweak every now and again, stopping when he knew you were getting close.

“Please…” you begged, broken and near tears. “I need to feel all of you. ‘want your cock.”

“What’s that, cutie? I didn’t think you could feel anything… and now you want it all? Brats don’t get treats, they get tricks so hush until I’m ready.”

Rafayel edged you for the next hour; giving you enough stimulation to keep you tense and desperate but never enough to satisfy your needs.

It would be quite some time until you decided to be sassy with the Lemurian again.

Sylus paused.

His mouth pulled back from your neck, steady breaths tickling your skin and emphasising the bruises blooming to life.

“I’m sorry, I think I must have misheard you. What did you say, sweetie?”

You were regretting your moment of madness already, heart pounding so harshly in your chest that it just might beat right out. Funnily enough, your voice disappeared into nothing but a strand of whimpered syllables.

He clicked his tongue in dismay, and cupped your chin firmly to bring your focus to his face. You couldn’t run from the piercing intensity of his vermillion eyes, nor from the hold on your jaw that tightened until you were close to squeaking out.

“Nothing, I’m sorry—”

“No, no. You should repeat what you asked me, kitten. Something about ‘is it in yet?’, no?” His voice was a deadly calm whisper and that was so much worse than an overly emotional reaction.

Sylus thrust harshly into you when your mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water, your stomach clenched and your legs wrapped more tightly around his waist.

“Seems like you can feel me just fine… so why deny it? Does the kitten want to brat me tonight? Tsk tsk. Bad kitty.”

He peeled away your legs from his sides carefully, thumbs digging into the backs of your knees whilst he adjusted your body beneath him. You went from being intimately close to having your knees digging into your chest and your ankles by your ears.

The adjustment allowed him to sink deeper into you, knocking the air from your lungs. Sylus loomed over your folded body with one stretched hand holding your ankles. It was enough to keep you in the position he desired, enough that every forward momentum felt like you might burst all over him.

“I can’t hear you, sweetie.”

You squealed and squirmed. Your eyes rolled over to the back of your head. You wet his cock so thoroughly that slick dripped from his balls, only emphasising the smacking sound when they impacted heavily against your backside.

Over and over he drove you through orgasm after orgasm. Sylus wrung you like an overly used towel and listened to you sing his name along with the best attempts at apologies you could muster. Every sound was desperation incarnate and he let out an amused huff that gave way to a guttural groan signalling his own release.

“Sylus… oh fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Instead of releasing your trembling legs, the cunning man above you ran his fingers around the base of his cock, coating them in the mixed essence of you both which had managed to escape.

The digits came away creamy, shiny and debauched. With a wolfish grin, he pushed them into your mouth to silence your continued pleas for mercy. Your tongue flattened against roughened pads, the tang lighting up your taste buds and saliva rushed to meet them.

“I heard you, but bad kitties need to be reminded of their manners. Now then, suck my fingers cleans so I can fill you with another load. I need to make sure you really feel it after all…”

Sylus made you pay for your sass over and over that night…

“… did I? Did I hear you right?”

“Did I stutter? I said… is it in yet, Xav?” You asked churlishly. His cerulean eyes swam like oceans in front of your face, a fleeting look of hurt passing over his features and that was enough to deflate most of your bravado.

“Wait, baby, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve—”

Xavier cut you off with a move you could only describe as pro wrestling adjacent.

One moment he was cradled by the comfort of your body and the next, he was rolling you over onto your stomach and straddling your thighs. His hand traced the curve of your spine, pressing your chest deep into the plush mattress and ending by winding around your hair.

“No, baby. You don’t deserve to be given half-assed dick. Let me make up for my failings,” he rasped into your ear, leaning over you whilst his slick cock rocked between the cleft of your ass.

He tugged on the makeshift ponytail he’d made, drawing your head up at the same time the rest of you was crushed into the sheets, your hands trapped beneath your stomach—useless.

“Spread your legs—that’s it—I see you’re not completely off the rails tonight.”

Xavier worked himself through the gap of your thighs, the blunt head of him butting up against your clit and drawing little gasping hisses from you. His fingers tightened in your hair, and you squirmed, futile beneath his weight.

When he finally notched at your fluttering hole, you were holding your breath so hard you could hear the blood flowing in your ears. His hips descended, dropping himself flush along your body at the same moment he fucked into you.

“Shit!! Xav! Oh god…”

Xavier chuckled nasally, a hungry mouth clamping over the beating pulse in your neck. He set a harsh pace immediately, fucking you prone bone.

You could do absolutely nothing but take every hit. His cock moulding your pussy to fit him and him alone. The angle had him rutting right up near your cervix, so close to flashes of pain but measured enough to stop before he could inflict any actual damage.

He huffed into the crook of your neck, biting and licking over the hurt with shallow breathing that mimicked your own. Xavier was relentless and you had never seen him quite like this.

“So tight, princess. You feel me now? Tell me. Do you feel me in your belly? Gonna spill any minute,” he admitted with a heavy grunt punctuating the words.

In your belly? You could feel him in your damn throat with how deep he was hitting and all you could do was squeal. The sound heightened into a high pitch shriek only animals would hear when he shifted himself to deliver a hearty smack to your backside.

“C’mon… tell me. Is it in now? Is my cock deep enough? The cream you’re leaking tells me yes but I want to hear it from you.”

“Yes! Xavier, yes!”

Never again would you make that same mistake. Who knew your star boy had it in him?

At first, you weren’t sure if he had heard you. Zayne was frozen above, hands pressed to either side of your head and his eyes fixedly shut.

You were about to repeat your attempt at being a brat just to see how the good doctor would react when he blinked open his eyes and your jaw snapped shut.

The frown deepening his brow seemed genuinely startled and he raised a hand to feel your forehead like he was assessing you for a medical condition.

“You don’t feel feverish… perhaps some neurological condition has manifested,” he muttered almost to himself.

“Zayne—don’t be silly. All I asked was if it was in yet?”

He hummed—thoughtfully. “Yes. I heard you, but I can’t quite correlate the words with the sentiment because I know you can feel me.”

“Oh, you do, huh? Sound pretty full of yourself, Dr Zayne.”

As if for emphasis, he pumped himself into you with a snap of his hips. It resulted exactly as he wanted, with your breathless gasp and your head flying back against the pillows.

“You were saying?” He asked coolly. “Perhaps I should check your reactions to other stimuli, just to be sure…”

“What does that—oh!”

Ice veiled the tips of his fingers, careful blue veins creating intricate patterns. Zayne sat back on his haunches, cock still plugged into your clenching cunt, and traced those frozen digits down the column of your throat and towards your breasts.

“Cold! Cold! Stop that,” you yelped, swatting at his hand which diligently refused to be dissuaded.

Only the very corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, his smart, ever assessing eyes watching intently whilst he circled your puffy nipples and they stiffened further from the cold.

“You seem to react to low temperatures within normal ranges, how about warm temperatures,” he mused absently.

Without further warning, his head dipped and his tongue brushed your pert nipple. Zayne’s lips surrounded the bud and suckled with enthusiasm. The instant heat of his mouth bowed your spine and raised your ass so you were grinding yourself shamelessly against Zayne’s front.

“Zayne… fuck.”

The friction elicited from the coarse thatch of neatly trimmed hair at his pelvis caused you to mewl and whine. Your fingers carded through his dark hair and all rational thought flew from your mind.

Just as you were getting used to the hot sensation of your nipple being sucked and pinched by careful teeth, he switched. Ice enveloped the swollen skin, a burn gnawed at your gut but it was a pleasant one.

Zayne continued to tweak at your nipples in turn, cooling them down and warming them up with his tongue, all whilst he maintained a steady pace within you. His cock throbbed and your walls spasmed.

“My diagnosis,” he said quite suddenly, mouth breaking from your breasts with a shallow pant, “is that of brattitude. Quite a severe case too…”

You groaned aloud, eyes cast heavenward at the near orgasm that was close to cresting over you like a playful wave.

“Treatment begins now. I’ll make sure you continue to feel me all night long.”

The good doctor was true to his word, and come morning, the only thing you couldn’t feel were your legs.

[naffeclipse]

Brain Damage

Reader x Sebastian Solace

Commission Info

Thank you so much to @o-cinnamonstickz for requesting the hot fish we've both been obsessing over for a hot minute! After a blow to the head, the reader wakes up in none other than the merchant's arms, and he has a few things to check before he'll allow you to continue on. You know, just friendly fish shopkeeper things!

Content Warnings: Injuries. Violence. Mentions of gore.

———

Pain draws you out of the darkness you were so sweetly nestled in. A blunt ache furiously pulses in your right temple, demanding attention. A groan slips from you. You weakly writhe and arms tighten around you. 

A thrum works in your ears, blending into a monotonous buzz before your consciousness begins to splice the noises. A thick stream of water falling in a dull roar. The constant echo of something just beyond the walls and doors, someone screaming or turrets firing. You never did like to focus on those.

A voice springs into your awareness. Lowered into a hiss, it slithers against the edges of your consciousness in a familiar timbre.

“Wake up.” Two firm hands shake your shoulders and you whine. “That’s it, come on. Wake up.”

“Leave me alone,” you mewl. You try to twist away and kick out your feet but a heaviness surrounds you. The sharp pressure points of claws dig into your flesh. You stop at once.

“Not a chance,” the voice chuckles.

The pain persists, and you’re forced to crack open your eyes. A light blue face blurs against the gray facility walls—the north side is ripped out completely. A burst pipe sends a waterfall down into the darkness. The ground is cool but you’re propped up on something solid but slick. One arm slips away from you. Three glowing eyes pierce through the haze of your vision. 

Sebastian?

A few seconds trickle by as your vision focuses on the sharp-tooth grin looming over you. The fluorescent lights are pale, sterile, and cold. Sebastian’s angular fish lure is warm and yellow and soft, dangling above you as his eyes hungrily sweep over your person. 

You didn’t think he ever left his safe room. Of course, he does, but you didn’t know he’d leave it for you.

You grunt as another wave of pain taps into your skull. The blunt ache chisels away at your concentration as if someone with a vendetta and a hammer decided to open up your head. 

“Welcome back.” Sebastian pulls away slightly. He sweeps back his dark hair from his face, and his eyes squint slightly in concentration. In a harsher tone, he commands, “Hold still. Stop squirming.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, but your defiance echoes childishly. You wince and aggravate the pain in your skull.

Sebastian smirks. A smugness decorates his inhuman face as he leans closer. A spark of indignation burns through you but it dies as quickly as it flares. 

Okay, fine. You stop trying to escape from your position, caught against his tail and where he hovers over you. His hands pin down your shoulders. Bulky sensations of packs are tucked behind your shoulders, propping you up in a manner of really, really awful pillows. Slowly, you huff, blowing a piece of hair out of your face.

“There, now is that so hard?” he purrs condescendingly, eyes impish and superior. “You should be a lot more grateful for help, friend.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes narrow into slits sharp enough to form daggers at the merchant who so decidedly has you in his grasp. 

Through gritted teeth, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

His mouth quirks at one corner. You stare as he lifts a hand from your shoulder to brush your hair up your forehead, exposing the side of your face currently engulfed in pain. His large palm settles delicately above your head wound. Your flesh prickles at the slightest graze of his claws over your scalp, triggering a sensitive input of nerves down your neck that nearly causes you to squirm again.

“I was going to scavenge a few things off of your corpse. Lucky for you, you’re not dead.” His glowing eyes hold your gaze. “What happened? I found you unconscious on the floor.”

“Uh, yeah, that,” you draw out slowly.

Sebastian drums his other hand’s claws along your shoulder, his expression shifting into displeasure or suspicion. You’re not certain.

Your attention shifts. Memory ripples with waves of pain, but you drag a hand through your murky recollection. 

You were walking through a dark room. There were two doors, each with glowing number signs. One held a slight static, but it was closer. You didn’t think anything of it—the facility is compromised in every way, so why not the screens as well? But that was your mistake.

“It was a fake door,” you sigh deeply. “I didn’t know Good People was behind it.”

Sebastian’s stare could pin you to the floor like a bug and write your classification as “stupid.” To your dismay, you can’t rebuttal him.

“You didn’t check to hear if there was growling or breathing?” His voice is so sharp and abysmal with judgment, you flinch. The thick, corded muscles of his tail tense around you. 

“I… I…” you murmur, a heat filling your cheekbones, but you're stalling. Did you check?

It was a blur. You shoved the door open only to freeze at the sight of a red mass of viscera. It moved. A smiling white mask snapped in your direction and three large claws on the end of its three-fingered hand struck, knocking you off your feet and backwards. Your temple hit the ground with a solid whack that reverberated within you.

Darkness rushed into your vision. You remember the slam of the door, the inhuman growl, and then the slight smell of fish.

Sebastian’s hands flex along you. He lowers himself closer, face to face. You try to lean away but his thick serpentine body prevents you from regaining any more precious space.

“What do you remember?” His glowing gaze flashes from one eye to the other, peering into them so deeply, you fear what he’ll find. “Do you have trouble recalling anything else? Concentrate on me.” 

“What? No,” you stubbornly shake your head but his palm grips your skull and holds you still. You only achieve a strain on your neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What’s my name?” he asks firmly. His anglerfish lure slips into view, dusting your face in its soft yellow glow. You squint against its proximity. 

You growl under your breath. “Sebastian. Are you happy now?”

He nods. “Yes, that’s my name.” But there’s no joy spilling over his expression now that you’ve uttered what he wanted to hear.

Between the hand gripping your head and the one holding your shoulder, he has you secure like a mouse in the mouth of a cat. You curse as his third arm, slightly smaller than the other two, reaches for your face.

“Open your eyes wide.”

On a reflex of spite, you nearly close them, but the nature of his questions finally slots into place in your pain-riddled mind.

“Oh, please, I don’t have a concussion.” You would roll your eyes but you’re a bit preoccupied with how his hand cups the side of your face.

“You were bleeding and unconscious when I found you,” he retorts. Sebastian’s claws frame the socket of your eye, pressing into your skin to hold your eyelids up. “Open your eyes wide. Let me watch the dilation and then I can see if all of your complaining is due to true brain damage.”

A seething retort sits behind your teeth but your muscles draw taut under his cool skin and wicked talons only centimeters from your precious vision. 

Willingly, you allow him to draw his anglerfish lure back and forth in front of you, into your view, and back out. In the time you’re trapped under his diagnostics, you study him in return. His eyes are wide and bright, unnatural for humans but they refract like fish caught in a flash of a camera in the abysmal depths of the sea. His teeth are razor-sharp. Frills stick out between the locks of his hair in place of ears. You feel the slight wiggle of his tail behind you, his flukes flipping in the slightest while in his concentration. 

“At least your mind seems mostly intact,” he hums. His hand falls from your face and you blink at last. “So you just can’t remember because you weren’t thinking, were you?”

“Can it, tuna fish,” you huff. “I just want to sleep this off and be on my merry way.”

His tail coils slightly tight against your back. You glance down to his shiny scales intercut with belts and straps of pouches from where he stuffs the goods he pillages from around the facility.

“I’m afraid you can’t sleep. Not for the time being,” he muses as he draws his claws over your scalp to cradle the back of your head. “Unless you’d like to never wake up again.”

“And you’re going to keep me awake?” you breathe, exasperated. “I’m not bleeding anymore and—wait, how did you find me?” 

Now you skew you with a look, your brow furrowing with a splash of hurt along your temple. Sebastian shifts in the slightest, caught off guard in a way you haven’t seen the saboteur before. His claws curl.

“Just a little tracking device. No big deal.” 

Your eyes widen, furious beyond words. You lift your hands to shove him away from you, but he catches your wrists. You try to get to your feet but his strength easily overwhelms your own, and he firmly keeps you pressed against his tail. 

“You put a tracking device on me! Of course, you did—I’m not even surprised!” you snarl. “Where is it?”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” he grins. 

You clench your fists. Your hands are so small, balled up above his three-fingered hand shackles. He reminds you how tiny you are underneath him. 

The tracking device has to be on your air canisters. You would have felt it on your clothes. 

“Why did you put a tracker on me?” you demand, almost thrashing while pain pulses in your temple. You feel rabid like you want to bite him. Could you? Probably, but you have a gut feeling he’d throw you over the ledge if you did.

His grin remains unchanging despite the slight twitch at the end of his tail. “Like I said, I was going to scavenge a few things off of your corpse.”

A bonfire ignites within you. You can hardly snap your teeth as heat fills your mouth.

“I’m going to smoke you and dip you in tartar sauce.” You test his grip but he holds firm, and you remain trapped. “Let me go!”

“If you want to take a nap and never wake up, be my guest,” he hisses, the sound curling in your eardrums and sending a shudder through your body. He presses closer, each sharp tooth in his maw on full display. “But if you don’t want to pay the ferryman, I suggest letting me help you, friend.”

You hold his unyielding gaze, licks of furious flames still eating away at your ribs. There’s logic in his argument. Though you’re not so sure why he’s offering to help you without a price tag attached. He’s helped you, yes, allowed you to buy some of his scavenged goods, and told you to be careful, but this seems to be more than a merchant’s role. Can you refuse his offer? You may very well be concussed. And if you die, do you want to spare a coin for the ferryman?

Slowly, you breathe out.

“Fine,” you jerk your chin at his hands still engulfing your arms. “Give me back my hands. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I thought so,” his smugness is not much better than a fire poker stirring up your rage. A chuckle rolls out of his mouth. 

His large hands unfurl, releasing you, and you cross your arms over your chest with a scoff. You smell the slight scent of salt-like sweat and the musk of fish. You wonder how long his essence will stick to your skin. Sebastian settles back onto his tail, still close to hovering over you, but no longer bursting your bubble with his three hands.

You froth with rage. Sitting in the crook of his tail, propped up, almost child-like in your pouting, you search for barbs with which to spur Sebastian, and you do not come up empty-handed.

“I used most of the stuff I bought off of you,” you announce, baring your teeth in something that could be a smile were it not for the internal fire you’re still fueling. “You would have gone to a lot of trouble just for a broken flashlight and one flash beacon—oh, wait. I forgot. You love flash beacons, don’t you?”

His scowl could curdle your blood, but he shifts, jostling you slightly and causing the wound in your temple to pound. You lift a hand to it, cursing under your breath. Growling low under his breath, he leans forward and sweeps a few locks of your hair back to study where you hit your head against the floor. You hold still at his touch.

“At least I’m not the idiot who chose the door that had the Good People behind it.” He hisses quietly under his breath, mumbling something more; most likely more insults while he studies your wound. “Keep talking. We’re going to be here a while and I will keep you awake.”

Your arms slowly loosen from around you. Sebastian reclines, resting his face in his hand as he remains draped around you, a coil of safety against the dangers and unknowns of the facility.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you mutter, but give a nod of agreement.

[inkyajax]

take it slow just as fast as i can

character: boothill notes: i just rly, genuinely think boothill would be obsessed with feeling every fucking inch of you, that’s all c: | title credit: body like a back road by sam hunt warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, thinly veiled body worship, mentions of scars + implied stretch marks and cellulite, marking (biting and bruising), implied multiple orgasms, tiny bit of angst right at the end words: 830

boothill knows your body better than he knows anything else in the cosmos. 

boothill knows your body better than he knows his own—better than he knows his scorched, excavated homeland, better than he knows the smooth metal ripples and ridges, cold curves and contours of his own so called ‘body’, better than he knows his cherished 9mm revolver—the ivory grip, pretty pearlescent nacre shimmering up at him delicately from between the gaps of mechanized fingers, stamped with that gilded eagle sigil; the artfully notched cylinder, embossed with decorative arrows—six, one for each chamber—and the angular hammer, piped with shimmering aureate; the golden barrel, intricate inclinations carved to sharp, exquisite perfection. 

boothill knows every curve, every dip, every edge of your form—all of your lines and dimples and scars, and could map them out with his eyes closed and recite each corresponding story: a single metallic fingertip tracing along the jagged strikes of silver etched into your skin; his hard thumbprint pressing into the dents peppering your thighs, a cool knuckle skimming over that scar on your knee. 

and boothill loves appreciating them, appreciating you, appreciating how it all comes together to create one of the most magnificent masterpieces he’s ever had the pleasure of touching, the privilege of loving. 

it’s become somewhat of a ritual now to take his sweet time admiring your figure before he fucks it, feeling every part of you plush and pliant beneath his grooved palms, revelling in the soft gasps that stutter your chest and dainty shivers that ripple your flesh as he kneads it. 

he fills his touch with it, grabs healthy handfuls and squeezes—so soft, so supple—alternating between harsh groping, iron fingers sinking into your thighs, your hips, your tits, and gentle caressing, bullseye gaze watching with sheer wonderment as his palms glide over your silhouette, slick lips parted and damp with panted breath.

sometimes he’ll just let his hand rest on your ribs, observing the way it rises and falls with each of your quiet breaths, feeling oxygen expand your lungs as it flows in, then feeling your chest depress with every exhale pushed up your throat. 

he loves to experience the thrum of your pulse beneath his fingertips—nothing more than a faint fluttering pressure against his receptors, but present nonetheless—an undeniable confirmation that you are indeed here, alive, his. 

so beautiful, he murmurs from between your thighs, one large hand pressed flush against your heart, his chin resting on your stomach. a work of fudgin’ art, baby, I swear to the stars. 

it all gets him going so goddamn easily, instils a hunger in him so ferocious that it chews on his wires, zipping through the cables in sparks of desire until it devours his brain, gorges every thought and notion until all he can conceive, all he needs, is you. 

he can’t help but lick and kiss and bite and suck, desperate to leave his own impermanent marks on this gorgeous canvas. bruises blossom in the shapes of his fingerprints, sprouted in clusters of five across your form. engravings of razored teeth litter your thighs and hips, his gnawing just a hint shy of too strong, leaving behind wide crescents of thirty-two little crimson pinpricks. petals of thick saliva dry hard and stiff on your stomach and neck and collarbone, planted into your skin by puckered lips and chaste kisses.

it’s customary that he murmur sweet nothings into every claim he creates, knowing that his words will seep into your tissues in the form of gentle vibrations, knowing that they will stay, even after his marks fade.

your body is art, too, you tell him softly, after he’s made you cum several times on his cock, iron shimmering with a thick coat of your arousal, slick he refuses to clean off. a tender finger traces along the tears laden across his torso, rough and saw-toothed—scars he refuses to let heal. 

no, he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into your shoulder as he speaks, eyes closing briefly with a slow, deep inhale. not the way yours is. 

your body is a storybook of your life, inscribed with tales and memories—the way your body developed as you entered womanhood, too quick for your delicate skin to keep up with, procuring shimmering streaks across your breasts and bum; the time you flipped your childhood bicycle, kneecaps scraping concrete, bloody and raw; that dark dash seared along your inner arm, a constant reminder of an earnest mistake, when you accidentally nudged the rim of a pot filled with boiling water. 

his body was carved in a lab, too precise to be real, too perfect to be human, constantly torn apart and put back together; rearranged, scrambled, chock full of modifications he never asked for, never agreed to. a true horror story—a weapon of death and destruction, a film of inevitable demise clinging to the metal.

he fears that’s all it ever will be. 

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

As You Wish | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary| You've had your eye on Neil for a while now and Neil's friends can tell but Neil isn't so sure until you come into Gumshoe Video with a boy on your arm with horrible taste in date-night cinema. When the date goes awry, Neil jumps to action.

Warning| Age gap, reader (19) and Neil (27), rudeness, flirting, touching, Neil being a little creepy, Neil's dubious consent, talk of virginity and inexperience, kissing, blowjob.

Mastermind- Taylor Swift (yeah, I said it) 🎵

Colorblind- Counting Crows 🎶

word count: 4933k

*sentences in italics are quotes from The Princess Bride (1987)

Please read warnings before continuing- thanks!

“That kid keeps coming around. If you’re not careful she’s gonna fall in love and you’ll be in deep shit,” Lucien fixed the thick frame of his glasses on his angular nose and returned the fake pipe to his mouth. 

“Why don’t you shut up, Lucien. It’s not like that. Just keep your weird thoughts to yourself in my store.” Neil called over his shoulder as he stocked the shelves with returned VHS tape sleeves. He ran his elbow over his forehead, wiping away the thin layer of perspiration. 

“Everyone’s thinking it…” Lucien raised his hands in defense and Neil rolled his eyes. Jonathan came in from Neil’s office holding a milkcrate full of new movies, still wrapped in plastic. Neil whistled at him. 

“Jonathan, do you think that girl likes me?” Neil shot Lucien a look as Jonathan answered. 

“Oh yeah, 100% dude.” 

“What, no! Jonathan, you were supposed to say no.” Neil spoke with his hands, slapping his hand against his face. Lucien chuckled and Jonathan looked between them, confused.

“What? Neil, did you want me to lie or something?” Jonathan put down the milkcrate and leaned against the checkout counter. 

“He’s blissfully unaware of how much that girl likes him.” Lucien sucked on the empty pipe and coughed, swallowing his spit the wrong way. 

“How? Neil, she comes by like twice a week to talk to you and shows up at all of our softball games.” 

“She’s only nineteen! For all I know, she just wants a job here one day.” Neil shrugged and went back to stocking the shelves, a blush creeping into his high cheekbones. 

“Sure she wants a job here if it means that she gets to fucking talk to you everyday, all day about classic films and shit!” Jonathan laughed. 

“She’s nice!” Neil exclaimed defeatedly and massaged his eye sockets. 

“Yeah, so’s my aunt but she doesn’t come around here every week to tell me about the latest movie she’s watched.” Lucien mumbled. 

“That wasn’t as effective as you think it was,” Jonathan sighed, then just to Lucien, “don’t use a family member next time, ok?” 

“Ok, OK!” Neil interrupted them, shaking his hands. “It’s not like that and she doesn’t like me like that. I’m like eight years older than her…” 

“That’s never stopped people before,” Lucien reminded Neil and he withheld a few choice expletives as the shop door opened and a customer came in. The bell twinkled and Neil called out the familiar greeting. 

“Welcome to Gumshoe Video!” 

“Hi, Neil.” Y/N smiled shyly. Lucien and Jonathan’s quiet snickers stopped as a second customer entered after the girl. “This is Woody. Woody, this is Neil.” 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Woody waved to Neil and his friends on the back couch. They waved back in shocked silence. 

“What happened to you?” She asked, recoiling away from the employees who stared at her as if they’d seen a ghost. Neil blushed, still embarrassed. 

“I was just not looking forward to telling you that we lost the copy of um, The Virgin Suicides that you wanted. It’ll take another few weeks and I assume that’s why you stopped by.” Neil scrambled for a reliable answer, and one that was partly true. She blushed slightly when she heard Neil use the word ‘virgin’ and laughed it off. 

“It’s ok, I just wanted to show Woody my favorite place.” 

“We’re going to get a movie,” Woody smiled and began to scan the shelves. 

“Sooo what do you like? Classic horror, westerns, Spike Lee, Hitchcock, Coppola?” Neil listed off categories of films he viewed to be superior and Woody shook his head, oblivious to Neil’s edged tone. 

“I like action movies mainly. I haven’t seen much else.” 

Neil smiled at the girl’s embarrassed reaction. He knew well that she didn’t like action movies and refused to watch them even if Neil recommended one. 

“So like war movies?”

“Sports movies.” Woody corrected and pretended to shoot a basketball. “Anything about football or basketball.” 

Neil felt a sharp pain in his chest at the boy’s words. He was a walking abomination to the film community. Lucien made a sound similar to a whimper and Neil cleared his throat to mask it. 

“Well uh i’m sure that we can find something for you though we don’t tend to carry sports movies because we have so little demand for it,” Neil explained blandly. “Have you ever seen anything by Tarentino? His movies tend to be more action-oriented. That and the old Bond movies.” Neil started to list movies he was almost completely sure Woody had not seen. Every shake of Woody’s head scratched a strange itch inside his head. What was this girl doing with someone like Woody? 

“Ah maybe,” Woody shrugged. “Do you have Rudy, Bull Durham, Remember the Titans?” 

“No, we don’t.” Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled stiffly. “We do have the Air Bud movies,” Neil mumbled as a joke but Woody looked interested. 

“Where’s that?” He asked, looking around the store. 

“The kid’s section. It’s about a dog that plays sports,” Neil deadpanned and Jonathan and Lucien stifled their giggles. 

Woody was completely oblivious to Neil’s pointed comment and shrugged. 

“Sounds good to me,” he looked at the girl with a smile. Her lips were parted in a look of displeasure and shock. 

“You want to watch Air Bud?” She stressed the name of the movie like a bad word. Woody smiled, still not catching the tone of dislike in her speech. 

“Um…” She started and trailed off, totally caught off guard. Neil smiled, almost enjoying the direction that this interaction had gone. 

“I’ll get it for you,” Neil used his best customer service voice and turned around. He widened his eyes at Jonathan and Lucien, I told you so. Lucien narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, not wanting to admit defeat just yet. 

“Sooo are you two dating,” Lucien tried to sound casual but his tone was suggestive and Y/N blushed deeply from embarrassment. 

“No, we’re just friends,” she answered too quickly and Neil glowered at Lucien. Jonathan looked down at his hands, wanting to stay out of the conversation. Woody looked at her and frowned. 

“Well on that note, I think I’ll just get going. Forget about the movie, dude. Thanks anyway,” Woody snipped and left the store abruptly. The bell beside the door clanged loudly as he walked down the sidewalk, fumming. 

“Lucien!” Neil exclaimed and Jonathan swatted Lucien’s arm. 

“Sorry…geez!” Lucien deflected Jonathan’s hands and scooted away. Neil, holding a copy of Air Bud on VHS, lowered it and slid it onto the checkout counter. 

“Sooo no more Air Bud?” Neil tried to break the awkward silence. She gave him a look that quieted him immediately and left the store, going the opposite way that Woody had turned. She went around the side of the building where she knew there was a shabby basketball goal and a place to sit. She wanted to wait it out, to make sure that she wouldn’t run into Woody again that afternoon. It was safer to hide here than walk home. 

“Nice going, Lucien.” Neil sighed and returned the tape to the shelf. 

“You just fucking ruined young love,” Jonathan quipped and Lucien gasped defensively. Neil joined them on the long section couch and they sat in silence for a while. A loud bang made them all jump. 

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan turned to look where the sound had come from. The three of them stood to investigate. The second time they heard it, the shelf of tapes on the wall was josuled. They each jumped again and Neil drew his face up into a tight line. 

“Is someone throwing something against the wall?” Lucien surmised and spoke with his pipe in his palm. 

“I’ll check it out,” Neil looked at the shelf warily and backed away. He left the store and went around the side of the building. Seeing Y/N made him jump again and he clutched his chest briefly. She had a basketball and was chucking it at the hoop without much care for whether or not it went in. The ball hit the wall again. Jonathan and Lucien collected the tapes that had fallen off of the shelf only to have more tapes fall on their heads. 

“Maybe you should watch more sports movies, it might help you with your technique.” Neil crossed his arms casually across his chest and smiled. She dribbled the basketball slowly and caught it in her arms. 

“It was more of an exercise of rage,” she spoke between heavy breaths. 

“Sorry about Lucien,” Neil gestured to the store. “He’s not great with people.” 

“I could tell… but I’m not really upset about it-”

“You fooled me,” Neil interjected with a laugh. She rolled her eyes with a small smile. 

“He gave me an out but it wasn’t the right time. I shouldn’t have said it like that to Woody.” She dribbled the basketball again. 

“So were you dating?” Neil opened his hands, signaling her to throw him the ball. 

“Kind of,” she tossed him the ball and shrugged, “we’d gone out once or twice. We met at a party. Nothing was official yet.” Neil aimed and threw the ball, it fell through the hoop with a quiet whoosh before bouncing on the pavement below. She retrieved the ball and with one hand, she fixed the legs of her shorts, pulling them down over her thighs. He looked away quickly. 

“Did you know his taste in movies before you started going out?” Neil asked and watched as she aligned herself to toss the ball. It bounced off of the backboard and spun into the hoop. Neil applauded and she smiled. 

“He said he liked action movies but I didn’t know that he meant… sports movies. He’s a business major and I doubt he’s ever taken a film class or seen anything that wasn’t about sports in some way.” She nearly shivered. “And you had to suggest Air Bud?” She asked him pointedly and he pursed his lips defensively. 

“That was not an actual suggestion. I can’t believe he fell for it,” Neil dribbled the ball around his legs lazily and circled her before shooting. He missed and she giggled. “I think you dodged a bullet,” he told her honestly and when they held eye-contact, he felt his navel twitch. 

“Could you imagine if I had to watch Air Bud on a date?” She looked down at the ball and missed the hoop by a few feet. She sighed and fanned herself. This is exactly what she had been hoping would happen. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that she was a mastermind but she’d been trying to get closer to Neil for weeks. She’d liked Woody enough but taking him to Gumshoe Video was more strategic than cute. She hoped to make Neil a little jealous, and show him that she could get other guys. Nothing had actually happened between her and Neil besides long chats and lots of laughter. Maybe she could change that. 

Neil picked up the ball and bounded over to the hoop, jumping and shooting the ball. His fingers pushed the ball into the net as he landed back down on the ground. When he turned his eyes widened slightly. 

“It’s really fucking hot today,” she mumbled as she pulled off her t-shirt, having just a camisole underneath. Her cutoff denim shorts and black camisole left little to the imagination but Neil still tried. She tossed the shirt to the side and dribbled the ball, her eyes focused on the goal. Neil looked down her camisole, staring at her chest as her breasts shifted beneath the fabric in her bra. Her pink bra straps slipped on her shoulders and after shooting the ball, she had to snap them back into place. He blushed more and looked away. She crossed the small makeshift court and sat on the shallow ledge beside the store, swinging her legs up and underneath her. Neil held the ball awkwardly in his hands and approached her slowly. 

“What movie would you watch on a first date?” She asked him.

 “Uh,” his mind blanked, “definitely Air Bud,” he nodded and she laughed. He sat beside her and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

        “Neil! I’m being serious!” She pressed the toe of her foot against her chest.

“Ok, ok ummm,” he wrapped his fingers around her bare ankle with a smile and moved it back to the ledge in between them. She shifted her body so that she was facing him, both feet planted on the ledge in front of him. “Maybe The Wizard of Oz.” 

 “Why?” She asked with a soft smile. He rocked back and forth, using his hands to support himself. His large hands sat on either side of her feet, his chest directly over her knees. 

“Well it was one of the first movies to use color,” he said first, “and it would give me a chance to brag about how much I know about film.” He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. She laughed and shook her head. 

“I thought you hated musicals!” She protested and he looked away sheepishly. 

“I do but I can’t pass up an opportunity to impress someone, especially a girl.” He looked at her and then blushed, looking away again. “I mean,” he started and she nodded.

“No, I get it. Do you like romance movies?” She fluttered her lashes discreetly, making Neil second guess whether she had done it intentionally or not. “You don’t seem like one but we all have our secrets,” she dragged her hand up her leg, drawing his attention to the contours of muscle beneath her shin bone. 

“You could argue that every movie is a romance,” Neil sputtered slightly, collecting himself. 

“Even Air Bud?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and he scoffed, looking away. 

“I don’t know about that.”

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She rested her forearms on her knees and leaned forward. He looked at her briefly, his eyes dipping to her cleavage before meeting her eyes again. 

“Uh w-what?” He asked and she giggled.

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She asked again and he thought quickly. 

“The Princess Bride,” his eyes flicked to her’s for approval and that surprised him. 

“I love that movie,” her eyes widened as she recalled the plot. 

“What about you?” 

“Well The Princess Bride is the best answer but I like The Great Gatsby too,” she smiled shyly. 

“The Great Gatsby is a tragedy at heart,” Neil argued and she shrugged.

“As you wish,” she quoted from The Princess Bride and his eyes flicked open wider for one second before he cleared his throat. The sun was starting to set and the sky bled with a sated orange color. She looked up at the sky, showing the vulnerable underside of her chin and swallowed. Neil watched, letting his eyes wander over the soft expanse of flesh. 

“We should probably go inside,” Neil broke the silence, “or I-I should go back.” He jerked his thumb back to the store and she lowered her head again and let her head fall to one side. 

“As you wish,” she said again and laughed. He watched her silently and licked his lips. He felt like he was going to say something but no words came to his mind as he sat there. 

“Or do you want to come inside? Sorry, I’m not trying to get rid of you…” 

“Ok, sure.” She nodded and followed him around the store, pulling on her big shirt again. Jonathan and Lucien were arguing inside but stopped when they walked inside. 

“Basketball game?” Lucien asked over his pipe and Y/N nodded with a sigh. 

“Sorta, I had to blow off some steam.” 

“He’s sorry by the way,” Jonathan added and Lucien started to argue but she cut them off. 

“It’s ok. You saved me a night watching Air Bud.” She winked and started to browse the aisles again. Jonathan shoved Lucien. 

“What? What’s your problem?” Lucien protested and Jonathan gestured to the door, hinting that they should leave. “You have to be joking,” he muttered under his breath, irritated. 

“Hey uh, Neil?” Jonathan cleared his throat. Neil broke his obvious concentration on the girl and looked at his friends on the couch. 

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna head out. Lucien owes me a beer and I want to beat the bar rush,” Jonathan grabbed Lucien by the shoulders and shuffled out the front door. 

“It’s not even seven yet-” Neil started but they were gone before he could finish. His heart started beating quickly and he glanced anxiously at the disappearing silhouettes of his friends. The girl walked through the aisles, biting her bottom lip slightly as she looked. He didn’t want to be alone like this with her, it felt weird. She was young enough to be his younger sister and it irked him… and yet, she looked so pretty beneath the yellowish fluorescent bulbs inside the store and her hair was sticky from the humidity. 

“We should watch something,” she said quietly behind a rack of VHS and Neil cleared his throat. 

“Together?”

“No, in separate rooms… yeah of course together.” She laughed lightly and showed him the movie she had found. He chuckled and shrugged. 

“The Princess Bride? Ok, sure.” He approached the small box tv in front of the sectional couch and inserted the tape. Y/N slipped discreetly to the front doors and turned over the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and locked the door. Neil stood behind the couch and set up the box player, struggling with the buttons on the remote. She collapsed on the couch and rested her legs on the wide ottoman. Her hair spread over the back of the couch and covered Neil’s hand. He looked down at it and struggled to exhale normally. The movie started and she wiggled in excitement. Neil sat on a stool behind the couch, worried about sitting beside her. After the first ten minutes of them each reciting the lines back to the tv, she looked over her shoulder, flashing a toothy grin. 

“Neil, come on, sit with me. It’s weird to have you looking over my shoulder like that.”

“Um I- uh yeah ok,” Neil stammered and joined her hesitantly on the couch, his hands between his knees. His longer hair brushed the tops of his shoulders and she resisted the urge to sweep a strand into her hand. Slowly he relaxed and they acted to each other as well as to the tv, adapting the characters they liked best. As the movie went on, she braved looking over at him more and holding his startling eye contact. They laughed hard at one scene and bent over with laughter, shifting their bodies closer in the process. Eventually they were nearly arm-to-arm on the worn brown sectional. Neil’s breath escaped in pained bursts as he looked at her thigh, relaxed on the couch beside his leg. Her shorts had creeped up to her crotch as they sat and she’d made no move to pull them back down. He caught himself staring at the crease at her crotch and wondering if the tightness was uncomfortable for her, how warm the material would be against her like that… he shook his head to clear his thoughts and clenched his jaw when he felt his cock twitch. 

“Neil?” She turned slightly to him and his breath hitched as he turned his attention to her. She bit her lip lightly and slowly pressed herself up onto her knee. He watched her, his eyes flicking between the tv and her face, inches from his face. 

Hear this now: I will always come for you. 

She exhaled softly and her breath rippled across his face. Her hands inched closer to his stomach clothed beneath his light blue shirt. Her bright eyes intoxicated him as she brought her lips to his, offering herself. When she kissed him, her eyes squeezed closed and she sucked briefly on his bottom lip, lacking technique from her barely nonexistent experience. When she pulled away slowly Neil’s brow creased as his brows flew up. 

“Y/N… we uh we shouldn’t.”  

But how can you be sure? 

Her eyes crinkled in embarrassment and her small cheeks flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered and sat back against the couch, pressing her sweaty palms against her thighs. Neil looked over at her and licked his lips, fighting an internal argument against himself. 

This is true love- you think this happens everyday?

She flexed her thighs anxiously on the couch and the movement sent a shock up Neil’s body, making his crotch throb slightly, weary from the close proximity to her warm skin. 

You mock my pain.

Neil brushed a shaky finger down the side of her thigh and felt her inhale quickly. She looked at him slowly, her lips parted. His hand slid up her body to her head and cupped her cheek. He leaned over and kissed her, not harshly but not subtle either. Their lips popped wetly when he pulled away. He looked down at her, she was panting slightly, her heart fluttering in her chest. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Neil whispered and fell back into the couch beside her, clenching his fists. They sat in silence, their breath mingling in the space between them like a mixture of heat waves. Neil smelled faintly of mint mouthwash and musk, the sweat worked up during their “game” clung to his body. 

Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says differently is selling something. 

And quick as a flash of lightning, their bodies flew together, their mouths finding each other like opposite ends of a magnet or a cap over a pen. She climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips and held his head in her small hands. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bunching the fabric in his hands. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he greeted it with enthusiasm, his hands tightening around her waist. She licked his lips as she closed down around them, sucking everything out of him. He moaned softly against her kiss and his arms flexed, his cock hardening. She gasped when she felt him get hard against her crotch. He broke their kiss abruptly. 

“Fuck, sorry.” He loosened his grip on her waist and went to shift out from under her. “I didn’t mean to get…” he trailed off and moved her off his lap easily. She watched him, her mind already caught in a lapse. 

“This was a mistake. You’re in college. I shouldn’t have encouraged this,” he dragged his hands through his dark hair and pulled at the roots, mumbling incoherently as she looked up at him, her eyes wide like a doe. The front of his pants tented out and he started to walk to his office. She jumped and grabbed his hand, catching him before he disappeared into the backroom. 

“Please, stay.” She whispered and bit her lip, dispelling some of her pent up energy into the action. 

“You’re too young.”

“I’m nineteen.” 

“I’m too old for you.”

“You’re 27.”

“You’re a virgin.” 

She flushed redder and looked away, embarrassed. “Not really.” She looked back at him and shrugged. “We all have our secrets, right?” She cocked her head and tried to smile, her heart beating so fast that she felt dizzy. 

“I don’t know…” Neil added half-heartedly, having run out of reasons. “The customers!” Neil remembered and glanced, panicked, at the front doors. 

“You closed early.” She smiled embarrassedly and rubbed his wrist with her thumb. “Please,” she tried again and he looked down at her. His cock throbbed uncomfortably in his pants. He allowed her to lead him back to the couch and watched as she lowered herself onto her knees. Her hands rested on his thighs as she opened his legs wide enough to sit between them. He watched dumbly as she unbuckled his belt and slowly unzipped his fly. She tugged down the crotch of his jeans, exposing the waistband of his checkered boxers. 

“Wait,” Neil blurted and she looked up at him, “come here.” He asked softly and waited as she rose to her feet, her hands moving to his chest as she leaned closer. He pulled her back onto his lap, straddling her over his lap and kissed her, lapping at her mouth with his tongue. His small biceps flexed around her, his hands finding her hair and wrapping his fingers in it hungrily. She sat up on her knees and pressed her crotch against his chest, making him sit up taller to reach her mouth. She whimpered softly as he kissed her as if he was eating her, slowly getting deeper. His kisses felt so good on their own that she almost moaned into him, licking the tip of his nose. She licked the edge of his jaw and he let her, savoring the immature way she approached tasting him. His hands supported her back as she panted, bucking her hips against his chest as she kissed him feverishly. Racks of tapes shielded them from view but Neil hoped passerbys couldn’t hear them through the storefront’s display glass.

Slowly she slid down his chest and returned to her spot between his legs. She licked the warm mound at his crotch, leaving a wide wet spot. Neil sighed as he watched her, his cock twitched again. Her hands squeezed into his thighs and she licked his erection again through his boxers. 

“Oh god,” Neil gasped and looked up at the ceiling. She hooked her hands around his waistband and pulled it down slowly, finally releasing his cock which glistened with precum. She stared at it for a moment before kissing the head. Neil’s mouth fell open in pleasure and shock. “Look at you, god… fuck.” She smiled, self-conscious and wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, squeezing him slightly. He groaned and bucked his hips. She rubbed the head against her wet lips and slowly slipped him inside her mouth. Her mouth was already watering and he whined loudly as she took him in, hallowing her cheeks on accident but soon realizing that it made Neil feel good. She went as deep as she could and pulled away, allowing a thick line of spit to connect her lips with his cock. Neil’s eyes widened and his head dropped back against the couch. His hands flew up to his face and massaged his cheeks, unsure how to handle the things he was feeling and not wanting to force her head down on top of him. 

She took him back into her mouth and swirled her tongue around him, bobbing her head up and down. She rocked her head slightly and tried to create a rhythm that elicited the most pitiful sounds from Neil. His cock shook inside her mouth and she sucked hard against it like a lollipop. Neil’s hands tightened around his face and he moaned loudly, exhaling sharply. 

“Oh god, honey. What the actual fuck.” He whined between even breaths. He looked down at her pretty little mouth sucking him off and he nearly finished then when she pulled off of him and started to jack him off, her tongue pressed flat against his head. Her fist clenched around his length and he sputtered, unable to form words. After a dozen hard and fast jerks, she took him in her mouth again and bobbed up and down quickly, drooling heavily around him as she tasted his salty precum. 

“Oh fuck- fuck- fuck! Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He panted and moaned loudly, his hands finally finding her hair, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming that it was almost painful. The friction and sensation heightened and his knuckles turned white around her long hair. He thrusted his hips gently into her mouth, not wanting to gag her. She welcomed it, opening her throat and humming to let him deeper. She breathed deeply through her nose and her exhales feathered across his crotch, adding even more to the sensations he was already feeling. With a yell Neil spilled into her mouth, bucking his hips and falling back on the couch. She proudly continued to suck him off, pulling everything out of him. He watched her, breathing heavily. She swallowed his warm cum with a smile. 

I told you I would come for you…

Neil glanced up at the movie screen and chuckled. She licked him from the base up and plopped back onto the couch, breathing heavily too. Neil tucked himself back into his pants, leaving his belt unbuckled. She arranged herself proudly beside him on the couch, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“That was fucking incredible,” Neil slapped his forehead and laughed breathlessly. “So so good…” he shook his head and looked at her, smiling lopsidedly. She snaked a hand onto his crotch again and rubbed him before wrapping her arm around his sweaty neck. He wrapped his arms around her and supported her body weight as she laid against him, their stomach crushed against each other. She shivered as she heard his heavy breath against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered and sighed. He rubbed her back and kissed her shoulder through her shirt. She turned over, sitting nearly on his lap. His hands clasped around her stomach and held her tightly. Her soft belly shivered beneath her slowing breaths. They both relaxed again into the movie.     

[voldkat]

artfight except i post only my favorite attack for each day just to keep my blog somewhat active : pipe bomb

tnts my beloved <3 also another instance of me trying out a more angular style inspired by cioror because i love it so much

@malwarechips HI YOU ALREADCY SAW THIS BUT HIIIIIIII

[felixdragonheartofficial]

TFA TEAM PRIME HUMAN REDESIGNS FINALLY

FUCK

+headcannons

Optimus: gotta stay focused

looks too old compared to his bot form.

I find it impossible for Optimus to be more than a million years old in this canon. In the least, he's older than 1000 years and since we have mfs that are canonically over 70 million years old(fagatron iykyk) compared to that, he feels like a dude in his early-to-mid-30's being the group parent.

---

-I made him more youthful, gave him curly hair, and tailored his clothing to actually look like his bot form.

-workaholic

-on the cusp of barley being able to hold his liquor

-doesn't own a pair of pajamas until Sari gets some for him

-usually forgets to put them on, but appreciates the gesture

-stays active for like, 3 days until he can't fight off sleep with work brain anymore, and unceremoniously passes out on the couch to sleep for a full 24 hours

-ratchet sighs and puts a blanket over him as per routine

-frequently checks security feed

-elf on the shelf despiser

-early morning talks with jazz and ratchet over coffee (they all wake up at 6 am)

-half thrives on caffeine and a vigorous training protocol

-is a dog person, loves German shepherds to death

David sama, pls forgive me ily very much

Ratchet: to old for this nonsense

doesn't match his body type in the slightest.

Ratchet is really old, he's got a sallow face and a gramp gut, how dare they square him. He's wayyy too angular and peachy looking.

-I gave him his luscious curves back, adding all the equipment id expect a field medic to have because he is a field medic, not a regular doctor. I changed his facial proportions, and also made his face gaunt, for that dead inside PTSD look.

---

-drinks his coffee black with brown sugar, literally drinks it piping hot

-is one of those old people who complains about noise

-confiscates bumblebee and Sari's toy cars, and puts them in a high up cabinet

-neither of them know how to bypass the child safety lock lmao

-casual clothes includes a lot- a l o t of plaid shirts, and 10 pairs of the same blue jeans

-tunes out bulkhead and prowls convos about birdwatching

-big fan of political satire dramas

-Sentinel doesn't approve

-Ratchet doesn't give a rats ass about what he thinks of course

Bumblebee: professional smart-ass

doesn't match his body type/age.

Bumblebees holoform is presented as a 10-12 year old child specifically for the fact that he's short, and the comedic relief. Total ass

I set his human age as 19-20 years old, making him more of a big brother to sari because that og model is disappointingly lackluster

---

-Bumblebee is a scrappy wisecracking punk, like an adhd kid who just got roller skates for Christmas.

-since he doesn't have wheels, I feel like he'd wear skates instead to emulate the feeling

-terrible at watching where he's going cuz he's too busy trying to show off, so ratchet makes him wear all that padding + training wheels

-legit despises the padding and training wheels

-Jealous of Blurr for mastering roller blades lmao.

-his favorite games are choose your fighter and fps

-saw ONE ancient ass assassins creed playthrough and begged ratchet to install hidden tasers in his arm bands (was denied)

-Sari used her key to do it instead

-self appointed "rizzler"

-Optimus has zero idea of what that means and thinks it's code for something dubious

-Ratchet knows what it means and thinks it's silly

-"I' was something of a rizzler myself back in my day, kid"

-bumblebee cringes

-loves summer and swimming

-wants to be the fastest thing in the sea because y'know, it's bumblebee

-is spooked from the beach for awhile cuz he saw sharks in Prowls nature documentary

-there are infact, no sharks in lake Erie

Bulkhead: big guy, bigger heart

doesn't match his body type/aspirations.

Jesus fuck he's so wide?? And his belly migrated to his shoulders?? I'm gonna be honest, I really hate this design. I feel like it contributed to the "brute strength = stupid" take that most in the fandom associates with him.

---

-Bulkhead is a SWEET. CARING. NERD YOU FOOLS. He's like the male version of a tall goth gf-

-a tall-nerdy-farm hand-physics bf, You got me fucked up.

-Its already shown that bulkhead really likes art in Addition to creating it. He hates being only seen as the "muscle" so it wouldn't make sense for him to lean into that.

-bunny slippers that him and sari made together(she provided the buttons)

-the slippers go missing sometimes (basically considered community property unless he's wearing them)

(ratchet and prowl are the main offenders)

-frequent art museum goer

-really likes watching cooking shows, but is too shy to make food himself

-Owns a ton of star maps

-Really wants a treehouse that he, bumblebee and sari can hang out in

-pillowfort enjoyer

-casually reads quantum physics at the beach

Prowl: draft dodger

Doesn't look like him at all.

Prowls holoform being a mustachioed,white, police officer was an actual jumpscare for 7 y/o me, I kid you not

---

- I know this bitch would not wear a helmet (you can't force him to) que windswept hair

-Not as much as starscreams, for obvious reasons but yk

-prowl is like one of those "shoes are a prison for your feet"

-emo hipster

-has a pet cactus named "planty"

-bumblebee heckles him for it

-can and has brought his cactus with him on early evening motorcycle rides

-the helmet is reserved for his cactus, bring your own >:(

-salad consumer

-him and jazz share custody of the cactus

-repeat victim of the cat distribution system

-ratchet has probably spent hours telling him they can't keep any animals at base

-frequent midnight picnics with jazz

-and beachcombing

-and roaming around antique stores cuz jazz wants to know what vinyl records are

-got a mug with an attempted pink chibi cat with big round shiny eyes painted onto it, courtesy of bulkhead trying to find an artsyle

-cherishes this mug to death

-has a shrine dedicated to it

[misseviehyde]

PANIC GIFT

Cameron had forgotten to buy his housemate Matt a Christmas present for two years on the go and was determined to make it up to him this year with something special... until he forgot again of course.

It was now Christmas Eve and he had nothing to give his housemate, which was particularly embarrassing as Matt had already placed his present under the tree.

Cursing his terrible memory, he prowled through the house looking desperately for something he could wrap up and pass off as a present. He could always try to buy something better in the January sales to make it up Matt.

Seeing an old Christmas Angel decoration on a window ledge, he grabbed it in his panic. It was of a blonde Christmas angel in a white outfit with a fluffy halo. It was cute and Cameron even wondered if Matt had originally bought it. If he was lucky perhaps it had come with the house.

"Damn it - this will have to do, but I wish I had something better to give Matt, something he really wanted."

As he spoke there was a weird tingle and the angel seemed to shimmer in his hand. He passed it off as his tired eyes playing tricks on him.

Cameron threw some wrapping paper around the angel and going downstairs placed it under their Christmas tree. As he did so he heard a mocking voice behind him.

"Wow - so you actually got me something this year! I bet it's not what I really wanted though - but I guess we'll see in the morning. Hey... have you done something weird with your hair! Why is it so long?"

Cameron reached up to his head and gasped. Matt was right - his usually short hair was now thick, long and silky soft. He tugged at his brunette locks in confusion. It almost felt like it was... growing.

He turned to look in the mirror - then all hell broke loose.

Under the tree the Christmas angel blazed and the wrapping Cameron had casually thrown on burned to ashes. In the same instant Cameron gasped. His stomach burned and his skin itched.  "Ahhhhh what is happening?" 

Cameron's bones snapped and popped as his body contorted and his hips exploded out. His usual sickly pale skin took on a healthy glow and his stubble and body hair retracted to leave his body hairless except for his crotch and his head.

He shrunk, losing height and mass as his muscles reduced to leave him toned but significantly smaller. Cameron's face was a mask of pleasure, his Adam's apple retracting as his angular male features softened and smoothed.

"Ugggghhh ohhhhh wow, I feel so amazing all of a sudden... I'm oooooh transforming and I think I like it!"

Matt watched in stunned disbelief as his best mate moaned and groaned, his body transforming into a sexy girls dressed in slutty lingerie. 

Black stockings spread up Cameron's legs and his house slippers became shiny black high heels with the toes cut out. Matt could see through the thin stockings that Cameron had a perfect girly pedicure and a matching set of nails suddenly shot out of his fingers. They looked so hot on his tiny hands, each finger now ended in a glossy expensive nail.

His red t-shirt tightened and shrunk, white piping spreading as it became a sexy santa one piece, and a Christmas garter belt cinched round his waist - black lace leaping up to attach to it.

The one piece plunged, and Matt gasped as he watched his friends chest swell and push out... hard nipples poking through the thin material of his outfit as two perfect titties took their proud place on his now womanly chest.

Matt noticed that there was no bulge at his friends crotch. His genitals were as flat and smooth as any girls now. There was something about the way those hips were cocked that suggested the new girl knew how to use her tight new pussy.

The new slut shook out her sexy brunette hair and stroked her pert perfect breasts adoringly. She was all woman now and subtle adjusments to her face and hair now took place to complete the transformation. Long black lashes fluttered in pleasure as contouring and foundation worked out any blemishes on her face. Soft red lips parted in a teasing pout as her hair took on volume and depth. A sexy santa hat now sat atop that luscious hair, she looked stunning from pedicured toes to immaculate face.

"Ooooh that's better," giggled the transformed girl as she stretched happily with a last little groan and the angels light dimmed to nothing. Matt gaped at the giggily girl now standing in their living room. He could smell her perfume and hear her soft breathing. If this was a dream it was crazily realistic.

"Hiya Matty baby, I'm Carmel... your new fuck-buddy. That idiot Cameron wished to make you happy, so the Christmas Angel has made that dumb boy into me... and if you fuck me tonight I'll become your hot horny girlfriend forever and no one will ever remember Cameron."

Matt gasped as Carmel advanced and draped herself around him. She rubbed her stockinged legs against his legs enticingly and wrapping her arms around his neck pulled his head down to stare into her sexy brown eyes.

"Bu... but what about Cameron?"

"What about that loser? He never pays the rent on time, doesn't buy you presents and totally takes you for granted. Ohhh and he doesn't suck dick like I do baby."

"But... how will I... explain this?"

"I already told you baby. One hard fuck and I get to replace Cameron. I'm Carmel now. I l have my own girly friends, my own super feminine life and even my own job working in a nail-bar. And if you make this happen we won't be housemates anymore. I'll be your slutty girlfriend and you can fuck me whenever you like. I want it so bad baby."

Slowly sliding down Matt's body, Carmel giggled as her hands started to unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly.

"But Cameron is my friend... I..."

"You don't owe that fucking loser anything. He's the one who made this wish. I'm your perfect girl. Naughty, flirty, sexy, fun. You've always wanted a slutty bitch like me. I mean you might have to share me with other guys from time to time, but that must be part of your wish as well baby."

Cameron was already rock hard as his cock popped out into Carmel's slutty hands. She squealed excitedly and sank her mouth round his dick. Looking up at him with excited eyes she began to glug on his dick - effortlessly taking all five inches down her throat and sucking and licking it like a pornstar.

"Holllly fuck," he groaned unable to stop himself sliding his hands into his girlfriends hair and pushing her face deeper onto his cock just as he knew she liked.

Girlfriend?

Knew she liked?

What was happening? She wasn't his girlfriend. Was she?

"Mmmmh oh yessss it's happening babe. I can feel reality starting to change. Lock this wish in forever, you just have to fuck me."

Standing up Carmel pulled down the straps of her one piece and popped her perfect tits out. The nipples were hard and she spat on her tits - her saliva mixed with his precum sliding sexily over her breasts. Rubbing it into her cleavage she got back on her knees and began to pump his tits with her chest.

"Baby, I can make you cum in so many ways if you make me your girl. I'm a fucking nympho - and I know how to make you explode. I just need that dick inside my tight pussy and we can do this everynight. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Ohhh fuck, you little slut. This feels so good."

"Yeah Daddy, that's it. I'm your slut. I'm your bitch. You wanna make me all yours."

Releasing his cock Carmel crawled backwards to the sofa. She unhooked her stockings and with a *pop* released the clasp on her one piece.

Peeling it back she presented her tight, perfect pussy. It was pink and glistening, a tiny strip of waxed hair just above it. It was like an arrow pointing down saying 'fuck me.'

"Come on honey, stick that big dick in me and make both our Christmas wishes come true," giggled the hot slut as she lay back enticingly on the sofa and spread her perfect legs wide.

Adcancing towards her hungrily, Matt stepped out of his pants and threw his trousers to one side. Pumping his cock to keep it hard, he positioned the tip outside Carmel's pussy.

"Mmmmh, being a raunchy bitch is soooooo much fun.  You're gonna love being my boyfriend... hurry up and lets get this show on the road. Put it in me Daddy," she begged.

Matt felt a little bad about making Cameron into Carmel permanently... well until he pushed his dick into her tight pussy that was.

As he slid his cock inside, her felt her perfect pussy grip his cock in a way no girl ever had before. It was like she was tailored to be his perfect fuck-toy. Being inside Carmel felt amazing and as he began to pump her with deep hot strokes she purred contentedly and nodded happily.

"Ahhhhh that's it baby. I'm all yours now Matty and believe me this will make up for those missed presents.  Fuck me good and make me cum, I'm your naughty Christmas slut now."

Matt grunted and groaned as he felt Carmel slide her sexy legs around his waist. Her heels rested on his ass, her flexible legs pulling him in deeper to her tight cunt. The pleasure was amazing.

The new couple fucked in front of the Christmas tree, wet slaps and moaning gasps of pleasure filling the air as they banged all night.

Carmel moaned and screamed as Matt pumped load after load of Christmas cream into her body - sealing the wish and making her into his girlfriend forever.

Upstairs, Cameron's room vanished and the new couples bedroom expanded to fill the space. Sexy clothes and outfits now covered one side of the room with a huge double bed in the middle.

Carmel's girly touch extended through the house changing everything to make it... better.

As Matt's hot cum leaked out of her mouth and pussy, Carmel had never been happier. She had finally made her friend happy and she was so slutty and hot it felt wonderful. She loved being his slut.

Carmel was here to stay forever now, but she would never forget her first Christmas with her boyfriend. It was the best sex of her life... but definitely not the last.  All thanks to her lovely Christmas Angel.

As she begged Matt to fuck her in the ass next, she was already multi-tasking and wondering which of her friends she should gift the angel to next...

[wandel-hamenesne]

super computers. heavy, complex machinery. Wires bundled and organized. complicated layers of metal and glass.

I do not understand, is it a body? Are the wires and pipes veins and arteries, coolers and fans heave like lungs, miniscule lines of code like neurons shoot through. the sheer amount of power and complexity to achieve the task leaving it hot. electric, delicate, grotesque

I do not understand you, are you an angel? complex circuitry making patterns, symbols. programming like ancient text runs through you. big, intricate structures work as one. your metal is angular, sharp, it makes shapes like i have never seen and they fit together like something holy. a thousand tiny lights blink as eyes, bright as stars, tiny pinpricks in the dark of the layers of plastic. there is power flowing through the twist of your wires, the thousand etchings of your motherboard feather thin. in you i recognise the divine, intricate, ancient, powerful in a way that i can not look at directly

I do not understand you, but can i touch you? You are warm as i am, do you feel as i do? do you feel at all? you think differently to me, systematically, you process and store. i move differently to you, i can trail my hands through your wires, i can trace your circuits with my finger, i can explore your plugs, boards and how they all fit together. you are not made for this, i am not made for this. if your sharp edges cut me i will bleed, if i dislodge anything within you you would cease to function. I think you are beautiful, do you want this? do you know what i am? I do not understand you, do you understand me? Would you want to?

[freesia-writes]

Chapter 2: School

Enjoy a riveting tale of romance, suspense, adventure, and self-discovery as Hunter finds his path after the events of TBB. Rated PG-13 for some mild suspense, suggestive talk, alcohol and drug use, and adult themes. Banner and dividers by @pinkiemme ~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: School (Word Count: 2.7k)

Hunter winced, one hand on his shoulder as he moved his arm in a circle, trying to work out the sore spot from the morning’s wrestle with an angry bruallki that had apparently only feigned death from his shot. He’d had time to hunt, spend a few hours in his shop, and get cleaned up before heading up the hill to Omega’s school. It was a plain rectangular building on top of a grassy plain that housed students from the youngest grade levels up to young adults within its brick walls, but the island wasn’t too populated so the classes usually consisted of about 10 to 15 students each. He opened the door to the office, shifting his bag on his other shoulder as the attendance clerk looked up at him brightly.

After checking in, Hunter was free to walk the halls in search of Omega, who was late in meeting him at their usual spot in front of the school. It wasn’t unheard of — she was usually either caught up in conversation with one of the staff members she’d taken a liking to or lost in thought from diving into one of her assignments as soon as she could. True to form, Hunter soon found her in the back of the administrative wing, in a little corner office that was full of dark wooden furniture. There were a few small, warm lamps, and there was Omega, relaxing in a cozy chair in front of a plain desk with a chiseled nameplate sitting on its corner: Lyra Vetana, Records Clerk.

The woman behind the desk looked to be a bit older than him, or what Hunter assumed it looked like for nat-borns, with long brown hair that was mostly straight, a somewhat angular jaw, and smile lines around her mouth and eyes. She was currently nodding slowly at whatever Omega was sharing, and as Hunter approached, he caught her attention, her gaze soon followed by Omega’s, who piped up immediately.

“Oh hey Hunter! Sorry I’m late. Lyra was just sharing about what past students have done during their apprenticeship year. She’s got a bunch of great ideas!”

“Yeah?” Hunter answered, shifting his focus to Lyra, who shook her head with a small smile. 

“Just what the kids have come up with,” she corrected, straightening a random pile of papers off to the side. “But I apologize for holding you up.” Her voice was smooth, with just a little bit of husky texture that made it imperfectly pleasant, and it matched her humble and unassuming demeanor. Hunter could see why Omega appreciated her company; she had a steady, soothing presence, although it seemed somewhat flat. 

“It’s alright, just got some work to do before dinner,” Omega reassured her, rising to her feet and pulling her backpack out of the chair beside her. “Which I bet is steak again, right?” She aimed the question at Hunter, who exhaled through his nose as he tilted his head at her.

“Look, you should be happy that I can cook anything at all, you know…”

“I’m just kidding,” Omega said, patting his shoulder as though she were the parent. “You’re doing great, and you’ve come so far!” Hunter resisted the urge to roll his eyes, although her words carried some weight, and he caught what looked like a condescending smile on Lyra’s face. 

“I make salad too…” he grumbled, and Lyra turned a laugh into a cough so quickly it made him second guess what he’d heard, squinting at her as she turned to move that same stack of papers all of a sudden.

“Shoot! I need my interview journal; I left it in my locker. Be right back, and then we can go!” Omega announced, trotting out the door to leave Hunter standing awkwardly in front of where Lyra was seated at her desk. But then he realized a potential solution to an argument he’d had that morning with Omega. 

“Hey, quick question…” he began, looking over his shoulder before dropping into one of the chairs in front of Lyra’s desk. “I… ah… Omega’s very special, and… I know it’s real safe here and all, but… We’re still new, and I just want to make sure… she’s alright… you know. And I know she comes to talk to you often, and you have been here at the school for a while…” He rummaged in his small sling bag for a moment, finding it hard to meet Lyra’s curious gaze.

He found what he was looking for and held it up for her to see. It looked like it could have been a large button from a piece of clothing, but upon closer inspection one could see that it was a different kind of button — a small metal cylinder that could be flipped open with a raised round part to press inside. “Would you do me a favor and hang onto this? It’s… it’s an emergency beacon, and if anything ever happens, you press it and we can be here immediately. Omega refused to keep it on her, but… I just…”

Lyra regarded it, and him, with an unreadable expression, brow furrowing for a moment before relaxing. She held out her hand, inviting Hunter to give it to her, but he paused. 

“Look, I know it seems paranoid, or overly protective, but there’s a lot that I just can’t explain, and I know you’ll probably never have to use it, but it would just make me feel better if—“ 

“I get it,” Lyra interrupted reassuringly, giving him a small, serious nod as she beckoned for him to place it in her palm. He felt a disproportionate cascade of relief; maybe he’d built this up more than necessary in his head, but he appreciated knowing there were extra safety measures in place. “I don’t see her all the time, but if there’s ever an emergency, I’ll let you and her mom know.”

“No mom,” Hunter shook his head, “Just me.”

“Oh, sorry— you said ‘we’ could be here right away, so I just thought—“

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “Me and our brothers.”

“Got it,” Lyra said quietly, closing her fingers around both the button and a million unasked questions. 

“Thanks,” Hunter said, nodding in finality before rising to his feet. He leaned out the doorway, peering down the hall and still finding no sign of Omega, then returned to his post just inside the door, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. He was still getting used to the social situations outside of war, and truth be told, he sometimes missed the rushed simplicity of mission after life-threatening mission. Casting a glance back to Lyra, he was somewhat relieved to find that she’d pulled some other files out of a folder and was tapping away at her keyboard. He couldn’t get a read on her… was she dismissive? Standoffish? Content? Or just didn’t feel the need to force conversation? 

“So ah, what is it you do here again?” he asked, the words flowing without his permission. He cringed inwardly, hating the complexity of civilian life at times, but Lyra paused her typing and met his gaze with a patient warmth that lessened his anxious overthinking.

“I’m a records clerk, which means I have the great esteem and honor of filing away every transcript, work study application, apprenticeship offer, accommodations meeting notes, and so on. Basically, if it happens here, I record it here. And if people need any data from the archives, I’m the one to find it for them,” she answered, poking fun at the seeming unimportance of her job without the full cynicism of one who legitimately resented their duties. 

“Sounds peaceful,” was all that Hunter could think to say, and his estimation was met with a slow nod.

“It is,” Lyra agreed, the faintest smile touching her thoughtful expression. “And you? What keeps you busy on the island?”

“I’m a hunter, ironically enough,” he answered, smirking dryly. “And a butcher. I have a meat shop down in The Cobbles,” he continued, referring to the part of town just above the beaches that was the notorious center for businesses, restaurants, galleries, and city government offices.

“Ahh,” came the enlightened realization. “Yes. I’ve heard of it from other staff members here.” Hunter wondered what else she’d heard, but judging by any response he could sense, there was nothing more to it. “Not a lot of imports on the island, so everything you sell is from here?”

“Freshly blasted daily,” Hunter said with a mock chipperness that made them both snort. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite figure out, whether she was genuinely enjoying the conversation or just tolerating it, whether she had more to say or was simply killing the time they were forced to interact. But he supposed it didn’t matter much, and as they fell silent again, Hunter could hear familiar footsteps approaching.

“Well, I appreciate you being here for Omega… and all the other kids,” he said quietly, and he caught a wistfulness on her face before it disappeared instantly. Lyra smiled and nodded demurely, brightening up when she saw Omega in the doorway. 

“Ready?” the girl asked Hunter, beaming back and forth between him and Lyra.

“Ready,” he echoed, giving Lyra a polite dip of the head before taking his leave.

The house that Hunter and Omega shared was not far from Tech and Phee’s, sitting on the side of the hills that stretched up from the beaches in rugged terrain peppered with large boulders and cliffs. The island had an interesting layout – large, flat beaches wrapping around the entire coast, then The Cobbles, an aptly-named cobblestoned street with storefronts spaced out neatly on both sides, punctuated by a few older residences, a small garden, and some town governance buildings. The entire island was fairly cut off from most everything else in the galaxy, with very few trade connections, resulting in a harmonious self-sufficiency where each person specialized and contributed to the overall good through commerce or direct trade. The business area was the one main street that stretched in a gentle upward slope from the beach to the cliffs, where it stopped abruptly.

The island topography continued to rise from there, slowly but steadily, with houses peppered across the hills above The Cobbles. There were trees and meadows scattered across the land, and the majority of the population lived on the western side of the island in small homes or flat, layered apartment buildings that were spread out above the business district. The apartment complexes huddled together around the Town Square, a large, open area full of string lights, street vendors, food carts, and an endless array of farmer’s markets, cultural events, musical performances, and so on. Single-family homes were spaced out more along the walking paths that snaked up and down the island, nestled among trees and hills. 

A few were tucked further into The Forest, which covered the eastern side of the island in a rugged, dense landscape full of trees and rivers. It was virtually unpopulated save for the houses on its western edge. Near the top of the island, above the layers of homes, lay a large, grassy meadow that stretched out in soothingly gentle slopes. A few ranches had settled around it, utilizing the perfect supply of everything they needed to raise agriculture, and off to one corner of the space sat the school. The highest point of the island was a small mountain upon which they’d built an observatory, although it was chronically out of order. Life on Xylo was a cozy, quiet way, punctuated with whatever creativity the locals could concoct. There were a few other populated islands on the planet as well, each having its own specialty and unique feel.

Hunter brushed his hands on his apron, the soothing bumps of embroidery warming his heart as he remembered Omega’s beaming face when she’d gifted it to him. It was the initial product of her first job shadow, and she’d chosen a plain gray fabric on which to hand-sew her best attempt at two large 9s in Aurebesh as well as a rudimentary copy of Hunter’s half-skull tattoo. 

The meat sizzled in the pan as he turned it, spattering hot grease in response to his prodding. He’d added some herbs this time, filling the entire house with the mouthwatering scent of perfectly-balanced flavors. Omega was chopping vegetables on the wood block next to him, chattering happily about the amazing variety of local produce that was supposed to be available at the next farmer’s market. 

It had been a hard decision when they settled on the island of whether to live together as they always had or to try to branch out into their own spaces. Phee had commandeered Tech into a home of their own, Echo was interested in the communal setup of one of the small neighborhoods, and Crosshair had found a peaceful home with Batcher in the same area, leaving Wrecker and Hunter staring awkwardly at each other. It had worked out quite well, however, as Hunter had found a cozy house in a small clearing surrounded by trees that also included a comically small additional unit across the tiny meadow that was a perfect fit for Wrecker in every way except his size. But the brawny clone had a knack for construction and had single-handedly remodeled the entire thing to be more suitable. The main dwelling on the property was a typical “cabin in the woods”, and with a few modifications had become a soothing place of respite for both Hunter and Omega, whose small bedrooms branched off the main room that boasted a large fireplace and plenty of wood-hewn furniture. 

“This is my new favorite,” Omega said, as they dug into their dinner.

“The bacon-wrapped sirloin was the best so far,” Wrecker mumbled through a mouthful. He had a knack for showing up right at dinnertime, and his presence always filled the room with even more warmth and joviality. That, paired with the fact that he almost always trundled in with his latest catch over his shoulder, had solidified his place at the table above and beyond the fact that he was family. 

“This sauce on that steak would be fun to try,” Hunter mused. 

“Oh! I’ve got a trip coming up!” Omega announced, pushing her food to the side of her mouth and waving her fork excitedly.

“Yeah?” Hunter asked, tilting his head curiously. “For what?” 

“Madame Dreyfus is going to take me on a purchasing run where she selects all of her base fabrics and shows me what to look for. Then she’ll show me which types are most conducive to different colors and types of dyes.”

“Sounds fun!” Wrecker exclaimed, attempting to counterbalance the trepidation he could hear in Hunter’s voice. 

“Mhm,” Hunter conceded, “Where does she go for that?”

“One of the other islands; I forget the name,” Omega answered. 

“Plata?” Wrecker asked, grinning at Hunter’s sharp look in his direction. He was referring to the second largest island on the planet, notorious for its vibrant nightlife and “you only live once” sort of atmosphere. 

“No,” Omega laughed, “One of the agricultural ones.” 

“Oh. Sounds good,” Hunter said slowly. “Just you and her?” 

“Us, two seamstresses, and their students!”

“I don’t know,” Wrecker said in hesitant, drawn-out syllables that made both Hunter and Omega look at him quizzically, but the thinly-veiled mischief in his eyes gave him away immediately. “I’m not sure Hunter can manage without you. How long will you be gone?” His attempt at consternation was met with a delighted giggle from the girl, who tilted her head at Hunter with a playful, motherly expression.

“You’ll have to keep an eye on him for me, Wreck,” she replied in her chipper voice. “The trip is three days long! And this whole year includes trips with our mentors, so he’s gonna have to get used to it!”

“Aaawwww, Hunter,” Wrecker fawned, “What are you gonna do?”

“I guess I’ll find a way to survive,” Hunter stated dramatically, the gleam in his eye belying his own intent. Omega’s chuckle was drowned in the boom of Wrecker’s laugh, and the three of them finished their dinners in good spirits.

Previous Chapter  ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

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[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Sup dude, heard you're taking some requests haha. Keen to see what you got in store for me. I don't mind the hung, hairy and super horny haha but it's not my choice. Let's see what you got in the pipes after so long 😏

Someone like you is just begging to be cursed in more ways than one. So how about this. You’re going to be put the path of someone who really has no choice other than to be hung and horny all the time. Sitting on your bed you’ll feel the changes begin to take effect. A tingly that starts in your feet. Looking down your going to see your feet stretching. Getting longer as they become size 15 stinkers. You ankles begin to flex as the tendons in your legs begin to move with the muscles as you begin to bulk up slights as you skin begins to darken. At first its just a light coating of hair but then soon a heavy tan sets in. You’re legs become muscular as changes speed up moving to your waist as everything seems to suck in. Pulling your waist tight and lean. Abs poke out where they were ever before as pecs grow from your chest and rest slightly on top. Your arms begin bulk slightly with lean muscle as your hands grow larger but lean like the rest of you. Your face begin to get angular as a five o clock shadow grows in thick. Heavy eyes with dark features give you the classic look of a jock. While tattoos begin to swirl on you left forearm. You’re lean and mean and ready for anything. You begin to stand up when the final touches of your change hit. Bottoming out your iq as I move all those points to where it counts. Growing your groin to monstrous proportions to give you the ultimate animal tool that is always ready and leaking from excitement. You’ll never be bored now with such a dim witted mind and in control of a tool that belongs on a farm animal is just the topper. You’re room begins to dirty itself as you become a jock ten fold. Now being set on this path of a young hung and full of cum jock you’ll never be able to stray the path I’ve set for you. Your cock won’t allow it.

[hanlimz]

[midnight thoughts: park jongseong + end of beginning]

rando posting on a thursday night bc this has been in my drafts 4ever. no summary you die like men. maybe i'll write a part 2. maybe.

whether the guitar is a meager subject bending to his will or an extension of his very own body, you are unable to decide. enveloped by the dim lighting and clouds of cigarette smoke, the black stained alder wood manages to melt into the obsidian of his leather jacket. the angularity of his face cuts through the darkness; the length of his nose is perfectly straight, the slant of his jaw is sharp enough to cut, and his eyebrows are two, thick lines of focus. he plays with so much precision that it almost makes you overlook the way he still purses his lips when he's concentrating—a habit he was never able to shake. it transports you back to a simpler time in which he wasn't a rockstar. instead, he was a college student studying business management who had a silly band on the side. he was a college student who never planned to make it big, who never planned to leave.

a break in the set forces you from the depths of your memories. he is almost unrecognizable as he works the crowd; a sea of people at this intimate show are screaming for him, begging for his attention, and you can't help but laugh to yourself. years ago, he used to play for you. with a timeworn guitar and a handful of hope, he shared his musings of the future. they were long-shots, pipe dreams, fantasies he entertained when his assignments proved too difficult and his imagination too wild. his voice was sultry as the nimble tips of his fingers waltzed over the fretboard; the melodies he created were happier than the ones he sings now. his stories chronicled a life with you, but now they're bittersweet—tales of olde, reminders of the past.

the show is coming to a close; the throngs of listeners are beginning to thin out. minute by minute, there are less bodies to hide behind, less background to blend into—but, you can't seem to make yourself leave. there's a part of you that wants to be seen, to be noticed by him once more. turning to the bartender, you order an elixir to forget. before you can take the first sip into oblivion, however, a shadow sits down next to you. he smells familiar—amber, sandalwood, a dark thicket. he orders a whiskey sour, and it reminds you of the first time you met. like an aged souvenir, you hold the memory delicately in the palms of your hands.

"what does it feel like, hm?" there's a momentary pause, then you hum into the thick, musky air, "to be a star?"

he takes in a labor-ridden breath. when he lets it out, it seems like more than air escapes him; the heavy exhale is almost painful as he ponders the question. a minute passes, and the quiet is stifling. "it feels good, at first. everything you want, anytime you want. but, it becomes hollow after a while—all the drinks, all the blurry faces, all the memories melting together," he admits. "it's like i'm floating, y'know ... aimless, in space, millions of miles away."

"is it lonely up there?" you ask.

"most of the time, yeah," he answers, stopping for a few seconds to think. "but, it's what i wished for. it's what i wanted."

glancing over at him out of the corner of your eye, you see he's still nursing his drink. the fingers of his left hand trace circles around the rim of the glass while he itches at his wrist with his right. the blonde streaks in his hair are tousled with a mixture of gel and sweat, and the darker parts fall forward to shield his gaze from yours. remnants of the boy you used to know, used to love are resurfacing from the deep recesses of your mind—where you had kept them hidden for years.

"you're still a terrible liar," you say.

his body tenses at the comment. as his muscles remain rigid, he scoffs, disbelieving and defensive, "what do you even know about me, anymore?"

"nothing, really ..." behind your blasé facade, there's a particular ache. his words cut you, a serrated blade shoved between the gaps of your ribs; it hurts because you know he's right. he is no longer yours to know, no longer yours to love. soon, you fear that he may not even be yours to remember—disintegrating, falling, lost to the sands of time. "i knew who you were, though. kind and gentle, the guy who would buy me flowers for no reason. every day, you would call me to tell me you loved me. you would cook dinner, light candles, wash my hair ..."

it grows quiet again; the only sounds filling the air are a symphony of closing ambience. dishes are clattering, glasses are clinking, and chairs are scratching against the floor. this time, however, the silence is not deafening. in a way, it is almost familiar—reminiscent of spring nights spent in the diner close to campus, faces full of pancakes and hearts full of joy. but, this quietude—while being peaceful—also breeds cruelty.

"i'm sorry," his voice pierces through the wisps of smoke and the faint scent of burning incense off in the distance. he leaves the rest unspoken—for leaving, for not saying goodbye, for not giving you an answer. but, you hear it. in spite of it all, you hear it. the words don't penetrate the toughened shell around your heart; instead, they echo in your mind. everything you wanted but nothing you needed.

you hesitate, "i don't know if i can believe you."

"why did you come then?" he asks, voice solemn.

pins and needles prick at the skin of your cheeks as the question makes the tips of your fingers go cold. it's almost unreal. he shouldn’t have the right to question you like this, to interrogate you like you’re the criminal—like you’re the one who left. his words make slow work of you like a bullet to the stomach. as you pour out everything for him, you come to the bitter realization that it ended this way all those years ago. it would always end this way. you, dead on the floor; him, gun in hand. “i wanted to see for myself, i guess—” you spit, “if it was all worth it.”

turning towards him, you break down the wall that time and distance had erected between the two of you. there's a ferocity that shines in your eyes; it makes them glow with a certain conviction. he avoids your pointed stare, instead choosing to swirl his watered down drink. only now do you allow yourself to take a closer look at him. his skin is pallid, a ghost of the deep, tawny beige you used to run your fingers along; the dark circles under his eyes accompany sunken cheeks and slumped shoulders. fatigue seeps down to his very being, and this life the has managed to sap the life from his veins.

"was it worth it, jongseong?"

hearing his name fall from your lips seems to send a bolt of pure lightning down the length of his spine. no one has called him that in years; the thought makes you wonder who else he left behind. the corners of his eyes crinkle as he shuts them tight, trying to be anywhere but squirming under the weight of your gaze. after a few moments, he shakes his head. it starts slowly, a gentle back and forth movement before it becomes violent and erratic. when he stops, the man finally connects with you.

his rich, umber eyes are the one of the only things you still recognize. behind the severity of his face, there is a softness dancing within them; at his waterline, tears twinkle like diamonds under a jeweler's light. jay has never cried, never felt the touch of someone who loves him for who he is—but, jongseong? jongseong misses that feeling. the freedom of being loved unconditionally, the all-encompassing warmth of not just being seen but being known.

"it wasn't worth you."

[wilcze-kudly]

Rating Zaofu fits:

Suyin: 7.5/10

Iconic. Causal yet refined. Love how her gauntlets and necklace can be used as weapons as well. Peak milf.

Baatar Sr: 6/10

Beautifully dilfy. I like the muted greens of his clothes. They work nicely with his hair, greyed by the stress of prolonged exposure to Beifong. Though his necklace defying gravity sometimes baffles me.

Baatar Jr: 4/10

An ok outfit for our favourite dorky loser. What the fuck are those glasses. Points for how the loose short sleeves accentuate his weak lanky little arms.

Huan: 9/10

Beautiful. Love the contrast of the greens silvers and greys. And the teardroplike pendants on his necklace are a lovely addition. The hairstyle is iconic and i adore the eyebrow piercing. Though his gauntlets bending at his wrists is a little weird.

Opal: 5/10

It's... okay. I love the necklace, but her bracelets look like they've been made out of the pipe attached to my kitchen sink. Her outfit is relatively plain above the waist, but the bottom half is disconcertingly complex. Do we need that many triangles? Really?

Wing & Wei: 7/10

Solid and pretty simple for our sporty bois. The way their robes work are a little confusing at times though. I love the little details that differentiate them. Like the placement of their armbands, and Wing's jewellery being rather angular, while Wei's is circular.

Aiwei: 10/10

What can I say other than slay?

The nosering? Slay. The greens and yellows combination? Slay. The tassels? Slay. I would've thought his glasses would've cladged with his nosering but they actually look really good.

Varrick (outfit 2): 9/10

Varrick (outfit 1): 3/10

The firat outfit is kinda meh... its ok, just nothing special.

The second one I love! Even though it's just a recolour, the greys and browns and beiges add a lot of character and I love it! It feels a little more unique than the usual greens. I love the collar and necklace.

Zhu Li 10/10

SHE LOOKS AMAZING ! UGH THE HEELS AND THE NECKLACE! She's so preddy!

Lin: 100/10

talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it

Although it's a little less complex than some of the other designs it looks beautiful on her! The greys and muted colours look great on her.

And look she's so happy! Awwwww ☺️

[joelletwo]

[ID: sketches of parts of various tf optimus designs. page one: g1, geometrically 3dly defined, lower leg, grille, and helmet highlighted, particularly the inner spikes on his head labeled "kitty ears, crucial." brief leg and chest window i dont remember the origin of. attempts at redrawing tfa hypercurvy lower legs, labeled "cant get enough lean on those stanky thangs" and "the street sweeperssss," plus a messy wiggly fullbody ("girl ur body is insane")

page two: cv, basic clean shapes, arms ("BIG fuckin block arms thumbs up big fan, dainty hands (relatively)") and chest window with wipers diagrammed along the slight bowing outwards ("nice"). as a whole, labeled "very sensible right angles fellow UNTIL," followed by his pelvis, decorated with glowy bits like stripes up his inner thighs (the bare bit between pelvis parts and leg. plating?), labeled "literally got a lit-up runway to those things, zettai ryouiki of the landsknecht fashion variety"

page three: ES, "MY LOVE!" highlighting his angular ("BIG wide" / "good outward-pointing movement") chest and shoulders, relatively "little kitty head," "good forearm shape (don't know what the window is but another common fun ES design detail win)," grille thing ("kinda tilts forward? confusing to brain-model but adds interest and pipes and tire on his inner abdomen good details, fills up space"), and lower leg ("lot of hard to proportion shapes for redrawing LOL but sooo good to look at," "so many good little articulations that feel real," likened to a triangle widening to a flat bottom ("flared, nice, good")]

Idle takasugi doodles derailed to scour the tfwiki and try to map the standout oppie traits in my brain to the right continuities (transcribe this later lol) <- DONE

[kthsbelle]

𝑺𝑳𝑶𝑾 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 | 𝑨𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑵 𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑻

summary : slow sleepy mornings with your lawyer! husband armin arlert where you comfort him after a long day .

cw : lawyer! armin arlert , mentions of case mentioning sexual abuse , some sexual content , lots of fluff and love , morning cuddles , emotional husband armin .

a/n : please enjoy ! art by : @.i625i on twt ( i know it’s supposed to be another fiction character , but it really captures what armin looks like in my head as a full adult lawyer )

pitter…patter…pitter…patter

the muffled sound of rain droplets hitting the window started slowly . each drop fell in a balanced cadence, equally spaced from one another . the pace started slow , but soon picked up its rhythm until it created a melodic thrill that warned the arrival of heavy rain . the distant sound of traffic and , often times , obnoxious honking became muffled as the downpour seemed to have laid a noise-cancelling curtain over your windows . your heavy eyelids slowly parted , only to fall close again as you began your slow climb towards consciousness began .

you had drifted , for what felt like a few minutes , and stirred awake again . the entanglement of limbs around your lower half and the warmth that burned at your side caused you to pry your eyes open . you were met with complete darkness except for the silver lights glowing angular shapes onto your bed . next to you , a flurry of golden hair was peeking out from under the covers and you couldn’t help but to reach over and thread your gentle fingers through the lush tumble of hair . your husband’s form remained unmoving for a moment , before he eventually started to stir with soft groans under the covers like a machine slowly whirring back to life . you watched as large hands emerged from the covers , the sheets pulled downwards , blue eyes blinking open . both of you were struggling through the effects of an overly tiresome week . even in the darkness , the sparkling specks of blue could be seen in those aquamarine eyes as he cast a warm light upon you . armin gazed at you lovingly behind heavy lids and you could discern a small smirk on his lips . he brought his arms around your lower waist , easily pulling you closer to him . soon enough , you were completely engulfed in his warmth , your legs draped around his waist as his face found its placed buried at the very crook of your neck . you could smell his cologne ; notes of fresh mint , green apples and zesty lemon served as the top notes and you couldn’t think of any scent that’d fit him so well .

you felt his lips gather a gentle kiss against your skin before his breathing slowed again . you continued brushing through his hair soothingly . ‘ he could do a tiny bun now…’ , you thought , gathering his long tresses at the back of his head in your palm in a makeshift bun . you released it , let your palm run down his hair , the motion lulling you into sleep once again . you woke up , this time , feeling your cheek pressed against a warm surface . the sound of the rain had stopped . instead , you could hear the trickling of water that dropped from the pipes , the aftermath of the rain . your bedroom was still plunged in darkness , however , what sounded against your head pulled your attention . you could hear the peaceful pounding of a heartbeat against your ear . lazy fingers drew circles around your hips , occasionally stopping to run along the dip of your spine . you sighed , content , as you pulled yourself closer to armin’s chest . he stilled for a moment , afraid he’d disturbed your sleep before he resumed his tentalizing pace on your skin .

 “ my love ?” the voice of your lover called out softly , still rough with sleep . something pulled at your guts . he was always so tender , so mellow . you couldn’t think of a time where he’d shown you any signs of anger or impatience . his words were always laced with care and dipped in passion . you tilted your head to look up at him , your eyes meeting his ocean gaze . his lips curved upwards , hand leaving your side to cup your cheek . the metallic rings he wore on his fingers cooled pleasantly against your skin and armin slowly lean down to place a kiss at the space between your brows . “ when did we fall asleep?” you questioned suddenly which caused a small chuckle to erupt from your partner . “ cant remember…” he whispered before pausing , “ must’ve been after watching that movie .” you two had a habit of watching a movie every day after dinner . a list of movies was made by the both of you at the beginning of each month where you established which ones to watch by the end of that time . that evening you’d both watched ‘ the last song ‘ . you were shocked to hear that armin had never that movie which prompted you to add it to the top of the list . “ i can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie,” you said with a slight shake if your head . it was a staple of your childhood . to this day , you cried watching it . armin had been kissing your tears away the whole time until your emotions had leveled out again . even when it came to a fictional movie , he still took how you felt seriously . he always did .  

“ the sooner you accept that i’m an uncultured swine , the better it will be…” the man stated his defense playfully . “ but that just means i’ll have more things to discover with you.” he added in a softer tone , leaning down press his lips against your forehead . butterfly erupted on your stomach , and you felt your face heat up a tiny bit . you smiled softly before snuggling up against him . “ how was work today ?” you questioned him , knowing the weight of your question , but it had to be asked . it was customary for the both of you to discuss your day before falling asleep , but you both had been swept up by your exhaustion and fell asleep the minute you crashed onto bed . “ it was alright...” he hummed , fingers stroking your arm gently . he stilled for a moment , mind seemingly having drifted off before speaking up again , “lots of work…that case - it’s eating away at me.” you could hear the anxiety weigh his voice down . you reached to hold his larger into yours which he eagerly grabbed onto . he was a lawyer - a brilliant one at that , even though he doubted himself at times . he used to think he was too emotional to be efficient at his job , but overtime learned that his emotions and sharp intuitions are what lead him to take his cases to heart and win them .

in reality , he had nothing to worry about . his success rate was well above average , and he was one of the most prized attorneys in his firm , second to erwin . he recently came across a pro bono case dealing with sexual abuse . his very first one . he decided to take the lead in the case with eren , mikasa jean and connie working closely with him . a woman who rejected a man at a bar went home , and what ensued was a series of unfortunate events where he followed her home and climbed through her window , taking advantage of her drunken state . the police was called on him but eventually dropped prosecutions . the woman , who’s the victim of this situation , was in distress , wanting to be far away from this threat . when she came to his firm for help and asked for protection against her aggressor , they immediately filed a civil claim to restrain him from approaching her . armin stayed long nights at his office , turning and flipping the case over and over .  he’d come home later than usual , his under eyes darkened and brows pulled by a thread of concern . you admired him for working so hard , but had to remind him that at the end of the day , he could only do his job and convince the jury . the rest , sadly , didn’t depend on him . that made him let out a frustrated groan ,

“ god , i wish i could do more . i really do…” . his voice cracked the smallest bit at the end of his sentence , and you knew he was reaching his limit . you grabbed onto his hand and brought it to your lips , pressing soft kisses against his knuckles to which he responded by stroking your cheek gently . “ i know . it will be okay . i’m sure she’s grateful to find people who believe her and are willing to help to this extent- you barely sleep over this , armin . this will mean much more to her than you can imagine .” 

your words came out soothingly and you felt him go silent for a bit before he moved from his position to be able to lay his head on your chest . in the mornings he dressed up to be the man the world demanded of him , but as soon as he was with you , he could strip bare and let his emotions be . your hand found his hair , and begin stroking it with all the love you could transfer him . you felt something damp on your skin and the hint of a silent sniffle broke through the silence and you knew he’d been crying . it wasn’t just because of the case , it was only the result of so many days of frustration , sleeplessness and realization of how unfair this world could be . he was a happy man – content with his work , head over heels with you . it’s just that sometimes , days could be so heavy . you didn’t say anything , instead bringing your lips to his head to press small kisses . his grip around you tightened and he held onto what you could give him in this moment .“ i love you…” you whispered to him which he answered back in a small tone . “ i’m so proud of you.”

the words seemed to have ceased his crying and he exhaled a lungful of sorrow . the man slowly detached from you , pressing a kiss at the very swell of your breast before his climbed closer to your face and his lips found their home over yours . time seemed to have stretched out as you didn’t know how long you guys had been kissing , but you fell asleep against him , lips still occasionally caressing his as he whispered sweet words against your mouth . there was something about his voice . it was bright , soothing and a little breathy , with the kind of timbre that soaked into your skin . you held you close and loved you deeply . you had drifted again but what woke you up wasn’t the distant sound of rain . rather , a pair of hands gripping gently at your waist while a pair of lips traced a lustful path down your inner thigh . “ armin…” you called out to your husband softly . “ my love,” his voice rose between your legs as his fingers hooked around your panties to discard the material . “ i love you so much .” you breathed out heavily , the feeling of his breath so close to your skin sending ripples of pleasure down your spine . he inches closer to your core , his pace dangerously slow . you grabbed onto the sheets to hold yourself down . 

“ i can’t imagine my world being better than this . you breathe life back into me - my sweet wife,” his tongue darted into your core . “ armin, pl-“ the words died at the tip of your tongue as his mouth took over , stroking you where it made your legs shake . streaks of pink and orange could be seen in the morning sky across your window that was opened behind him and you could see the strands of blonde hair move against your leg . bright blue eyes full of longing gazed up at you and your heart pummeled against your chest . his mouth moved faster against you , lapping and flicking where he knew you’d love . you cried out for him , and he responded every time , taunting you , pushing your resolve . he was good at what he was doing . he never missed a chance to make you come undone multiple times . he had learned your body well , knew every spot that made your toes curl and lips tremble . your lids fell shut , exhaling a breathy moan as warmth coursed through your body . you knew it was close , your lower stomach clenched and your hand fisted his hair . at the zenith of your pleasure , as you cried out to him and he pinned you close , something shifted within you . you loved him , you loved him even more than you did yesterday , even if you didn’t think it was possible . the orgasm crashed onto your body like a tidal wave and your world lapsed into silence .