#i spent too much time on it...all for the bit...

[sqgeism]

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 i'll say a hundred and fourty times, | various hsr men x gender neutral reader reader

💌 — ; i think about you or something like that ! you remember your first date with your husband like it was yesterday, what exactly did they do to convince you that they were the one?

love mail — these vary in length cus bless my heart i js cant 💔 i picked the characters who are super popular on this account + mutuals faves so if urs isnt on here am sorry (ノ´Д｀)ノ posting this early hi i love u guys!!!! thank you for so much love and a platform to write as a other yr passes 4 me and i turn 17!!! this is actually so long im going BANANAS 🩷 proper post tmr ! (anaxa, mydei, phainon, caelus, dan heng, boothill, sampo, blade, ratio, jing yuan, gallagher, sunday in that order)

what anaxa had done to seal the deal was fairly simple; he asked for a second date. the professor had somewhat of a reputation, many saw him as a cold man, soulless when it comes to romance. but what you didn't know was that anaxa had been thinking about what to wear the night prior, something he saw as 'trivial' and 'not an important thing to consider'. or how your hand lingered a bit too long after he gave you your favorite coffee/tea/drink (his treat), little and seemingly insignificant details were becoming more and more important to him as the day of the date was building up, and he wasn't sure why.

it wasn't until after the long date—you grabbed his hand, told him that everything he arranged was perfect, and smiled at him so sweetly he was sure he'd wake up with a toothache. the gesture was unfamiliar yet not unwelcomed, it was then he realized that he didn't want to let this go, that he wanted this.. for the rest of his life.

and he got it <3 hooray!

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

what intrigued you about mydei was his idea of masculinity. it wasn't toxic, you were VERY relieved at that... he was surprisingly a very gentle man despite his intimidating appearance! his first date being at his place was a bit off putting, but he just wanted to bake you a fresh batch of cookies. he's halfway through the process when you suddenly ask; "what's your favorite thing?" it seems you've brought the crown prince of kremnos into a bit of thought, as he thought long and hard of what to answer. "butterflies, i like butterflies. i don't remember if i've ever seen one before i escaped the river of souls. they're beautiful.. delicate, something i'll never really get to be."

the night goes on and you've gotten close enough to lean on his shoulders while you sit on the couch, enjoying a series in silence with a plate of warm cookies on the coffee table. the lack of conversation isn't awkward, rather welcomed, then it was interrupted by what has been probably the sweetest thing ever told to you. "you uh.. remind me of a butterfly. you possess beauty that is.. otherworldly to me, you're someone i've never seen before and i'd be honored if you.. gave me some more time to bask in your existence. let me be gifted with your ethereal charm."

100% spent the night cuddling together, made you laugh at how nervous mydei was to hold you since he didn't wanna mess up 🙏

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

before real dates became a thing, phainon's FAAAVORITE excuse to spend one on one time with you was study dates. was there any actual studying going on? yes, but was phainon listening? absolutely not! how could he? not when you're trying your best to tutor him yet he still fails this one specific class (enrolled cause you were in it) despite your teaching.

you didn't mind the fact he kept coming to your door, he was your best friend before your 'student'. but it was getting to a point that if you explain a complicated concept one more time, only to see him staring at you and absolutely not listening you're about to pull his pretty blue hair off.

which you did tell him. hair ripping threat and all, and naturally the nameless hero—who dominates battlefields and comes out victorious, is quick to confess his true motive for these frequent visits to your dorm. he just likes looking at you when you're focused, passionately discussing your favorite topic from your favorite subject and he gets to be a part of that experience for you.

he wants to emphasize; he gets to be a PART of something greater that you're DEEPLY passionate about, and understand you more as a person. (when he should be understanding the class but wtv)

taking you out on a date-but-never-officially-called-that date as an apology, which worked in his favor. it turned out so good that you told him you wanted to go out again, which he was ecstatic about by the way!!! super gratful he almost failed that class if it meant you two got together 🩷

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

caelus is a big eater at heart, so of course it felt only right to take you out to a nice dinner, all on him! welt even got him a nice outfit to go along with it, very classy and formal.

and while you two ate, drank, and laughed the night away—caelus was quick to notice that you were getting full. you and him had chosen the same meal (he wanted to try to understand and adjust to your food palette in case of a second date), but you felt bad that you couldn't finish it with so much still on the plate.

the trailblazer, who had already bulldozed almost the entire meal, laughs at your frown. only to switch the meals around, where there was only a little left and he had the bigger portion. "don't want anything to go to waste, y'know?" he flashed that charming smile at you, and it made you chuckle. not for such a sweet gesture, which you really did appreciate, but he had a piece of leaf stuck in between his teeth. it gave off the whole charm he had, effortlessly kind and unintentionally funny. you liked that.. liked that a lot, actually. (enough to spend the rest of ur lives tgt <3)

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

for a portion of your childhood life, you found it hard to be heard. your voice was never loud enough to stand out from a crowd, and you felt ignored. that you weren't good enough to be listened to.

so going on a date was extremely nerve-wracking. you decided to make sure to never try to assert yourself too much in a conversation, just let them take the lead and not try to disturb with your 'uninteresting' input.

halfway through the date, holding hands and talking about your favorite place to visit-you are very quick to realize that you've taken up most of the conversation. and it isn't in a bad way either, since dan heng was adding his own little comments.. adding his ideas in the conversation. but he hasn't.. stopped you. he let you speak comfortably, let you be heard. "sorry, did i give you a weird look? i didn't mean to.. i just.. i really like listening to you. please don't ever stop talking."

your now husband loves to tell the people that said his quietness would never get him someone.. that he has a ring now and a very lovely spouse that has a matching one !

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

boothill doesn't usually have time for dates, always moving on the road and hopping around penacony. but when robin set him up with a good friend of hers, he didn't want to decline. the cowboy was quick to realize you were really cute and interesting, so he didn't mind taking a day off... until it wasn't a day off.. and had to handle a quick bounty a couple of hours before your date.

"don'tgetdistractedandthinkofthemdon'tgetdistractedandthinkofthemdon'tgetdistractedandthinkofthem" is what he repeats to himself before he gets distracted, imagines how you smiled at him yesterday and expressed how excited you were about the date.

got his shit rocked :-( but he still trudged his malfunctioning arm and scarred face to your place. "sorry." he strained a smile as he falls into your arms, grunting. "didn't mean to make ya wait. darlin'.. would never try to leave ya alone on such a pretty night."

his selflessness made your heart soften. he was so uncaring for his wounds, and he was even muttering that he was sorry for getting so much of his bleeding oil on your clothes. the date didn't end up pulling through, at least not properly. since you brought him in to care for him, and honestly just ended up to you flirting all night.

you're more than happy to have a real date when he's all fixed up.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

sampo had finally gotten one upped. HE got scammed by YOU in an exchange of information. it wasn't even anything out of harsh feelings, you had always been his informant, giving him what he needs for a good pay and go. but tonight, you decided to mess with him a bit. after receiving the money you charged to find whatever he needed on some random, you never sent it. left him waiting at his laptop and blinking at his camera, knowing damn well you were watching.

this became a normal thing, the back and fourth 'scams'. and soon your time together became less for a transaction, more just wanting to spend time with each other. which you told him from the very first day that you couldn't care less about anything as long as he had money (you didn't know his name till 3 months of working together).

so one night, expecting the usual "oops! sent it to the wrong number!" or "hehe, maybe i forgot a few zeroes and sent you like 5 coins!" you get an actual message.

"what a coincidence, i'm paying in full but it all went towards a restaurant near your place with the best table for two and your favorite food. it would really be a shame to let it go to waste.."

you agreed. and this went on long enough where one day his payment became a ring and a promise to love you forevermore.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

two stellaron hunters slowly growing to be interested in each other is a rather entertaining sight. kafka was quick to catch on, the lingering glances and subtle touches of affection that would slip the average persons gaze. what was unexpected-was blade's initiation of these gestures. how he'd have a protective stance over you during battle, despite your capabilities likely being on par with his. how he allows his hand to be taken into yours, treating his calloused hands gently after a long day of fighting with his sword, or even just the way he looks at you. it's soft, warm, with a hint of tenderness and admiration. despite his nonchalant face.

this becomes more obvious when he finally asks you out, and he's genuinely caring the whole time. he's interested in your discussions about life, entertains him when he asks you for any other details, and you don't make him feel alone. that's the most important thing. and he makes it clear how much he appreciates you with how he tucks your hair behind your ear, murmuring if he could have the blessing to kiss you. it isn't on the lips-he's not pushing his luck.. but just the cheek. it was something small, but for him? an absolutely huge step.

the date with the ever so well known dr. veritas ratio had gone well enough that you agreed to go home with him. he was quick to clarify that this wasn't to sleep with him, he wasn't that kind of man to push something so early on in what he described to be: "a relationship that may be something greater than i could ever imagine" but instead to take care of you. it seemed as if you were exhausted from the travel during the date, and a nice bath would usually help.

nice bath was an understatement, the guy had scented candles, soft music, the right ratio from bubbles to water, snacks for you to enjoy and had a whole selection of books to choose from.

your fate was sealed the moment you walked into his bathroom because a man who can care for himself and still have the room to care for others is FOR SURE a keeper. even invited him to stay in the bath w u but he wanted to be respectful 🙏 (caved eventually)

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

jing yuan was the whole reason you got back into dating. after your first relationship fell apart, you found it hard to want to start things from scratch, learning favorite colors and life dreams all over again. but jing yuan swayed you, something that wasn't easy but he always makes sure to tell you he doesn't regret.

he was introduced to you through yanqing, your former apprentice before he was taken in by the cloud knights. he found out you and jing yuan were around the same age, so the blondie tested out his luck playing cupid <3 so even if it wasn't an immediate yes to his shenanigans, jing yuan started slowly. he could see you had walls and he wanted them to go down upon your own hearts decision, rather than bulldoze through them.

that care never went away. not even years later when he tears up at how far he's come, watching you walk down that aisle and knowing you're his forever.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

gallagher's wasn't even a first date. but you were on one, or supposed to be. till you got stood up and wanted to drink your worries away.

you've been in the bar from the very first hour it opened till now.. aka 3am. and the bartender himself was growing a little drowsy. but you were going strong, probably your 8th bottle of the night, which was starting to be a concern.

one of many, really. for one, gallagher was wondering who could ditch such a person. you clearly fixed yourself up nicely, your outfit was gorgeous and you were so friendly to him up until you realized you were stood up, and the pretty face that made his bar a little brighter went quiet. he couldn't have that.

by the time his shift ended, he slid a drink to you with a napkin. "take care of yourself, alright? come by tomorrow night, and you'll get yourself a real man to go on a date with."

he leaves and the napkin (cliche enough) has his number and name. "gallagher." you say to yourself, making a note in your drunken state to return same time tomorrow.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

sunday totally took you out with vip seats to robins concert. did he have to do a LIIIITTLE bit of pursuading to have robin hand over these tickets? no.. but she did tease him for finally catching a date after all this time! and as much as he is a big admirer for his sisters work, the whole concert he couldn't take his eyes off of you. how you effortlessly glowed in a sea of people, how your passion for something as simple as music could rival his dream for eternal rest to penacony. he has dreamed of you, he's sure of it. someone so carefree and kind, a soul opposite to his, yet perfectly fills the other half of his empty heart.

he wrote poetry about you, robin found it, turned it into a song and had to awkwardly explain why robin's song that she specifically clarified to be written about someone he liked included descriptions of your physical appearance and hints of your personality.

found it very sweet, and insisted your next date should be something more personal so you can learn more about him the way he's learned so much about you without even needing to talk to you to do so. (was just happy to go on a second date)

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[cowboybeepboop]

Delight

"Fuck, you’re so beautiful… My pretty baby."

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Pampering Bob turns into much more. 

a/n: As always, send me any requests you might have!! I love writing them, also, if anyone would like to be tagged in anymore of my Bob/Lewis Pullman fics let me know!!

For the past 14 months you've been acting as sort of Bucky's assistant, helping him to keep track of the new avengers and keep Bob company when the team goes out for missions/training. This being one of the days where just you and Bob occupy the tower.

When the rest of the team has left for training or other missions, the tower always feels a bit different. There's a certain tranquility, but there's also an underlying sense of loneliness that lingers in the air. And that's exactly how it feels today.

Bob, who spent most of the morning in his room meditating, walks downstairs to the main area, rubbing his tired eyes. He notices you sitting on the couch, and for a moment, there's a shyness in his gaze that betrays his otherwise soft-spoken nature.

"Good morning, Bob!" you greet him with a friendly yet sleepy smile. Bob gives you a small smile back, the tiredness in his eyes still evident.

"Mornin'... you’re up early," he replies in his soft, slightly timid voice. He walks over to the couch and sits down next to you. It's clear he's a little disheveled, his hair sticking up in odd directions and his clothes slightly rumpled.

"Bucky woke me up when they left," you groan, stretching your arms in front of you slightly. "He's so loud." Bob chuckles lightly, nodding his head in understanding.

"Yeah, he can be a bit... enthusiastic first thing in the morning," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. He then looks at you, his eyes still tired but a little bit of curiosity now in them. "And how about you? Did you sleep well?" he asks, tilting his head slightly, the gesture almost making him look puppy-like.

"I could've used some more sleep but that's okay," you turn to face him, a mischievous smile on your face. "Hey Bob, I've got an idea.." Bob raises one eyebrow, a little glint of intrigue in his eyes. 

"An idea, huh?" he says, his voice still soft and somewhat timid. "What kind of idea? Should I be worried?" He gives you a half smile, clearly curious but also a bit nervous at the same time.

"Oh most definitely!" your grin only grows, "Stay right here, I'll be back in a second." you pat his shoulder before scurrying off to your room. Bob watches you go with a mixture of confusion and amusement in his eyes. He stays seated on the couch, his tired gaze fixed on the spot where you disappeared. Quickly you grab things you can use to pamper the man; face masks, razors, tweezers, etc. 

When you return with your supply of 'pampering' items, Bob raises both eyebrows, a hint of surprise in his expression. "What's all this for?" he asks, eyeing the items you've laid out in front of him. There's a touch of apprehension in his voice, as if he's both curious and a bit wary of what you've got planned.

"I'm gonna pamper you today," you grab the fluffy headband and slip it over his head, brushing his hair back and revealing his handsome face. "Just trust me and relax," Bob's eyes widen slightly as you slip the headband onto his head, and he looks a bit taken aback by your sudden desire to pamper him. 

"Pamper... me?" he says, the word sounding a bit foreign on his tongue. There's a mix of uncertainty and curiosity in his expression, but he trusts you enough to go along with it. "Alright..." he says softly, attempting to relax his tensed shoulders, "I'll try to relax. Just... don't go full makeover on me, okay?"

"You're too pretty for makeup, Bob," you giggle, slowly putting a mask on his face, fixing it to fit his features.  "Now we'll let this sit for the next 15 minutes," you slip one on your face to match, relaxing back into the couch as you flip through movie options on the tv.

Bob looks a bit self-conscious when you compliment his looks, a hint of a shy smile playing at the corner of his lips. He tentatively touches the mask on his face, feeling its unfamiliar coolness against his skin.

"So, what kind of movies are we looking at here?" he asks softly, his eyes darting to the Tv and then back to you.

"Lets see..." you murmur, spending all of the 15 minutes trying to find a movie with Bob. "Okay, is this one alright?" After a long and arduous browsing session, you finally settle on a movie. Bob leans back on the couch, making himself comfortable, his mask still on his face.

"Yeah, that one looks fine," he replies softly. There's a hint of excitement in his eyes, a break in his usual tired expression. 

As the movie begins to play, he looks over at you, his gaze betraying a mix of gratitude and a hint of unease. "Thanks for... this," he says, gesturing to the mask on his face.

"Thanks for letting me do it," once both of your masks are off to the side you begin to mess with his eyebrows. "This is gonna hurt a little bit," you tweeze a couple hairs earning a small hiss from Bob. 

Bob winces a bit as you start to work on his eyebrows. He's not used to physical pampering, but he can't deny the fact that it feels kinda nice.

"Okay, ow, ow, ow," he mutters softly, flinching a little with each pluck of a hair. Despite the pain, he tries to keep still, a mixture of discomfort and resignation on his face. After a few moments of tweezing, he lets out a soft sigh. "Are you almost done?"

"Just a few more minutes.." you murmur, moving to straddle him, your ass softly resting against his thighs as you continue focusing on his face. 

At first, Bob's eyes widen in surprise when you straddle his thighs, clearly not expecting the sudden proximity. A hint of pink appears on his cheeks, and he gazes up at you, his expression a mixture of flustered and confused.

"Uh... okay," he mutters softly, trying to keep his composure even as his heart rate quickens just a bit. Bob takes a deep breath and tries to focus on anything but the way your body feels on his, the close proximity making him slightly flustered.

Bob's breath hitches slightly as your hand grips his cheek, turning his face from side to side. He's clearly unused to being handled so gently, and the closeness of your face to his sends a shiver down his spine.

"Um... uh.." he stutters, words failing him as his gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips. The contact between your body and his, the way you so confidently invade his personal space, it's both unsettling and exciting to him.

"Is something wrong?" you shift slightly on his lap, looking at him concerned. Your hand gently caresses his face. Bob's heart races at your gentle touch, his pale cheeks flushing a pinkish hue. He looks up at you, the closeness of your face bringing a mixture of tension and vulnerability in his expression.

"No... nothing's wrong," he mutters softly, his tone betraying a hint of nervousness. He's clearly overwhelmed by your proximity, the feeling of your body on his lap, the way your hand gently caresses his face. His eyes dart to your lips, then back to your eyes, and he swallows hard.

As you shift on his lap, Bob's hands instinctively find their way to your waist, gently gripping it as if to steady you. His touch is tentative, almost reverent, as if he's touching something precious and fragile.

Heat pools in your stomach as Bob holds onto you, your hips mindlessly moving down on his ever so slightly before you catch yourself in the act. "Oh, uh, sorry I'm slightly restless." you try to awkwardly brush it off.

Bob doesn't miss the way your hips move down on his ever so slightly, his grip on your waist involuntarily tightening a bit in response. The action sends a jolt through his body, and he swallows hard, his gaze fixed on you.

"It's... it's alright," he mutters softly, his voice slightly huskier than usual. He tries to hide the effect your closeness has on him, but there's a hint of desire in his eyes that betrays his composure.

Bob's eyes darted to yours, searching for any signs of objection, his own eyes filled with a tentative hunger. He starts to grind his hips upward, almost sneakily at first, as if testing the waters. His erection grows with each subtle movement, pressing against you through his sweatpants. His breathing becomes shallower, his hands on your waist guiding you in a rhythm that matches his own. 

The atmosphere in the room changes, growing thick with unspoken desire.

Your head falls onto his shoulder, your breath hot against his neck, small gentle moans leaving your parted lips. “Fuck, Bob.” You quickly stand up, taking a few steadying breath as your set your stuff onto the table. 

Bob's eyes widen at your sudden decision to stand, disappointment and confusion clear on his face. "Wait, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity. 

He's still a bit flustered, his cheeks flushed and his arousal clearly visible through his sweatpants, but he's more confused by your sudden change in demeanor. He reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch tentative, "What are you doing?"

“I’m just cleaning up a bit,” you slide out of your shorts and underwear, biting your lip as you move back between his legs, fumbling with the waistband of his pants. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes darkened with lust, and lean down to kiss Bob deeply. His hands move from your waist to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. He kisses you back with a passion that surprises you, his tongue exploring your mouth eagerly. 

You feel his hands begin to slide down your thighs, urging you to straddle him once more. You oblige, settling over his lap, aligning your body with his. He pulls your shirt over your head, exposing your whole body to the chill air. 

With a grind of your hips, you feel the head of his cock nudge against your entrance, still covered by the fabric of his pants. The anticipation is agonizingly delicious. Bob's hands move to the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough to free his erection.

You sink back down onto his lap, the tip of his cock teasing your wetness. He groans into your mouth as you take him in, inch by inch, feeling him stretch and fill you completely. Your hands grip his shoulders tightly as you adjust to the feeling of his length inside you.

With a needy whine, you rock your hips back and forth, savoring the feeling of him stretching you open. Bob's grip tightens on your ass, guiding your movements as he thrusts up to meet you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the air, along with your increasingly desperate moans. You lean back, placing your hands on the couch cushions for support, and grind down on him, taking his entire length with a shuddering gasp. 

The new angle hits your g-spot, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Bob's eyes glaze over as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement, and he can't help but reach up to fondle them, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. 

His hips buck upwards, driving into you with a fervor that matches your own, your wetness making each stroke smoother, each thrust more urgent. With a surprising surge of strength, Bob stands up with you still impaled on his cock, his arms wrapping around your waist to support you. 

He carries you over to the nearby armchair and gently lowers you down into it, your legs draping over the sides. He positions himself in front of you, his muscular frame towering above as he takes over the pace of your lovemaking. 

Your eyes widen in a mix of awe and arousal at the display of his power, feeling utterly dominated yet cherished in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer as he begins to thrust into you with a gentle yet firm force. 

Bob's movements are calculated, each one hitting the perfect spot within you, as if he's reading your body like a map of pleasure. You lean back, arching your neck, and he takes the opportunity to kiss and suck along the delicate skin, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. 

Your nails dig into his back, leaving faint marks as you scratch him in your passion. The sensation sends a thrill through his body, spurring him on as he continues to fuck you with increasing vigor.

The sound of your moans and the wet slap of your bodies echo in the quiet room, the intensity of your connection growing with each passing second. You take one of his hands and bring it to your mouth, sucking on his fingers before tracing them down to your clit, guiding him to give it the attention it craves. 

His touch sends waves of pleasure through you, and you feel your orgasm building, threatening to overtake you at any moment. Bob's eyes never leave yours, watching every expression of ecstasy that flits across your face. He adjusts his angle slightly, and you gasp as he hits that spot again and again. 

Your breath comes in pants and gasps, your eyes glazed with lust. His own need is palpable, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. But he's determined to bring you to the edge first, to hear you scream his name in pleasure. 

As you ride the wave of your climax, you can't help but bite down on his neck, leaving your own mark on his skin. His groans of pleasure only serve to push you higher, your body clenching around him as you come. 

The sensation of your tightening pussy is too much for Bob to handle, and with a final, powerful thrust, he joins you in release, his hot cum filling you up as he spills over the edge. For a moment, the two of you stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath of your shared passion, before he gently pulls out and sits down beside you. 

You lean into him, your bodies sticky with sweat, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.  Bob's heart is racing and his breathing is ragged as he holds you close to his chest. He's completely dazed by the intensity of what just happened, the room still filled with the evidence of their passion. 

He gently brushes some sweaty strands of hair out of your face, his touch now tender and loving, a stark contrast to the heated passion of moments ago. "Fuck, you’re so beautiful… My pretty baby." he whispers, his voice a soft, reverent tone.

[fromdove]

The oven clock hums in the quiet, blue-lit kitchen.

5:27 a.m. The numbers blink at you like you personally wronged them—like you committed war crimes against their digital family and their only form of retaliation is flickering judgment at you in LED red.

You squint back, unrepentant. The apartment holds its breath. Outside, Gotham isn’t dreaming—it never does. It paces. Restless. Sirens cut through the early morning murk like lullabies for the damned. Somewhere out there, someone’s bleeding, someone’s running, someone’s already clocking in for the graveyard shift that never ends, a bus driver lighting a cigarette with fingers still shaking from the night shift.

The city isn’t sleeping. It’s grinding its molars, turning over in its own filth.

The wind licks the window, not gently, but like it’s testing the glass—like it’s bored and looking for something to break.

And somehow, by some divine interventional clerical error, your responsibilities haven’t kicked the door down yet.

“We talked all night,” you murmur.

Dick hums in agreement, sitting cross-legged on the tile like he belongs there, wearing sleep like an afterthought. He’s in sweats and a shirt that you bought him. His hair’s damp from a half-hearted shower, his cheek smudged with what might be ice-cream or a healing bruise—it's always hard to tell with him. always a coin toss.

You’re perched on the countertop like some shrine, legs swinging in lazy arcs, socked feet brushing the cabinet every time you swing your legs backward. There’s an open tub of half-melted ice cream between you. A spoon balances precariously in your hand, forgotten.

“You realize we spent two hours ranking vigilante catchphrases and another forty-five debating whether penguins would survive Gotham winter,” you say.

“I know,” he replies, sipping cold tea like it’s a fine wine. “I just thought we were both committing to the bit.”

“What bit?”

“The sleep-deprived heart-to-heart we pretend isn’t happening.”

"This was not a sleep deprived heart-to-heart."

He looks up, eyes wide with mock innocence. “Exactly. That’s the denial stage. My point stands.”

You scoff, but your grin betrays you. “You’re dumb.”

“I’m right.”

“No, you’re—” You cut off with a snort, unable to finish through the laugh crawling up your throat. “Whatever.”

He shrugs, eyes still locked on yours. “Still made you laugh.”

“I was laughing at you-”

He’s moving before you even finish speaking—like the sentence gave him permission. He stands, pushes his palms into his knees, and crosses the space between you in that slow, deliberate way of his. Not dramatic. Just present.

He steps between your knees. His hands lift, hover, then settle lightly on your thighs—fingertips barely there, like he’s afraid too much contact might undo something. There’s a tremble in it, not from nerves but restraint, like he’s touching the edge of a page he’s scared to tear.

You don’t move. Not because you’re being coy, but because everything in you stills when he’s this close. Like the silence has weight now.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, your voice a decrescendo.

“You’re letting me,” he replies, and suddenly it feels like the kitchen’s not holding its breath anymore. You are.

His hand isn’t lingering at your thigh anymore—it’s at your jaw. He tilts your face towards him, his eyes tracing your face like his intention is mapping you again with the memory of someone who’s traced you before, under kinder lighting. Like he’s not just touching skin, but checking if the shape of you still fits what he remembers.

He leans in—slow, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, even though he knows you won’t. His breath ghosts over your mouth first, warm and a little shaky.

Then he goes in—no more waiting.

The kiss starts of gentle. His mouth brushes yours softly, like he’s trying not to wake something. You inhale sharply, and he pauses. You lean in.

And that’s when it deepens.

It’s not frantic, but there's intention behind it. He kisses you like he’s making a point, and the point is You, me, here, now. His hands settle at your waist anchoring you to him, pulling you closer, and yours find his neck, fingers threading into the hair at his nape, damp and warm.

There’s a kind of ache in it—slow, knowing. Not hunger, exactly, but the full-bodied weight of recognition. He tastes like mint toothpaste and sleep deprivation.

When you pull back, your breathing is uneven, lips kissed swollen, forehead pressed to his like punctuation.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He smiles, and it’s real. Not his charming, PR-smile. This is the smile he only gives when you’re the only one awake with him.

“Hi,” he echoes, soft as breath.

You keep your eyes closed.

Then: “So... if I said I wanted pancakes now, you’d say—?”

He groans dramatically, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I knew that kiss had a motive.”

“Pancakes and affection for your amazing and kind and scrumptious girlfriend. Not exactly a criminal demand.”

He lifts his head and kisses you again—just once, firm and warm and maybe even a little possessive.

“I’m dating a con artist.”

“You love it.”

He laughs into your neck. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I do.”

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

❤︎︎ tws : nsfw, reverse cowgirl, fem!reader, semi-public sēx?, creampie, degradation, humiliation, school / modern au, mydei being a brat, dom!reader, spanking and heavy breeeding. mdni.

Nerd Phainon and nerd Mydei. Gods, they were so easy to tease.

Phainon with his big, innocent eyes behind those glasses, always blushing when you leaned too close. Always fumbling his pens, always stuttering when you called him “good boy” in front of the others. And Mydei? All sharp tongue and zero bite, a little brat that tried to snark back—only to crumble the second you grabbed his jaw and made him look at you.

You were a bully. That much was clear. But they kept coming back. Maybe it was the way you pressed them to the lockers, whispered filth in their ears during group projects. Or maybe, maybe it was right now—when both of them had ditched study group to sneak into the abandoned library wing with you.

Phainon sat obediently on a dusty chair, legs spread, cock flushed and leaking, his knuckles white as he held back from bucking. He wanted to be good. You liked that about him. Mydei, on the other hand, had that desperate, whiny glare—already spent once and glaring at you like it was your fault his thighs were still shaking.

“You’re not even gonna kiss me?” Mydei muttered breathlessly, panting as he watched you sink down onto Phainon’s lap in a filthy reverse cowgirl. Your tight skirt pushed up, panties hanging off one ankle, your hands gripping Phainon’s knees as you bounced. “S’not fair…”

“You can sit there and watch like a good brat,” you panted, glancing back over your shoulder. “You didn’t earn it.”

Phainon whimpered, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “Y-You're so tight, oh god—“

“Of course I am, sweetheart.” You leaned back slightly, making sure he got the perfect view of your ass slapping against his thighs. "You better cum deep, baby. I want it dripping out while I deal with your mouthy friend."

Mydei bit his lip hard. His hand drifted down to stroke himself again, but you caught him.

“Ah-ah,” you sing-songed, lifting one hand to smack his inner thigh. He jolted with a curse. “No touching unless I say.”

“Fuckin’—” he hissed, biting down a moan. “You’re evil.”

You smirked and rolled your hips harder on Phainon, his glasses fogged and his mouth hanging open.

“M-Mistress, I’m gonna—please—!” he gasped, and you laughed, full and bright, as his voice cracked mid-sentence.

“Then do it, good boy. Fill me up. Give me everything.”

Phainon came with a sweet, desperate cry, clinging to your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to reality. You didn’t stop. Didn’t let up. Not until he was trembling and spent, whimpering as your hand lazily cupped over your tummy.

“Good boy,” you purred, bending forward just a little. Your skirt slipped down a bit, ass still bare. “Now it’s your turn, Mydei.”

He blinked, flushed and stiff and ready. “…Wait, really?”

“Only if you bend over and take your spanking first. Brats get punished.”

His cock twitched.

“…Fuck. Okay.”

You smiled, licking your lips.

“C’mon… let’s go,” you whispered with a smirk, one hand yanking Mydei by the collar while your other kept Phainon tucked close behind you. He was still shaky from the way you’d milked him dry, stumbling and pink-cheeked as you dragged both nerds out of the dusty library and into an empty classroom nearby.

The moment the door clicked shut, Mydei let out a sharp, bratty sigh. “About damn time—”

Smack.

Your palm landed squarely on his ass.

“Ow—! Fuck—”

“Did I say you could speak yet?” you purred, grabbing his hips and pushing him forward over the teacher’s desk. “I told you. Brats get punished.”

Phainon stood awkwardly by the wall, trying not to look too hard at your dripping pussy when you pulled your panties fully off, but failing miserably. You could feel his eyes on you. His breath caught every time your skirt flipped up or your fingers grazed your slick folds.

But you had a brat to deal with first.

“Count for me, brat,” you teased, bringing your hand down hard across Mydei’s ass again. It jiggled under your palm, a pretty red bloom marking his pale skin.

“S-screw you—”

Smack.

“That’s two.”

He growled into the desk, but obeyed.

“…Three.”

Another smack. “Louder.”

“Four, fuck, four, okay?!”

“Good boy,” you whispered, finally sliding your soaked fingers along the seam of his thighs. His cock was twitching between his legs, painfully hard and leaking. You dragged your fingers down to your pussy, collecting your own arousal and smearing it over his tip, taunting him.

“You want this pussy, Mydei?” you cooed, dragging the lips apart right in front of his flushed face, letting him see the creamy mess still clinging to your folds from Phainon’s earlier load. “Gonna stuff this brat cock in where your friend just came?”

His answer was a pathetic little whimper, hips rutting against air.

“Use your words,” you warned, reaching around to spank the base of his cock.

“Yes, I want it—I want that sloppy pussy, please, I’ll be good—!”

You grinned and leaned over him, one knee up on the desk, teasing your dripping cunt along his shaft, back and forth until his legs shook.

Behind you, Phainon was panting quietly, trying so hard not to touch himself again. His glasses had slid halfway down his nose. His cock was already twitching back to life in his pants. You turned slightly, just enough so he could see everything—how slowly you sank down onto Mydei, how your pussy stretched around the head of his cock, swallowing him inch by inch with a slick, wet squelch.

“Watch closely, sweetheart,” you told Phainon with a breathy moan. “Watch how a brat gets tamed.”

Mydei gasped—half in relief, half in overstimulation—as your walls clamped around him.

“F-fuck… so tight… ngh—too hot—”

You bounced slowly, deliberately, moaning low as your pussy milked him deeper. His hands clawed at the desk, nails scratching the surface as you picked up pace, slapping down onto him again and again until the room was filled with filthy sounds—slick, wet, needy.

“You feel that?” you gasped, grinding your hips down hard. “That’s your punishment, baby. You’re gonna cum deep and you’re not pulling out. This pussy wants to breed you.”

Mydei cursed beneath you, helpless now—hips jerking up into every thrust.

“Gonna fill you—fuck, fuck, please, let me—!”

Your walls clenched hard. You reached behind and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back.

“Then do it.” Your voice was low, dangerous. “Pump that load into me like the useless little nerd you are. Breed your bully’s pussy, baby.”

That was all it took.

He came hard, choking on a moan, his cock twitching deep inside your spasming walls as he emptied himself, thick and hot and spilling past your lips with every pulse. You sighed, grinding against him through the aftershocks, letting the creamy mess ooze out around him.

“…Fuck,” he whined into the desk, weak and used.

You stood slowly, adjusting your skirt with your pussy still dripping both nerds’ loads, letting it trickle down your thighs.

Then, you turned to Phainon.

His eyes were wide. His pants tight again.

You smiled.

“Your turn, sweet boy. Bring your desk chair over here.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[helen-with-an-a]

would you ever write a smut about lena trying to bottom with R it doesn’t necessarily have to work out (she might not be into it in the end or she is either way 🤷‍♀️) but i could see her being open to trying with R because it’s a representation of how intimate her trust and love with R is ❤️

Hello, lovely anon. So, I decided to do this as a smutty one hehe (😈) and have decided to split this into two parts (they're kind of linked but not a direct part two if that makes sense). The second part will be out in a couple weeks, I think. I hope you enjoy it.

The Dream (18+) // The Reality (18+)

The Dream (18+)

Lena Oberdorf x reader

Description: Lena had a very good dream and is now in her head about it.

TW: Smut, 18+, Cunnilingus (R giving), Fingering (R giving), Thigh Riding (R receiving), Lena being a bit of an idiot.

A/N: The text that is in Bold Italics is Lena's dream ; the normal text is present-day

It had started as a dream. A happy dream. A very happy dream.

It was late summer; the stress of the Euros had melted away, but the pressures of pre-season were yet to start. It was that perfect moment in time, where nothing mattered, and time was told by the length of shadows. It was wonderful and perfect and peaceful.

Lena was sure that the dream had come from your teasing, you had spent the day wondering around Munich, hand-in-hand and sharing sweet kisses. You were wearing that top she loved on you so much, the one that rose up ever so slightly when you lifted your arms. It had been a day full of sunshine and kisses and laughter and it was bliss.

You weren’t wearing much, just your bra and a pair of shorts. Her shorts. The ones that were a little too big on you so you ‘just had to roll the waistband’ (your words, not hers, accompanied by a not-so-innocent smile and a cheeky wink). It wasn’t your fault that the more you rolled them, the lower they sat on your hips and more the excess material bunched around your arse.

The day had been filled with easy touches that drove Lena wild – a barely-there-squeeze to her hip as you made her her morning coffee, a trail of fingertips over her abdomen as you gave her a sweet kiss when she grabbed something off the top of shelf for you, a featherlight kiss to her jaw as she threw her arm around you, keeping you close. All of it just enough to leave her wanting more.

You were standing at the counter, half an eye on your phone as you scrolled, the other half on espresso you were attempting to pull through the fancy machine. You had never looked so stunning. Not when you were celebrating the highs of football with her, not when you got all dressed up for a date night, not when you wore her jersey and only her jersey.

“You’re staring.” You didn’t flinch, not a singular muscle moving.

“I’m admiring,” Lena corrected, her smile widening as you finally turned to face her.

“You’re staring,” you said again, turning around and leaning back against the counter, forgetting about the coffee entirely. “Luckily, for you … I happen to like it when you stare at me.” You shrugged casually.

“Oh really,” she teased, coming to stand in front of you, caging in you.

“Really.” You took her jaw gently in your hand, the perfect amount of pressure to tilt her head just the way you wanted. “But I’ve got a secret,” you whispered. “I like to stare at you too.” You surged forward, kissing her slowly, languidly, dominating the kiss.

Lena wasn’t too sure how to broach the conversation with you. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that Lena liked to be … in charge … in control. You weren’t too upset with the dynamic either. You had been together for so long at this point that she wasn’t sure you wanted a change. You had never asked for anything else. You and Lena had been together since you were teenagers. Growing up together, moving around Germany to help her live her dreams. All of her first had been you. First crush, First kiss, First girlfriend, First love, First time. It was all you. Only you. It was awkward and messy and honest and raw and beautiful. She wasn’t sure you would want what she was asking for.

“Relax,” You mumbled into her neck, teeth scraping against her skin as she arched into you.

This wasn’t entirely foreign to either of you. You had sucked plenty of hickeys into her skin before. But this time felt different. This time, you were calling the shots. The fingers tangled in your hair weren’t directing you, they weren’t tugging you to a different spot or guiding you further down her body. This time, Lena’s fingers scratched at your scalp purely in pleasure, her whimpers and moans the only sound in the room as you took your time nipping and kissing your way across her body.

Lena had been acting odd for days now. Like she was trying to psych herself up to say something big. You weren’t sure what, but it was definitely something. You could see it as she stared into space, a frown etched on her face. You could see it in the way she bit her lip as she pushed her food around the plate. You could see it in the way she tossed and turned at night, unable to fall asleep and stay peaceful.

“Please,” Lena cried out in frustration, bucking her hips up as you refused to touch her where she really wanted.

“Relax,” you said again, pinching at her nipple.

“Angel, please,” she tried again, forcing herself to take a steadying breath.

You traced along her hip and down to the top of her thigh with your nose, inhaling as you went. She smelled like cherries and desire.

“I said … relax.” You teased again, nibbling at her inner thigh, refusing to touch her in the way you knew she wanted.

“I’m trying, baby. I-” Lena’s breath hitched as you skimmed lightly just above where she needed to most. “Please.” She was desperate now, one hand tangling in your hair, the other fisting the sheets. She was close to tears with how badly she wanted you. She had never felt like this before, in out of control yet so fiercely empowered. She was so safe with you, even through your teasing, your denial, she felt so loved, so protected, so honoured.

“Giuli, please. What do I do?” You begged your best friend.

“Calm down,” She laughed, taking a sip of her coffee. She was entirely too nonchalant about this – cool, calm and collected as she sank into the sofa.

You on the other hand, were a nervous wreck. You couldn’t sit still – you had tried, but then your leg shook so hard you almost spilled your drink. Instead, you had taken to pacing around the room, biting your lip as you tried to get your best friends advice.

“Calm down?” You scoffed. How could she tell you to calm down? “Lena is about to break up with me, and you’re telling me to calm down?”

This could not be happening. Not only was Lena your person – the only one you wanted when things got hard, the first person you wanted to talk to when life was going well, the love of your life, your everything – she was the reason for most of your friends in Munich. You worked from home most of the time, in the tiny shoebox of an office you had insisted remained a football-free zone. You weren’t that sociable; you found it hard to meet strangers and were a total homebody. Lena had introduced you to the girls, volunteering to host one of the team bonding sessions when she first arrived in Munich. You knew most of them through the national team, having heard stories and met Guilia, Lea, Sydney, Klara, and the others many times. But it all boiled down to her. If she left … if she realised she didn’t want you anymore … they would all go with her.

“Obi isn’t going to break up with you,” Guilia said emphatically, rolling her eyes at your dramatics.

“Then why is she acting so weird?” You huffed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. She isn’t talking to me, always staring off into the distance, she isn’t sleeping well, she barely does anything more than kiss me good morning and good night. Even that’s just a peck. And it’s never just a peck.” You were close to tears. “She only acts like this when she’s stressed out, and from what I’ve heard everything’s going pretty well at Bayern, all of her family are ok. So that just leaves me.” You bit your lip hard, trying to force the stinging in your eyes to go away.

Guilia looked up, fulling taking in how nervous you were about this. Your hair was a mess – a sign that you had been running your hands through it in stress – and your lips were red and cracked where you had bitten them to pieces. You were almost vibrating with anxious energy, utterly convinced that Lena was going to be waiting for you at home with a sad smile and instructions to be gone by the weekend.

“Just … take a seat, okay? You’re stressing me out with your nervousness.” You did as she asked, perching on edge of the seat. “Listen to me when I tell you this … Obi is 100% not going to break up with you.” Guilia thought back to the ring Lena had shown a few of the girls a couple of weeks ago, stashed away in the locker room at the Bayern campus. “That girl is head over heels for you. I don’t know why she’s so weird right now, but I promise you, hand on my heart and hope to die, on my mother’s life, that girl isn’t breaking up with you.”

Lena jumped a mile when you blew gently, the cold air hitting her clit perfectly. “Hmmm,” you smirked up at her from in between her thighs. “You’re wet.” You ran on finger across her slit, making her moan at the feeling of finally being touched. “I think you liked it.” You slowly gathered some of the wetness before drawing teasing, lazy shapes across her skin.

Lena couldn’t deny it, she most definitely liked the slow, agonising, electrifying torture.

Without warning, you swatted her pussy lightly. The contact making her squeal in surprise that gave way to a wanton moan. You watched in awe as she squeezed around nothing, the way she squirmed, desperate for some kind of friction. “Did you like it?”

Lena gulped, pushing her head back against the pillows as she felt every nerve in her system tingle with a lust-filled haze. When no answer was coming, you brought your hand down again, relishing in the squeaky whimper that she let out. “Answer me,” you demanded, smiling softly and pressing a quick kiss to the pinkish bruises scattering her inner thighs.

“Yes, yes, yes.” She sighed, her hand tightening in your hair. “I liked it.”

“I know,” you quirked an eyebrow teasingly, waiting until she made eye contact before licking a broad stripe up her cunt.

“Lea, what do I do?” Lena begged, flopping down on the sofa, phone resting on her chest.

“Obi, I-” Lea’s voice rattled through the speaker.

“I need to tell her, right? Obviously, I do.” Lena answered her own question, her mind already working a million miles a minute. “It’s just … how do I bring it up?” Lena bit her lip, ignoring the advice Lea was trying to give her.

“-need to talk to her, what’s the wors-”

“I’ll make her favourite dinner; that’s a good place to start right? It can be an ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so weird’ dinner but also like the start of a date? We haven’t had one of those in a while. That’s probably why I’m so in my head about this.” Lena sat up again, moving into the kitchen to check the fridge.

“Obi” Lea tried, knowing that her attempt was useless. She knew her best friend was only on the phone to talk through her idea and not because she actually wanted advice.

“No, yeah, I’m listening, I just … we’re out of some of the ingredients, so I’ll have to go to the shops. But how should I bring it up? Start with an apology, I guess. That’s where I’d want her to start if it was the other way around. An apology and an explanation, not an excuse. So, dinner, romance, apology, explanation, and then ask. That’s easy enough.”

Lea hummed, switching to speaker and started to make her own plans for this afternoon, knowing Lena wouldn’t need any contribution on her part.

“Ok, so just something like, hi my lovely, wonderful, beautiful, stunning, gorgeous girlfriend that I love above all else, here’s your favourite food. I’m sorry I fucked up this weekend, I know I’m acting weird. It’s just I had a really good sex dream, and I can’t stop thinking about it and it made me freak out a little. Anyways, it’s not an excuse but yeah, I’m so sorry. So, care to know about the details?”

“No.” Lea screeched, concerned that she may be privy to information she really didn’t want to know. “Ew, no.” Sure Lea and Lena were close … but they weren’t that close.

“Not you, spoonhead. I’ll ask her if she wants to know the details.” Lena rolled her eyes, picking up her car keys from the bowl on the table. “Anyways, I’ve got to go, big plans and all that. Thanks for the chat, love ya.”

“Love yo-”.

The dial tone cut her off.

“Oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop, shit.” Lena arched off the bed, totally lost in pleasure. You hummed throatily at her taste, lapping at her clit as your fingers worked against her.

“Fuck, shit, oh god, fuck.” She was so close she could taste her orgasm. Her toes curled and mouth fell open in a silent scream. Just one, two, thre-

You pulled your fingers out of her, watching in awe as she quivered around nothing. “Wh-no, oh my god, no, no, no, I was so close.” Lena writhed, feeling the bubble shrink again.

“I know,” you smirked that beautiful, disarming, wicked grin as you kissed your way up her body, relishing in the thin sheen of sweat and the way her chest rose with every laboured breath.

“That was mean,” Lena complied, pouty and making herself look shockingly adorable.

“I know,” you winked, bringing her in for a messy kiss. She gasped as she tasted herself on your lips, the sound turning into a melodic moan as your thigh slipped between hers, giving her something to rock against. “That’s it, baby. There were go, use me.” You mumbled against her lips, smiling into another kiss as she tried to find her rhythm.

You hid at Guilia’s all afternoon, refusing to go home until you were physically dragged to the door. If you weren’t home, Lena couldn’t break up with you.

“For the love of god, she is not going to break up with you. Just grow a pair and ask her for fuck sakes. You’ve been together since you were 14, Christ on a bike. Just talk. To. Her.”

You were shoved through the door and her the click behind you.

The walk back to yours was long enough for you to figure out what you were going to say. If when she broke up with you, you would be devastated, you knew that much. She was the light of your life, the only thing that made sense, your first thought of the day and the last idea before you went to sleep. Loving Lena was the only thing you had ever known. You would go with as much grace as you could, accepting her words and waiting until you were in private to break down.

You trudged up the stairs, desperately not wanting to do this. But needs must as they say.

Lena must have been waiting for you, watching through the camera on the doorbell for you to appear. You hadn’t even fished your keys out of your pocket and the door was being wrenched open.

“Hi,” Lena smiled, that lovesick smile that you knew so well.

Maybe … you weren’t being dumped tonight.

“Hi?”

“More,” Lena gasped, her nails digging into your back, leaving red marks you would complain about later in their wake. Lena could feel the bubble in her belly growing again, slower this time but just as strong.

“More?” You asked, giving her another kiss as you drew your own hips along her thigh.

“More,” she panted, nodding as your fingers trailed across her chest. “Please, need more.”

“Stop moving for a minute, baby,” You mumbled pulling away to look where your fingers were. She whimpered pitifully, but did as you asked, pressing her forehead against your temple as you eased your fingers back inside.

“There we go,” you smiled, turning back to look at her, studying her face with reverence.

She looked phenomenal; the way her eyebrows crinkled as she focused on the pleasure building, the way her eyes were screwed tightly shut, the way her mouth hung open, soft puffs of air coming out with every exhale. You started to move your hips against her thigh again, matching your speed with your fingers.

“Shit,” she whispered softly, opening her eyes to lock gazes with you.

“Feel good?” you asked pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Gone was the teasing tone and playful bravado. Your whole being was focussed on her and her pleasure.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, the noise giving way to another moan as you brushed her clit with your thumb.

“Gonna cum?” You could tell she was close again – she was tightening around your fingers so deliciously, her hips matched your thrusts perfectly, the air getting caught in her lungs just like it always did before she fell over the edge.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, g-gonna cum, fuck,” she babbled.

“Who are you cumming for, my love? Who’s making you feel this good?” You rocked against her harsher now, your own fire growing in your belly.

“You, you, oh my god, you.” She was louder now, her hand gripping the back of your neck almost painfully. “Shit, I’m cumming.”

“W-wait, wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. You ignored more for days, acted so weird it was untrue, and was so stressed out that I thought you were going to break up with me because of a fucking sex dream?” You were incredulous.

“Well, when you said it like that, it sounds stupid.” Lena huffed, looking down at the table.

“It is stupid,” you said bluntly.

You were beyond grateful that there wasn’t anything serious going on, that it was just Lena being her typical self and overthinking things. But you couldn’t help the bubble of hurt that welled in your chest; did she not trust you? Did she not trust you enough to just talk it through?

“Did I … did I do something that made you not want to talk about this?” you asked quietly, scared of what she might say.

“What?” Lena was shocked, out of all the things she thought you might say, she never, ever, in a million years, thought you would blame yourself for this.

“You seemed pretty stressed out about this, and it’s not like we haven’t had conversations about sex and our sex life before, so, I don’t know, did I … do something, make you feel like you couldn’t come to me about this? If I did, I’m so sorry, baby, I-”

“No, angel, no. Never. Oh my god, no.” Lena rushed out, surging forward and cupping you cheeks as if you were the most delicate thing on earth. “I just … got in my head. I promise you, you did nothing wrong at all. I’m just an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are.” You smiled, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“But I’m your idiot.” Lena smiled back, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Yeah, you are.” You pulled her into a proper kiss. “So, tell me about this dream.”

[neeeooon]

i think otoya is the kind of person who is aware that he is capable of changing his ways with girls when he finds the “one”, but he’s never truly believed in that. but when when like a girl transfers it’s quite literally love at first sight and he wants to change for her. you can decide whether she gets with him or not, thanks so muchh !! ^^

aww yes i love this idea tysm!!

love of my dreams

otoya eita x fem!reader. ft. karasu and yukimiya. love at first sight. fluff, crack, otoya is a bit weird at the start, cussing, slight death/kms joke at the end. wc: 810

“fuck.”

otoya just told karasu and yukimiya how much he liked his bachelor life. how he wasn’t ready to change. to settle down.

and then you just had to walk through those damn doors.

“fuck.”

you had a guide at your side, telling otoya you were a transfer student. his eyes were glued on you, and every step you took, unable to tear his gaze away. he wanted to know your name, where you transferred from, and what you were studying. probably something similar to him, as you were being toured through his building.

a sharp jab caused him to curse again, and otoya shot a glare at karasu and the cheap plastic butter knife he’d been stabbed with. “yer staring.”

“of course i’m staring. i’m in love.”

“you don’t do love,” yukimiya chimed with a snicker before shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth. “that’s your whole thing.”

otoya didn’t want it to be his whole thing anymore—not after seeing you.

he continued to think about you through the rest of his lunch, then his classes, his drive home, and even while he was texting yukimiya for answers to their finance homework. he didn't believe in love at first sight, at least he didn't think he did. you changed that so quick, otoya was still reeling six hours later.

otoya: i need her number

otoya: pls be my spies pls pls pls

karasu: i never thought i'd see down bad otoya like for real and not just to get pussy

otoya: is that a yes

karasu: for all we know she has a boyfriend

yukimiya: or a girlfriend

otoya: GODDDD IM GOING INSANE I NEED HER SO BAD

otoya: she's the one for me. i'm done. no more playboy otoya.

yukimiya: if you're serious. REALLY SERIOUS. i'll help

karasu: same ig

otoya: there's a special place in blowjob heaven for you two 🙏

and two days later, with the help of yukimiya and karasu, otoya had intel. they also told him you had a gap in your schedule and ate lunch by yourself in the dining hall.

and when otoya saw you? he was nervous.

your hair was pulled away from your face, the eraser-end of your pencil tapping your lips as you concentrated so hard on your homework that a delicate crease formed between your brows. otoya wanted to smooth it out with his thumb and kiss the spot instead.

shaking his head, his grip tightened around his sandwich as he slowly approached you. when you looked up, otoya felt his face grow hot. "sorry to bother you. is this seat taken?"

you rapidly shook your head and gestured to the chair. "no, no, you can take it! just make sure you put it back—"

"i mean, is it okay if i sit here?" he quickly cut off with a small grin, his chest fluttering when you blushed in embarrassment.

you dropped your pencil to hide your face in your hands. "oh my god, i'm so... yeah, yes, you can sit here." shaking your hands out to release some of the stress, you flashed a bright smile. "i'm y/n."

“otoya,” he greeted casually, as if a flock of butterflies didn’t make a home in his stomach.

you repeated his name quietly to yourself before nodding. “i think i’ve seen you in this building before. what are you majoring in?”

when he told you, your eyes lit up so brightly that otoya swore they glittered. “no way! me too! weird that we don’t have any classes together, though. maybe next semester!”

the rest of the time spent before your next class was filled with the two of you talking. otoya thought he'd fail at the genuine small talk thing since he didn't want to use any of his usual lines on you, but he was surprised at how easy it was. whenever he got quiet, you were right there to pick up where he left off.

"this might be too soon," otoya started as he walked you to your class. "but would you want to hang out again tomorrow?"

your smile faltered slightly, and otoya was ready to jump over the rail and fall to the first floor. it wasn't too far down, so he probably wouldn't die, but if he hobbled in front of a truck right after—

"i don't have this class tomorrow," you explained gently. "but would thursday work instead?"

fireworks exploded behind otoya's eyes, along with the relief of no longer needing to die. he readjusted his grip on his bag strap and flashed you a slow grin. "thursday works. same spot as today?"

you beamed. "yep! oh, and here's my number, in case i'm late or we have to reschedule!"

otoya knew, as you entered your name into his phone with a cute emoji, that he would eventually die a happy man.

[tqlepatia]

⋮ ⌗┆FA$$HION KILLA .ᐟ ( II )

— OLDER ! RICH ! SEVIKA × MODEL ! MOTHER ! READER ( HCS ) —

౨ৎ - 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒' : " Here it iss !! I writed 2 times and tumblr deleted 😓 but thank God i have a big patience and writed it again, — angst, baby blues implied, and a lot of fluff (･ω･) . ".

𖹭 - Sevika knew she wanted to marry you the second she saw you doing shoots for the bridal collection of Vivienne Westwood, specially on the last dress.

𖹭 - "How would you feel about keeping one of those dresses?" You didn't understand until she pulled a ring from her blazer pocket, unmistakably the one that once belonged to Sevika's mom.

𖹭 - When you walked through the aisle, Sevika let herself cry a little in front of people, for the first time in years.

𖹭 - Honeymoon in Italy. You both barely left the room, too busy making love all day and night.

𖹭 -Sevika bought a new property-lush land, a greenhouse, a marble kitchen filled with cookbooks.

𖹭 - You started sleeping in, missing fittings without guilt—You stopped walking for a season, turned down four campaigns, and didn't feel bad about it.

𖹭 - You began documenting your domestic life privately-film photography, garden photos, table settings.

𖹭 - At night, Sevika would read the newspaper while you journaled on the sofa around the left side of the pool, while sometimes looking at the sky full of stars, sometimes she would stop reading a bit to massage your legs.

𖹭 - You started feeling the difference in your body- heavier breasts, longer naps, sudden cravings.

𖹭 - Sevika notice before you did, She held your hand the moment the test turned positive, barely blinking, just whispering "Okay."

𖹭 - Your bump showed faster than expected, and so did the press commentary.

𖹭 - Many brands of luxury trying to get a piece of the cake, tried to surf on the hype of one of the biggest supermodels being pregnant, sending gifts 24/7.

𖹭 - You began being tagged in "before/after" photos on Instagram, which led you to delete the app and all your social media.

𖹭 - She rubs your back when you throw up and kisses your hair even when you smell like ginger, massage your feet, make your breakfast with help of chefs.

𖹭 - She kissed every new stretch, every soft swell. "You're making something holy", " isn't so graceful that you are bringing another life to this world?" she whispered in soft nights.

𖹭 - Time to time, you realise how much your image was built over validation and numbers everywhere; your height, your weight, how many calories you consumed per day, your number of followers, or even how many runaway shows you got to.

𖹭 - You spent most days on the terrace in robes, drinking ginger tea, reading books about motherhood, so did sevika.

𖹭 - She took over the kitchen. The first time she made soup, she FaceTimed her aunt. You sat on the counter and laughed for twenty minutes at the story of Sevika's short childhood.

𖹭 - Your baby came fast. The labour was simple, you felt bad about the mother beside your room that screamed for hours after you finished your labour, and Sevika was there, holding your hand the whole time, crying as you screaming of pain.

𖹭 - She held the baby first. Then she gave them to you like an offering, the little one was identical to Sevika's baby pictures, for a moment, you thought that the photos had materialised inside your womb.

𖹭 - You bled for weeks, and no one told you how lonely it would feel. The world celebrated the baby but forgot the woman who brought her into

𖹭 - You loved your baby. But sometimes, when the crying didn't stop, you had to put her down and sit on the floor, whispering "Please, please, please."

𖹭

- 𖹭 - 𖹭 - You stayed off the runway for five years. Not because you couldn't. But because you refused to miss her first laugh, her first tantrum, her first step, and all these things.

Some nights, you sat outside on the garden steps and asked the stars for forgiveness for not being glowing, grateful, or the best mom that your daughter deserved.

𖹭 - You and Sevika barely fight, but now you're in a bad mood almost all the time due to the lack of sleep and tiredness, you and she started having little fights till... they weren't little anymore. "I gave up My LIFE for this baby, Sevika! And what did you give up? Nothing! So don't tell me what to do with my daughter." After the fight, she kept silent and slept in the living room.

𖹭 - You cried almost all night that day, at midnight you went to see her awake with the strong brightness of the TV illuminating her face, by your expression she already knew that you were feeling guilty for the words so sharp as a knife earlier. "Lie here love, sleep on my lap, then we'll go to the bedroom, okay?"

𖹭 - Sevika posted photos rarely. The back of your baby's head. You're stirring soup. You asleep against her chest. Always faceless, always sacred, like the world doesn't deserve to see you and your baby.

𖹭 - Your child giggles uncontrollably when Sevika blows raspberries on her little and soft belly, and Sevika grows a habit of treating her like royalty. Some days, the little girl even chooses Sevika’s clothes for work.

𖹭 - The photo Sevika took of you sleeping with the baby on your chest became her phone background for a year ( she changed it for a photo when the little girl took her first steps, you looking at her like this 😮 )

𖹭 - The hate comments stopped mattering when you saw your child run to you, arms open, calling you "mama" and climbing into your lap.

𖹭 - Your daughter painted your nails with Sevika one lazy Sunday. She chose pink. Sevika let her paint hers too. The mess stayed on your hands all day.

𖹭 - You caught her once sitting on the nursery floor alone, staring at the toys. You asked what was wrong. She said, "I never had this. Not even close. I didn't know what it looked like until now." You kissed her temple and told her, "Now you're building it. That's the point." She didn't say anything, just pulled you into her lap and held you like she was grateful you ever existed.

𖹭 - When the fashion house begged you back, you almost said no. Until you looked at your daughter and thought, She should see what it looks like when her mother chooses herself, too.

𖹭 - You worked out until your legs shook, counted almonds, cried over a single croissant, habits thay you got when was just a teenager looking to follow your dreams career, and they're back. But you weren't chasing beauty, you were begging to feel like yourself again, before the world carved judgment into your skin. Sevika found you on the bathroom floor once, scale beneath your feet, and said, "No body is worth this war." But you were already deep in it.

𖹭 - You practice your walks again, more than satisfied when you notice that you still remember perfectly how you used to walk, that was already a part of you, was engraved on your brain—in a way you never forget

𖹭 - The first show you did after five years, you cried backstage. Sevika stood behind the curtain, hand on your shoulder. "You never stopped being a goddess," she said.

𖹭 - After the runway, you went straight home. You didn't want the afterparty. You just wanted to kiss your baby's forehead and check if she was fine.

𖹭 -Interviews started pouring in. You declined most. Until one day, you said yes. It was in your garden. Just two chairs, tea, and wind. The interviewer asked, "How are you so calm now?" You said, "Because I stopped needing approval, the only one I need is from my daughter."

𖹭 -You told her about the hate, the body talk, the way motherhood was romanticized and weaponized all at once. You and the interviewer cried. Not because you were broken. But because healing had finally arrived, The clip went viral. Not for drama. For its stillness.

𖹭 - Sevika watched the interview ten times. "You looked like the woman I fell in love with," she said with a big smile kissing your forehead

𖹭 - Every night, Sevika kissed you like it was the first time. Because in your softness, she found her strength, too.

𖹭 - You started hosting dinners with no phones. Just stories, music, and laughter. You read poetry again. You began to write your own.

𖹭 - When storms hit, Sevika insists you all sleep in the same bed. "Just in case," she says. In case of what, you're never sure. But you never fight it. You like the way she tucks the baby between you two, how her arm curls around both of you like you're precious cargo. You fall asleep to the sound of rain and Sevika's breath, like the world could end and you'd still be safe.

౨ৎ - 𝐓aglist ; @prettyinpink69 , @abbysdollie , @marieeeluvsyou , @littlelovelunette , @madzorwhatever , @zvmbitegirl , @salsalsusu , @kataranda.

[softsuo]

when their s/o gets jealous

⊱ you try to keep it at bay, but green-passing someone getting perhaps a bit too close to your boyfriend isn't your thing ; sakura, suo, kaji

⊱ request: "Imagine sakura, suo and kaji with an s/o that gets jealous and a bit possessive over them. Like not in a toxic, obsessive way but if they see their bfs getting hit on, best believe the s/o's gonna cling a bit more than they usually do and hold on to them until their jealousy simmers down 🙏😝😝"

⊱ w.c: 1.2k (total); 0.4k (average)

⊱ genre: fluff-ish

⊱ warnings: none

⊱ a/n: had too much writing this omg, thank you for requesting <3

sakura haruka

you try to keep it at bay, truly. few things make you happier than seeing people appreciate sakura after all, it warms your heart to extents beyond human comprehension. there is still a limit though.

it hadn’t even been a fight, only sakura helping two girls clearly bothered by some, quote unquote, punks with mere half-threats. it’s part of his duty, right? and it’s also part of his duty to make citizens feel safe, right? so it only makes sense for him to respond when the two come up to thank him, right? and it only makes sense for them to shamelessly act like you’re literally not even there, right? no. no, it doesn’t, and while you can’t blame him and his nature, it admittedly stresses you out when sakura doesn’t know how to respond through more than flustered stutters.

you like to follow the principle of being the bigger person. this time, you find yourself being the bigger problem instead.

“haruka,” you call out, fully going against your so-called principle once you wrap your arms around him from behind. you’re quick to feel his entire body shiver against your own, and if he already wasn’t flustered, you’re sure he is now. maybe you feel a bit bad for doing this to him in broad daylight, but you make a mental note to just apologize a little later. “nirei and suo are waiting for us.”

“what the he— since when do you call me h—” sakura makes an attempt to turn around, though interrupts himself upon processing the smallest of a pout you struggle with suppressing into his back. it’s just a guess, one he’s not certain of at all, but he does know better than to take any risks; clearing his throat, he turns back to the two girls, awkwardly rubbing his burning neck as he explains there’s somewhere you’re supposed to be right now and have to leave.

thus, that’s how you stay there until they’re both out of sight and sakura, still dusted in pink, finally puts his guess out there, “the hell are you being jealous for?”

“the hell are you getting shy around girls for?”

“oh, shut up!”

“and you speak up!”

suo hayato

it’s not like you’re angry or embarrassed or something along those lines, yet your face is damn near burning as you keep it buried into suo’s chest. you’re lying flush against him, legs tangled together, stretched over the sofa. you should feel comfortable. you don’t, and you’re not telling him why.

“i’m sorry, my love,” he apologizes, although he’s quite sure he can’t recall anything particularly wrong throughout the day you spent outside. “so can you please look at me already?”

as if stubborn were your middle name, you shake your head, but mutter anyway, “it’s not your fault.”

“so something is wrong?”

“... i don’t want to talk about it.”

“by chance, are you—”

“suo, no.”

a silence fills the room. only briefly, before suo lets out a light sigh. a hand reaches to gently, barely, caress the back of your head, the touch making your fist subconsciously loosen its grip on his shirt. “you know,” he begins, and your shoulders relax — partly from the soothing tint lacing his voice, partly because there’s no use trying to get around someone so naturally observant. “there’s nothing you have to be jealous of.”

“i know there’s nothing i have to be jealous of,” you retort, nudging his knee with your own. “but that doesn’t mean i have a thing for watching others hit on you like that.”

suo truly tries to hold it back as well as he can, but upon feeling his lips curve against the top of your head, you can easily tell he’s on the verge of laughing. though, it doesn’t make him take your thoughts any less seriously: “is there anything i can do to help you feel better?”

you’re ready to reject the offer — he had been quick to dismiss the previous events after all, clarifying that he already was with someone so he really isn’t at fault — yet you remain quiet, like you’re thinking.

in the end, you opt to wrap your arms around his torso, legs tangling even more chaotically with his. tilting your neck a bit, you allow yourself to rest into the crook of his neck, and the sigh you let out finally makes him laugh. in response, you soon find yourself held impossibly closer as his hands meet at your lower back. there’s a nod, a pair of lips feathering your forehead accompanied by a soft hum, “okay, let’s stay like this then.”

kaji ren

everyone and their mother knows about furin, so it comes rather naturally that they’d know kaji as well. lovely. great. you mean it whenever you think that too! it’s something you often take pride in.

although it can be an issue at times too.

when you exit the school building, you immediately notice the little crowd that’s gathered by the end of its grounds, right next to the gate. albeit somewhat curious on what’s going on, you’re more interested in going home, hence thinking you wouldn’t spare the minor fuss more than a glance or two—until you find out what’s actually going on.

there he stands, just a few meters away from fellow classmates and other students you don’t really know; without a single care for the surroundings, or maybe even awareness, kaji is leaning back against the brick wall, occupied by whatever social media he’s browsing, headphones on. due to his lack of response in curious whispers, gasps of awe and giddy giggles, you quickly assume that the sound of them all is muted behind his music. not that it helps the icky feeling growing inside you.

sure, you like to think you know where the reactions are coming from, and you’re humble enough to not assume each one of them know who you are — although some definitely do — but it’s gnawing on you, that little sense of jealousy you frankly don’t want to admit.

you really do not want to admit it. yet it’s undoubtedly the cause of you just slightly picking up your pace the moment some of the students move to approach him; by the time kaji’s attention is finally torn apart, you’re already ahead of them, safe to say giving him a startle as you soon nearly crash into him.

“i told you, you don’t have to pick me up every time,” you sigh, pulling him closer by the arm you squeeze close to yourself. do you mean it? yes. are you also trying to prove a point? yes? no? maybe so. nonetheless, you repeat the reminder once he tugs the headphones down to his neck, pausing his playlist.

kaji blinks at you a few times and if you didn’t know better, you could almost believe he’s the human embodiment of disinterest. his eyes dart aside though, noting the crowd that’s yet to leave—for better or for worse, you realize the pieces fall into place as soon as he lets out a deep breath.

“whatever,” he mutters and frees his arms from your hold, yet showing no hesitation when he securely grabs your hand in his own. “let’s go, coffee shop’s not waiting for your jealousy.”

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Protective Bob||Bob Reynolds x reader

Summary —you and Bob like each other but instead of being open about it you’d rather pine.

Word count-998

Warnings —club setting and mentions of a mocktail (it’s just cranberry juice, Sprite and a lime) 

You weren’t supposed to be paired with Bob Reynolds tonight. Normally, it’s you and Walker, your usual rhythm, your usual snark, your usual cover stories. But he’s tied up in Prague with Yelena, and the extraction clock in Budapest doesn’t care about partner preferences.

So here you are. In a grimy underground club that smells like cheap vodka and cheaper cologne, running recon with the one member of the Thunderbolts who looks like he should be curled up with a book rather than lurking in the shadows of organized crime.

Bob Reynolds.

He’s tall, quiet, awkward in a way that isn’t unconfident so much as… gentle. You’ve never worked closely with him before, but you’ve seen how he treats the team. Always carrying an extra pair of gloves in case someone’s hands get cold. The only one who apologizes when briefings run long. The guy who’d rather take a hit himself than let anyone else get bruised.

The guy who makes you smile when he doesn’t realize anyone’s watching.

You glance over at him now, pretending to sip a mocktail that was a mix of sprite and cranberry juice while scanning the crowd. He’s posted up just a few feet behind you, pretending not to be tense, sipping soda through a paper straw like it’s part of his cover.

Your target’s contact hasn’t shown yet.

What does show up is trouble.

A man you don’t recognize definitely not on the op sheet sidles up beside you, reeking of cheap whiskey and bravado.

“Hey there,” he says, leaning in far too close. “You look a little too good for this place.”

You shift your weight but don’t respond. Eye contact is the fastest way to encourage someone like him.

He grins. “That’s not a no. You here with someone?”

Before you can shut him down, there’s movement behind you.

Bob. Barstool scraping. Boots against sticky floor.

Then he’s there right between you and the man, shoulders squared, hands clenched at his sides.

“She said no,” Bob says, voice just loud enough to cut through the noise.

The man snorts. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m her… bodyguard.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

Bob, who spent ten minutes apologizing for bumping your elbow in the elevator earlier, now stands puffed-up and awkwardly firm, like someone trying to look like they know how to fight without actually wanting to. His chest rises and falls in short bursts nervous adrenaline, definitely. But he doesn’t back down.

The man sizes him up. Bob’s taller, sure, but not exactly threatening. Still, there’s something… off. Not dangerous, exactly, but unpredictable. Bob’s eye twitches. His fingers twitch. He looks like someone trying very hard to act normal and failing.

It weirds the guy out.

“Right. Whatever. She’s all yours, man,” he mutters, retreating into the crowd.

Bob turns to you, eyes wide. “You okay?”

You raise a brow, biting back a grin. “Terrified. You’re so intimidating.”

He blinks. “Wait—really?”

You loop your arm through his and tug him toward a darker corner. “Oh yeah. Especially that ‘I’m her bodyguard’ bit. Classic.”

“I panicked,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh under your breath, finally relaxing. “You were great.”

The rest of the mission goes off without a hitch. Contact shows, data transfers, you ghost out the back with Bob on your heels like a big loyal retriever.

By the time you get back to the safehouse hotel, it’s well past midnight.

You’re exhausted, and apparently, your room’s keycard doesn’t work.

“Seriously?” you mutter, jiggling the handle again.

Bob peeks out of the door across the hall, already changed into sweatpants and an oversized NASA tee. His glasses are off, blonde curls a bit messy. “Everything okay?”

“Locked out,” you sigh.

He hesitates. “Do you… want to crash in mine? Just until the front desk reactivates it?”

You blink at him.

His ears turn bright red. “Not—not like that. I’ll take the chair. Or the floor. Or you can have the bed—I mean, I wasn’t—”

“Bob,” you interrupt gently, smiling. “I trust you.”

His mouth snaps shut. Then curves upward.

Inside his room, it’s warmer than yours ever was. Lived-in. A book with a cracked spine sits open on the nightstand. Two mugs on the desk. He shrugs out of a blanket draped over the armchair and tosses it your way.

“Bed’s yours,” he says, sitting on the floor without argument.

“You can sit on the bed,” you offer.

He looks scandalized. “It’s your—”

“Bob. It’s just a mattress, not a holy relic.”

He huffs a laugh and finally perches beside you, both of you facing the muted TV, shoulders barely brushing.

You pull the blanket tighter. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. You didn’t have to step in.”

“I wanted to.”

His voice is quiet. A little hoarse.

You glance at him. “Even though it made you all twitchy and weird?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “You noticed that, huh?”

“Kinda hard to miss. You’re not exactly subtle.”

He fidgets with a thread on his sleeve. “I just… I don’t like the idea of someone making you uncomfortable. You deserve better.”

That makes you pause. Your breath catches just slightly in your throat.

You nudge his knee with yours. “Thanks, Bob. For caring.”

He turns toward you really looks at you. You can see it now, in the soft focus of the room. The way he holds himself differently around you. Like he’s always on the verge of saying something more.

Your heart thuds.

You want to lean in. You almost do.

But then he moves first awkwardly, shyly offering the hoodie that was bundled at the end of the bed.

“You looked cold earlier.”

You take it. Pull it on. It’s warm and smells like detergent and something soft and boyish.

You sit there like that, shoulder to shoulder, both of you pretending the silence is easy.

And maybe, just maybe, it is.

[ysrjune]

𐔌♡ ˖ ࣪ HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, BABE.⠀ ‹𝟹

err smut at the end but it's not cray cray

It was your 5th Mother's Day this year. Scott went out with his dad and Leo two days early to find a gift for you and his mother. They went to Target, walking around the cards section first. "All of these cards are so corny and stupid." Scott says after reading one and putting it back. "I'm gonna make my own."

"Daddy! This one!" Leo runs up to his dad with a card in his hands. "This one! This one for Mama!" Scott takes the card and immediately catches on to why Leo wanted him to pick this one out so bad. Because it had a yellow duck on it. Leo loves ducks. He loves any animal, really. "You wanna give this one to your mama? Are you sure?" He looks down at his son. Leo smiled wide and nodded his head enthusiastically. "Okay, I guess."

Scott's father had gone on his own around the store to find a few other things. Leo had his arm up just a little bit while holding his dad's hand as they walked around looking for more things. "What if we make her a basket? Girls like that kinda stuff, right?" He asks Leo. "Yaaaaaaa." The small boy responds. "Mama lovesss when you spend money on her." It was true, but Leo was sort of making you sound like a gold-digger. The truth behind this was that Leo liked when Scott spent money on you. Neither of you knows why, but it just makes your baby happy.

Leo picked out chips and candy, and Scott chose a pretty necklace and bracelet. They got home and went into Leo's room to put the basket together. "Mommy is gonna love me so much for this." Leo giggles and puts the chips in the basket. "Um.. I think you mean us." Scott furrows his eyebrows. "No. Me." Leo responds and pokes his tongue out. "Mommy looovesss me."

"She loved me first, jackass." Scott chuckles and gently flicks the boys forehead. When the basket was finished being assembled, they decided to hide it under Leo's bed. "You have to keep your big mouth shut about this, okay? Don't tell Mommy. This is a surprise." He ruffles Leo's hair and heads to his room.. with Leo following behind so that he could cuddle up to his dad.

—

It was the morning of Mother's Day. Scott woke up early and turned to his side to stare at you. "Hey, wake up." He rubs your shoulder. "Wakeee uppp." He slightly shakes you. You whine and shake your head. "It's too early." Scott sighs and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, nose, and lips. "Wake up noww!" He whines back, continuing to kiss you.

You giggle and finally give in. "Okay, what?" You open your eyes and rub the sleepiness away. "Happy Mother's day, beautiful." He tells you and then leaves a kiss on your lips once more.

"Thank you."

Now it was time for breakfast. You and Scott got dressed from your pajamas and into regular tshirts and sweats. "Can you wake Leo up?" You ask Scott. "Yeah, be right back." He stretches and makes way to your son's room. "Leo-Oh. You're awake." He chuckles, watching as the boy jumped up and down on his bed. "Is mommy awake? I wanna give her the basket!" Leo smiles excitedly. "And what about Grandma? Don't you wanna give her the thing you made at school?" Scott walks over to the drawers to find Leo an outfit.

"Yes but I wanna see mommy first!" He continues jumping. "Mm, okay. We gotta get your dressed first though, kid." Scott throws a shirt and shorts at the boy. "Hey!! Be nice!!" Leo laughs and immediately starts changing. "Nah, I'm not nice to ugly little boys." Scott smiles. "You're ugly." Leo laughs and tugs the shirt over his head.

After getting ready, Leo ran out of his room with the basket in his hands and went to your room. "MOMMYYY!!" He yells and holds the basket up to you. "Look, look! Me and daddy made it for you!!" He had the happiest look on his face. "Really?" You smile down at your son and then at the basket. "Thank you baby, I love it!" You bring Leo to your lap and kiss him. Scott leaned against the doorframe, watching with love in his eyes. "Thank you." You mouth to him.

—

Your father and mother in law were down in the kitchen, already eating. "Happy Mother's Day, darling." Scott's mother stands up and walks over to you when you walk in. "Happy Mother's Day." You smile and hug her. "Here, I got you this." You give her a necklace with her birthstone on it. "Oh, thank you." She smiles and kisses your cheek. "I still have your gift in my room, I'll go get it."

His dad hugged you and wished a happy Mother's Day and then served you and Leo a plate. "What about me?" Scott scoffs. "You're a grown man." His father smirked to annoy Scott. It was always like this, honestly. His father served everyone in the house but him. It was funny. The gift your mother in law had given you was a heart locket and the picture inside was of you and your small family.

The whole day afterwards was perfect. You all got ready and went to the mall and then went to a movie and lastly, dinner. Then it was time to get back home. It was late, so Leo was fast asleep. Still, you had to be quiet.

Scott fingered you that night. Real good. That man knows how to use his fingers. Long and slim. Always digging into the right places. That wasn't all, though. He replaced his fingers with his dick and his mouth. It was good, but it wasn't the best you ever had from him. If nobody was home, it would have been a whole different story. It was still really good and he loved you. That's all that mattered.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaasxo @anakinca @dollfilmz @alexlovesysrjune @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far

[missust3l3vision]

Always Be You

Description: George is so scared of losing you that he puts all his cards on the table. Blurting out his feelings is always a good idea right?

Being friends with George was awesome. So fucking awesome. From being each others bus buddies from the age of 5 to 18 and having almost every class together. Y/n had been his neighbour since he began primary.

Now, several years later they were just as close. Eachothers emergency contacts, biggest supporters, and as you could probably guess long time crush.

His mum told him probably a thousand times that they would end up together. Everytime she caught her son waiting for her to text back or when he'd leave for school early to have enough time to pick her up.

George fell for her after though his soul knew since the first time they met. When he finally figured out she also liked him he thought it was something he had missed his chance on.

The day his mum telling him that she liked him, only for him to shake his head and run off to his bedroom.

Now, he stood infront of her apartment. He was there for a party and to meet her new "friend" Michael.

She had asked him to come as a favour and wasn't given any details.

He seethed at the thought of him. He had not wanted to go, but knew this meant a lot to you. Knocking on the door you opened it.

Wearing a dress he bought for you and earrings his mother gave you. You looked like a dream come true.

"George! Its about time you got here" you said as you ushered him in. He loved the feeling of her hands on him.

Walking in he was met with the smell of something delicious cooking on the stove and the flat empty.

"Where's everyone else?" He asked, he was mentally freaking out that it might just be the three of you.

"No one, just us" she confessed "I have something important I wanted to ask.

A million worries came to him as he stood in the same kitchen he spent many late nights in. He nodded for her to keep going.

"So I know you're worried about me and Michael-"

"I'm in love with you!" He shouted. The fuze of his heart being lit in the same amount it took to explode "And I have been for awhile. I know you don't love me anymore but I can't have you talking about him around me" he wanted to cry "I just can't"

He slumped into the barstool. You watching him with an open open mouth

"I'm in love with you too" you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 8 year old you would have fainted at this point. Admitting it to your diary was nothing to admitting it to the man himself.

She had known longer but let the feelings inside her simmer. She gave up hope, but a little bit of her never gave up. Now seeing the man in front of her she was glad she kept it.

He flung himself up, kissing you passionately. His weight on you a gentle indication of how much he truly loved you. Finally backing away yo let you each breathe. She looks at him with a Dazed look

"Now back to why I invited you over, Michael is getting married and I was hoping you'd be my plus one...everyone else is coming to the party in 20, I just wanted to ask before" George rolled his eyes, not at her but at his own silly jealousy.

"Yeah I'd love to come" he leans in, kissing her again "As long as I can go as your boyfriend" she pretended to think, tapping her finger but before she could answer he leaned in again.

"Your mum is going to explode when we tell her" his face fell. He had to do something he hated, telling his mum that she was right.

[balrogballs]

Balls you know that rumor that Tolkien tried writing something explicit but he thought it was so bad he locked it away and Tolkien Estate is trying to pretend it doesn’t exist?? Who do you think the couple that got official Tolkien smut could’ve been

Thank you for this enlightening question.

My first thought was either Celedriel or Celrond, for the greatest self-insert potential, considering they’re both Very Married Couples. Or if we’re going by his own self-professed self-insert, potentially Beren and Lúthien. Aragorn and Arwen is another possibility, but even in the Appendix story, Elrond is a bit of a third wheel/gooseberry in this context, so it would have been a bit too much like having the Eye of Sauron on your ass.

Now, if the Tolkien Estate is pretending it does not exist, that leads me to hope pray think that there’s some nasty fucking going on, or fucking that Tolkien himself must have considered nasty. Because the Estate doesn’t seem too opposed to sexual connotations in general, considering Arwen and Aragorn spent the entire original trilogy fucking through their clothes and the Hobbit films had Kili as somewhat of a Casanova figure, in the only film I remember from said trilogy. They may not have approved as such, but neither were they censored, as far as I remember.

My theory is this: it is not a sexual union as such being portrayed. It is, instead, an act of self love.

It is Fëanor, having a wank, ass out under Starlight.

Is this particularly nasty? No. But keep in mind this is the man who did, in fact, write LaCE. So I don’t think Galadriel and Thuringwethil are joining their pussies in union any time soon. So, my theory is that it’s Fëanor having a sad, angry wank alone in his studio. There may have been some hammer/other tool insertion going on.

This too, the Estate may have had an issue with. After all, and I don’t remember much about Fëanor’s hammer or the TV show’s portrayal of it, but I distinctly recall Charles Edwards’ fingers curling comfortably around it. It’s not necessarily a continuity error, but it certainly does make one wince in hindsight, thinking about where the hammer had been. Or even forgetting the show. Does it sit in Formenos still? Is it a museum exhibit? Or a trinket in a market stall? Or, Valar forbid, has it been turned into a public relic, much like a lucky-stone or wishing-well, that passerby touch to ensure good luck and skilful crafting? Has it been cleaned? Do the Noldor in Aman know about sterilisation? Do the Noldor in Aman know about sterilisation?

I digress. I feel like Fëanor touching himself would make perfect sense. He is, after all, a tortured artistic genius. Spending hours in his workshop, thanklessly working on his craft. In a way, the written word is like a Silmaril. Three Silmarils. Three LotR books. Perhaps dear Fëanor got a little kinky with it. Perhaps there was some ballbusting involved. Perhaps the hammer, or some other crafting tool, makes a reappearance in this regard. I am certain it was lovingly described, with a worrying degree of realism.

One day, I will find it.

[thatssonanii]

One

A/N: The support was overwhelming! I hope I can live up to expectations. Enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing, physical contact, some smut. Excuse any typos. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

Prologue

“Let me up and we can talk. No tricks, I promise.”

Ignoring the pleading in his brother's tone, Smoke pressed his knee further into Stack's back, the force making him grit his teeth.

“I'm ya twin, you know me,” Stack pleaded through labored breaths, “I always … always keep my promises … to you.”

Thoughts of past fulfilled promises flooded Smoke's mind allowing him to release a bit of the pressure off of his twin's back. Stack's shoulders slacked, finding a bit of relief. Badly, Smoke wanted tonight to have never happened, to have waited to have their opening, to have kicked that bitch Mary out on her ass the minute she stepped inside. Because if just one of those wants had become reality, Smoke's world wouldn't have crumbled in a matter of hours.

Just as he started to lean off of his brother, Annie's last moments flashed before him. The anguish then the peace in her eyes angered him. He couldn't save his baby and he couldn't save his wife. Annie was not only a casualty of his ineffective protection but of his twin's ineffective back bone. The anger grew stronger, pushing a monstrous yell out of Smoke as he applied more pressure onto Stack's back. 

“I'm still in here, I’m still Stack. Let's talk,” he paused trying to look over his shoulder, “It's just us in here. I wanna help. Remember the girl I told you bout from Tutwiler.”

“Bubba,” Delilah called out softly. She rubbed the back of his right hand with her left, coaxing him out of his thoughts. “Follow my voice. Come on back, Bubba.” She knelt between his open knees as he sat in her office chair. Still, she rubbed the back of his hand, her eyes on his face. 

Just as she had done since the day after he had showed up, Delilah brought him to her shop to keep an eye on him and make him feel useful. Smoke was great with numbers and his hands so he spent most of his time in her office or the backroom fixing whatever she needed. 

When too much time passed she sang softly to him. 

“When I began to feel so low,” she smiled a little, seeing his eyes flutter. “I didn't have a friend and no place to go. So if I ever …” 

With his left hand, Smoke instinctively reached for her throat wrapping each thick finger around it, squeezing tightly but Delilah didn't flinch. His eyes were still closed, she knew he hadn't fully come to so her hand continued to rub his until he snatched her wrist up. The pain shot through her but she ignored it in favor of helping him. She brought her right hand up to massage his right wrist to loosen his grip.

Moments passed, his nostrils flared and jaw ticked but she kept up with her movements. The office door flew open behind her, hitting against the wall and neither of them moved. She knew it was Angel, the thirteen year old girl that worked for her. Angel never knew how to enter a room quietly. 

“Ms. Delilah, a lady is askin’ for,” she stopped with a squeak. “Is he … Do I need to get Mista Lee?”

Delilah shook her head as best as she could. “No. Go.” She forced out, still focused on Smoke. 

Angel toyed with the hem of the frilly apron she wore. “Ya sure? He hurtin you again?”

“Door.” 

Taking the hint, Angel nodded scrambling to get ahold of the door knob. Just as loudly as she had come in, she left the same way. The slam jarred Smoke just enough that he opened his eyes, they landed right on Delilah. She continued to massage his wrist, smiling softly at him waiting for all of his bearings to return. The two maintained eye contact until his shoulders relaxed and his grip loosened then fell away from her.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Did it again. ‘M sorry.”

Delilah remained in her spot now rubbing the backs of both Smoke's hands. “Ya know chokin’ me was cute the first time, maybe even the second, third and fourth but it's gettin’ old, Bubba. The same thing every day for two weeks and nothin new? That's no fun.” She joked softly. “I'm startin’ to think it's less about you likin’ me and more about you not likin’ my singin’. And here I was thinkin’ you was sweet on me.”

Despite her jokes, guilt sat heavily in his gut. This woman had taken him, a perfect stranger, into her business and her home yet all he had to offer was his demented, trauma induced outbursts. She dug the bullet out of his gut that should've killed him, that he wished would have and had been nursing him back to health ever since. Made sure he was clean, fed and clothed. All because Stack had told both of them about the other at points in time. 

He closed his eyes again but Delilah was quick to rub a knuckle into the middle of his chest. 

“Oh no ya don't.” She quipped.

He shook his head and willed his eyes open, wincing at her incessant digging into his chest. “I'm up, I'm good.”

She did it a few more seconds before pulling away resting her arms on his thighs smiling at him. Her brown eyes seemed to twinkle to Smoke, they were inviting. 

“So which is it, Bubba? You sweet on me or ya don't like my singin’?”

“Your voice is beautiful,” he mumbled, “Bessie Smith, right?”

“That's right. And thank you.”

Eye contact never made Smoke nervous, just the opposite. If you couldn't look him in his eyes when you spoke to him, he immediately decided that he couldn't trust you. Since the moment he woke in her office, Delilah always maintained eye contact whenever they spoke. It felt like she was staring into his soul. Smoke knew she wasn't though, if she was she wouldn't hesitate to put him out.

“Ya sweet on me then? That's what it is, Bubba?”

Ignoring the pain in his abdomen Smoke stood from the chair, holding her hands in his. “Come on, get off this floor, na. Don't needa be down thea.” 

Delilah allowed him to help her up from the floor and to continue holding her hands. No matter how much Smoke boasted about being fine alone and not needing to be around someone or have the choice to touch someone, Delilah knew neither of those statements were true. Whenever Smoke initiated small touches and when he leaned into her touches, she stayed quiet. No need in ruining something for him that he obviously needed. 

She tilted her head, her dimples now on full display for him. “Are you avoidin’ my question, Smoke?”

At the mention of his nickname, Smoke's eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at her. He gripped her hands tighter for a moment then stopped. Delilah noticed it all.

“Ain't that your name … Smoke?”

The door opened, much gentler this time, and in walked Jean, the fifteen year old girl that worked for Delilah. Slowly, she approached them and tapped Delilah on the shoulder. She attempted to pull her hands away from Smoke to turn and face Jean but he only let one hand go. 

“Everything okay?”

Jean's eyes were on Smoke, who was staring a hole into the side of Delilah's face. The girls that worked for Delilah were still getting used to having him around.

Delilah waved her free hand in front of the girl's face with a soft laugh. “Look here, child. I'm right here. He's not gonna hurt you or me. Tell me what you need.”

“Uh .. uh … Mista Frank out there. He say he only want you.”

She nodded. “Okay. Tell em I'm comin’. Go on.”

Smoke watched the girl leave then pulled Delilah's arm making her turn back to him. 

“Why she scared? She scared'a Frank?” He asked lowly.

She brushed it off. “Frank's mama barely taught em manners. He's no worry. Stay here, I'll be back.”

“I'm comin too.”

“And why you wanna do that?” She asked, trying to pull her other hand away from his grasp.

He pointed with his free hand. “He waitin’. Go head.”

She eyed him nodding. “Behave yaself, Smoke.”

Leaving her office, Delilah went to the front of her shop with Smoke not too far behind her. He leaned against the wall behind the checkout area, arms folded just watching everyone, specifically her.

Delilah momentarily placed a hand on Frank's arm to get his attention, smiling when he turned to her although he was frowning. She apologized for the wait, asking what she could do for him. 

“The wife is askin’ for the stuff ya gave me last time,” he grinned, gesturing to the shelves of spices. “Just get it so I can go before she have a fit.”

“Of course, Frank. Lemme grab them for ya.” She moved gracefully back and forth grabbing what she needed. “Are you gonna get bread too?”

Frank scoffed. “Did I ask for bread or did I ask for those dammed things?”

Without pause, Delilah nodded, leading him to checkout her smile, never wavering. She totaled his items up,  humming softly. 

“Ya married yet?”

She looked up briefly, her humming stopping for a moment. “Nope. Can't say that I am, Frank.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Probably cause the men heard about you. Don’t want a witch for a wife.”

Ignoring his comment, Delilah pushed the tally to him. “Three dollars, Frank.”

He grunted, pulling out his money to count the money out. Tossing the money across the counter at her, Frank snatched the bag from the counter.

“Next time, don't take so long.” He spat, turning to leave. 

Smoke quickly bent down to get the fallen money, handing it to her. “He always act like that?” He asked, watching Frank push the two girls out of his way to get out of the shop.

“Yeah but it's okay. It's once every two weeks and he's gone.”

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on Frank as he stood on the sidewalk talking outside of Delilah's shop. 

“I'a be back.”

Delilah grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “No. You're gonna stay right here.”

“Let go, Delilah.”

She pulled him closer to her, lacing their fingers as their hands hung behind the counter. She ignored his protesting, keeping her stare on Frank through her shop windows. Smoke followed her stare. A couple stood blocking Frank's driver side door, the woman more than the man prompting Frank to roughly snatch her out of the way. The man immediately jumped into action abandoning the conversation he was having grabbing Frank by the collar, shaking him violently. 

“Good don't come to those who do bad.” Delilah whispered. She squeezed his hand. “Maybe one day he'll learn. Girls, you go on home, the sun should be settin’ in another hour.”

Angel and Jean gathered their things bidding Delilah goodbye. The girls hesitated for a moment before offering Smoke a small wave of goodbye to which he nodded. Delilah cleaned as quickly as she could so they could leave.

“Come on, we need to go down to Richard's shop. Your things should be ready,” she informed him, opening the door. She waited until he walked out to follow him and lock up. “I know you're tired of my brother's clothes.”

Smoke glanced down at the long sleeved beige Henley and slacks then shrugged at her. “Not picky. That was Stack's thing.”

“Oh trust me, I know it was. It's nothing like having your own thigh. But if Stack dressed you anything like he dressed himself,” Delilah let her voice trail off giving him a wide smile.

After collecting Smoke's set of suits and clothes, Delilah drove them back to her home. The sun had pretty much gone to sleep, a sliver of it peeking out in the horizon and Smoke stopped to stare at it as he waited for Delilah to unlock her front door. Delilah watched him from inside the threshold of her home, she noticed how enamored he was with the sunset.

“You're welcome to stay out there and watch it but I don't think whatever you're waiting on is gonna come.”

Her voice broke through his reverie, his head dropped for a moment. He knew she was right, didn't make it hurt any less though. 

“At least let me put your clothes away if you're gonna stay out there.”

Smoke slowly turned away from the sunset, climbing the two steps up her porch. “Nah, I'm comin’ in.”

She stepped back, pulling the door open wider. “I hope you're not waitin’ on a invite. You know we don't do those.”

While Smoke put his clothes away in the closet of the room Delilah had given to him, she put a small dinner together for them singing to herself.

The soft sounds of his footsteps caught her attention but she didn't turn away from the stove. He leaned against the doorway, arms folded across his chest watching her. 

“How you meet my brother?”

“He didn't tell you?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. 

“'Parently not.”

Confident the food wouldn't burn, Delilah went to her cabinets pulling a few supplies out going towards Smoke. She nodded her head for him to follow her, he did. It was the same routine every day for two weeks. Before they ate dinner, Delilah cleaned and packed his wound then put drops of liquid under his tongue. He'd asked quite a few times what she was giving him, only for her to tell him not to worry about it. Taking his seat on her sofa, he gingerly swung his legs into it so he was lying down then watched as she descended to her knees beside him. She lifted his shirt, trying to be as gentle as possible taking off the bandage. 

“Pain on a scale of 1 to 10.”

He barred his golds, gritting his teeth feeling her press around it. “4, maybe 3.”

“So a 5 or 6. Better than what it has been.” She hummed, starting to clean it. “My shop is closed on Sundays so on some Saturday nights I close up early and drive up to Memphis.”

He adjusted a bit to hide his discomfort. “Fa what?”

“Sometimes I like to listen to music and sometimes I like to sing.” She explained, smiling briefly at him. “On a night that I was singin’, Stack was there. He bought me a drink after my set was done. Said he wanted to talk but the slick ass smile gave ‘em away.”

Smoke closed his eyes, leaning his head back as he listened. His hand gripped the sofa to keep from touching her. 

“You know your brother, he laid it on and I told em to cut the shit. Told me he'd heard that I knew things and people.” Delilah examined his wound once it was clean them prepared to pack it with her paste. “Said he'd heard that if he ever got into trouble to come to me. Apparently, whatever he was in Memphis for he knew would lead to nothing good so I told em where to find me.”

“Trouble in Memphis? We ain't get into no shit there.”

She glanced at him. “You didn't but Stack did. Next thing I know he showed up lookin’ like he'd been in a fight and a few bags. Collapsed as soon as he passed the threshold. I had em out for three days at least.”

At that Smoke opened his eyes to eye her. She got quiet, concentrating on packing the paste over his wound ignoring his flinching. 

“Ion know nothin’ bout that. I know all the shit he got into.  When that happen?” Smoke questioned becoming skeptical.

“When I asked if you were out there too so I could have someone go find you, he said that you was with ya wife. That the baby had gone on.” She admitted softly. “Said he was doin’ it for the both'a you.”

Letting it all simmer, Delilah dressed his wound and fixed his shirt back. When she got up from the floor to put her supplies away, wash her hands and check the food, he moved back to a seated position. 

“Doin’ what?” He called out.

There was silence until she returned with a vial in her hand. Again, she sank to her knees between his and shook the vial. Smoke's eyes followed her every move, watching the sway of her breasts as she shook.

“Whatever it was that got him in the trouble. He never wanted me to do what he'd heard I could, just patch em up. Said he didn't need it but,” she paused to hold the vial up towards the light then shook it again, “He said that if you ever showed up to do it all.”

“Do it all?” He asked now looking in her eyes. 

“Take care of you,” she smiled opening the vial, pushing the full dropper towards him, “Open.”

With slight hesitation, Smoke opened his mouth and lifted his tongue for her. He watched her mouth the number of drops, stopping at 6 and put it away. As he'd done the other times, Smoke let the drops sit under his tongue counting to ten before swallowing. He bit his lip, adjusting again, careful not to hit or push her.

“I keep tellin’ you to stop doin’ that.”

“Stop doin’ what, Bubba?”

He titled his head, clicking his tongue a few times. “Gettin’ down thea on your knees like that, Delilah.”

“You know how many men in town would love for me to be on my knees like this for them?” She smirked now leaning on his thighs. 

“I'm guessin’ the ones that don't think or don't mind that you'a witch.” He shot back, pressing a finger into one of her dimples.

One of her brows raised. “Mmm, I'm guessin’ that those would be the ones I'm referrin’ to.”

“You get on your knees for my brother, Delilah?” He asked, taking a hold of her chin. 

“Nope, just you, Bubba. I wasn't exactly his type and he wasn't mine.” She shrugged. 

“Is that so?”

Her smirk spread into a full smile. “It is. Told me I was more your type. Said you like your bitches a lil witchy.”

For the first time since he's shown up, Smoke laughed. It sounded exactly like Stack. No matter how many times he'd told his little brother that his wife wasn't a witch and explained what it was that she did, he always went back to witch. When Stack realized it got a rise out of Annie, he was committed to calling her one whenever he could no matter how many times she threatened to cut him. 

“So he does know how to laugh. Thought you didn't know how.”

He chuckled, letting her chin go with a squeeze. “I know how. Had to do it enough when me and Stack traded places.”

“You'll have to tell me about that. Ready to eat?” She asked using his thighs as leverage to get up. 

Yelling and cursing scared Delilah out of her sleep. She threw her covers off, running out of her room and down the hall to the room Smoke occupied. Throwing the door open she found him pacing back and forth in his boxers. Thanks to the moonlight and the flashes of lightening, she could see his eyes were open but he was zoned out. 

“I left em there! I gotta get them! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He raged to no one in particular.

Slowly, she approached him with her hands out in front of her as the storm roared, rocking the house. “Left who? Who you left?”

He was so out of it, he didn't hear her. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he paced. His muscles rippled and jumped with every movement. Delilah reached out for him, her fingertips barely grazed his hot skin.

“Gotta get back to them,” he mumbled, angry tears falling from his eyes. 

Again she tried, grabbing his arm Delilah pulled a little only for him to push her away. With an audible thud and groan, she hit the floor from the force. Smoke turned at the sound, the far away look still in his eyes as he stalked closer to her. Her short nightgown rose as she slid backwards to get away from him.

“Smoke, it's me.” She choked out.

In response he snatched her up from the floor by her nightgown, bringing her closer to his face. 

“You know where they at? Tell me!” He screamed in her face. 

For the first time, Delilah could admit that she was afraid of him. There was nothing behind his eyes, she wasn't sure if she could get him back from this before he hurt her seriously. Still, she tried massaging his wrist.

“I don't know who they are or where they are, Smoke.” She let out a startled cry at his growl and him slamming her against the wall. “Elijah, listen to me!”

Smoke pulled her body away from the wall to slam it back once more, this time banging her head on the wall. “You better start talkin’, girl! Tell me!” He barked. 

“I don't know, I don't know,” she cried. “Please, listen to me.”

The eyes that stared back at her weren't the ones she was used to. They weren't the brown eyes that watched her around the shop, that flashed amusement at the jokes she tried to make. These were cold and emotionless. His hand move to her throat, he squeezed but not as tightly as he had before. 

“You gon make me do it? You know I'll do it.” 

Taking a chance, Delilah rubbed her knuckle into the middle of his chest with much more force than she'd usually use. Her voice shook as she sung softly. Smoke's face contorted from one of rage to discomfort, knocking her hand away from his chest only for her to bring it right back. 

“Bubba, it's me.” 

One more dig into his chest and the lights were back on for him. The storm continued to roll on outside the house but Smoke's was coming to an end. His hands dropped, he took a step back taking a good look at the woman standing in front of him. Her curls that were usually tucked away under one of her signature scarves sat wildly on her head. The wrinkled, yellow nightgown clung to her body, no doubt because of the fear induced sweating he'd caused. Tears were the last thing he noticed. Some had dried but her eyes were still wet. 

“Delilah,” he called softly. “What … what did I do?”

She shook her head, wiping her face. “Just a bad dream. Are you okay?” 

Ignoring her question, Smoke moved forward to assess the damage stopping when she flinched. He held his hands out to show her that he wasn't going to hurt her. Carefully he took her hands to pull her over to the bed, flipping the lamp on. He checked her arms then her neck, his fingers brushed the back of her head and she hissed. He touched it again, feeling a knot.

“I did that?”

“You didn't knew what you were doin’. That wasn't you.” Delilah reasoned, trying to console him. “I shouldn't'a touched you.”

With a sigh, he sat on the side of the bed and pulled her in between his legs. He rested his forehead against her stomach, she rubbed his bare back. 

“You said you left them. Who did you leave?” She asked softly. 

“Annie and our baby girl.” He admitted softly. 

She frowned a bit. “You left Annie? Is she in danger? We can go get her. Baby girl … She's … you didn't leave her.”

Slowly, Smoke looked up at her with tired eyes. “I left em in Clarksdale. Annie's dead.”

Delilah started to kneel but Smoke stopped her, firm hands on her hips. 

“Didn't I tell you stop doin’ that? Ion deserve that.” He shook his head. “Not after what I did.”

“Stop blamin’ yourself, Smoke. You ain't do it on purpose.”

“Don't matter, still did it.” He mumbled nuzzling his face in her stomach. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

There were his touches again. The touches that Delilah would remain quiet about, that they both knew he needed especially after this bag of an episode. She rubbed his back and shoulders giving him more touch that he would never ask for. 

Smoke went from nuzzling her stomach to planting kisses there over her nightgown. His hands gripped her hips tighter, whispering apologies in between kisses. 

“Hmm,” she hummed rubbing the top of his head, “What are you doing?”

He chuckled into her nightgown. “Said you wanted something new. Lemme do it.”

“Do what exactly?”

His eyes flickered to hers. “Apologize. Sayin’ sorry ain't enough.”

Smoke knew he probably shouldn't with him coming off of an episode and her being a casualty of said episode but he couldn't help it. The way Delilah had taken care of him meant a lot to him, it only added to the attraction he had to her. He'd tried to ignore it the past two weeks, this was something he would chastised Stack about– getting physically involved with a woman instead of staying focused. Yet here he was pulling the thick woman that had been invading his thoughts and dreams down into his bed. The thought of Annie popped into his kind and what she might think but seeing Delilah under him had him pushing the thought away. He would deal with that and the guilt in the morning. Right now his only thought was Delilah.

He had his hands around her waist now, and was trailing his fingers up and down over and over again. Her whole body was centered around that one teasing action. She wanted more, but let him have control. 

"You been touched before?" He asked.

"In what way?" She replied, her voice a bit darker now playing with him. Her body heated by his long sturdy fingers on her. She wanted him to continue teasing her, taunting her with them.

"You know exactly what I mean, sweetheart." He replied, and moved her body around like she weighed nothing to make room for himself between her legs. She gasped and peered up like a doe at him, waiting to see what he would do next.

Smoke leaned down to kiss her, letting his dick come into contact with her. They kissed each other, Delilah moved her lips eagerly, wanting to taste every part of him. He reciprocated, exploring her mouth. She moaned and felt his dick twitch at the sound of her moan. 

"You so cute." He whispered, and left her lips to move down her body, kissing and sucking on her neck as he moved lower. Delilah mewled underneath him, loving the sensation of his lips grazing against her. How had he figured out how sensitive her neck was already, she thought to herself. 

He studied all of her responses, teasing the areas that he knew affected her the most. He wrapped his hands around her wrists to move her arms up, pinning her down as he nibbled on the well of her neck. Delilah wiggled underneath him, but he held her firm. He continued to lick and suck down, down, and paused at her breasts. He wrapped his mouth around her right nipple over her nightgown, sucking on it in concentration. She peered down at him, and the sight of him focused on her breast like that, with his eyes closed in concentration, made her even wetter. She moaned as he sucked harder, leaving a damp wet spot on her gown. He then moved on her other breast, and let go of her right wrist to pinch and play with her other nipple. The sensations were overwhelming, she could only lay there and let him play with her body like it belonged to him. When he was done, he looked at her nipples and growled in satisfaction at how hard they were as they peeked through her nightgown. He then moved lower again, lifting her gown up to expose her stomach to him. He nibbled at her soft caramel skin, making her giggle as she wiggled underneath him. 

"Stay put, De." He commanded. She stopped, letting him continue still giggling softly.

 A hand was placed against her inner thigh, moving higher and higher as his index finger grazed her sensitive skin over and over again. 

"Mmphh...." She moaned, her eyes closed finally from the overwhelming lust. 

Her body was telling her something. Demanding it. It wanted her to cum, to ride an orgasm, to feel him inside of her. She hadn't felt this sensation in a while. This intense need. And she wanted to obey it, to let it command her and let her let go of her inhibitions.

His fingers were moving higher as his lips trailed lower, and they met at her heated mound, ready for him to touch. He pressed his finger against her panties, and she couldn't help but ground against him, needing more of his touch. 

"You so wet for me, Delilah. All that, just for me." He whispered, and pulled her panties down. He tossed them aside, and she went to cover herself, not wanting for him to see her. There had only been one other person to see her this way but she was still nervous. 

He gently moved her arms aside, not letting her be embarrassed. "Never cover yourself up in front of me." He said, and she nodded, though still felt incredibly shy. He spread her legs apart, bending them as he did, he then leaned into her crotch and breathed in, and she gasped as she felt the hot air of his breathing against her. God, she needed so much more.

His index finger was against her entrance now. He pushed in, feeling her swollen and tight walls as she expanded underneath him. 

"So fucking tight." He murmured, and pressed another finger in, letting them fully enter her. She gasped and opened up for him, unable to ignore how good it felt.

"Please." She begged making him smirk. 

He moved his fingers in and out of her, over and over again. She moved against him, feeling the rhythm of the thrusts. 

"It feels so good, Smoke." She said, moaning. She could barely think straight anymore.

When she thought it was already too good, he pressed his mouth against her clit, and she felt herself practically explode. He licked her like she was his favorite ice cream, flicking her clit as his fingers moved in and out of her in rhythm. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck, where to flick, for her to feel the best, until she couldn't remember her name anymore. It was all a foggy haze, and all she could think about was needing to cum.

"Please." She repeated. 

He pulled away, staring at her. “You gon accept my apology, sweetheart?” He asked in a low tone.

She nodded frantically. “Fuck yeah.”

He chuckled against her as he continued to pound into her, now faster. She moved against him in synchrony, her mouth stuck in a wide 'O' as he continued to enter and exit her over and over again. His tongue was now moving in a circular pattern, and her juices flooded down his fingers, drenching him and the sheets underneath them.

She could feel herself rising high,  she knew it was coming. 

"Cum for me, baby girl." He said, and the words ripped her apart as she came underneath him, clenching wildly around his fingers as she cried out his name, unable to contain herself.

"Smoke. Oh, fuck, Smoke!" She screamed, and he thrusted into her with his fingers until she came down, flopping down onto the bed in complete exhaustion, the throbbing in her head long forgotten.

He moved his body until he was lying beside her pulling her into his side. He rubbed her head gently, letting her breathe and calm down. 

The smell of her sex was in the air, and she gasped in shock as he placed the two fingers that were previously inside of her inside his mouth sucking her juices. 

"You taste so sweet." Smoke admitted, closing his eyes to enjoy himself. “I knew you would.”

"Smoke..." She said her voice trailed off, not fully trusting herself to speak.

"Yeah?"

"From now on, that's the only apology I'm accepting from you." She replied.

He laughed, leaning over to cut the lamp off. "I hear you, Delilah."

"I mean it, Bubba. I'll forgive you every time.” She said, and closed her eyes as she snuggled into him.

He continued to stroke her hair, grinning to himself. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Though that wasn't all I can do. Trust me, baby. The way that I can make you feel when I'm inside you will be far better than that.”

Delilah popped one eye open to look at him. “I thought Stack was the slick one but it's really you. He's just loud about it.”

Smoke dropped a kiss on her forehead, chuckling. “Whatever, Delilah. I really am sorry though. Next time, just let my crazy ass figure it out on my own. Ion want you gettin’ hurt no more.”

“If it gets me apologies like that, I will not.”

“Go to sleep, Delilah.”

Smoke stayed up, listening to her breathing after she'd fallen asleep. Regardless of her accepting his apologies, he knew shit was only getting worse. He either had to get it together or he had to get away from her to save her. 

[lostwysteria]

(Part 14! Not much to say rn. ily all so much, tho!)

Masterlist

Ling finagled a grocery run out of Nice. A solo grocery run. Somehow. 

He checked his bag of holding and made sure the card for household expenses was in there. He had the lanyard with his Hero Tower Pass and Hero ID around his neck and was ready to go. Wreck was sitting on Nice to stop him from trying to go along anyway. 

…

Ling had to stop from reacting as he spotted the classmate he saved four years before. He was standing next to E-Soul at Mei-jie’s desk. He just walked on by and smiled to himself. Hopefully those two got their act together.

Shang Chao had always been a bit of a hopeless, pining, romantic.

…

Shang Chao did a double take. It couldn't have been? Could it? 

“Hey, was that who I think it was, A-Cheng?” He quietly asked his companion for all things.

Mei-jie answered first.

“That was, as of this morning the ranked 318 hero, Homemaker. He’s Nice’s personal assistant.” she informed them. “He is also living with Nice.” 

That was all Shang Chao and Yang Cheng needed to hear. They rushed outside, trying to catch up, but Lin Ling was nowhere to be seen.

…

It was a few hours later and Ling was wt a cafe getting a light lunch.

A vaguely familiar person entered and after ordering, waved at him. “Hi. I’m Bai Yuzhou. From around Hero Tower.” he said after sitting at the table next to Ling’s.

“Oh! I remember you. I’m Homemaker.” He remembered to use his hero name as his introduction.

“I know. I am surprised to see you alone. You normally have someone with you. It must be cool being the personal assistant to a top 20 hero.” Bai Yuzhou said with an easy grin.

“It is! So what do you do at the Tower?”

“I am general operations. I do just mundane officework.

The two chatted for a while before parting ways.

…

X smiled to himself. Lin ling was a truly interesting person.

…

As soon as Lin Ling entered the apartment he was being checked for anything wrong by Nice. He was fussing and fretting like crazy. 

“Calm down! Give the poor guy some space. He needs alone time, too.” Wreck pulled Nice away from the poor harassed man. 

“I was just worried!” Nice defended himself with a hiss.

“He’s fine, kitten” Wreck growled a little at the end.

Ling felt his face heat a bit. Shit. They were both unfairly attractive.

He rushed to the kitchen and started putting away the groceries. He waved the two away when they tried helping. He had a system. He’d already, with Nice’s permission, rearranged the kitchen to suit his needs. His arrangement had actually settled Nice’s OCD! 

The hero had been overjoyed at that. Honestly, his OCD hadn't been as bad lately. Much to the white haired man’s joy.

He was relieved that Nice was happier. An honest spark of life was back in his once dead eyes. They shone more than they had for a while now. It made his instincts as Homemaker purr in satisfaction. He was doing a good job taking care of his charges. 

Wreck seemed happy, too. Soon there would be a Thread connecting him to Homemaker as well. Three(!) whole permanent wards. The most he’d ever had was five. His parents and three classmates he’d spent the most time with. He placed a hand over the scar on his side. His parents had died the day after he’d been hurt. Car accident. The Threads connecting his classmates to him had snapped from not seeing them afterwards. He’d had to transfer to a cheaper college after. 

Losing all five connections in less than half a year had been so painful. That gad been the worst year of his life. He’d never fully recovered.

He wondered how Xia Qing was doing these days?

[bambambibambambi]

♡Anniversary gift♡

Idea: Sol decided to get you a little gift for your anniversary 3 years together, a frenum piercing.

Paring: husband!sol x reader

Warnings: NSFW, bitting, frenum piercing, cunt devouring,no protection(reader takes birth control), short af

Note: sorry this took so long! I had lots of things to do, well this is definitely the first nfsw I've written on here!

Request: @powowplayinghooky

"Perfect!" You cheerfully exclaimed looking down at the dinner you'd spent hours making for your anniversary, usually you two went out so it was a bit different this year, but you didn't mind it much. A thought popped into the back of your mind when you realized Sol was yet to arrive, you're used to him being on you most of the day, kissing you, touching you in places that get you all hot and bothered.

you shake the strange thoughts away quickly, this should be a wholesome moment! You turned around to see your dear husband, something was strange....he was walking a bit weird, you've noticed it a week ago after that one conversation you two had about his piercings. "Are you okay?" Was a question you'd ask a lot, but he always had some excuse or some pretty damn good lie to pull, by now you know very well how he is when he lies. It probably would have worked before you two got married, but too late for that. You knew him like the back of your hand. No escaping this time for him.

Sol raised an eyebrow once you stood before him. "Pumpkin..?" He muttered, tilting his head a bit curious and confused. "Pants off." You stared into his eyes with a smile as warm as the sun.

"What" Sol started at you now too shocked to even speak, it was so random and sudden that he didn't even get a moment to process it. After stuttering an excuse, he ended up giving in after all you were his goddess, the reason he even stands there breathing, you wanted something you'll get it.

Pulling him into the bedroom, you were shocked by the decoration. Last time you checked there wasn't supposed to be Any. Your line of thought was cut off by a hand slithering around your waist and pulling you close, the familiar tingling feeling shot down your spine as he murmured into your ear, his warm breath tickling your ear and neck. "I did it all for you, pumpkin" his voice was quiet and soft yet full of need for you, even a slight touch would please him.

You didn't even get to reply or express your appreciation before his lips crashed onto yours. It was gentle at first, then it got more desperate as his hands glided up your shirt. His kisses moved under your jaw as if he were trying to devour you, every part of you. He was rock hard, and God, it was getting harder to not ruin you on the spot; it was your anniversary, so he believed he must go slower. Sol's hands gently laid you down on the bed, his kisses didn't stop as he finished removing your shirt. Slowly down your chest to your nipples, looking up at you, watching your reaction to every nibble, kiss, and the way you tremble. His mouth went lower, he stopped right where your pants were. Sol's eyes moved towards your face, a plea for consent. As soon as you nodded, your pants were gone.

He takes his time. Traces slow circles on your inner thighs with the tip of his tongue, making you jolt, breath catching, and he moans softly into you. One hand on your stomach, holding you down. The other gripping your thigh, spreading you open so he can get deeper.

He sped up making out with your pussy at this point, he started Feeling your legs clenched around his head tightly and back arched off the bed he knew you were getting close and didn't stop, continuing the speed of his tongue swirling it around using his finger pushing it into your gummy entrance. Once you finally came and were calming down from your high, he sat up on his knees, his face covered in your arousal and release, he licked it off his lips with a smirk. Sol removed his pants and slipped off his boxers. You were looking up at the ceiling and had barely heard the sounds of him moving around. Suddenly, you felt his tip pressing against your gummy entry, slowly pushing in. You simply couldn't get used to how large he was, and it took you a bit to get used to it. After lying there for a few minutes, feeling the stretch get slightly painless, you felt something scratching you inside as he moved, and strangely, even with the pain, it felt so good. Your head tilted back into the pillow once more moaning like a bitch in heat brought a smirk to his lips knowing the piercing was a good idea seeing how you were a lot more responsive than usual. "Fuck...keep making those pretty sounds for me"

Leaning on your chest as he held your thighs up to thrust deeper into you, biting your neck as your eyes welled up in tears. Your hands were gripping the bedsheets so tightly that it made you seem like your life depended on it. "You're taking me so well, pumpkin.."

A/n:...I gave up since the power keeps turning off and I have zero energy but I wanted to post this soon so it had been cut short sorry!

© 𝔅𝔞𝔪𝔦ℑ (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[hannah-lou]

🌙🔥Forbidden Desire🔥🌙

Mae had lived in the eagle clan village for a long time now, and whilst being there, she had developed a liking to Noa, maybe a bit too much. Most mornings, she waited impatiently for when he emerged from his nest just so she could spend even a small amount of time with him.

It seemed Noa had some unspoken feelings towards Mae, too. He liked to tuck her in when she went to sleep, making sure she was comfortable and felt safe, and sometimes he sat with her, insistent on protecting, he had no clue why and most times, he hated himself for it. His mother always wanted him and Soona to become mates and what made it even more sad was the fact Mae also adored Soona, they spent a lot of time together, but every time she saw Noa with her, jealousy took over, she had no idea how it all started.

The sun was beginning to disappear behind the trees, and Mae sat with Noa on the hill just outside of the village. The ape was perched on a log, reading a childish animal book that he had found inside the vault that day. He leaned forward with a grunt of concentration and wrinkled his nose with concentration, whispering his attempts at pronouncing the tougher words.

Mae sat cross-legged on the ground in front of Noa and practised some sign language sentences that he had taught her. To be honest, she was picking it up pretty quickly, but she knew she’d be progressing faster if it weren’t for her being far too distracted by him.

Mae never in her life thought she’d feel this way for him, the species her mother had warned her so much about. She had been told her whole life that they were dangerous, dirty creatures and that they’d tear her limb from limb as soon as they got the chance. But as she got older, her curiosity grew and after she met Noa, well, something took hold of her, she was attracted like a moth to flames. In fact, tonight she wore the yellow, tattered sundress specially for him. She scolded herself for a moment, thinking of how ridiculous it was dressing up for an ape.

Whilst Mae wasn’t looking, Noa kept glancing up from his book to look at her. He liked the look of the dress she was wearing, albeit torn in places and the colour had worn down, but he didn’t mind. He blinked hard and scrunched up his face, trying his best to think of Soona, but it was no use. This echo had done something to him that he couldn’t explain. He eventually let out a grunt and closed the book. His sudden movement caused Mae to flinch.

Noa tilted his head and signed with his words “I have never... seen you wear this before” he said, motioning to the dress.

Mae gulped and clasped her hands together in her lap “thank you... you’re not the only one who found useful things in the vault that day”

Noa let out a faint grunt and sat down next to her, his curiosity climbing. He leaned closer and began subtly touching the fabric around Mae’s waist, his calloused fingers scratching at the delicate strands of worn down cotton. He glanced at her, his green eyes glinting from the orange glow of the fire.

Mae looked at him with a giggle and signed, “Do you like it?”

The ape nodded and shuffled closer, curiosity filling his mind.

The fire in front of them crackled softly as Mae climbed onto Noa's lap, facing him whilst he rested his back against the log. How it even got to this point, she couldn’t remember, but she didn’t want to stop.

She subtly let her hips buck back and forth, Noa was curious as to what it meant, his brows lowered with confusion, but in the back of his mind, he knew. His body knew. His gaze trailed down her body before returning back to her face.

He stuttered her name and raised an eyebrow, feeling his control already threatening to break “we should... s- stop this”.

His eyes rolled back as Mae’s pheromones poured off of her and into his nostrils. Although his mind screamed at him to ravage her, he knew she wasn’t of his kind, he gritted his teeth. He needed to resist.

Mae pressed her lips to his cheek before asking “are you okay, Noa?”

He nodded slowly, fully aware that she was taunting him. His eyes glazed over with instinct, and his fists began to clench in denial. He knew that he was so much stronger than her and never wanted to hurt or spook her.

She looked at him with a somewhat encouraging smile “how do you sign for these?” She asked, motioning to her hips.

Noa scowled for a brief moment before moving his left hand in small circles and gesturing the meaning for hips before signing a question of his own “can I... feel you?”

Mae was taken aback but nodded. She lifted up her dress, revealing her upper thighs, Noa’s eyes widened for a brief moment before narrowing at an attempt at not making his growing desire for her too obvious. He shook his head quickly, scolding himself for allowing this to happen. If his clan found out about this, he was sure they’d disown him. After all, he was the master of birds’ son and needed to set a good example. This sure wasn’t it.

Up until this point, he had maintained pretty decent control whilst around her. When he sat around the fire with Raka that night and kept his composure, calling her a “stinky echo” but deep down, her scent intoxicated him, he felt ashamed of himself. What was he doing allowing her to get into his mind like this and sending his senses soaring into overdrive?

Noa looked down at his member beginning to peak through his fur. He inhaled quickly and shifted position, trying not to make it obvious “M- Mae” he grunted and lowered his tone, hissing with restraint “Mae... Mae, stop... we... cannot”

Mae continued to subtly circle her hips on top of him. She leaned against his ear and moaned softly. Noa panted and pushed her back. Glaring up at her, his teeth gritted. He needed to resist, needed to stop, but alas, he allowed his hand to wander further up her left thigh, stupidly fooling himself that it would only be to stop her but instead, his self control cracked and his grip tightened over her delicate skin. His other hand stayed in a tightly balled fist at his side, and a low guttural growl escaped his throat.

Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, humming softly and letting quiet grunts sound from his parted lips. Mae was amused at how long he was holding out for, considering she expected him to snap within the first few movements of her waist atop his. But he was more impressive than she initially thought. Seeing him like this caused something inside of her to awaken, a warm sensation between her thighs that she’d never felt before.

Noa frowned with concentration and began to mumble inaudibly. Mae’s curiosity climbed higher and higher, she had never seen or heard him like this but she enjoyed it. Seeing his eyes darken whilst he looked at her from beneath his lowered brows. The usually sweet, caring and innocent Noa was turning into a primal mess before her very eyes.

Noa looked down as he finally spoke, albeit mumbled through his instinctual daze “Feels... too good... but... we cannot-“ his sentence was cut short and interrupted with a moan of irritation.

Mae wanted him and he knew it. He could smell her arousal. He lifted his head to scowl at her. Mae began to beg, her body craved him, she hated herself for it but it was too much, almost like she was no longer conscious, she pleaded with him, wanting to feel what real touch felt like. Did he know how to do so with a human? We’re ape and humans not all that different after all? She wanted to find out.

Finally, after letting out a sigh of frustration. His hips began to rise up and down. His speech turned into more of a mumbled growl. “Just... a little bit”

He trembled as his hands began to wander around to her waist, holding her in place so that his sensitive spot could get some type of friction. He still tried to hold back, but it was no use. He was crumbling quickly. His breath hitched. He didn’t look away from Mae’s eyes, not for a second.

Trailing his calloused fingers along the tattered bottom of Mae’s dress, he paused and looked at her, grunting and biting his bottom lip. That part of his mind which was rational still tried to hold on, tried to snap away from the lust. The thought of losing his clan because of this. Was it worth it? He blinked hard and his fingers twitched with the urge to lift up the delicate fabric and take her.

Mae looked at his hand that was tugging softly at the fabric. She let out a soft moan “you want to?”

He fixated his gaze onto her breasts and lowered his voice to a growl “I... do”