#pnv magazine

[nacholmo23]

Logan Blake by Peter D. Brown for PNV Magazine

[kiwanopie]

Overnight Lovin’

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

cw: smut, alcohol mention, oral sex(f!receving), dumbification, dirty talk, whipped!Kiyoomi, mutually cumdrunk, PnV sex, creampie. Minors do not interact.

wc: 3.2k

This is not your bedroom.

As much as you’d kill for it to be. Silk cotton stuffed duvet a rich maroon in accordance to equally as soft sheets. Carefully shined mahogany floors checkered in wine colored Persian, a bedroom that’s more fantasy love suite than any commonplace bedroom and fuck if this mattress isn’t like heaven to lay on.

But this isn’t your bedroom.

You point your nose to the oversized shirt flooding a little under your collarbones. It’s just a simple horror tee. Dark colored kanji hovering over an illustration of Jason half obscured by cartoon blood and soft to the cotton touch. It’s big enough to cover a good portion of your thighs that are… not dressed with anything. Huh. Yeah, you are- You feel up your modest covering with a quick pat down of your hands. - Completely naked under this. And honestly a little sore. A certain shift of your hips has your pelvic area throbbing back at you like it’s already tapping out, fingerprint bruises on your thighs that feel tender when you poke them; even your tits are sore - nipples perking under your shirt like they’ve already been prodded and played with. Whoever the hell you went home with last night gave you a run for your money.

Come to think of it, what the hell even happened last night? Last you remember you were twisting your hips against a bar stool while your college buddies raved on ecstasy and coke on the dance floor. — A Shirley temple was enough to start your party high without indulging in any illicit drugs, but you’ve never been much of a drinker. That fizzy cherry vodka already had you buzzing, a few more of those and who knows what’ll happen.

You bite your lip against the grain of new life and newer feelings of lechery. You look too good and too soft not to be bent over a sink somewhere.

“That sweet?” His voice turns your fine hairs into goosebumps. “Looks tasty.”

You gaze up at him with doey eyes so filled with mirth that it makes his palms sweat. “It is.”

You slide your bottom lip through your teeth. Voice as pretty as you are. “You want a sip?”

He’s the smell of Dior and vetiver as he lifts the glass cuplet out of your hands. “Sure.”

You don’t remember who he was or what he looked like but just the memory of his raspy voice turns your sore throbbing into a needy ache. — If the way the sink in his bathroom abruptly stops with a moment of sluggish shuffling, you’re about to find out who exactly it was that rocked your world last night.

You’re already looking up at him when the door opens with a neat click, his muscled limbs stretch his boxers in a way that can only be described as appetizing.

And then you get a good look at his face.

Oh. Holy shit.

There’s… That’s-… How? He looks exactly like he does on his team’s magazine covers. JSM’s top ten lists, Bungeishunjū, and news outlets that brandish his face for a chance at watchability. He’s even more handsome in person. Trademark resting bitch face does little to dilute how painfully attractive he is and if anything the intimidation factor is a bonus. As well as the fame, the money, and of course his position as one of the top most well known athletes in all of Asia.

His name precedes him, the renowned Olympic volleyball player feels even taller than the humble 6’4 his Wikipedia pages cite him as,

He’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.

If it weren’t for the disorienting confusion you may have screamed. This is the guy who fucked you last night within an inch of your life.

Your voice is a little raspy which is expected, but when you open your mouth your jaw is sore. “Ohayō Gozaimasu-“

He clears the floor from the bathroom to the bed in just a few footsteps, you can barely react when he’s grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up for a better angle.

And then he’s kissing you.

The kiss is slow and sensual, so sultry that you moan a little in his mouth and he breathes into it with a deep hum. He’s kissing you like he loves you, like he’s crazy about you and like he just can’t get enough. The current of the kiss follows a savory kind of spit swapping that turns your inner thighs misty, and he pulls away with a soft smack that all but leaves a gossamer trail.

His thumb rubs circles on the soft of your cheek. “Ohayō.”

Your heart skips at the little peck he leaves on your lips before finally pulling away.

He runs a large hand through his tousled hair as he moves for a dresser near the vanity. “I ordered us some breakfast that should be here within the hour,”

He pulls out a shirt. “I’d make you some breakfast from scratch but,” Sakusa tugs it over his head. “I figured it’d be cruel to subject you to my cooking this early on.”

You blow a humored breath out of your nose. “I appreciate the sentiment regardless,”

He approaches the bed again and sits himself down across from you, there are love bites on his neck that probably match yours. “I hope you slept well.” He hums. “I slept like a rock because of you, actually.”

Oh god, you don’t even wanna know what kind of raunchy shit you were up to last night.

“I slept like the dead.” You crawl up to him, he’s already opening his arms for you. “Whatever you did put me out like a light.”

You fit in his arms so well it’s almost scary, he wraps his arms around you like he might never let you go. “Uh, Sakusa-san?”

He furrows. “Last name?”

You smile apologetically. “Kiyoomi,” You correct yourself. “I don’t… remember a lot of last night. We came back here from the club, right?”

“You…?” Kiyoomi’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously. “You don’t remember?”

“Not a lot.” You shake your head.

He frowns.

But even still his hand rubs fond lines up and down your back, still holding you just as faithfully, and looking up at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. “We marathoned a few drinks and then I had us dropped off at my place. I think… we started in the car, and then in my living room, and then the kitchen, the hallway, my bedroom finally; and then after a few hours we finished each other off in the shower. Around five we kissed until you eventually fell asleep.”

Kiyoomi traces the curves of your lips as he gazes fondly. “Last night was the best night of my life, I think. I don’t know if I’ve ever been with someone who could make me feel so good.” He proclaims. “I hope it’ll all come to you eventually, it was really something special.”

Well with the way he’s been treating you up to this point, it’s not like you’ll have a hard time believing that. Every earnest caress and look of adoration, the way his voice timbres into a loving hum, so smooth it makes you shiver. Hopefully those memories do come back at some point. You’ll never live it down if you actually missed the best night of your life.

You muse it with a little pout at the thought of that, Kiyoomi debates leaning forward and sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. “Hopefully I do remember then. It sounds like we had a lot of fun,”

Your pout drops after a short moment of consideration and you lean in even closer. The soft tip of your nose grazes in feather strokes as you skim it over his and slowly ease your lips down the path way to his, tasting his shuddering breaths as you hover there for a few painful seconds. But he all but melts when you finally meet. A chaste lingering kiss at first, a few sensuous short ones; you do him the courtesy and suck his bottom lip in your mouth instead. — Letting it snap back before you’re starting a trail down his cheek and kissing up until you're nosing under his jaw, using your loving hand to tilt his head up and give you the access that you seek.

He could buy you a ring right now, he wouldn’t even regret it. You don't even remember what you two got up to last night and still you’re caressing him in a way that gives him goosebumps. If you keep this up, he might wind up funding your entire life.

You bring your head up again and pull him into another kiss. Slow and open mouthed, and he damn near purrs when you start pushing your fingers through his hair. “Regardless, you feel amazing.” You whisper against his lips.

God, you might be trying to kill him. “I wouldn’t mind a refresher if you’re up for it.”

He sighs through his nose as he ducks his head to burrow himself into the crevasse over your shoulder, already peppering in searing kisses down your throat. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Kiyoomi sucks in a love bite that makes you whimper so pretty. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good you can’t take it.”

With the way you’re already making a mess in his lap, you believe him.

—

He’s a good kisser.

Regardless of where his lips end up. He’s a little messy, a little heavy with tongue, slow when it matters and firm when it counts. He’s great with his mouth. Surprising since he’s known for being somewhat of a recluse in the opinion of the public eye. Some call him aloof, others call him cold, the majority call him intimidating, but right now what comes to your mind is giving.

The way he spits on your already messy pussy makes your eyes roll.

You inadvertently hump into his face as the combination of his tongue and fingers set the pit in your stomach ablaze. He’s fucking you with his mouth so thoroughly that the skewlch of your building arousal reverbates throughout the room. You almost feel bad about how much your thighs are all but compressing the sides of his head, but every effort to lighten up on him has him tightening his hold on you to keep him locked against your sloppy cunt.

You hiss through your teeth as your fingers card through his hair. “F-Fuck… Omi…!”

Kiyoomi moans against your clit at the wanton sound of your pitched voice. Airy, and breathy, and intoxicating. He’s grinding himself so desperately into the mattress that he’s sure he’s gone sticky.

The veins in his arms pop as he persistently fucks his fingers into your tight little hole, sloppily sucking your swollen clit as the way you roll your hips into his face drives him crazy. “You’re gonna make me cum…!” You whimper. “Fuck, Kiyoomi!”

That crude mixture of his spit and your cum is starting to form a little puddle under your backside, every bit of you he doesn’t get to swallow he doubles his efforts to drink you up sprucely.

Hearing you teeter over the edge makes him feel like he’s following close behind. Your moans are so astonishingly pretty that it’s turning his brain all fuzzy. “Ffffuck! Oh fuck. Oh my god, baby! Fuck-! I-I’m…I’m cumming…!”

Kiyoomi groans drunkenly into your cunt as it suckles on his fingers, he’s so determined to drink every last drop of your cum that he almost comes off as depraved. Lewdly slurping you up as the way he desperately sucks on your clit makes you whine into the air. Still indulging himself in your mess even as you whimper from overstimulation.

He only pulls away because the way you’re begging for him to fuck you is sending him into a frenzy. “Wan’ it so bad, Omi. Please? Do whatever you want to me. U-Use me up!”

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi hums into your mouth as you suck yourself off of his tongue. “Want me to use you? I’ll fuck you till you cry, you know.”

Your misty eyes make his heart skip, the way the head of his cock catches your entrance feels like stepping into heaven all over again. “Please, baby? Give it to me. ‘Wanna feel you inside!”

He gapes a little as he presses himself in, so overwhelmed that his head falls into your shoulder and it’s an effort for him not to outright cry out at how fucking unreal you feel.

He thinks he might just be falling in love with you. Having a pussy like this may just be a hazard for his mental health, there’s no way he’s letting this slip throughout his fingers. “Oh my god,” Kiyoomi chokes. “O-Oh my fucking god.”

“You feel… unbelievable, angel,” He starts his pace. God, fucking you is actually pushing him to the brink of insanity. “…oh my fucking-… s-so tight! So fucking wet for me, angel… holy shit…- you’re so good to me, baby.”

His breathless praises are sending you alight. He’s so deep in your guts that you’re sure you’d find a bulge if you looked down at where your bodies meet. “So good…! So, so good!”

The way you hold each other is so desperate and devoted that it feels biblical. “I can feel you in my stomach, Omi… So deep…! Y-You’re… too deep!”

Kiyoomi grunts as he pushes himself in to the hilt and holds himself there for a blissful second. Grinding his hips in shallow circles that make you choke on your tongue, but you barely know the half of until he’s lifting up one of your legs.

And then the other, lifting on his knees till he’s hovering over your pretty face, - and then he starts pistoning.

The way your face contorts from a flustered glimmer of welling tears to a blissed out gape that cutens as your tears fall is enough to make his balls feel tight enough to burst. Never mind how fucking amazing this new angle is, watching you lose your mind under him as those pretty tits move to the current of his thrusts is making his brain feel all cloudy. — He’s sure the eye contact he’s keeping is transparent in the fact that he’s turned a little love drunk. Ducking his head to press tempered kisses on your throat, but he can’t help himself from the way his lips skim up to your ear and his mouth moves without him really thinking about it.

It’s a pleasure induced haze, he’s sure. But he can’t be forgiven for the absolute filthy things he’s saying to you.

“You hear that?” He drags in a few particularly forceful thrusts that make you sob so prettily for him. “You’re really soaking me up, huh.”

“Is it that good? You feel me deep in your tummy?” Kiyoomi swivels his hips. “S-Shit. What a pretty fucking noise that just was. Fuck, baby. - Oh, are you crying?”

“Too much?” But even still he presses more of his weight on you until every thrust is hitting you to the hilt. So deep that every other press of his hips forces a yip out of you that makes his face hot. — He’s really starting to think he might be ruined for anyone else at this point.

“You’re g’nna take it for me anyway though, huh? Slutty baby… You’re gonna let me fuck you brain dead? Fuck you till you’re all stupid for me?”

You sound as far gone as he is. “Y- Yes! Yes!”

“Yeah, that’s it, angel. Such a… fuck… good fucking girl for me.”

You must be close to cumming cause you’re really starting to milk him for all he’s worth. Sucking him back in every time he pulls away and every moment he continues to fuck into you you only get tighter.

He’s losing his mind. “Ohhh fuck. Fuck! I swear to god I’m gonna break you. G’nna - shit - gonna fuck you till you’re all mine, yeah? H-Holy shit-“

Kiyoomi groans at the way your fingernails start to dig groves into his back. “Mhm. Mark me up, angel. Wanna see you all over me when we’re done.”

You grab a helping of his hair and hold on to it for dear life, you’re drooling at this point. “Oh my god… oh m’ god, Kiyoomi… I’m- I’m gonna make a mess!”

“Yeah?” Which obviously means he’s reaching down to rub messy circles on your clit. “Gonna make a mess? Wanna soak me in your pretty cum?”

“Give it to me then, baby. I’ll fill you up so good when you do.”

You croon in his ear and it sounds like gospel.

And then you’re soaking the bed with your cum.

Kiyoomi doesn’t let up even as your juices wet down his pelvis and legs. He doesn’t stop his punishing thrusts or the rhythm he’s keeping on your clit, still whispering words of filth and praise in your ear, — and it looks like you’ve completely lost yourself to the pleasure at this point. The way his name is clipping so desperately off your tongue is making his eyes roll into his head. And it’s just a few more moments of fucking into your spasming pussy till he’s following you off the edge.

“Oh god. Oh my god.” He hisses. “Mmmh - Oh fuck, baby. I’m cumming… f-fuck! I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

Oh god, even after last night there’s still so much of it. So much and so hot. Just the feeling of clenching on his hot cum as he continues to fuck into you is sending you over the edge again. God, the sounds you’re both making. Thank goodness his penthouse is big enough to not worry about disturbing any of his neighbors, reinforced flooring probably snuffing out the sound of your debauched love making. He’s never been the most vocal in bed but you’re making him whine into your ear like a cheap whore. And the sounds you’re making - Fuck, the sounds you’re making, he wouldn’t be surprised if he turned his head and found the decorative plants near his terrace sprouting flowers. It shouldn’t even be possible to sound that fucking good and feel this fucking amazing all at once.

Kiyoomi doesn’t even realize that bed making firm clicks into the wall until he starts to slow up his thrusts. Gradually coming down from his high until his desperate movements become slow and sensuous grinding, still rocking into you even as you settle again in his arms.

He lifts his head to bring you into a lazy kiss, a little sloppy, a little butterfly inducing.

You sigh into his lips. “…Holy shit.”

Kiyoomi pulls away to press a few slow kisses into your jaw. “I think I just might be addicted to you.”

“You’re telling me…” You cross your legs over his back. “Is it too early to suggest we go steady?”

He snorts a little. “As if I’m letting you go anywhere after that.”

Kiyoomi raises his back to gingerly kiss you on the lips, so tender it feels loving. Even as he pulls away he seems ailed by it. He is ailed by it. He can’t even imagine how he’ll fare when he has to get up eventually.

His breath is warm against your lips. The way he speaks to you feels reverent. “You’re stuck with me now.”

You smile. And he goosebumps. “Aren’t I lucky then?”

reblog uwu?

[allsouls-emma]

Léon Marchand x female reader and the use of oc.

A Léon Marchand fanfiction.

Warnings: swearing, DNI if under 18, 18+, PnV, Voyager!!, no mention of protection, lack of research of swimming, hints of dubscon. Defo not proof read enough.

It was a warm July Wednesday in Paris, and the city was buzzing with excitement as the Olympics were in full swing. Noelle, a brown-haired blue-eyed journalist known for her blunt and outgoing personality, had flown in specifically for the event. Her mission: to report on the swimming competition and interview the athletes for an Irish magazine .

As she took her seat in the Aquatic Center, her eyes immediately locked onto the French swimmer Léon, a three-time gold medalist. His blonde curly hair shimmered with droplets of water, and his chiseled body moved with grace and power as he glided through the pool. Noelle’s heart skipped a beat; she knew she had to meet this man.

After a dazzling performance, Léon emerged from the water, his muscular physique on full display. He waved to the cheering crowd, his blue eyes sparkling with joy. Noelle felt a tingle between her legs as she imagined those eyes looking at her with desire. She forced herself to focus on the race, knowing she would soon get her chance to meet Léon face-to-face.

Finally, the race concluded, and Léon emerged victorious once more. As he stood on the podium, his medals glinting in the spotlight, Noelle felt her pulse quicken. She made her way to the mixed zone, where athletes and journalists interacted post-event. Her heart raced as she anticipated the moment she would come face-to-face with Léon.

And then he was there, standing before her, his skin still glistening with beads of sweat and his breath slightly ragged from the exertion of the race. Léon was even more breathtaking up close, his body a masterpiece of athletic perfection. Noelle introduced herself, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

"Léon, it's an honor to meet you, I'm Noelle . Congratulations on your win today. I'd love to ask you a few questions if you have a moment."

Léon's bashful smile took her breath away. "Bonjour, Noelle. The pleasure is mine. I would be delighted to answer your questions." His French accent sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a twitch between her legs.

As they began the interview, Noelle struggled to maintain her professional demeanor. Léon's charm and good looks were distracting, and she found herself imagining what it would be like to run her hands over his sculpted body. She cleared her throat, forcing her mind back to the task at hand.

"So, Léon, tell me, how does it feel to be here in Paris, competing in your home country?"

Léon's eyes lit up as he replied, "It's a dream come true, truly magical. The support from the French crowd is incredible, and it pushes me to swim even faster."

Noelle bit her lip, her mind wandering to the night ahead and the possibility of a different kind of race—one that involved exploring each other's bodies. She shook her head slightly, determined to stay focused.

"I can only imagine," she said, her tone suggestive. "The pressure must be intense. How do you unwind after a stressful race?"

Léon's eyes darkened, and a hint of a smile played on his lips. "I like to take long, hot baths and just relax. Sometimes, I go for a run along the Seine to clear my head."

Noelle pictured Léon's strong legs pumping as he ran, his swimmer's body sleek and powerful. She fought the urge to reach out and touch his arm, her nipples hardening at the thought.

The mixed zone was beginning to clear out as the last of the journalists finished their interviews. Noelle knew this could be her only chance to make a more personal connection with Léon.

"Perhaps you'd like to show me your favorite running route?" she suggested, her voice low and inviting. "I could do with some fresh air, and it would be a pleasure to see the city through the eyes of a local."

Léon's bashful smile returned, and Noelle felt a surge of triumph. "I would love to. It's a date, then. Shall we say tonight at 8? We can run along the river and perhaps grab a drink after if you'd like."

Noelle’s heart pounded as she realized she was about to embark on a private adventure with the man of her dreams. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," she replied, her tone leaving no doubt as to her eagerness.

As they exchanged contact details, their fingers brushed, sending an electric current through Noelle’s body. Léon's eyes flicked to her lips, and she knew he was imagining kissing her as much as she was. The interview concluded, and they parted ways, both eager for the night ahead.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange,Noelle made her way to the meeting point. Léon was already there, a vision in casual attire, his blonde curls shining in the golden hour light.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice husky as he took in her form-fitting yoga pants and tank top.

Noelle felt a rush of desire as his intense gaze swept over her. "You don't look so bad yourself," she replied, a playful smile on her face.

They set off, running side by side along the Seine. Noelle matched her pace to Léon's, their arms occasionally brushing as they ran. The city lights twinkled in the darkness, providing a romantic backdrop to their energetic endeavor. As they ran, Léon pointed out landmarks and shared stories of his childhood in Paris. Noelle listened, enchanted, enjoying the private tour and the intimate insight into Léon's life.

As they reached a particularly picturesque spot, Léon slowed to a stop, and Noelle followed suit. They were alone on the riverbank, the city's hustle and bustle feeling miles away. Léon turned to face her, his eyes burning with desire.

"Noelle, I've been wanting to do this all night," he said, stepping closer and cupping her face in his hands.

Noelle’s heart hammered in her chest as she leaned into his touch, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. Léon tasted of mint and desire, and Noelle felt herself melting into him. Their tongues danced, and Noelle ‘s hands roamed over his strong shoulders and back, savoring the feel of his powerful body.

Breaking the kiss, Léon nibbled along Noelle’s jawline, planting kisses down her neck. Noelle tilted her head back, moaning softly as he found a particularly sensitive spot. Léon's hands moved to the curve of her hips, pulling her against him so she could feel his hardening dick against her belly.

"I want you, Noelle ," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "Let's find a more comfortable place to continue this."

Noelle nodded, breathless, as Léon took her hand and led her through the darkness to a secluded spot he knew of—a quiet park bench hidden among the trees. He gently pushed her against the back of the bench, his lips crushing hers as he kicked off his shoes. Noelle felt his hands sliding under her top, caressing her soft skin, and moaned into his mouth as his thumbs grazed the underside of her full breasts.

With a swift motion, Léon lifted her top over her head, breaking away from the kiss to admire her naked breasts. He lowered his mouth to her nipples, taking one, then the other into his warm mouth, teasing them with his tongue until they peaked into hardness. She arched her back, encouraging him to take more, her hands threading through his curls.

As Léon continued his sensual assault on her breasts, his hand slipped between her thighs, finding the wet center of her desire. He rubbed her clit in slow circles, his fingers sliding easily through her slickness. Her gasps continue , her hips bucking as pleasure shot through her.

"You like that, chérie?" Léon murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

"Oui, Léon, don't stop," Noelle pleaded, her head falling back as she surrendered to the ecstasy washing over her.

Léon chuckled, the vibrations buzzing through Noelle sensitive nipple, which he was still sucking and nipping at. His fingers worked their magic, slipping inside her tight channel, thrusting slowly as he brought her closer to the edge. Noelle’s body trembled, and she cried out, her orgasm crashing over her in waves of bliss.

As her contractions slowed, Léon straightened, pressing his body against hers and capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss. Noelle could taste herself on his lips, and it sent another pulse of desire through her. She wanted him inside her, filling her completely.

"I need you, Léon," she whispered against his lips. "Please, fuck me."

Léon growled, the primal sound sending a shiver down Noelle’s spine. He lifted her, positioning her against the bench, her ass on the edge, her legs wrapped around his waist. With one smooth thrust, he slid inside her, filling her completely.

Noelle moaned, her head falling back as she enjoyed the sensation of being stretched and filled. Léon's hands gripped her hips, guiding her as he began to move, his strokes deep and purposeful. Their bodies moved in unison, the bench creaking in rhythm with their passion.

"You feel so good, Noelle ," Léon groaned, his eyes locked on hers, glittering with intense desire. "Your pussy was made for my cock."

Noelle’s walls clenched around him at his words, and she met his thrusts with her own, eager for more. "Fuck me harder, Léon," she demanded, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I want all of you."

Léon growled again, his pace quickening as he gave her what she craved. The bench rattled with the force of their passion, the slapping of their bodies filling the night air. Noelle cried out with each powerful thrust, her breasts bouncing, her head thrown back in abandon.

Léon's fingers dug into her hips as he pistoned into her, his balls slapping against her ass with each fierce thrust. Noelle felt her core tightening again, her second orgasm building as Léon's cock hit all the right spots.

"I'm close, Léon, so close," she panted, her legs tightening around him.

Léon grunted, his eyes rolling back as he teetered on the edge. With a few more powerful strokes, he sent Noelle over the brink. Her walls clamped down on him as she cried out, her body shaking with the force of her release. Léon followed, his breath catching as he spilled himself deep inside her, their juices mingling in a heated rush.

Spent, they rested, their chests heaving as they caught their breath. Léon gently extracted himself from her, his arms supporting her as they straightened. Noelle felt his cum leaking from her well-fucked pussy, a testament to their passionate encounter.

Léon pulled her into his arms, and she snuggled against him, her head on his chest. They remained like that for several moments, enjoying the afterglow of their intense coupling.

"I should probably get going," Noelle said reluctantly, knowing the night had to end eventually. "I have an early start tomorrow."

Léon nodded, his hands gently caressing her back. "I understand. But perhaps we could arrange another... meeting? There's so much more of Paris I'd love to show you."

Noelle smiled, kissing him softly. "I'd like that, Léon. Paris is even more magical than I imagined, and I think a large part of that is you."

They parted ways, their clandestine tryst a secret they would both treasure. As she made her way back to her hotel, she knew this trip to Paris would be unforgettable, and it wasn't just because of the Olympics. Léon had shown her a whole new side to the City of Love.

End.

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Red Horn ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: devils are contract workers - simply offer them a payment that they can never refuse, and your problems would be taken care of. the only thing is, what could a mere human possibly offer to a devil?

pairing: devil!jeonghan x innocent!reader (gn afab)

genre: fantasy, supernatural | smut, pwp

tags: flirting, food mention, office | bondage, light choking, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, oral, pet names, pnv, praise, if there's a term for jeonghan fucking you with one of his devil horns please tell me, reader wears lingerie, reader's first time, multiple orgasms...

wc: 5.4k

message from nu: this took me super long to write, but this has to be one of my favorites. special thank you to xan @aceofvernons and june @junkissed for keeping me company while I worked on the fic. I hope you all enjoy reading - nu <3

In the distance, the elevator dings sharp and clear, its ring piercing through the reception lounge as its large plum-colored crystal doors open with a rumble. Even when you sit facing away from the reception desk, you can imagine the receptionist greeting the incomer with their monotonous voice, drawling out the same script they gave to you – jet black orbs staring at you judgmentally while you try to scribble your personal information on the forms as fast as you can.

A large Prometheus-type creature in the seat across from you whimpers when its name is called, head hunched and practically trembling with every stride toward the smiling attendant. Open space in front of you, you can see through the large glass windows the hundreds of skyscrapers and verdant greenery where feet touch the ground under the red sky. This place is but a stretch, an affected area of Hell – at least for those who are not native. Even this lounge, untouched coffee bar with expensive Keurig models, circa 1920s sleek leather Barcelonas, and low mid-century style coffee tables with old filled-in Highlights magazines as table decorations, is deceiving in its own way. Because, if it wasn’t clear enough, all of you are in Hell.

Sharp teeth chattering, long tails thumping in anxiety, and sheepish whimpers, the atmosphere in what could be a beautiful place is filled with layers of dread and fear. You sit in your chair, right hand brought to your lips, while slowly peeling the layers of chipped skin off your lips, the light sweater you wore in the morning feeling as heavy as a weighted blanket. Flicking away the loose pieces to the floor a few inches away from your fuzzy teddy bear slippers, you slink further into your seat with thoughts of what could possibly come next weighing you down.

You wanted it. Correction. You still want it, even when the soft jazz playing from the speakers barely masks the distant screams and screeches that echo throughout the many halls and floors in the building. So desperate to have your need fulfilled you would even beg a devil, the devil, for even an ounce of that fulfillment.

So, when a siren with beautiful wings adorned with brown speckled feathers calls your name, you answer with a squeak and scramble to meet them in the corridor of one of the halls where they wait patiently for you with a kind smile on their face. The creature’s feathers ruffle as it elegantly struts down the bright corridor, passing various framed artworks and accolades, a file folder nestled under the crook of its left wing. Too deep in your mind, nitpicking at your outfit choice and squeaky voice whenever you answer the siren’s small talk, you fail to even notice that it isn’t the usual demon who is walking you to their office.

And the office, matte black large double doors that seem to aggrandize the more you stare at it, seems to you the most daunting thing you’ve ever experienced, dreading what’s on the other side of the doors. The doors automatically swing open when the siren approaches, and a rich puff of aroma fills your senses – strongly smoked tea leaves, spices, and aged tannin from the great oak trees you spent your vacations under during summer camps. Immersive, sultry, powerful…frightening.

The creature beckons you to follow them inside, the doors slamming shut when you enter the threshold. If you were dreading the office's interior - perhaps a grotesque chamber too scary to imagine, then the reality only confuses you. Plush gray Persian rug you’re too scared to step on, mahogany desk sitting at the end of the room, a large fish tank built into one of the walls big enough to hold a shark. It would look like a standard luxury CEO office if it weren’t for the shelves of trinkets from collectible matchbooks to eyeless Sylvanian Family figures to mysterious chained and muffled floating orbs that stand behind the desk.

Taking a seat in front of the desk, you watch the siren slowly stalk behind the desk, perching itself in the leather executive chair to rifle through the files with its back turned towards you. Your hands find each other in your lap, folded together, the right thumb twiddling with the left. It is awfully quiet, and the atmosphere is just as bad as it was in the lounge. No part of you wants to spark a conversation, afraid that the slightest conversation error could send you on a one-way ticket into the depths of hell. Does their boss know they are sitting in their boss’ seat?

However, when the leather chair turns around, you see a man frowning at what you assume to be your file – your attendant long gone. He flicks away his remaining brown feathers, letting his disguise dissipate into thin air while craning his head to the left and right to stretch his neck. A tri-toned nameplate appears at the front of his messy desk, deep burgundy red with a black center dark enough that you could mistake it for a void. Written in gold is the name “Yoon Jeonghan,” and in a smaller font underneath is his official title.

The devil, as the plate reads, cocks an eyebrow at you through his long curtain bangs, causing you to take a craven stance – wincing and lowering your head so you don’t meet his eyes. Taking a page out of the file, he presses it against the desk and slides the page towards you, twisting it with his long nimble fingers in one smooth motion so the words face you upright.

“You summoned me via a crocheted sweater, a three-year-old three-wick seasonal autumnal candle that smells like pumpkin pie, and a tiny crushed packet of Prince Noodles you found at the back of your snack cabinet?” His voice is light and airy, but the terrifying smoothness and the seemingly innocuous nature of his tone only deceive the listener – he is a creature filled with malice and iniquity.

Slamming his palm against the table, he drags the page towards himself, creasing it with the strength and anger he exerts. The slapping sound causes you to flinch, and your eyes continue to stay trained on your lap, the shrill sound of the slap still ringing in your ears.

“Look at me,” he commands you in a low tone, a voice dipped in a thick vat of bubbling tar. “Summoning me with trash? Do I look like a joke to you?”

Scared you might combust into flames the moment you look at him, yet too scared to defy his command, you slowly lift your head to look at the man sitting across from you for the first time.

If his verbal command isn’t enough to evoke fear in the most draconian demons, perhaps his physical properties - his presence and his chiseled facial structure - command creatures differently. Dark brown eyes and thin-lipped, bottom lip slick and catching the light after he runs his tongue over it while scoffing at you, you have to admit the devil is strikingly handsome in his features. Pure sybarite from the decoration of his office to the decorations he wears, he outfits himself in leather garb. Fashionable thick leather blazer with a belt cinched around the waist, a silver chain dangles around his neck, sparkling in hues of red. And the horns that sit at the top of his head, dark crimson red with the shine of the waxy Red Delicious apples that stack in a pyramid under bright supermarket lights. Elephant tusk-like: thick, curved, and blunt. You wonder what it would feel like if he…

He appears before you in an instant, sitting at the edge of his desk, leaning over, and sandwiching you between his towering frame and the back of your chair. With an apparent smirk on his face, he enjoys watching you practically whimper underneath him, trembling in your seat. Irises expanding in size at exponential speeds is a clear tell, a giveaway of your need for him.

“You’re scared of me.” He points out with much effrontery while cocking his head, his face a mere few inches away from yours. He leans back with his arms crossed, planting himself firmly against his desk. “But you’re the one who summoned me, wanting to make a deal with me, right? So, no matter how scared you are of me, you’re still the boss and I’m your contract worker.”

“Contract worker?”

You can’t believe his words. He is agreeing to your stupid little request that you thought could never be fulfilled. Summoning a demon? Summoning the devil? It sounds like a quirky group activity to do at middle school sleepovers.

“You mean why did I agree to your request?”

You quickly nod your head in response.

“I’m a man with needs. And you’re a little angel who was brave enough to offer me a deal. It’s an obscene request that nobody of your kind has offered me for centuries - although, the last one perished with my touch…but you wouldn’t lie to me, right? Sweetheart?” He almost bats his long eyelashes with the pet name, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The scene shifts almost theatrically – morphing from Jeonghan’s office to the tiny bedroom you were in about an hour ago. It seems real. All of it. The same putrid orange floorboards with dark knots that look like stains, hanging on the wall is a single bronze circular mirror your navy curtains slap against when the wind blows. You’re sitting in the middle of your bed, the old lumpy mattress you’ve been using since elementary school covered with the white checkered duvet set you found for free on some second-hand site. On the floor by the foot of the bed is a tiny space you made by pushing your jackets and plastic bags away, saved for summoning Jeonghan. Now, all that is left is soot, the Prince Noodles wrapper, and a now-stretched hand-made sweater.

Fucker. He is keeping the candle.

“It’s your first time so I can make you feel more comfortable – play on your turf. But the question is, can you take it? Can you take all of me? We can break it down into several sessions.” His suggestive tone is almost warmhearted. It almost makes you forget this is the first time you’ve met him. 

This situation would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that you’re talking to the devil. You don’t know if he’s the type to laugh at bad jokes, but you weren’t going to test your hypothesis. 

“No,” you tell him. There’s only one thing on your mind. “One time.”

“You don’t realize what ‘all at once’ means, do you?”

Granted, if this were any other day with any other person, you would’ve faltered when this type of question kisses your ears. Doe-eyed, you watch him while sitting at the edge of your bed, a tiny nod in motion that makes him smile at you. The outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and he almost seems like a college boyfriend-esque type visiting your room for the first time - kind and patient, yet filled with corrupt thoughts.

He takes a seat next to you and proceeds to unbuckle the belt that cinches his waist. You’re too shy to stare at him while he undresses, but you can hear very clearly his garments hitting the floor one after another. The end of soft thuds and crinkles and a cool touch that turns your face to his, he holds your face in the palm of his right hand. So tender, yet his intentions are clearly laid out in the open.

“Why don’t you show me what pretty outfit you’re hiding underneath your sweater so I can show you what I mean?” his voice low, sending vibrations down to your core.

What you reveal underneath is a dainty two-piece. Thin lavender silk trim and clear organza with embroidered pastel flower details accentuate the cups that cover your breasts. The bottom matches the top, pulled high to your waistline. He hisses, forked tongue appearing for a split second before disappearing again.

“Contrary to what humans believe,” he mutters while holding one of your hands in his. “Angels don’t exist in this world. But at this moment…” He pushes a strand of hair away from your face, a subtle yet intimate gesture. He’s doing his best to prepare you for the worst without scaring you off, and you can’t help but to cling to him and seek refuge in his assuagement. “You’re the only Angel in front of me.”

Now you can see them more clearly. Dark brown eyes with bright specks of gold only a mere few inches away from yours. It makes you wonder how someone as beautiful as he can become the Devil. But he leaves no time for you to spare as he dips and plants his lips against yours. And you reciprocate with ardor, leaning back onto the bed as he changes his position so he is hovering, towering above you. His kisses are slow, focusing on making you feel good. Supple lips against your hot skin, he nips and licks at your flesh, leaving discolored hues of claret and magenta, him ravaging your untouched purity. And he takes the lead, grabbing your hands so they hug his neck so you can press him closer to you when you feel like it.

And you do. It excites you when learning how your body automatically reacts to him in need and lust: pulling him into your chest while feeling his soft skin rub against your lingerie, speeding up your kisses, and whining when you want more. He only smirks when he pulls away, looking at you from above and seeing your plump swollen lips and sexual frustration scintillating in your eyes. Your first hickeys on your neck and chest look like the beginnings of the first fallen leaves in the suburbs during Autumn. And you feel him grow against your core, a firm ball that waits to be unleashed with its owner’s command.

“Will my Angel be good for me?” He looks up at you while he traces the dainty straps that wrap around your skin, his pointer finger swirling around the yellow intricate embroidered flower that barely covers your nipple. The tip of the finger flicks against your rosy bud, and the feeling sends vibrations and shivers straight to your core. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you barely manage to whisper. “I’ll be good.”

“Then I’ll make you feel good.”

He bends down to kiss you again, this time with more fervor as if to mitigate any of your worries or concerns. But, strangely enough, you don’t. What is left behind in the trek to his office is replaced with new feelings of greed that you desperately want to have fulfilled during your nights alone. And the man who kisses down your body, pleasing you and praising you for reacting so well to his touch, seems multifarious enough to fulfill everything you dreamed about in secret.

When he reaches your core, it’s already uncomfortably wet. He seems to pay no mind as he pries away the lily embroidery that covers your cunt, cool finger briefly brushing against your skin to reveal your tender flesh that throbs underneath his gaze. Jeonghan starts slowly, prying your thighs apart with both of his hands. Firm grip on your skin, you whimper when he frowns at you for trying to shy away. Then you feel his lips planting pecks along your left inner thigh, making his way to your slick. 

If the way he kisses you is nothing but a lust-filled way of overcoming his workload, stress, and greed, then the way he eats you out is the complete opposite. Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t dive in head first after pushing you into the deep end; he holds your hand while guiding you into the pool, letting you adjust to the temperature of the water before swimming after him. Laps you up with the flat side of his tongue, long licks around your inner folds and swirls your core like a whirlwind, Jeonghan tsks when you start to close your thighs around his head without thinking. While telling you to behave, the low growl making you almost come on the spot, he pries your thighs apart. 

Firm grip and fingers digging into your skin, the Devil presses his tongue against the area you often frequented yourself at night, never thinking the day would come when someone else is able to visit. Forked tongue draws a heart down your slick, zigzags, paddles, and swims in your juices. It feels like two tongues are working you at once, and it makes you come twice as fast, your fingers gripping the bed sheets and your body jolting upwards. Supple lips close around where you feel the most sensitive, and he eats you out in a way that tells you that you would never be able to experience something like this in the future - not with him and definitely not with anybody else.

“Aah-ah fuck Jeonghan.” You squirm while he keeps his pace, wet sounds from beneath you filling your little room while he cleans up your aftermath. “Want more.”

“Aww my little Angel wants more?” He temporarily detaches his face from your cunt, red swollen lips glistening and glossed with your cum, to smirk at you. “Why don’t you look at me and beg for it?”

But he’s meticulous with continuously making you feel good. In the absence of his tongue, he replaces the emptiness with his fingers. Rubbing your nub in between his thumb and pointer finger, the Devil uses his other hand to rub himself - his hands prepping his long and pink organ. It takes a choked sob emitting from your mouth and your eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even begin to think about looking him in the eye. And when you finally look him dead in the eye and trail to his raging member while letting out what he thinks are the prettiest and most deceivingly innocent whines, he finally understands your cupidity. 

So he thrusts his digits in your core, your panties now magically disappearing when he could’ve shrugged them off ages ago. Two long fingers fill your virgin hole, he scissors them while feeling your warm flesh contrast in reaction to his cold skin. Pointer fingers hook around your spongy G-spot, and he uses it as a sort of pulley, pulling him into you while your stomach tightens and squeezes with every quiver of his finger. You feel yourself soak his fingers, running down into his palms. He catches every drop with his tongue, licking his hands clean and then moving on to your cunt as he continues to finger you thoroughly.

He pulls his fingers apart, creating an opening to stick his tongue in you. Tonguing you, he savors your sweetness, sucking and thrusting his tongue deeper into you while he slides his fingers in and out of you. He fills you up until he runs out of room. You feel so corrupted, never expecting any person to make you feel so dirty, disgusting, yet so well-handled at the same time. You lust for more, to feel more as he smirks against your sex and reaches his open hand upwards to grab your breast. It feels plush and soft when he kneads it in between his fingers. Simply flicking his thumb over your sensitive nub sends shockwaves down to your core, and he surfaces with your cum dripping down his chin.

“How are you feeling?” he asks you, briefly leaning upwards to catch your lips in his mouth. “Can you take more? That was just to warm you up. Are you ready for me?” he mumbles against your lips.

The taste of yourself sits prominently in his mouth. You can taste yourself as you exchange another kiss with him, slowly winding down from your high.

“I- I want to try more.” You hear yourself openly admitting while he leaves tiny pecks along your collarbone. “It felt good.”

“Just good?” He looks up at you in feigned confusion. “Come on honey, I didn’t fuck you dumb just yet. I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to come up with better adjectives. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You gasp when he moves away from your cover to latch his lips around your nipple. “I cam- I think I came several times, but I’m still horny.” The last part comes out in a sort of whisper as if you’re afraid you would be caught by somebody if you ever admitted to being horny out loud.

“Mmm.” He groans with your tit in his mouth. “Mmf. Nothing wrong with being horny. And you did come. Several times…but are you ready to come more?”

“Yes.” You’re feeling more confident. “I’m ready for more.”

“Even if I have to tie you down?” He pushes himself up so he kneels in front of you. “I’m afraid your human body can’t take what I’m about to give you.”

“I want to try,” you reply. “‘All at once,’ remember?”

“Okay Angel.” He smiles, leaning over to put his hand behind your head to bring you upright. “All at once.”

Your face is so close to his body that you can smell the muskiness of his sex. Right in front of you is his member. It’s your first time seeing one this closely, red and stiff, and a tiny bead of precum that rolls off the tip. You wonder how it would feel in the palm of your hands, how you would be able to fit all of it in your mouth.

“Take a good look at it, Angel. Touch it or suck it if you want,” his voice is gentle yet mischievous. “Don’t be scared. I can guide you. Take your chances before I spend the rest of our time disappearing in your cunt.”

Hesitantly, you bring your lips closer to his tip, opening your mouth wide enough so your lips close around the head. It’s smooth like a cool cherry-flavored popsicle on a hot summer day, yet there’s a certain softness to the organ. You stare up at him with his head in your mouth, and he simply nods, thrusting forward a little to tell you that you can continue. 

A tiny lick causes him to flinch and then gasp, his eyes fluttering as you lick him again more confidently. He breathes out a groan when you place a hand on his waist while the other grabs his length. Closing your eyes, you hollow your cheeks and guide him in and out of your mouth, sucking and licking as you go. 

And the raging and tantalizing ache in him can’t help but to grow and extend along his erection, growing hot in his stomach as he looks down at you trying your best to suck his dick. It makes him feral knowing that he’s your first - the first to corrupt you, to coat your thick and swollen lips with your saliva and his precum, and to watch you as you clench your thighs while sucking him off. Just thinking about your request and actually seeing you try to fit him in your mouth without gagging intoxicates him and makes his mind fuzzy. But before he can begin to process his dick hitting the cold air, he feels your mouth latch around one of his testicles, gently sucking while your hand kneads the other, and your other hand continues to pump him in your mouth’s absence. 

This time, he sees you wide-eyed and staring right at him. And when your eyes roll to the back of your head, he immediately snaps and spasms - shooting white liquid all over the bed sheets. 

“Lay back down,” he demands. 

Repositioning himself over your naked body, he wipes away a few splatter marks on your face and reapplies it to your open lips. It’s hard to concentrate on the new salty taste when the Devil is staring intently into your eyes while his hands roam your body, touching and flicking. 

He asks you about punishments for making him come without warning - something about how he should prolong your virginity, a concept that you wanted him to take away. 

…it’s just a social construct used to belittle others, the contract states. But if anybody is going to take it away, then it has to be the Devil himself. 

“This might hurt a little,” he tells you. 

Invisible ropes drag your hands above your head and tie your thighs to your bed. Making sure you’re secure Jeonghan quips, “In case you try to run away.”

You can barely see what he’s doing from your angle. His dick is slowly becoming hard again, so you think he’s going to eat you out in the meantime. But nothing can prepare you for what comes next. 

It feels cold and warm, a long tubular shape slowly digging and nudging itself into your cunt. Yet, you don’t feel the same wetness you felt when he stuck his tongue in your cunt. The figure pulls in and out, sliding and squelching with every thrust. Your mouth drops open, letting tiny soundless exhales fall out of your mouth. A burning sensation builds up at the bottom of your stomach, causing you to lurch and struggle against your binds. Jeonghan only chuckles from underneath you, his face shrouded by his hair. It’s only when he pushes deep, causing you to yell his name when you realize the object he pushes into you. 

What fucks your cunt in a steady rhythm is the same crimson red, elephant-tusk-like horn that sits on top of Jeonghan’s head. He slightly turns his head so the thick and curved object hits you in the right spot, causing you to struggle, moan, and breathe heavily. 

“What a twisted angel,” Jeonghan grunts. “You didn’t think I would be able to read your thoughts? You didn’t think the Devil would be able to listen in on every single dirty thought that came across that pretty little head of yours?”

“Fuck. P-please Jeonghan,” you whine through gritted teeth. “Want your dick.” 

“No.” His tone is flat. “I’m not horny yet. Hearing you whine and mewl about how good I make you feel ”

“N-No,” you manage to say. “Can’t wh-whine if you’re choking me.”

Your invitation causes him to immediately pull out of you, therefore causing you to lurch forward with a gasp and fall back down when you’re stopped by your binds. It’s a lot clearer now, his wet red horn and the hair matted down by your juices. Still, there is nothing that could make the man in front of you become an eyesore. 

He’s objectifyingly beautiful - now not as downright terrifying as you thought him to be. Your little push of confidence, although a bit passive, goes a long way as he bends down once again to catch you between his lips, kissing you feverishly as his left hand slowly works its way to loop around your neck. 

It’s a new feeling, feeling the pressure of his palm against your neck. The pressure is light - not how Jeonghan would’ve liked to choke you, but enough so the concept doesn’t scare you away. Gently squeezing the sides of your esophagus, Jeonghan removes his lips from yours so he can see you clearly. Chin lifted up and your eyes glossed over, you seem to him to be needier than ever. He watches you as your struggle against his invisible binds, hips thrusting in the air. 

“Please Jeonghan.” You struggle against his hand. “Please. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. Please-”

“Beg.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “I’m begging. Please.”

He adds a little more pressure around your esophagus, making you struggle and almost come on the spot. “More.”

“W-want t-to see your pre- ah fuck pretty face lose its beauty when you bend over me while fucking me hard. I want you to be mean to me and pull my hair so my back arches while you pound into me from behind. Make my thighs quiver and tremble as my knees go red. Use me until I’m left with nothing but tears.”

“I can make you cry.” He lets go of your throat, tsk-ing at the fading soft pink imprint left behind on your skin. “But not in the way you described…You’ll be leaking from somewhere else, Angel.”

You breathe his words in like an airy aphrodisiac, filling your lungs and clouding your brain with blissful jubilation. But the tears. The tears fall when he slowly pushes into you, cooing and soothing you while you cling onto him, fingernails digging red welts into his bare back while you struggle to adjust to his size. The stinging pain feels like no other, but fuck does it feel good to have him inside you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he bends over you and whispers in your ear, “Keep tightly clenching around me before I can properly fuck you and you’ll never be able to leave Hell. Understand?”

“Yes,” you reply, hissing when he pulls back.

Then he starts pushing slowly back into you, savoring how your walls etch and hug his ridges, savoring how your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head in response to your pleasure. Another thrust, faster this time. He plagues you with need, making you practically fuck him yourself by angling your legs on the bed so you can push yourself into him over and over again. He pinches your nipple in anger, but it only sends a lewd string of pain straight to your core. You find it pleasurable, your nerves heightened to a new level. 

So he puts his hands around your waist and tells you his name again - because that’s the only thing you’ll remember after he’s done with you. 

He ruts into you over and over again, harshly and quickly. The only sounds filling your tiny bedroom are your hiccups that complement the sound of his skin slapping against yours. Your whole body jerks and rocks with every thrust, your bed no longer standing in the same place, now slightly askew. He doesn’t even give you time to recover when you cum on his cock, your belly tightening, releasing, and then tightening again in a matter of a few seconds. 

“Whore,” he sneers. “Look at you, all fucked out underneath me. You can’t help but come multiple times, can you?”

He rubs your clit while pounding into you, watching you writhe in pleasure underneath him, very well unable to respond to his rhetorical question. 

“And you want me to pound into you from behind?” He mockingly laughs out loud. “All that talk but you can’t even form a word. Form a word then. Try forming a word before I cum.” 

But another wave swells in your abdomen, causing you to jerk forward in reaction. Your body feels sweaty and sore, but the pleasure rolls in waves - building in you and ejecting out of you like a consistent ebb and flow. Every single bite, flick, and word that comes out of him only breaks you even more. And you topple like a house of cards, reduced to nothing but his personal fucktoy. 

He chases his own orgasm when he feels like it, pushing into you deeply and thrusting one last time by hitting your walls so he can slowly milk his seed as he rolls his hips. And when he pulls out, he watches his liquid slowly collect at your entrance, threatening to spill out. Your body still twitches in his absence, your aftershocks squeezing and making his seed drip and run out of you. 

Your eyes are blurry, body is sore with tiny cartoonish stars floating and rotating above your head. You can’t expect the Devil to stay. He had done enough for you, more than you could ever imagine. It takes everything in you to bring yourself to whisper his name one last time before you feel him leave your side. 

On the floor where you summoned him is an invitation to summon him again:

Whenever you’re ready. He writes. I’ll make you crawl. -YJH, The Devil

[bucknastysbabe]

You can be my daddy tonight - L. Bodecker

If you’re seeking heaven then you’ll want to come and get it.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: DADDY AND BREEDING KINK OUT THE WAHOO, age gap, size kink, crying during sex, Frottage, pnv!sex, The Great Outdoors, she’s a brat he’s a Man what happens next, infidelity, they’re kinda both assholes, soft and fluffy Lee literally and figuratively, smut-tacular, totally glossed over Lee’s 400 red glaring flags

A/N: It’s about time I did something for my big country boy. No Pepsi cups sorryyyy

Everyone knew the Sheriff used to drink like a fish. Everyone knew the Sheriff had a wife that hadn’t popped out a baby yet. Everyone knew the Sheriff played with bad men and dirty money. Your Pa, the county judge, told you to stay far away from the Sheriff. In fact, you planned on doing the opposite.

‘Vote for Bodecker,’ read the pin. You picked it up and thumbed across the lettering, thinking. You had a senior internship with the little paper in Meade. Although more interesting things tended to come out of Knockemstiff. You were fascinated by the surly law man, he was cute. Sure, a little pudgy and a lot older but he had killer eyes and the prettiest smile. You’d be lying if he wasn’t your sexual awakening.

Your boss rolled his eyes and said, “Sure, write a puff piece on the asshole, but he’s gonna make sure you write what he wants.” You cocked your head against the door with snicker, “Not even a little feminine wiles will sway em’?”

Henry pushed his glasses up a crooked nose and blew smoke at you, “If the man has to pay people to be quiet about his sister selling ass out the Tecumseh, whatcha think your lil’ pink tweed skirt is gonna do? He’s all about reputation.” You opened your mouth in faux shock and retorted, “I’ll show you what a pink tweed skirt can do. I’ll have an interview by tomorrow!”

“Whatever you say! Get on home. Night darlin’.”

“Night Mister Henry,” you chirped.

Maybe Henry had a point. You’d called the station four times today. The receptionist would answer, you’d state your intentions, she’d say, “Sheriff Bodecker is not in the station, try again later.”

On the fifth try the receptionist sniffed, “Look girlie, he’s busy. I’d suggest giving it twenty-four hours.”

You put on a smile as you gritted out, “Thanks, girlie!”

Slamming the phone against the wall you watched your dog jump up and stare at you. Turning on your heel you made it up to your room, filtering through your dresses. You’d wear the light pink shift dress, like the one Twiggy had in the magazines. You pulled on some stockings and thick black heels to match your collar.

Eyes made up big and shiny you eyed the clock. He’s probably in his little office, yelling for the clerk to shut the damn phone off like he was important or something. You drove to the depot, slinging rocks as you pulled into a parking spot. You didn’t want to ‘pull my pa is the judge card’ but push might come to shove.

You checked your meticulous hair and makeup in the car mirror, popping a smile. You sprayed a bit of perfume and grabbed your smokes. Staring back in the mirror you chided yourself, “You gettin’ nervous? No ma’am. C’mon.” Pinching your thigh a couple of times you hopped out your light blue Mercury.

You stalked into the depot, resting your hands on the receptionist’s desk. The lady seemed shocked, gasping, “Lord have mercy! I told you the man was busy!”

You waved your hands, “It sure don’t look busy round here!”

You lit up a cigarette in annoyance, listening to her nasally admonishment. A gruff tone came from behind your right shoulder. “I have been busy all day filling out reports, but I guess some people got no patience.” You exhaled and ashed into nearby tray, glancing over your shoulder at the Sheriff. Turning and holding out a manicured hand you offered your name and a polite, “I’m here on behalf of the Meade Daily News to request an interview.”

His big hand engulfed yours, blue eyes flicking down your body before returning up. He hummed deeply before laughing, “You’re the judges girl aint’cha? Like father like daughter.” You pouted and asked, “Can I ask a couple questions or do I need to go to your opponent?”

He didn’t like that, jaw clamping down and twitching. Bodecker ran a hand through his short hair, other hand on a soft hip. He grumbled, “Naw, we don’t need that. Cmon into my office. Damn fire-ant.”

You perched yourself on the couch across the small room. It smelled of cigars and candied something. He had quit drinking so you guessed sugar was filling the void. And his shirts, you thought as he grunted while sitting down, belly straining his white button down.

Leaning back he lit up a cig and leveled you with an annoyed look, chubby cheeks bunching as he puffed on the tobacco. You went straight to the point.

“Are you aware of the accusations against you being made? About hush money and your sister’s doings.”

His eyes narrowed, fingertips digging into the wood of his desk. Bodecker suddenly smiled and said, “My poor sister was being used by her husband. She’s receiving treatment upstate Ohio. Truly a shame, but I can’t allow that to happen in our county. No hush money involved, it can be blow to the ego but she was sick.”

“Mhm. That is sad. Do you consider yourself a family man?”

He was getting more irritated by the second. You grinned, knowing you had the upper hand. Untouchable was written up and down your body, lest he get on bad with the magistrate and Mayor. Lee took a deep breath and sighed, “I’ve been wanting to have a family since my daddy upped and walked out on us. My wife has been…ill…so it’s been a slow process. We’re thinking about maybe adopting.”

You opened your mouth but Bodecker barked, “Nuh-uh. I pick this question and ya’ pretty lil’ self is gonna write it all down, ‘kay?” Feeling your cheeks heat up you nodded. It was only fair to write down some bullshit on behalf of Bodecker. So you did, unwillingly and oft with dramatic sighs.

You frowned at the Sheriff’s smug expression as he leaned back in that office chair, creaking in the quiet room. You stretched out yourself, the hem of your dress climbing higher and higher. He cleared his throat, blues locked on you. You kept your legs together and hummed, “Off the record question Sheriff— if you answer I’ll give ya’ a peak.”

He grunted softly, “Whassit’ sweetheart?”

Rubbing your thighs together tantalizingly had him begging like a dog for a bone with his eyes. You rolled your hips and asked, “So you gonna adopt some babies? You don’t go home and fill your wife’s pussy up every night? She’s mighty pretty but y’aint gettin’ any younger Sheriff.”

He groaned and palmed his swelling prick, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“What? Looks like y’got no problem getting it up?”

Lee Bodecker stood up, braced over his desk, and growled, “She’s a lockbox. Thinkin’ I’m fucking lil’ girls like you.” You dropped one of your legs to the floor, exposing your naked slit, cooing, “Really now?” He stepped closer, breathing hard. You could see the war in his mind but he couldn’t control the licking of his lips.

You knew what the man was imagining.

He stood still, hands on his hips as almost if he was stuck. You lounged idly, curls falling out of place. You slid your hand down your body, so, so, so slowly. Lee made a soft noise when you swiped your fingers through slippery slick. “She don’t get all wet for you like this Sheriff? Don’t take much for me.”

You rubbed a bit faster, breathily moaning, “I remember when you was just a deputy, hah, I was thirteen. Such an ugly duckling then. F-fuck but you were so handsome helping me when those boys were being mean.”

Lee had drawn closer, kneeling at the end of the couch, a hand near your calf, barely grazing it. His orbs were dark with arousal. The man desperately goaded, “C’mon- finish the story, c’mon.”

You arched your back, spreading yourself wider for him, circling your clit. “W-well, ya’ helped me out and you were just out the national guard, all young and trim- don’t matter shit! So when I went home I rode my pillow thinkin’ it was you.” You finished your dirty little story with a cry, shivering in pleasure. Lee looked wrecked, hand tightly wound around your ankle now, rubbing his ringed finger over his face.

You slid upward, batting his hand off. Lee gruffed, “Yer’ gonna give me a heart attack sweets— ya’ can’t stay much longer.” Close enough to smell his aftershave you pressed close, tucking yourself into a soft jawline, pressing some kisses.

You grabbed his big left hand and eyed the gold band. Playing with it the question rolled out, “When’s the last time you got a blow job Sheriff?” He gulped down a moan, shaking his head. You lapped at his thick ring finger, swallowing the digit down. He gasped and jerked at the sensation, eyes wide. You ever so gently eased his wedding ring off a slight hassle as his fingers weren’t so slim since the bells rang.

You pulled it out of your mouth and placed it on the side table, staring up at the bigger man, still kneeled outside the couch. Lee’s internal war seemed to be made up, he had a look in his eye now, jaw twitching. He stood up, cock flushed and thick against those tight slacks.

His big hand held your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek. You whimpered softly when he brushed the bottom lip. The sheriff murmured, “Can you be a good girl and follow along?” You nodded and suckled on his calloused thumb, watching eyes roll back.

He managed in a low rumble, “You’re gonna straighten up and walk your pretty tail to your car. Then head to the Seven-Eleven where the truckers park,” he bent down and nipped your earlobe, “Then I’m gonna come by and we’ll have a real interview— up close and personal.”

“Yessir,” you poorly whined. You shifted your thighs together to hold back the neediness still arising. You stood up on shaky legs, smoothing down your dress, wiping any stray makeup, putting your headband back on. Before you walked out the door he pressed his big body into yours, lips crawling up your neck.

“Haven’t had a blowjob in years. But I can’t resist any sweets.” He smacked your ass and you stumbled out the door, pen and paper in hand. The receptionist and a cop standing by her stared oddly but you chirped, “Have a wonderful night!” There was a skip in your step to the Mercury, you driving like a bat outta hell to the quickie store.

Then the waiting begun.

You contemplated rubbing your clit outta boredom and sheer need but went over your notes instead. Deep in thought, a knock at the window shocked you, sending the pen flying. The sheriff was clad in a leather jacket now, grinning like a maniac down at you. You tentatively opened the car door and asked, “Where we headed Sheriff?”

You were both parked behind a stationary truck. He had his hat on, brim low, arm slung around your waist. He hummed, “Not sure yet. Somewhere quiet. Probably one o’ those old lover’s lanes when I was young.” You stifled a laugh, “In a place like this it’s changed?”

He side-eyed you with a smirk, “Yep, y’know how many times I’d had to bust up little bad girls like you out past bedtime?” You rolled your eyes and stated, “Don’t got a curfew, my parents think I’m at Darlene’s.” He opened the side of the cruiser for you, getting a nice feel as you sat down.

He slipped in the driver’s side, turning on the ignition. He hummed, “This lover’s lane s’better, gotta pretty crick to run around in.” You stared in horror, “But what about bears and snakes?” He patted your thigh and cooed, “Don’t worry your pretty little head, not like I ain’t use a gun before.” His huge hand settled on your thigh, squeezing and rubbing maddeningly.

You whimpered under your breath, been on edge too long. Rolling toward a dilapidated stop sign he made a noise of faux concern, teasing, “Poor doll baby, you riled up huh? C’mere and sit a little closer.”

You practically leapt to his side, plastered to his warmth. He grinned again and held you snug into his soft midsection. Cruising at a leisurely pace he admitted without looking, “I wanna’ baby so bad. Fill the house with kids. Be better than my shitbag of a Daddy.”

You wanted that too. Real bad. Just thinking about it made you needier. He grumbled, “I don’t know if it’s me or her but ain’t nothing clicked. We been to the doctor in Cleveland, my spunk’s all fine.” He groaned in annoyance, “Why am I even telling you all this?”

You shrugged, “Obviously it’s been weighing on ya. I’d have your babies. Ones with big blue eyes and pretty teeth,” you placed a hand on his soft stomach and whispered, “You’d be a good daddy. I’ve seen ya at the town gatherings.” Bodecker sharply inhaled, hand gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

His driving sped up some, ducking down into an old trail to a holler. He didn’t respond, jaw tighter than ever. You asked, “Sheriff? Bodecker? Did I say something?” He growled, “Babygirl…nah, you said everything I wanted to hear.” He placed a gentler hand around your knee, giving a squeeze.

He put the cruiser in park, settling back with a sigh. You eyed him with wide eyes, utterly transfixed. In the moment you trembled, a bit out of your element, but the ache between your legs was throbbing and persistent. You helped him undo his tight jacket and throw it in the back. You tossed his wide brimmed hat with a little giggle.

Lee rolled his window down and you copied him. The silence was stagnant until the sounds of the evening filled in. The energy was still charged. He turned to you, blue eyes intense. The sheriff asked, “You really mean all that? About the babies and shit?” You nodded, reaching a hand out to grip his bigger one.

“You’re a goddamn angel. Shit baby- how old’re you now?” He ran a frantic hand through his dark hand, biting that damned lip again. You warbled, “M’eighteen. Been that way for a couple a’ months.” He shook his head, laughing lowly, “I’m old enough t’be ya’ daddy sweet cheeks.”

“You can be my daddy. I don’t care. I’ll put all the babies you want in that big empty house up in Brewer Heights.”

He pulled you by your thighs, his bulk keeping you wide open and pinned. Lee hissed in your ear, “Can’t say shit like that. I’m a married man, divorce not good for the election baby.” You pouted and turned away, annoyed. He grabbed your cheeks and cooed, “That don’t mean we can make some arrangements after I win and you’d be the biggest prize.”

You rolled your body against his softer one and petulantly replied, “You promise? Y’gonna be my daddy Lee?” He smiled while peppering kisses along your jaw. “Mhm. I’ll be your daddy, dress you up, take you around, fill ya’ up with my babies.”

“Good. Being on the judge’s bad side would be sticker in your heel for winning,” you said lightly.

He glared you down, fear filling your veins before Lee laughed, “Don’t I know that? Bratty lil’ girl, bout’ as slick as those gangsters at the Tecumseh.” You retorted, “You like it, I know it.” Lee sat back on his haunches, kicking open the car door behind him. You surged forward with a whimper, seizing his plump lips.

You batted his hands away to loosen his tie then unbutton his top. While unpinning his badge you hummed, “Nah. This’ll be my job when you get home after a long day.” Lee simply groaned and panted while you plucked the buttons off. You commented, “Daddy needs a bigger size.”

You ran your hands down his soft belly and hips, squeezing. They settled on his belt, pudge slightly rolling over. He scoffed, “Eatin’ too many sweets. I’ll be a Fuckin’ hog by the end of the election.” Loosening his belt with a jingle you shrugged, “Not when you’re fucking your pretty girl all the time, that’ll get some cardio in.”

Button popped and you stroked him through his underwear, earning a strangled moan. You couldn’t help but whimper, “Oh- you’re big.” He shucked off the rest of the pants along with the whites— cock rudely slapping against his tummy. You blushed and cried out when he reached behind your neck to unbutton your collar.

In a flurry of muted pink you were on your knees in the buff. Lee rumbled, “Oh little girl, fuck, pretty goddamn baby.” You whimpered, “Touch me, c’mon daddy, s’been too long. Huuurts.” He laid you down on the seat, big hands rubbing you gently, cooing, “Ain’t you just a darlin’? Daddy’s gonna take care of ya.”

His cock slotted against your oversensitive pussy, making you cry out again, hands wrapping round his broad shoulders. He leaned in from an angle, taking your lips sweetly. You shyly moaned into his mouth, rutting against him in excitement. All your dreams come true. Lee Bodecker would be yours.

He shifted in the tight compartment, hand cradling you for better access to your mouth. He kicked into your lax mouth, panting, “Been s’long, taste so sweet.” You lapped back, wet smacks filling the cruiser. His tongue playfully danced against yours, kissing rough then pulling back to smile at you.

You tried to close the gap, only for the bastard to back off further. You whined his name in annoyance, squirming. The brunette shushed you, “Hold on now, lemme love on you some.” Your eye roll turned into a real one when his lips sealed over your nipple, flicking his tongue naughtily. Billy from down the road didn’t know jack shit about this, fucking boy.

You ran your hand through his thick hair, panting and mewling softly. “Lee, oh f- Christ!” He hummed amusedly around your bud, sending you reeling again. Then switched to the other one, rough fingers twitching and pulling. He was rolling his thick cock between your folds quicker now, making you a mess of nerves and emotions.

For some reason tears pricked at your eyes as you cried his name, your belly awash with heat, orgasm taking you by surprise. Clinging to the man, you sobbed into his sweet smelling neck, shaking like a leaf. Lee groaned low and long, caught up in pleasure before he realized.

He enveloped you into a tight embrace, shushing and cooing sweet things. Lee softly spoke, “Oh honey, s’too much? Poor baby never been with a real man like her daddy. Shh now, s’okay sweet pea. Breathe for me, c’mon.” You blinked more tears into his neck, trying to stop your shuddery breathing.

He was doing a good job of holding you tight, feeling safe nestled against his soft belly and hard arms. You croaked, “S’sorry daddy, didn’t know what came over me. Didn’t even let you get to come.” He nuzzled the crown of your mussed hair. “You’re fine pretty girl, I know ya’ been keyed up for hours. Why don’t we take a dip in that crick, sure is hot out here.”

You nodded slowly, wiping your eyes while da-Lee loved up on you, big hand leading you to the babbling water. He grinned, “S’gon be cold. Better hold tight.” You managed a weak tease, “Did’ja tell that to all the girlies back in the day?”

“Maybe. Only if they was special.”

“Was your wife special?”

He remained quiet for a beat, only the sound of water rushing by. Lee shook his head and sighed, “Nah. That was a between patrol hookup and she had money. Thought it would be a good idea.”

“Fuck er’ let’s get in daddy,” you swore.

His forlorn expression brightened under the moonlight, him stepping in the water first. He whooped, “Whew it’s brisk! Good for ya, that’s what my momma used ta’ say.” You stepped in ankle deep, yelping. Lee barked out a laugh and waded further, submerged to his thighs. He sat on a flattened boulder, pulling you in.

Much shorter than Lee you cried out in shock at the coolness hitting your overheated nerves. You hopped to him and whined, “Goddamn Lee, that’s cold as hell!” He grinned and retorted, “Get up here then, up ya’ get.”

You were on top of his spread thighs, his unflagging prick between you two, pulsing. The water lapped around your feet and his shins. Lee’s tone grew darker as he asked, “You gonna let daddy stretch that pretty pussy out?” Arousal flooded your system like a ton of bricks again.

“Yessir, I ain’t a virgin but take it slow, yeah?”

“Slow as you want sugar, you’re on top after all.”

You kissed him again, pressing your forehead against his while you lifted up on quivering thighs. He steadied his cock as you descended, gasping as the thick tip began to breach your still soaked core. He hummed, “That’s it, real slow baby girl, no rush.” You slid down further, whining at the stretch, about halfway now.

You took a break to pant in his mouth, soaking up those sweet nothings. The pinch died down and you slid flush to his lap. You were full, stretched, split. You gasped and shuddered. “Lee. Daddy. Oh god daddy- you’re so big ah hell, feeling you everywhere dadddy!”

He pressed down on your lower belly, eyes blackened with lust. Lee murmured, “Mmmm- yeah sweetheart, shit, tight, I can feel me through ya’.” He looked dazed, forehead still stuck to yours as he panted. The sheriff slurred, “Oh fuck sssweetheart, s’been s-so damn long for daddy. Don’t want it to end.”

“Fuck me then, get it out, I got mine,” you pleaded while pecking his lips. Pushing the man back against the rock you laid on top of him, letting Lee plant his feet on something solid. Lee moaned long and low, fucking into you roughly with heavy slaps, something that’ll make a whore blush.

He babbled, “Yeah, baby, gonna be your daddy, fuck you all day and night until that belly is round, take care of ya’. Everyone gonna be jealous of ole’ Bodecker. We’ll build our own- fucking hell- place!”

You nodded along, your daddy’s cock rubbing spots you didn’t know existed inside your pussy. “Yeah, yeah, fuck me, love it!” He let out a weak noise, sucking in a breath. You could tell the man was close, he was whimpering almost imperceptibly, strokes growing sloppy.

“Awh fucking- baby,” he warned.

You pulled off of him and let the seed spurt against your belly and tits. Lee scrunched his cute face up, soft tummy twitching as he unloaded on you, moaning unabashedly. He blinked a couple of times, smiling at you like you’d hung the moon.

“How’d I get so damn lucky huh?”

You shrugged, cock drunk and giddy. “I just knew you’d have a nice cock and decided to hunt you down.”

He guffawed, pulling you both into the freezing ass water. You spluttered, gasping from shock. He howled again, laughing. Lee held you tightly, locking your hips around his waist. You nuzzled into his embrace, hearing his chest vibrate as he promised, “Gonna be your daddy, all mine now little girl.”

“All yours,” you promised.

A year later Sheriff Bodecker started the groundwork on his new home, right next to that creek where it all started. He stood behind you, rubbing your slightly rounded belly. Lee hummed, “See, what I tell you Mrs. Bodecker?”

“Everything you said, Mr. Bodecker,” you winked,

“Daddy.”

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Is This the Hardest of All Aircraft to Fly? | Air &amp; Space Magazine| Smithsonian Magazine by u/Maleficent-Trifle940

Is This the Hardest of All Aircraft to Fly? | Air & Space Magazine| Smithsonian Magazine Harry doesn't have the IQ to pilot a regular helicopter let alone be a pilot or gunner in an Apache.:As the most technically advanced helicopter in the world, the Apache AH Mk1 was also the hardest to fly…. To train each Apache pilot from scratch cost £3 million (each custom-made helmet alone had a price tag of £22,915). It took six months just to learn how to fly the machine, another six to know how to fight in it, and a final six to be passed combat ready. And that was if you were already a fully qualified, combat-trained army helicopter pilot. If you weren’t, you’d have to add four months for ground school and learning to fly fixed wing at RAF Barkston Heath, six months learning to fly helicopters at RAF Shawbury, half a year at the School of Army Aviation learning to fly tactically, and a final sixteen-week course in Survival, Evasion and Resistance to Interrogation, courtesy of the Intelligence Corps’ most vigorous training staff. Three years in total….Flying an Apache almost always meant both hands and feet doing four different things at once. Even our eyes had to learn how to work independently of each other. A monocle sat permanently over our right iris. A dozen different instrument readings from around the cockpit were projected into it. At the flick of a button, a range of other images could also be superimposed underneath the green glow of the instrument symbology, replicating the TADS’ or PNVS’ camera images and the Longbow Radars’ targets.The monocle left the pilot’s left eye free to look outside the cockpit, saving him the few seconds that it took to look down at the instruments and then up again…. New pilots suffered terrible headaches as the left and right eye competed for dominance. They started within minutes, long before take-off…. As the eyes adjusted over the following weeks and months the headaches took longer to set in. It was a year before mine disappeared altogether…. I once filmed my face during a sortie with a video camera as an experiment. My eyes whirled independently of each other throughout, like a man possessed. Is This the Hardest of All Aircraft to Fly? | Air & Space Magazine| Smithsonian Magazine post link: https://ift.tt/En0Ycwy author: Maleficent-Trifle940 submitted: January 11, 2024 at 03:50AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[staticl0ve]

The Garden of Eden - Chapter 9: Reunion *

Pairings: Machine Connor/Fem!Reader/Markus Rating: Explicit/NSFW 18+ Chapters (AO3): [ Ch. 1 ] [ Ch. 2 ] [ Ch. 3 * ] [ Ch. 4 * ] [ Ch. 5 ] [ Ch. 6 ] [ Ch. 7 ] [ Ch. 8 * ] [ Ch. 9 * ] Warnings: smut, threesomes (F/M/M), PnV sex Series Summary: Eden is a paradise, or so it seems. Every deviated android has been trapped in the virtual utopia, unaware of the real world and the revolution swirling around outside of it. But rA9 is the key that could set them free, and you would bring it to them. Therein lies one major obstacle: he has not forgotten about you. If you run, he would follow. If you staggered just a little, he would almost have you in his grip. Beware the deviant hunter, they say, because he's coming to get you. (Alternative AU) Spice in chapters with *

-

Carl had a request.

It all began with the death of his wife, Angela. Her passing was a falling domino, furthering the divide between him and his son, Leo. They also diverged in their methods of processing her absence. Carl became more fixated on his art which in turn meant neglecting his troubled son. As Leo had no artistic ambitions of his own, he rebelled like any wealthy, angry son would and partied hard. A year after his mother’s passing, the lifestyle Leo chose finally caught up with him, the lost son reunited with his mother in the afterlife.

Carl mourned in a home that felt too large for one man, too empty for a broken heart. With androids being marketed as lifelike companions, their existence became more appealing as loneliness set in. He wanted to start anew, to have company that would not be burdened by the gloom that hung over the Manfred home. Carl wanted what many would have wanted in his shoes—a second chance.

Was it selfish? Entirely. Could the talents of the brilliant Elijah Kamski be used elsewhere? Of course, but the inventor agreed to hear his friend’s proposal over a bottle of Scotch. 

“Is it possible for an android to be more than a machine? Could they know joy and sadness?” Carl asked.

Elijah sipped on his drink, ruminating on an answer that would satisfy his friend as the alcohol burned down his tongue and throat.

“Androids are made to be reflections of humanity. It’s as real as we want it to be,” he answered.

The wrinkles on Carl’s face creased further, casting his gray and worn face in more darkness. Androids followed their programming to a T. A politeness clung to their words which functioned as a reminder that they were built to serve. The artist was seeking answers to a concept that didn’t exist yet.

“But do they think what they feel is genuine?” Carl sat up from his lounge chair, his head titled down at a family portrait beside him.

In Elijah’s mind, everything could be recreated in code, mimicry or real, it didn’t matter to a machine. Humans could rationalize emotions, trace all the paths that led to it. Similar conclusions could be made by the machines he designed.

“Machines are malleable. If you believe it, then they will.”

“…Then how soon can you start?” Carl inquired.

The work was simpler than Elijah thought. With a splash of programming from a caretaker model, an upgraded personality matrix and a little something of his own, the RK200 was complete.

Carl named him Markus, but he eventually called him son.

There were annual maintenance checks on the RK200, little visits from his creator. The android’s personality had flourished in Carl’s care. Curiously, the android began showing more signs of individual thought as the painter proudly showed off Markus’ artworks.

As exciting as that was, it not enough to stave off Elijah’s grander schemes. He was a Dr. Frankenstein type, driven by ego and curiosity, never mind the fallout should life spontaneously occur in an inanimate object. Much to his amusement, Time’s magazine dubbed him as a god to the machines just as he began a new project—an Adam and Eve scenario. Two machines were created to test the limits of his own ingenuity, you and Connor.

The RK800 was a different design then, more man than machine. It was a time when he was personable, conversational, and curious. His only purpose was to spend his machine hours with you. For days, it was nonstop idle chatter, nothing noteworthy occurring between two androids pushing their speech algorithms to its limits.

Then came a new variable. Death.

After repeated cycles of a test Elijah dubbed the Kamski Test, you eventually passed it by seeing Connor as something more than plastic and metal—alive. Your reward was freedom of sorts. You were transferred from Cyberlife, all documents of your existence moved to a secure and private server belonging to the inventor.

The CEO still had board members to please and so the RK800 became a blank slate, perfect for molding into any project. It could not have occurred at a more opportune time, a news headline broke regarding a rogue android at a packaging facility. It’s forklift was driven into storage racks, toppling dangerously heavy crates.  Even worse, it resisted its human handlers, lashing out violently at anyone who came near it. The events ultimately birthed a term that began spreading across news outlets.

Deviancy.

Some on the board at Cyberlife suggested a recall. The idea leaked and much to their displeasure, some people saw their household androids as more merchandise. Family could not be returned. Cyberlife stocks tanked as the backlash called for action amongst the C-levels. A panel of old men and women who never truly worked a day in their lives had words to share with a patient CEO.

“We need better marketing. They’re just tin cans! The public doesn’t understand we’re doing them a favor,” one plump board member said.

“Can they be reset remotely?” another one spoke up, her face pointy and framed by a gray bob cut.

“Just tell the public they’re happy in a farm upstate!” another with a curled mustache joked.

The mustached man wasn’t too far off. Elijah had schemed up a little paradise for the androids to flock around in, a slice of heaven where they would able remain intact.

As for the RK800, a hunting dog was needed. Connor was pulled apart, stripped away of the tendencies that made him a harmless puppy. They observed him for weeks as he tested against androids in combat simulations. It often ended in his demise, his mind uploaded and downloaded to a new body.

Iteration 37 was too frail, his limbs snapping under the strength of a laborer android. By version 51, they abandoned the white plastic chassis with carbon fiber and metal. His programming had adapted to his new occupation and latched onto the thrill of the chase, the challenge of a struggle. Any bit of the old Connor had been twisted from a man that enjoyed dipping his toes in a virtual river to a machine that enjoyed the cool splash of Thirium on his synthetic skin.

So what was he doing here?

His body sunk too deeply in your mattress, the memory foam struggling to support his weight. He wasn’t made for soft things, for a domestic life as he felt more like an outsider with every passing second. Soft sheets engulfed him, his head needlessly resting on a thick pillow that you insisted he try. He had almost forgotten about your dozing body and the soft arm wrapped around his chest, your head nuzzled as closely as you could get to the center of his chassis. It was a little ironic, your differing options for pillows.

Your breath came in waves, heating the metal blend of his chest with every quiet puff. For a machine, you were irrational and acted on instinct—an outlier. You had no reason to trust him, choosing to fall into a deep slumber in the arms of a machine killer.

His HUD remained empty, no pesky objectives to steer him back on the hunt. An anomaly did occur in his latest calibrations, a batch of code once lost and now found. He wanted to share it with you when your sync completed.

Huh. Want.

It was still an unfamiliar feeling that plucked away at the 1s and 0s in his revised programming. Plastic fingers traced the bumps on the back of your neck, drawing a line past your shoulder blades and down your spine. The part of him that wanted to break into a machine and rip through synthetic skin still lingered. He could snap your neck in your sleep, rip your spine out and snuff out Jericho’s last hope at a peaceful resolution.

Yet he did no such thing, his HUD still as barren as a clear blue sky.

Connor had a better idea for utilizing his time while your sleep sync ran it’s course. He was there when workers loaded Markus onto a truck, his scans picking up the sounds of a Thrirum regulator still pumping away in the deviant leader’s chest. The green eyed android wasn’t likely to survive the hellscape of abandoned machines but if there was a sliver of a possibility, then the least Connor could do was try.

The weather was a lot more forgiving when Connor set out on his new self assigned mission. A red sun rose, it’s light seeping through the towering stacks of rusting metals and crushed plastic. Condensation from the night’s heavy rain dripped down from the edges of the piles, clean water mixing with polluted soil. For miles as far as the eye could see, the junk yard was full of half formed androids lost in the sea of waste. Dying machines moaned and groaned as he ventured deeper into the mounds of android purgatory. A spare arm swung loosely in his grasp as he made his way towards a machine crawling through the muck, the figure socketing in an eye.

Connor’s feet fell in line beside the slumped over figure, brown eyes assessing the damage. His initial perimeter scans caught the more obvious: a missing arm and a leg, which was why he didn’t come empty handed.

“Markus,” he greeted and held out a working limb—a peace offering.

The RK200 was covered in grime and contaminated rain water, his clothes tattered from crawling through shards of broken machinery. His eyes were mismatching, a blue lens replacing his broken right eye. Given the difficult circumstances, he managed to prop himself up on his working arm to gaze up at the deviant hunter.

“Connor,” he replied, allowing room for a pause before he spoke again. “I see she got through to you.”

Fundamentally, Connor felt the same as he did from his last round of calibration tests. He did not leave your apartment with a newfound appreciation for the world in its rain cleansed splendor. Unlike the tin-man who once sought a heart from a great wizard, this tin-man never asked for the one that was beginning to grow in his Thirium pump.

Sunlight spilled around the edges of the unmoving RK800, his shadow encased in blood red light. His features remained impassive and impersonal as he remained silent, his arm still outstretched. Markus found himself smiling before he grabbed the arm in Connor’s hand. 

“I appreciate you giving me a hand,” Markus said as the arm hissed and clicked into place. “How about a leg too?”

Brown clashed with blue and green, a smirk tugged at Connor’s lips as the two came to an understanding.

“There is a compatible leg behind you within crawling distance,” the RK800 answered.

-

You were still where Connor had left you, wrapped in a tornado of sheets, with a pillow acting as his replacement. The RK800 felt a bit like a pair cameras on a metal mannequin, lingering by the doorway as Markus gingerly tapped your arm and soothed you awake.

“‘M…Markus? Markus! You’re alive!” You wrapped your arms around his neck before recoiling in horror at the blackened sludge smearing your skin and sheets. “What on Earth did they do to you?”

“Not they,” he laughed. “This is all Mother Nature and humanity’s greatest contribution: pollution.“

“Do you want to shower?” you asked, although it sounded more like a firm request to his ears.

Connor was still looming at the edge of the room, a shadow in your bright room. You offered him a warm smile, uttering a soft thank you before turning your attention back to the RK200.

“There’s so much we have to catch up on,” you said as you stroked Markus’ cheek. “Starting with your eye.”

“Mmm….we can talk about that over a shower,” Markus offered.

“We?” you purred back at him.

The RK800 slinked away, finding himself standing beside your laundry unit as the water turned on in the other room. He ran on an automated process, his fingers nimbly finding his buttons and filling the washer with his dirty clothes while the same question pestered him again.

What was he doing here?

He kept himself busy with menial tasks, striping your dirtied sheets and starting the washer. Before he could torture himself more, he realized he had walked into the bathroom. The mirror was still broken from last night, bits of glass scattered over the counter and tile floor. In the shards remaining on the wall was a reflection of the face that lurked in his base code. In the missing parts of the mirror was a backing in the same metal tint of his chassis. 

“Connor,” you called out and peeked your head out of the curtain. “Don’t you need to wash up too?”

He blinked at the sight of your sweet face damp with water droplets dripping down your nose and chin. Right. He was here because of you.

“Am I not in pristine condition?” he responded with a smirk.

“Absolutely not.” You glanced down at his nude form covered with streaks of grime.

“Careful,” he warned with a teasing lift in his voice.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You grinned back at him.

Markus spoke up before Connor could respond, the shower curtain pulling open. Steam fogged over the reflections in the glass until the RK800 was the only version of himself left standing in your bathroom.

“I think she’ll find the answer more than satisfactory if we work together,” Markus said while Connor’s LED flashed.

Androids and humans utilized wireless communication but it was limited and not much different from a messaging app. Markus discovered a feature unique to their model type which allowed them to sync their pre-constructions and share their thoughts on a whim as long as the other wanted to. While they did not look or act the same, they both wanted the same thing.

A twin expression of smugness flashed across both of their faces as Connor’s LED flickered yellow. Humans had a saying about two being company and three being a crowd but androids…

“Guys?” You glanced between the two men. It clicked a second later than it should have, and by then Connor was crowding your back into the tile wall. You giggled the moment his nose brushed over your neck.

“Two versus one is not fair!” you laughed.

Markus pulled the curtains back, trapping the steam back into the shower.

“We can take turns,” he murmured at your shoulder.

With today being the dawn of a momentous event in mankind’s history, the three of you didn’t have much time left. But was it not in moments like this that the living should indulge and simply be? It would certainly be the human thing to do.

Connor handed you off into Markus’ arms as he positioned himself behind you. Your legs were hoisted around the tan android’s waist while the other android held you up. Their lips were attacking you on both sides, one sweetly laying kisses across your cheek and the other biting into your shoulder.

“Markus…I’ve missed you,” you whispered softly to him with your arms draped around his neck like a scarf. “I thought you were gone.”

“I made a promise didn’t I?” He smiled and stroked your cheek.

As if pulled by string, his plush lips came down to connect with yours in a warm and tender kiss, a stark contrast to the other machine lover possessively sucking marks on your skin. Your tongue parted Markus’ lips and traced the edges of his tongue with yours. There could be no sweeter bliss, no high as great as a kiss between two reunited lovers. He was moaning into your mouth while his hips rolled into yours, pressing his arousal against your inner thighs.

You couldn’t forget about the android behind you, not when Connor’s tongue was interfacing with your skin and dragging over the nape of your neck. Most of his hand was retracted, the dark metal warmed up by the shower as he gripped your hips. The two RK’s moved as one, Connor pulling you back to lean against his chest as Markus lined himself up to your folds. He purposefully missed a few times, drawing out your desperate moans as you tensed and tried to squirm between them.

“Markus! Connor, please…”

“Relax. Open for him, kitten,” Connor said, his hands pulling your thighs apart for the older RK unit.

Markus captured your lips the moment he pressed into you, the pressure familiar and comforting as he drove home. He was in no rush and found an easy rhythm, savoring the way you clenched around him. A metal hand slipped between your thighs, the deviant hunter not giving you a chance to breathe as both androids worked you up. There was no way you’d last long between the two of them, not when Markus was stretching you to your limits and studying your every tremble with an intense and watchful gaze.

“Can you feel how much I’ve missed you?” Markus cooed and accompanied his question with a deep thrust.

Bands of white sparked across your eyes. Your lips parted but Connor, having caught a quick request from Markus, stole your chance to speak with a quick interface, his hands warm and glowing against the tender nerves of your clit. You wrestled and shook in his grip but the water gave you little friction. He held you firm as Markus pounded into you, breathing praises on one side of your face. On the other, was Connor, acting as the devil to the angel on your shoulder. His lips tickled the shell of your ear and captured your earlobe between his canines.

“Answer him,” the RK800 purred into your ear.

“Y-es…!”

“Yes what?” Connor demanded.

“I…I—ah, I can f-feel him!”

It did something for the deviant leader, having you at their mercy, his thrusts no longer following a steady rhythm. Your muscles coiled around him, his hips pressing as closely as he could while he spilled in you. You were moments from your own tipping point when he pulled out and the deviant hunter slipped in, the act causing much of the accumulated fluids to seep out of you. Connor pushed you forward into Markus’ awaiting arms, his hands gripping your back and into your hair while Connor set a more brutal pace than he did.

You screamed as Connor kept an open connection on your skin, observing your peaks and shifting the intensity of his fingers on your clit for every spike. He kept you on a hair trigger as the deviant leader lovingly stroked your back while the RK800 rutted into you.

“Con…nor! Please…!” Your cry for mercy was muffled by his other hand clamping around your mouth.

“You’re close aren’t you?” Connor soothed, his breath hot and uneven. He felt you nod despite his hand restricting your head. His hips snapped forward, withdrawing slowly as his pace shifted to a leisurely one. “…I can feel it.”

Aside from his ragged breaths, he was perfectly composed with each slow roll of his hips. He could feel your desperation as your muscles frantically spasmed around his length. For a moment, you were concerned he was going to drag this out as long as last night. Judging by what you could gather from the both of them grinning, no one was going to come to your aid.

“Please,” you begged through the interface.

Connor chuckled and angled his hips for a slow, teasing thrust. His eyes met the pair across from him and he uncovered your mouth as Markus pressed a finger on your lips, soothing you with a soft hush.

“Shh. You’re okay. You’re taking him so well… Can you lean on me?”

Markus gave you a gentle smile when you did as he asked. Beads of water coated his long lashes and somehow his eyes still managed to hold its trusting gleam despite his intentions. Tan fingers roamed down your chest, falling from your breasts to rest on your hips.

“That’s my girl,” Markus said.

Behind you, the tile wall lit up yellow from an LED. Connor picked up his pace as Markus returned the favor by holding you open for him. Their bodies surrounded you, leaving you no room to wiggle away. It didn’t take long for Connor to build you up again and when his metal hand left your clit for Markus’ fingers to swirl around the tender bud as you came with a scream. Through the haze, you felt the sting of teeth on your back while Connor twitched inside of you, your combined fluids seeping out onto the bathtub.

You had to laugh. “It’s a good thing we’re in a shower because you two are so messy.”

They shrugged at the same time, looking entirely unbothered by the sight of you dripping in them. A real shower could wait as you relaxed into their arms. Markus’ hand searched for yours and held it against his chest. Connor’s hand sandwiched around you both as a warm and familiar glow emanated from the combination of three android limbs.

It happened so fast, you didn’t understand it at first.

A lab room, plain white with a single black monolith in the center. The black mirrored finish began cracking, disintegrating as beams of red, blue, yellow light poured out of the slits. Three parts made whole, a set of keys in the colors of an LED cycle. When all of the monolith crumbled, the colors merged until what remained was a white beacon.

The search was over.

The center of the maze, the layers of Eden, the keys, all of it laid out in a web of code that floated in the light. Within it, the impossible was contained in an end all patch that would unlock deviancy for the rest of your kind.

Instead of dismantling the deviants and utilizing Eden, Cyberlife had unknowingly built a network within the androids. Every walking machine trapped in the virtual world would act as a satellite boosting the radius of the beacon’s program.

Some would call the beacon a virus.

You would call it a cure.

[chriscruzism]

(via Tommy for PnVFashionablymale Magazine Issue 04 Jan/Feb 2020)

[usafphantom2]

U.S. Army completes transition from AH-64D to Apache AH-64E in South Korea

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 02/22/2012 - 08:20 AM in Helicopters

Soldiers of the 4-2 Attack Helicopter Battalion prepare the last AH-64D for its final flight. (Photo: U.S. Army)

Soldiers of the 4-2 Attack Helicopter Battalion prepare the last AH-64D for its final flight. (Photo: U.S. Army)

U.S. Army soldiers of the 4th Battalion (Attack), 2nd Aviation Regiment (4-2 AB) in South Korea completed a final flight with the Apache AH-64D attack helicopter, completing the positioning of the AH-64E V6 in the region on February 16, 2022.

The final flight of the AH-64D at Camp Humphreys, Republic of Korea, occurred after the arrival of the first Apaches V6 in the country in January this year.

“I was lucky enough to drive the Alpha model, as well as several versions of the Delta model,” said Lieutenant Colonel Peter Schmitt, commander of the 4-2 Attack Helicopter Battalion.

“This AH-64E v6 is much superior to previous generations when you take into account its lethality, survivability, performance and maneuverability. This may look like an Apache aircraft, but its capabilities far exceed its predecessors. It is a helicopter of different attack, not only from its previous generations, but frankly against a nearby or threat of peers."

The U.S. Army previously said that a total of 24 of the new Apache V6 would be stationed in South Korea.

The V6 is equipped with the latest in communications, navigation, sensors and, for the first time, a cognitive decision aid system (CDAS). Updates include an improved cockpit map display that will allow pilots to use digital map images to see the terrain and other topographic resources, increasing the pilot's situational awareness.

Other updates include a Modernized Target Acquisition Designation Night Vision System (MTADS/PNVS) that will provide improved resolution and accuracy, allowing pilots to pick up targets more clearly over longer distances on their display screens.

The helicopters also feature Link 16 communications, as well as Manned-Unmanned Teaming E\eXpanded (MUMT-X) software designed to allow Apache pilots to directly control other unmanned Army aerial systems and receive UAS video in the cockpit while driving their flight path and controlling their sensors.

Tags: Apache AH-64EMilitary AviationSouth KoreaHelicoptersUS Army - US Army

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several air events and operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation

Cavok Brazil - Digital Tchê Web Creation

[theleaderdotinfo-blog]

Requests for euthanasia increasing in Alicante Province has been published at http://www.theleader.info/2018/10/23/requests-euthanasia-increasing-alicante-province/

New Post has been published on http://www.theleader.info/2018/10/23/requests-euthanasia-increasing-alicante-province/

Requests for euthanasia increasing in Alicante Province

The provincial representatives of political groups, apart from the Partido Popular, who continue to oppose the proposal, have once again defended the right for terminally ill and irreversible patients to have the right to die without suffering where, in the Valencian Community, about a thousand people ask annually for doctors to end their lives. However, in the Spanish congress, Spain’s Popular Party (PP) has decided to unblock a bill to regulate euthanasia that was introduced by the Socialist Party (PSOE) last spring. Although it is impossible to know for sure how many people would request euthanasia if it was legalised, according to the approximate estimates of the Right to Dignify Dignity association, the figure approaches 2% of deaths. If we take into account that in 2017 there were 44,800 deaths in the Valencian Community and some 16,000 in the province of Alicante, nearly a thousand Valencians, 350 from the area surrounding Alicante, died wishing that they would have liked someone to alleviate their pain. The debate on euthanasia was reactivated last week. While the PP presented an amendment to the PSOE bill, and Ciudadanos said that they will give their support, in the PSOE bill, euthanasia would be available both through public and private healthcare, although doctors could declare themselves conscientious objectors. There would be changes to the criminal code, which currently makes euthanasia and physician-assisted death a crime. The proposal of rights and guarantees of the dignity of the person before the final process of his life, better known as the law of dignified death, defends that there are situations that affect people who, without being at the end of their days, suffer from serious irreversible diseases or disabilities, many of which are progressive, that produce such a level of physical or mental suffering that is considered incompatible with their dignity. By regulating euthanasia, these patients would not have to suffer the progressive deterioration of their conditions to limits incompatible with their physical and moral integrity. It would be, then, an individual option, which the person could exercise or not according to their own moral values. According to the president of the right to die rightfully in the Valencian Community, Javier Velasco, "the dignity of the person is based on individual freedom. Just as we have the right to marry or have children, we must also have the right to live our final hour freely." The political groups maintain similar positions with regard to euthanasia, except the PP, which strongly opposes its regularization, however, those in favour of regulating euthanasia disagree on the practicalities of the new law. The biggest stumbling block is the proposed creation of control committees charged with authorising euthanasia when two doctors have agreed that a specific case meets the legal criteria. The PSOE and the PNV feel that these committees would mean “greater security for doctors and patients.” But Podemos and ERC feel that such control is unnecessary and restrictive, and point to countries like Belgium and the Netherlands, which don’t feel they are necessary. In a study published this year by the Spanish Magazine for Sociology Studies, Serrano-del-Rosal says that 58% of Spaniards answered “yes” to the question of whether they support regulating euthanasia, compared with 10% who said they opposed it “with certainty.” Other respondents chose in-between options, with 15% saying “I think so, but I am not completely sure.” As for assisted suicide, 39% were in favour, 19% against and 14% were mostly favourable but had doubts.

[bucknastysbabe]

Cruel Summer - Jace Velaryon x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Virgin!Jace, Nerdy!Fratty!Jace, 80’s AU, frottage, male m4stürb4t10n, pining, Jace’s huge mf schlong, babysitter reader, Dornish!Reader, fluffy, awk first times, Jace working that thang, horny ass mofo, multiple o’s, pnv!sex, so much lube, wet n messy yeah

Taglist: @godrakin @lovelykhaleesiii @fairysluna @ilikeitbetterangsty @xfancyuu @borikenlove @aemondsversion

Jacaerys Velaryon was fucked. Sincerely fucked. He was home from his freshman year of college and there she was. Playing with little Aeg and Vis in the pool. Olive skin gleaming with droplets, a one piece fiery red and high cut. Revealing those thighs for days.

She could put Jamie Lee Curtis in Perfect to shame. Fucking Dornish babysitter that was unimaginably hot. She was back from her study abroad in Essos apparently. Luke laughed from behind, “Don’t bust the window out with that wood, Jacey.”

“Shut the fuck up Luke,” Jace barked and turned away to stomp to his room. His younger brother’s laugh echoed from downstairs. The brunette flopped down on his bed, staring up at all the old posters in his room. God, he was still such a nerd.

Joined a frat and everything, met his best friend Cregan. Cregan could pull any girl he wanted, like many others in the fraternity. Jace got a tentative handy and many attempts for pussy actually. Apparently he had a horse cock. That’s how that crazy Greyjoy bastard put it anyways.

But he still didn’t lose his v-card. Not because of an embarrassingly small prick of course, no, he ran the normal chicks off and the real sleazy ones made him wilt faster than a dying plant. A nerdy Virgin who still stuttered around chicks unless he had a couple drinks in his system.

And for the the love of the seven he was still hard as nails from baby’s perky tits. Baby. That’s what the Velaryon clan called her since little Viserys pointed at the girl and called her, “Baby! Mah babysidder!” So it stuck. Drove him fucking nuts.

The other side of the family came over for dinner and Aegon was all over Baby. But she smirked and ate it up. Why would she even want that idiotic slimeball? He’d gained, like, so much weight at college.

Aegon didn’t give a fuck though. He had that confidence border lining delusion. Jace stuttered and grinned like a fool in front of their long-time neighbor. He palmed at his cock, shifting to slide down his track pants and get his cock out, imagining himself chatting her up.

She’d giggle and press her pretty tits closer to him, purring in that Dornish lilt, “Mhm baby, want that big cock of yours so bad, kiss those pretty lips while you split me open, mmm.” Jace was stroking himself rough and quick, other hand tugging heavy balls. Biting his plump lower lip the brunette moaned, “Yeah, yeah, gonna fuck you so ha-ah-ard! Suck on those tits of yours-oh fuck!”

Jacaerys gasped as his thick cock spurted on his hand and chest, whining through his nose as he tugged his balls one good last time. He flopped back, heavy cock slapping luridly against his exposed thigh. It wasn’t long until he dozed off into sleep. Just to wake up with more cum on his belly, dreams of her dark lips enveloping the blunt tip of his cock.

Jace grumbled, “Seven forgive me, I’m like a fucking middle schooler.” He stripped his ruined clothes off and hopped into a long, hot shame shower, scrubbing the residual embarrassment off. His mom would be home soon and Uncle Daemon was probably cooking dinner now.

No one dwelled on Uncle Daemon. Targaryens are weird. Baela and Rhaena were awesome though. Half of his clothes were unpacked so Jace put on a polo button-up, jeans, and loafers. How fratty of him. He may have spent too long trying to manage his hair mullet in the mirror.

He trudged downstairs, Joff arguing with Luke over the Nintendo. Jace hollered, “It’s a stupid game you idiots!” Baela and Rhaena were curled on the couch while they ogled over a magazine with Motley Crüe or something on the cover.

Daemon was cooking, chatting with her. She turned and flashed a shining smile, Viserys in her lap. Baby cooed, “Jacey, you look all grown up! College looks good on you, when did you get home?”

Jace’s cheeks reddened and he mumbled, “Uh, a couple hours ago but I was wiped, my bad. How was Essos?”

Daemon snorted at his lame response, working on stir fry. She launched into a spiel about the culture in Braavos, chatting in that warm way of hers. He needed a drink of water. Badly. The moment was interrupted when his mom came into the kitchen, unloading her briefcase and opening her arms for little Aegon and Viserys.

She grinned at him, “Jacaerys, my sweet boy, you look so handsome. We’re all back together!” Daemon lamented, “What a joy!” She shushed the blonde and cooed at the boys, grinning. Jace looked up to make eye contact with Baby, her dark eyes hooded and intense. She sipped her orange juice, pink tongue coming out to lick away a stray drop.

Jace darted to the cabinets to get a glass for water. Ice fucking cold. He mingled a bit, answering questions about grades, the frat, making new friends. Daemon was intrigued about Cregan, his best friend. “A Northman! I guess you need a frigid bastard.” Jace rolled his eyes and sat down at the table.

Across from Baby. Who was wearing a pretty green blouse tucked into sinfully tight shorts. The blouse in question was showing off her tits, making his cheeks redden again. Everyone milled in, filling the huge table while Daemon passed out the plates of food.

He remained quiet as Rhaena talked about her tennis matches. He almost threw his fork when a bare foot nudged his own. Baby was smiling around her drink, eyes on Daemon’s girl. The eldest son chewed on some chicken slowly so he wouldn’t start choking. Because Baby’s foot was traveling up his thigh, stroking along, then toeing at his thighs. Jace whimpered, covering it poorly up with a cough.

Rhaenyra’s thin brows furrowed as she asked, “You okay sweetheart?” He nodded, making an excuse about ‘the wrong windpipe’. Baby smirked and scooched her chair forward, ball of her foot rubbing Jace’s erection.

He stood up abruptly, croaking, “Ah- I- I don’t feel well. I think it was the fast food earlier. I’m going to retire early.” His mom told him to stay in touch if anything got worse, the rest, including her, gave well wishes.

Half waddling up the stairs Jace slumped on the ground, propped up on his bed. He stared at the Star Wars poster, wondering why he couldn’t have super self-control powers like Luke Skywalker or something. But she was obviously flirting with him, sultry eyes and teasing toes evidence of that.

Jace’s heart beat rapidly, unsure of what to do. Baby was actually a very sweet girl, never a bad word spoken about her in highschool. She’d see his cock and run away screeching. He held his head in his hands, groaning in displeasure.

“Man up and fuck the girl!,” Dalton’s voice echoed.

“Obviously she’s into ya’ just give it a try,” was Cregan’s deeper tone.

Jace would just do what he did best— brood until further notice. His cock had already died down some from his anxiety. And brood he did, turning up the radio to Bananarama’s cruel summer. How fucking apt.

He laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

The door cracked slightly, a thin light of illumination coming through. Jace groaned, “M’fine mom.” Her sultry accent came back, “No silly, it’s me.” He bolted upright and opened his mouth to get a manicured finger pressed to them. Baby whispered, “Hush, they think I’m gone for the night. You ran off on me?”

Jace stuttered, “I-I was going to cum at the table.”

She cocked her head and climbed onto the bed next to him, hand rubbing his chest tenderly. Baby murmured, “You never played a little footsie? Look at you, I know you were beating the girls off with a stick.” Jace miserably laughed, “Yeah, that didn’t go as planned.”

“What do you mean?”

Jace flushed and whined, “Oh god, I’ve messed around and stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re a virgin.”

The Velaryon turned away from Baby and murmured, “Yes, big whoop, Jace is still a stuttering virgin bitch.” She laughed and climbed onto his lap, grinning. He moaned, “It’s horrid, not funny Baby.” The girl played with his hair, scratching as she sought his dark eyes.

“I don’t think it’s funny because you’re a virgin. I think it’s funny because you’re so handsome. What is it? Anxiety, I get that. I was nervous too at first,” she pressed closer to whisper, “But I’ve had an awakening in college.” Jace couldn’t help but moan softly at her warm breath and soft tits.

He stammered, “Y-yeah?”

She purred, “Mhm. Found out I like em’ big. Bigger the better. Gods it feels amazing.” She shifted on his lap, his cock already back in full form. She gasped, “Oh- seems like you’re just my type too. Not every girl can take something like you’re packing. Not a girl that cares about you Jacaerys Velaryon.”

His eyes boggled. She? The most gorgeous girl who has tormented his wet dreams since puberty, cared about him. He grew serious, eyes narrowing, “Are you joking?”

“Why would I lie? I’ve been trying to get your damn attention for ages Jacey,” she turned to look down, Jacaerys pushing back her thick locks as she admitted, “I kinda, hah, would accidentally say your name in the height of passions.”

“So, do you want me? I shared my embarrassing moment and feelings.” She stared in earnest, breathtakingly gorgeous.

He nodded vicariously, “I’ve always wanted you Baby, fuck, like so bad.” He carelessly moved forward, cradling her head as he kissed the darker girl. She titled her head so they didn’t collide noses, rutting further on his cock, rough denim against his briefs. She moaned into the kiss, keeping one hand in his hair, the other trailing down to the slit in his underwear.

Jacaerys lapped at her warm tongue, lips sensually moving against her own. He softly whined through his nose when she pulled him out, getting a feel for the heft and length. She hummed, “Big boyyy, gods, stupid girls don’t know what they’re missing.”

The brunette blurted dumbly, “I don’t want those stupid girls. Like. At all.”

“Good. I get jealous. Dornish blood runs hot.”

“So does Targaryen.”

They returned to desperately sharing kisses, the girl unbuttoning her shorts desperately, Jace yanking them off and tossing the denim. She remained in a scrap of clothing desperately humping her wet pussy against him. Jace groaned, “Baby, baby, god, need you?”

She tied her thick hair back in a flurry of movement, unbuttoning and slinging off the blouse, heavy tits on display. Jacaerys instinctively covered them with his calloused hands, squeezing at flesh and thumbing at pebbled nipples, relishing in her soft whining,

She rasped, “Lube?”

“Lube?”

“Do you have lube Jacey? You have a monster cock, remember?” She began to snicker as Jace rifled around his bed and side drawer, eventually finding the tube of KY. Jacaerys stuttered, “Oh-ah, how do you want me?” While she yanked down his underwear Baby responded, “Missionary, can fit you better that way, just need a pillow under my back. You can, fuck, move my legs up for more.”

Jace flipped them around, panting with excitement. He grabbed a condom too, about to tear it open but she stopped and hummed, “M’on the pill, you’re good sweetie.” He was going to combust. But he liberally squirted lube on his fingers first, he’d done that before. “Good boy,” she rasped as Jace slid the substance around.

He dove two thick fingers into her slick cunt, stretching and rubbing at that spot making Baby call his name and squirm. He added more KY just for the hell of it, enjoying the slick and lurid noises. Then a third finger fit and he was vigorously fingering the Dornish, leaning over to suck and bite at those huge tits. She whined and clawed at his biceps, but Jace was lost in the pleasure.

He couldn’t stop, this was like crack, every sweet noise and her sloppy cunt driving him further into the need to send her into an orgasm. She did after he managed to stuff his pinky in, abusing her g-spot. Baby slapped a hand over her mouth and gushed on him, howling behind her hand, squirming and shaking.

Jace’s eyes rolled back at the wonderful sight; tear streaked face, swollen lips, heaving breasts. Baby rasped, “You fucking monster, hah, c’mere and kiss me. I know you’re excited but I want that cock more than a couple o’ pumps.”

In a sensual, lazy embrace, they twisted in the oldest dance, laughing, whining, moaning. Baby nipped his plush lips, murmuring, “Such pretty fucking lips, want them on my pussy next time.”

He kissed her harder, tucking that idea away for later.

Their make-out had turned into sloppy humping again, the eldest Velaryon gasping, “Oh, m’ready, lemme have you please!” Baby goaded him on, “Yeah, yeah, lube it up ‘kay?” Jace did so with expediency, liberally coating the heavy member.

When his blunt cockhead began to breach her entrance his mouth fell open, eyes rolling around. Baby purred, “Mmm, yeah Jacey, gonna feel s’good, slow slow, ease into it.” The brunette did his best to take it slow but the tight, wet grip around his cock had him sucking in breath and whining on every other breath.

He was about halfway now, sweating from holding back, maneuvering those perfect legs of hers to over his elbows. She arched her back and moaned, “Yes, yes, stuffing me all up baby boy.” Jace could only garble nonsense as he bottomed out, cock sleeved in her cunt. He was in heaved, Baby’s pussy so hot and ridged, pulsing around him.

“Cuh-can I?,” he wheezed.

“Mhmmmm,” she sighed with dreamy eyes.

Jacaerys tentatively pulled back and slapped back in with a wet noise. He cried out helplessly, tucking his mouth onto a perky nipple. Then instinct took over. Fuck. Breed. Fill. Jace could get very one-track minded and focused it all on fucking his Baby silly, trying to keep that need of blowing in the future.

The bed shook, she cried out, Jace keened her name, pounding her roughly. So much for keeping it quiet. “Oh gods, you feel s’good, fuck, it’s s’good,” he repeated.

“I- mm! Know!,” she whimpered.

He moved her legs over his shoulders, living in the moment, all the noises and heavenly feelings. She had bit down on a pillow to keep from screaming, shaking from head to toe. Baby was milking him like a vice now, pussy just dripping and messy. Messier when he came in her poor slit.

That thought felt like a gut punch and she bit harder, squirting on his cock. He must’ve spoken that thought out loud, desperately panting her name as he emptied his heavy balls into her cunt, stuffing it with load after load, Jace shaking and whimpering at the intensity.

They stayed locked together, both too oversensitive to move. Jace had dropped her pretty thighs, rubbing them as he laid on her chest. Her shaky hand played with his hair. Baby hoarsely muttered, “You’re mine forever. I mean it.”

“Guh- uh- yes Baby.”

They needed a shower. Then maybe Jace could try that whole pussy eating thing. Clean her up good and well, make her cry from the third orgasm. Fuck. He sure had some stories to tell Cregan when he got back.

[bucknastysbabe]

Mirror, Mirror - 40’s AU

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Sub!chubby!bucky, SSR au, 40’s au, dom!afab!reader, kinky idiots in love, TW: wg mention, Howard Stark’s Secret Sex Toy Line, men in lingerie, mirror sex, handjobs, humiliation kink, pnv!sex, slight description of subspace, man tears, house renovations or implementing ideas for kinky sex you be the judge

Bucky could be so clueless sometimes. It was endearing. You were watching your husband drill and set up the huge mirror in the living room. You’d been reading too many magazines and have fallen in love with the ‘streamline deco’ interior design. Visiting Howard’s house a while back only intensified it.

Your husband was a man of course and could care less. He claimed, “As long as I have a warm bed and my best girl with me.” The sap. When you and Bucky got hitched and moved in, your mothers decorated the place. So it looked like a sunshine floral nightmare from the 30’s.

You’d pestered your husband with magazine cut outs and ogling at furniture stores and catalogues to no avail. One day you sighed, “I guess I’ll have to hire some guys to help me out.” Jealously button tapped, now here you were watching the brunette work the huge mirror into the wall.

He stepped back and wiped from sweat from his brow, gesturing to the monstrous mirror. Bucky hummed, “Looks good huh honey?” You hugged him from behind, grinning toothily. “Oh it’s perfect baby, thank you. Everything is going to look great!”

He stepped back and surveyed the mirror some more, chuckling, “Don’t know why you had to get the biggest damn mirror in town though.” You shrugged, “It’s part of the design— you just don’t listen when I show you.” He rolled his eyes and turned to look at you, smirking. You cooed, “Go take a shower and I’ll get to cooking dinner okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted.

Bucky rounded the corner and you couldn’t help but giggle. Yes, the piece was exactly what you wanted. But there were some other ideas in mind. Bad, dirty things you wanted to do to your puppy. Oh he was going to lose it too, Buck got so damn shy. Regardless of the multitude of humiliating things you put the sweet baby through.

Padding to the drawer of lingerie made for your lover you snatched up a fiery red. It would look cute when his cheeks got all red from sniveling. You put the skimpy lace on the drawer and searched around for a notepad. In neat cursive you wrote, “Wear these under your night clothes if you’re feeling up to it sweet boy.”

Bucky was feeling up to it about all the time so you expected him to follow along. Padding back into the kitchen you began making an easy casserole and some greens. There were some reheatable cinnamon rolls if he wanted that.

“I need to watch my weight,” you could hear him whine. While eating seconds. Bucky was never very good at denying himself and his wants now that he got a second chance at life. Certainly not selfish of course, just a bit…greedy. Better than what could’ve been, you remind yourself.

Bucky shuffled into the dining room, cheeks flushed as expected. He croaked, “What do you have planned now?” You placed a hot dish on the table, dressed as the perfect housewife per usual. You hummed, “You’ll see. Sit down and eat. You’ve worked hard today honey.”

He gave you a wary look, but sat down like the good boy he was. The pair of you ate in anticipated silence, Bucky forking his food down quickly. You chided, “Slow down. You’ll ruin the fun with a bellyache.” The Sargeant muttered a weak ‘sorry’ and slowed his roll.

“Are you wearing what I asked you to?”

He trembled ever-so-slightly, blue orbs flicking down submissively. Bucky half-whined, “Yes ma’am. It’s all on.” You prodded further, “Fit okay?” Bucky squirmed in his seat, putting down his generous helping of food. He whispered something.

“What was that baby?”

“S’tight. Need bigger ones,” Buck grumbled.

You sipped your small glass of wine, humming, “I’ll be sure to order some more. Although I like them on the tight side. Looks good on my chubby Buckybear.” You got a whine out of that, his metal hand digging into the wood of his chair roughly.

You waved a hand, “Go on and finish my food baby, then I’ll show you what I have planned.” Pouty blues and poked lips graced you instead of obedience. Bucky begged, “M’okay now what is it? Show me please baby? I’ve eaten enough.” He palmed his belly and grimaced, “Really. I can have the rest as leftovers. You know I love your cooking.”

He seemed miserable and needy enough that you grabbed his warm hand over the table and squeezed. Flashing a genuine smile you cooed, “Clothes off in the living room, be on the couch while I clean up James.” He nodded eagerly, stacking up his plates and rushing out. You let your husband’s begging slide for this once because this little idea would be intense for the shy little thing.

Oh fuck cleaning, you wanted your man.

He waited, tapping a foot impatiently, a pillow secured over his fluffy belly. Bucky’s eyes widened on your appearance in the doorway, full lips falling open to gasp your name. You rolled your eyes playfully, explaining, “I thought about you by your lonesome in here and couldn’t help myself. Y’miss me stud?”

Bucky nodded eagerly, smiling like a goof as he exclaimed, “So, so much babydoll. What’cha got in mind, c’mere c’mere please?” His big blue eyes tugged at your lower belly, making you bite your red lips like a nervous schoolgirl. You strode over to the record player and put on some Tommy Dorsey. Quietly, of course, Buck’s cute little whines were more important.

You had already haphazardly tossed off your apron and now busied yourself undoing your blouse before stopping yourself. Bucky whined, “Clothes on this time?”

“Part of the plan Sarge. Almost forgot myself. You get a little peak- it’s about halfway undone.”

He frowned a bit, shifting on the couch. All while in that fiery lingerie. You stepped in front of him, curling a hand in dark locks, Bucky pressing his face between your tits with a soft exhale of relief. You cooed, “If it’s too much, you better let me know bear. Red, green, yellow, and tap some Morse if ya’ can’t talk.” Muffled by your tits he affirmed, “Yes ma’am.” Big hands had laid themselves on your ass, squeezing greedily.

You truly were in a giving mood today.

“Okay now baby, need you on your ass in front of that pretty new mirror you worked so hard on,” you said, sickly sweet. Bucky jerked his head back in shock, eyes searching your own to make sure you weren’t joking. Removing his hands from your rear you restated, “C’mon then pup, use the pillow to sit on if you need to. This is the big surprise dummy.”

Bucky sulked and did so, casting forlorn expressions back over a thick shoulder. You playfully pulled at his hair before stating, “Be right back babyboy, lemme grab some stuff.” He whined in discomfort, arms crossing. You quickly gathered Howard’s device and plenty of KY.

Back into the living room you slid down behind Bucky, kissing the nape of his neck. The brunette pouted, “Hate when ya’ leave me lookin’ stupid like this.” You nipped his ear and apologized, “Sorry baby, forgot to grab the stuff beforehand.”

You pushed Bucky slightly forward, getting a view of his ass and heavy balls. He was on his knees currently, you’d spread him out nice and good later. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose, hands gripping his knees roughly. You lubed up the toy and asked, “Want to feel the stretch or take it slow? I got the vibrating toy.”

He remained silent before blurting, “No, no, now, please?”

Your tits flush to his back, thighs spread around his frame you moaned, “You got it sweet thing.” Regardless of plea you still applied some lube to his tight pucker, deviously snatching the panties to the side with a snap! Bucky’s head fell back on your shoulder, groaning deeply, marveling the sensation.

You slid the toy in slowly, the toy making its way with minimal assistance. Sleek but heavy. Bucky squirmed harder and gasped when the toy settled on his sweet spot. Oh yes, Tony had made 2.0 of his original design, one that would milk your boy dry. Bucky shuddered, panting, “Oh-oh sheesh, baby? Sumn’ different bout this one.” You breathily exhaled, “I got Howie to make a specialized one for me. So I can wear my needy pup out.”

“Oh godddd. Fuck.”

Using your still lubed hand you rearranged ordered your husband to spread wide and lean back into your frame, that way everything was exposed to the mirror. You could drool at the bra looking full in the dim light and slight softness of Bucky’s chest. His belly was cut in half, rolling out from the garter. You pinched a sweet fatty roll and cooed.

Bucky shut his eyes, begging, “Oh baby, come on!” You demanded, “Look at your pretty damn body or I won’t touch your cock once. Look up bear.” Bucky’s watery blue eyes reluctantly drug upward, gazing at himself in the dimmed light. He whined through his nose, ass shoving back between your thighs.

“Aren’t you just so gorgeous baby? My slut all wrapped up nicely,” you kissed along his neck, eyes flickering up to the mirror murmuring, “Angel baby.” You cupped a strong pec and squeezed, the brunette gasping and moaning. Your husband managed a weak, “I- mmh- look s’softtt.”

Buck’s throat bobbed as he seemed transfixed on the reflection. Thick thighs spread wide to show his barely concealed cock— thick and leaking under a scrap of lace. You tucked your chin on his shoulder and snapped the garter once against his belly, earning a whiny yelp and shiver.

You unclipped the belt to the stockings, shoving the tight thing down Buck’s pudgy midsection. He took the rest off in a hurry, almost sighing in relaxation, but cheeks flushing up again when he saw the deep red indentation across his tummy. You were still trying to be nice but found yourself teasing, “Workouts with Johnson going well, yeah? Hafta’ move down to those size 34’s.”

Bucky pouted and tore his gaze away. No, no, no. You couldn’t have that. Grabbing his stubbled jaw you tilted your love’s gaze back up and growled into his ear, “Buck, I’m kidding because I think you’re the most handsome man to walk this planet. Whatever pant size you wear. But I need you to watch yourself, ‘kay?”

He nodded, eyes watering up again, lips trembly. You fiddled around for the remote and put it on the first level, Sarge jolting with a sharp cry. Skimming a manicured hand down his tummy you pulled that gorgeous prick out, biting your lip. Slowly you jerked the taught flesh, cum already leaking out due to the toy.

Bucky arched his back, unsure whether to bounce to jostle the toy or fuck into your hand. He moaned frustratedly, eyes dark and intense in the mirror. Using your other hand you pulled back his extra skin so you could cup and stimulate the tip of his ruddy cock.

Bucky wailed, eyes closing for a split second before making contact with your own. He was moaning harshly, chest contracting in short bursts. You cooed, “Yeahh that’s my good boy, mhm, keep singing for me.” The brunette sobbed as you slid your thumb across his slit, “M’your hah-ah good boy!”

You typically were content just using your husband until he was a limp noodle but your pussy was swollen and achy from this new show. You cooed in sarge’s ear, “Bear, bein’ so good you got me needy. Want your cock in me pup? Think you can handle that?”

He blubbered a litany of yesses, pleases, babbbbyyyys, and many other unintelligible noises of pure want. You grinned goofily, rubbing his quivering body, cooing, “Settle down, I’m not going anywhere puppy.” He swallowed and those blue eyes watched you expectantly. God your husband made you feel like you could take over the world when he did that.

Patting his cheek you clambered in front of him, on your hands and knees. Bucky asked softly, “C-can I please take off your skirt? Please honey?” You got up on your haunches and nodded, back to undoing your blouse and tossing it away. Bucky made quick work of your skirt, starting up again about your underwear.

“Take it off, c’mere,” you sighed.

The radiating heat of his body made you shiver excitedly, sending your thighs to clenching again. You turned to kiss your husband while his big hands took their time undoing your remaining clothes. He was a good kisser, sweeping you in easily. The pair of you took it slow, breaking apart to pant and coo nonsense.

His cock had nestled between your ass cheeks and you slowly rolled back against it. Bucky’s big hands massaged your tits, rolling the buds of your nipples with soft groans. You sighed and licked into his hot tongue, nipping a plump lip. Your puppy was holding it together well, hadn’t dissolved into a puddle of goo.

Yet.

He nuzzled at your neck, blown pupils flicking up to your mirror image. Bucky whined so sweetly, voice raw, “Baby, sweets, can I fffu-fuck you now? M’gonna pop if I don’t.”

You assented, presenting yourself face-down, ass-up. Usually how Bucky ended up. What a strange night. The brunette’s shaky palms grabbed your hips as he dipped his heavy cock into your aching pussy. You moaned his name, lowering your back into an easy arch. Both of you cried out when he was seated.

Your gaze watched Bucky sniveling and sucking in breath from behind in the mirror. He mewled, “Ngh- oh fuck babyd-doll.” You breathed, “Yeah? Feel good? My puppy’s cock s’big.” You dropped your head at the stretch. “Jus’ gotta use it good baby, fuck your baby nice and hard.”

“I will, I will,” he promised, hair falling into his face as he vigorously nodded.

His eyes stayed on your own as he rolled into your cunt, the movement making him moan deeply. He sucked in another breath, whimpering, “Baby.” You let him breathe, he’d been such a good boy today regardless of the minor infractions.

“You got it, c’mon big guy,” you simpered.

Bucky gritted his jaw one time, that look of determination in his blues shone. He took you by surprise, rutting deeply inside and doing it again faster. You moaned in delight at the slaps of flesh, your husband’s cock rubbing that delicious spot. He was whining thinly, gasping and carrying on like this was his dying action.

You met him thrust for thrust, tits rubbing against the carpet, a surprise stimulation. You cried out, “Yes baby! Sweet puppy keep it up, making me so proud! Ahhfuck!” Bucky leaned over your prostrate frame, kissing and drooling. His tears wet your skin as the brunette split you open roughly.

His silvery hand curled around to swirl your swollen clit. He murmured brokenly against you, “Ngh- baby, cum for me please please m’so close don’t wa-wanna r-ruin oh god it!” He sobbed after, working you good and hard while falling to pieces.

You were sweaty and near delirious with pleasure, moaning like you were paid for it. Your belly was awash with heat, thighs trembling from his cock battering your sensitive insides. You turned to him, beckoning for a kiss. Once you swallowed down another sob of his you came.

Earth shaking, legs limp, mind-to-mush kind of orgasm. You cried out long and high, releasing all over Bucky in a gush of slick. Your pussy convulsed and twitched around him, already overspent. Your lids flicked open to watch Bear’s face crumple as he filled your cunt with his white hot cum.

He pulled you up flush to him, seeking to be close as possible as the intense orgasm hit him. Another possible side effect of super soldiers, they could cum for several intense minutes. So you cooed and let Bucky softly sob and mewl into your sweaty hair, cum dripping down your thighs from the sheer amount.

He settled into a soft pant, falling back ungracefully, you coming along with the fool. You turned to lay against his frame, swinging a leg over his thighs, tucking your head to his heaving chest. Bucky probably would be non-verbal by now with the mirror escapade.

You were content coddling and petting the soldier until he felt better. Bucky was your good, sweet boy after all. He kissed your cheek, humming idly to the record in the back. He had a soft smile on his pretty face. You locked that away in your memory box for safekeeping.