#smooth scrolling website

[sturnioz]

‘JUST A F*CK’ — MATT STURNIOLO

pairing. matt sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, angst.

word count. 3.2k

❝i thought everything would’ve changed after a few months…❞

content warning. explicit content, oral (male receiving), hair pulling, subtle nipple sucking and biting, dirty talk, unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, extreme mean!matt vibes.

authors note. this is not a happy fic. it's labelled angst for a reason. you have been warned. also, i am still on a little writing hiatus. this is just something i revamped from an old blog of mine.

The notification that chimes and flashes across your phone's lockscreen sends a shiver down your spine, and your feet immediately carry you across your bedroom in a hurry, picking up articles of clothing that were thrown carelessly across your floor and shoving them away in your dresser before you rush into the bathroom, preparing yourself for Matt’s arrival.

Matt has been your fuck buddy for a little over six months—an arrangement that was made by the two of you when you had once confessed that you were tired of your inexperience, and Matt was more than willing to step up and offer himself to be the one that would take your through some sexual desires and fantasies. 

In truth, it was supposed to be a one, maybe two, time thing. But it progressed into something a lot more serious when both of you realised how good it felt being with each other so intimately—how easy it was to hook-up together rather than going out and finding someone different whenever you felt the urge for a release. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t catch any feelings over the period of time you have been sleeping together, though. 

Each moment was different after the other—more intense, more passionate, more real. You immediately noticed during the fourth month that this arrangement wasn’t treated like a regular hook-up situation anymore… it was different.

( 1 ) Matt started staying over after sex, whether it was to cuddle or to sleep. ( 2 ) He would take you out to expensive restaurants, paying for your meals and even gifting you your favourite bouquet of flowers from time to time. ( 3 ) He kissed you one night in the middle of fucking you against a bathroom stall, completely unprovoked as kissing wasn’t apart of the original arrangement—and he’s never stopped since.

You never questioned him about the sudden affections he was giving you, and you definitely weren’t complaining either. 

In fact, you like it. You like him. 

Would you ever admit your likeness to him? Maybe, if there was a right time and place to do so. But unfortunately, you never found it, and even if you did, you’d always forget when Matt is balls deep inside you—making you too dumb on his cock to form a coherent sentence. 

It takes you a few more minutes to shower and make sure your body feels smooth and silky, applying the best lotions after shaving and spritzing his favourite perfume of yours on your neck. 

However, you curse under your breath as you clip on your new lacy lingerie set, a deep frown tugging at your lips as you spot the tear in the material as you do a last once over in the mirror. 

Frustrated was an understatement. 

You bought this lingerie set a few days ago when scrolling through a website with Matt lounging beside you, his finger pointing to the screen as he lazily drawls that this was the prettiest set out of them all. 

And of course, you bought it. Why wouldn’t you?

“Alright… no bra it is.” you finally decide with a sigh, unclipping it from your body and stuffing it at the back of your dresser, making a mental note to remember to throw it away after spending the night with Matt. 

You sit down on the edge of your bed, heart hammering against your ribs as you lean back on your hands, arching your back just enough to present yourself the way you know he likes. Every so often, your eyes dart to the glowing digits of the clock on your nightstand, and it feels like time is dragging, but the anticipation keeps you sane, your chest tight with excitement.

Then, you hear it—the front door swinging open, followed by the sharp slam of it closing.

Your pulse quickens as his familiar footsteps climb the stairs, and you sit perfectly still, readying yourself for the moment the bedroom door opens and he sees you exactly as he asked, waiting for that compliment and praise for following his orders.

But when the door swings open, he doesn’t say a word.

Matt steps inside, toeing off his sneakers, nudging them toward the side as the soft click of the door shutting behind him fills the room. He doesn’t speak, but he does look at you—his eyes dragging over you, slow and deliberate.

And in that moment, it’s enough.

The look, the way his teeth catch his bottom lip—it makes you feel perfect. It makes you feel wanted.

He says nothing when he walks through your bedroom door. He just toes off his shoes, kicking them to the side as he shuts the door behind himself. But he does look at you, and you feel good again, especially when his eyes roam over your appearance, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he beckons you over with his finger and points to the floor in front of him.

Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he crooks his finger and gestures for you to come closer, pointing to the floor in front of him.

You can’t stop the giddiness bubbling up in your chest, but you suppress it the best you can, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from grinning too broadly. Sliding off the bed, you sink to your hands and knees, moving toward him with a slowness that you hope he finds teasing—playful.

His smirk deepens as his eyes follow your every movement, and by the time you kneel in front of him, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Matt doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t have to. Not when he’s watching your fingers toy with the zipper on his jeans, tugging them down his legs along with his boxers, and you eye hungrily at his cock that bobs in front of your face. 

You take him in your hand, the other massaging his balls as you lean forward to lick the tip, keeping your eyes on him. But he grabs the back of your head and pushes you forward to take more of him into your mouth, and you happily oblige, moving your head up and down on him as you try to ignore the urge to gag every time his mushroom tip hits the back of your throat.

You’re loving the noises he makes, feeling light-headed and stomach erupting into butterfly-like flutters as he grunts, his fingers gripping your hair as he guides your movements as you slurp and suck on his cock.

Happily, you let your jaw grow slack as he uses your mouth for his own personal pleasure, tears bubbling down your cheeks as he continues thrusting down your throat. You’re unable to hold back your frequent gags and chokes, breathing through your nose steadily as you look up to meet his eyes, vision blurry. 

“So fucking good t’me, baby,” he praises you. “Know you love choking on this dick.”

His movements slow as his balls tighten, his hand caresses your tear-stained cheek with a gentle motion. His cock twitches on your tongue, and you realise he’s close to cumming, which makes you eager to go faster—to feel him spill his load down the back of your throat—but he pulls at your hair in warning, tugging you off his cock with a lewd pop. 

“I want you to cum on my tongue,” you pout, his tip bumping your top lip as you lean forward again. “Wanna taste you. Wanna please you.”

“It’s not about what you want,” Matt shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. “I want to cum in that sweet, little pussy I love so much… doesn’t that sound better than me filling your throat?”

You frantically nod your head at that, ignoring the stinging sensation in your scalp from the fast movement as his fingers are still twisted in your hair in a tight grip. He grins, releasing you from his grasp only to pull you up from the floor by your arm, tugging you over to the bed. 

A shriek leaves your lips as he pushes you down onto the bed, but you’re silenced when he climbs over you, fitting between your legs to slot his mouth against yours in a heated and sloppy kiss—leaving your lungs burning for air.

He smears his lips across your cheek and down your neck, smothering your skin in wet smooches before making his way to your bare chest. His hands grope your breasts, squeezing and tweaking your nipples with his thumb. 

One flick. Two flicks. Three flicks.

You gasp as he finally takes one into his mouth, swirling the tip of his tongue around the pebbled bud, and you push your chest forward—eager and desperate—for him to softly bite down on your nipple in warning, raising his gaze to glare at you as you cry out at the pain, your fingers gripping the roots of his hair out of instinct. 

He slaps your hands away with another warning, “Behave.”

Matt gives the other nipple his attention now, repeating his movements. You let out a whiney moan this time as he bites down on the flesh of your breast instead of the perky bud itself, feeling his hand sliding down your tummy to your lacy underwear.

He yanks your panties down your leg, a subtle rip in the fabric echoing in the air, before he discards them carelessly over his shoulder. Your eyes immediately narrow at that, your eyebrows knitting together as you feel irritated over the fact he hasn’t even bothered to take notice of the lingerie you bought specifically for him. 

Yet your agitation slips away when his fingers make contact with your clit, rubbing in circular motions in a pace that has your hips twitching upwards, wanting more. 

“Please..” you breathlessly whisper, thighs closing around his hand. “Faster.”

“Don’t be needy,” he shakes his head as he forces your thighs apart with his separate hand. “Can’t touch you the way you want. Don’t have time today.” 

You make a confused noise, blinking as you watch Matt pull his hand away to grip your hips tightly to flip you over, your vision going blurry for a split moment before everything goes black—your face pressed into the pillows, ass in the air, presented to him.

You turn your head to the side, managing to catch him in your peripheral vision. “Do.. do you have somewhere to be later?”

“Yeah,” his answer is blunt—clipped—making you want to question him further, but the feeling of his cock rubbing through the slickness of your folds makes you forget your words so easily, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes into you, burying himself to the hilt.

The sound of skin meeting skin, curses, and moans of his name fill the entire room. Your fingers twist in the bedsheets to ground yourself as Matt rails you from behind, his hands groping and squeezing your ass as it bounces back against his thighs. 

“Like seeing you like this,” Matt pants, licking at his bottom lip as his thrusts faster when he feels your inner walls clench around him. “Dripping down my cock, moaning my name….”

You try to push your hips back to meet his thrusts, whines and moans spilling from your lips as you inch closer and closer to your orgasm, but it’s just out of reach. Your fingers find your clit, rubbing in time with his harsh thrusts, and it’s enough to send you over the edge, a loud cry ripping from the back of your throat as you cream all over his cock.

Matt’s quick to throw you into a new position, pushing you onto your back, forcing your knees to your chest as he pushes deeper inside of you, chasing his own high eagerly as your cunt convulses around him, squeezing him in tighter.

Your thighs burn, and you peer up at him to watch his expressions, seeing him bite down hard on his bottom lip as he pistons his hips at a pace that has your headboard slamming against your wall loudly. You mentally apologise to your neighbours, knowing you’re going to get another noise complaint tomorrow and some dirty looks that’ll have you unable to look them in the eyes the next few weeks.

“Please… please cum for me,” you manage to find your voice, your pussy sore and senses overstimulated from the constant rubbing of his pelvis against your clit. “F-fill me up.” 

“You want my cum, baby?” he asks you, his movements jerky as he nears closer to his orgasm. “You want me to fill this pussy? Fuck you full?”

“Please! Please, please, please, please—”

Your chanting is cut off when Matt slams his hips against yours, cock twitching within your walls before spilling inside of you in long, warm spurts, filling you up just like promised. Your legs tremble as you cum once again, weakly this time, and your pussy throbs as he ruts into you slowly, milking his balls dry.

It’s too much for you now, your cunt raw and sensitive, causing you to pat his arm repeatedly. He chuckles quietly, pressing his lips hard to yours while he slowly pulls himself out of you, his cum dripping out onto the sheets.

Matt is the first to break the kiss, pulling away with a lazy exhale before rolling to your side and draping an arm around your waist. His fingers rest against your skin as the two of you lay in silence for a moment, your breathing still uneven, hearts slowly settling after everything that just occurred.

And yet, your own heart feels anything but calm.

It’s racing for an entirely different reason now.

This is it. This is that moment you’ve been waiting for. The perfect time to lay it all out on the table—the emotions you’ve been holding back, everything that’s been building inside of you for months now.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you begin quietly, your voice trembling a little. You glance down, nervously fiddling with the rings on his fingers, twisting them in slow circles as if you’re trying to ground yourself. 

“Yeah?” Matt hums softly, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “What is it?”

“I…” you hesitate, your mind spinning with second guesses as the doubt creeps in, whispering every possible way that this could go so wrong. But when Matt squeezes your hand, his fingers tangling with yours in a way that feels comforting—safe—the doubt fades away. “I like you.”

Matt freezes. 

“What?” he snaps suddenly, his voice cutting. His hand rips away from yours as if your touch burns him, and he’s sitting up, shifting to the edge of the bed, putting distance between you both as his wide eyes lock onto yours. You can’t read him.

“I like you…” you repeat, much quieter this time. You reach out for him, desperate for some kind of reassurance for this big moment, but he flinches away like you’re something utterly repulsive. 

“Why?”

You blink, stunned by the venom laced in his tone. You must’ve heard him wrong. “Because of everything that’s been happening between us,” you say softly, giving him a small, hopeful smile that you hope eases this unreadable tension. “I thought we were closer than this, you know? I thought maybe we crossed that line when—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Matt interrupts, and you watch as he slips out of bed, hastily pulling on his boxers as if he can’t stand to be exposed in front of you any longer. “We’re just fucking. That’s it. We agreed to that. Not—” he gestures vaguely between you, his expression hardening. “This.”

Your smile falters, crumbling beneath the weight of his words. “You… say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Because it is!” Matt snaps, running a hand through his tousled hair. He paces the room, his grimace twisting the knife deeper into your chest and you grip the blanket, wrapping it tightly around yourself as if it could save you your dignity. 

“I’m sorry…” you murmur weakly, the apology slipping out before you can stop it. Your voice cracks, but you push yourself forward, hoping that this can still be saved. “But… you’ve been giving me the impression that this was more than just a hook-up. You told me you liked me the other night—”

Matt cuts you off with a bitter scoff, “Not in the way you like me. Jesus.”

“Matt, you’ve stayed after sex. You’ve cuddled me—you’ve slept here. You take me out. You buy me things. You’ve kissed me like… like it meant something,” you say, your voice breaking as the tears begin to well in your eyes. 

“And? That’s just what we do. We’re comfortable enough to do those things, alright? Doesn’t mean I magically want a relationship with you.”

“I thought everything would’ve changed after a few months…” you admit, your voice barely audible.

Matt’s laugh is sharp, humourless, “Yeah? Well, you thought wrong.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your legs. Your chest tightens painfully, and you can feel the tears spilling down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, forcing you to look away as you refuse to meet his gaze. 

You don’t want to see the disgusted look on his features anymore.

“I can’t believe you’ve fucked this up for us,” Matt mutters, shaking his head as he yanks his jeans on. “What we had was good, and then you just… shit.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Matt doesn’t respond as he’s too busy pulling on his shirt, his movements rushed and agitated. Every so often, you can see him glance at you in your peripheral vision, and the disbelief and horrified look in his eyes make your stomach churn.

You want to disappear, to melt into the bed and escape the humiliation that’s clawing painfully at your chest. 

“This—what we had—it’s done,” Matt says finally, gesturing between the two of you with a ringed finger. “It’s over, completely. Unless…” he pauses for a moment, his lips curling. “Unless you come back to your senses and get your head screwed on straight.”

You shake your head, wiping at your tear-stained cheeks. “No. I think it’s over for good,” you whisper, sniffling. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way for you. I can’t… I won’t.”

Matt stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. 

Then, he shrugs, tone flat. “Alright.” 

He turns toward the door, yanking it open with a sharp motion, and for a brief second, he hesitates, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours, and they’re cold, empty. “Delete my number. Don’t contact me. Ever.”

And with that, he’s gone. 

The door slams shut behind him, the sound echoing in the silence he’s left behind while you sit there, staring at the empty space where he stood, your hands trembling in your lap as the weight of his words sinks in. 

The tears come harder now, unstoppable, your chest heaving as you clutch the blanket tighter around yourself as the sobs wrack your body, choking and spluttering for breath. 

He’s gone, and you’re left alone, your heart shattering into pieces too small to put back together, unsure if you'll ever be mended again.

authors note (2). also this is lowkey giving an au character of mine.

©STURNIOZ 𐔌 . all rights reserved.

[frostedfragments]

calling dr zayne! ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 2.2k words ✧.* only fans au summary: dr zayne stumbles across his favourite patient's onlyfans account warnings!: zayne breaks some rules!!!, masturbation, use of a sex toy, voyeurism note: couldn't help but imagine an au where zayne doesn't know you and you wind up as his patient...and breaks a couple of dr oaths lol note2: ive' never seen the of website so if the mechanics of it are innacurate pls ignore and lets stay playful together

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

There’s only so many online medical articles one can read before they need some mindless doom scrolling. It’s not often Zayne logs into his social media accounts, he much prefers to spend his small amount of free time reading or hiking, but he can’t resist catching up on what his friends and family are posting on Instagram. He doesn’t see them nearly as often as he should, and it’s the small trickle of guilt down his throat that has him scrolling on his computer, smiling when he sees a couple photos of his parents on their holiday, his co-workers on a night out he declined to join them on, and the occasional cat video.

He’s not sure how he finds it, but the explore page is such an overstimulating mess of faces and bodies that he usually avoids it completely. It’s only because his hand twitches that he even sees the post in the first place, but he looks. And continues to look.

The woman in the photo doesn’t show her face, just the long line of her neck and the soft, plumpness of her cleavage in a bra that leaves little to the imagination. He briefly wonders how a picture like this is allowed on the app, but he’s soon clicking on the profile before he can stop himself, intrigued by smooth skin and little else. He is still a man after all, and once he is exposed to the abundance of tantalising images on the woman’s profile, he is reminded how long it has been since he had his hands on a woman.

His favourite patient doesn’t count, he thinks reflexively, frowning that the thought even crept into his mind at all. You’ve been his patient for roughly six months now; you’ve had a heart condition all your life, one that is well-managed and non-life threatening, but still needs regular monitoring. Your previous heart doctor passed away, and so your case was given to Zayne.

He tries to shake the memory of your face out of his mind as he glances through the pictures, having every intention of clicking out of the woman’s profile and logging off for the evening. Maybe even taking a shower to rid his body from this sudden thrum of energy that radiates low in his stomach, but a link in the bio of the profile catches his eye. Snags his attention like a siren, luring him in with the promise of more, and he almost feels as if he’s doing something illegal when he clicks on it.

OnlyFans isn’t completely new to Zayne - there are a few colleagues he knows who watch adult content on the site, though he mistakenly always thought it was a place where fetish content lived. Feet videos, women humiliating men on camera, food play - not really his taste. But when the link has loaded, and racier images of the woman appear, Zayne feels his cock twitch, feels it begin to fill out as his eyes graze the image of the woman laying on a bed, back arched, breasts displayed beautifully in a black lace bra which leaves her pert, pink nipples completely uncovered.

God, he needs to get laid or something. He hasn’t had the time to date, or even the energy to masturbate, always exhausted from multiple surgeries in one day or typing up notes from said surgeries. His body reminds him now of the necessity to release all the pent up tension that collects in his spine, and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over the bulge in his slacks, sighing softly at the instant swell of pleasure.

His eyes dart back up to the screen, a flush warming his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he makes an account anyway before he can stop himself, typing in his credit card information and subscribing to the woman who seems to have come out of nowhere and locked in his attention with just a few pictures of her body.

Once he has full access to the page, he scrolls through picture after picture, some more explicit than others. When he reaches the video section, he notices one posted just a few hours ago titled watch me cum while i think about him. The thumbnail shows the woman in a pale pink lingerie set, plush thighs wrapped in white, lace stockings as she sits demurely on white bed sheets. Her neck, chin and full mouth are all that is visible of her face, and Zayne’s gut tenses as he moves the mouse over, clicking play on the video.

His speakers hum with the sound of the video as the woman walks towards the bed, sitting down and smiling softly. Her lips are glossy with a balm or something, and Zayne resigns himself to his base need, slowly unbuckling his belt as the girl shuffles back on the bed slightly.

“Hi guys,” Her voice filters through the speakers, and Zayne frowns, though he can’t think what it is about the voice that makes him pause, “I just got home, and I saw my favourite doctor today. Obviously, though you’ve all been asking, I can’t say his name, but just trust me when I say he’s…so fine,”

Zayne’s hand pulls down the zipper of his slacks, licking his lips, watching closely as she trails her hands over her skin that already looks flushed with arousal. The bra barely contains her full breasts, nipples already straining against the thin fabric. He needs to see them, his hands feel empty with the need to fill his palms with their softness, and he dips into his briefs to pull out his cock, already hard and red at the tip.

The woman has barely touched herself yet, and he feels so pent up he might come before she even gets started.

Reaching over, the woman grabs what looks to be a pink sleep mask, hands disappearing out of frame before she sits back on her elbows, her full face in frame, half covered by the mask. She rolls onto her tummy as she stretches across the mattress again, the sounds of a drawer opening and closing. Her ass is almost bare, round and soft in a matching pink thong. Zayne let’s his hand stroke experimentally over his dick, exhaling shakily.

The girl is back facing the camera now, long hair fanning out over the sheets. It has Zayne pausing again, the first shiver of alarm running through his spine as he spots something on her hip. A tattoo.

The same tattoo his new patient has. But surely, it’s just a coincidence. Maybe you and this girl just have similar taste. He pauses his movements, still as stone while his brain works overtime to avoid the truth of the situation.

By now the girl, or as Zayne realises with a start, you are fully spread out on the mattress. Your legs move restlessly, like you’re so turned on you can’t stay still, and Zayne’s eyes close at the way the thought sits heavy in his groin, balls tightening as his hand squeezes the base of his dick.

He absolutely cannot do this, he cannot watch a video of a patient writhing around on their bed in nothing but their lingerie. The item you had pulled out, a sizable pink dildo, is laying by your thigh, and there is no question between that and the title about what is about to happen. But then you start speaking again, and Zayne is forced to open his eyes at the sound of your voice.

“Will you guys stay with me?” Your voice is breathier now, and you lick your lips when your hand palms a breast. Zayne’s jaw clenches, “I’ve needed to come all day since my appointment. My doctor has such big hands, it’s so fucking hot -” You gasp, fingers twisting a nipple through your bra, and Zayne’s thighs tense, a thick bead of precum dribbling down his cock at the idea that you’re about to think of him while you fuck yourself.

He must be fucking dreaming. Or maybe it’s a nightmare, given that he’s breaking every single possible rule right now by not clicking out of this video. But his dick is almost throbbing in his hand now, and he can’t rip his eyes away from the screen when your hand trails over your stomach, fingers slipping under the elastic of your thong. Your hand presses back against the mattress as you moan softly.

“I’ve been wet the whole way home,” You whine, “His voice, it’s so deep and soft. And his eyes; he watches me like he could ruin me if he wanted to. I can’t stop thinking about him,”

Zayne loses the battle against his entire brain screaming at him that this is wrong, this is a terrible idea. That he needs to stop. But he can’t, how is he supposed to stop when you’re rocking against your hand, lips parted to accommodate the ragged breaths and throaty sounds you make. He strokes himself, all the air leaving his lungs.

Your other hand reaches down to your thigh where the dildo sits, forgotten, and you smile as you hold it up to the camera, “I chose my biggest one for tonight. I want to imagine him fucking - ah - fucking me,”

“Oh, fuck,” He grits, other hand gripping the arm of his desk chair. His balls ache, and he runs his thumb over the head of his cock, watching you with half-open eyes as you shimmy out of the thong.

“How much do you want to see?” Zayne almost thinks you’re speaking directly to him, and it feels that way with the intimate hum of your voice. Maybe you are, maybe you’re imagining him doing this right now. Breaking every rule and fucking his hand while you shift on the bed, facing away from the camera and falling forward to reveal your soaked, pink pussy and the tight hole above. Zayne’s teeth nearly bite right through his lower lip when your hand reaches back, small fingers pushing right inside.

His hand speeds up, the slick sounds filling the room alongside your moans, and he wishes you were right here with him. He wishes that instead of removing your fingers and sliding the dildo through your folds, that you were here, bouncing on his cock.

You sit up slightly, looking over your shoulder as you place the dildo at your entrance. Your lips curl into a smile, “I don’t even need any lube tonight. I’m so fucking wet,”

“Yeah, you are,” Zayne murmurs to himself, half-mad with desire to see you be filled up. Even if he can’t be the one to do it, his teeth ache as he clenches his jaw, waiting for you to sink down onto that silicone, imagining it's him.

Teeth pressed into your soft lower lip, you slowly take every inch of the dildo, thighs trembling slightly, enough to make the skin of your ass ripple a bit. When you raise your hips up again, the silicone is shiny with your need, and Zayne’s mouth is watering, his fist jerking almost too fast. He doesn’t want this to be over yet, but when you start to bounce it’s too late to slow down. You’re almost moving at the same pace as his hand, and he groans, falling back into the seat so he can jerk his hips up a little, fantasising that he’s under you, that you’re taking him like a good girl would.

“Oh, god,” You whimper, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself like a melody through Zayne’s speakers, “s-so big, oh he’s so big, I know it -,”

“Shit,” Zayne digs his nails into his thigh to stop himself from coming. There’s sweat running down his chest now, and he reaches up to undo his tie, tossing it to the ground. He can barley breathe, his cock so wet it’s almost like he’s actually fucking you.

“F-fuck- I waited all day for this. Since I left his - hng - office. God, I want him to fuck me on the desk. I bet he would be so good, so rough. Oh god, please,” You’re no longer bouncing on the dildo, instead grinding your hips on it, skin dewy and flushed red, “God, I’m gonna come, oh - oh, fuck -”

Zayne is shaking, his hand almost cramping from how fast he’s dragging it along his cock. His balls give a warning throb before he flicks his eyes up to see you coming with him, your thighs twitching, hips moving jaggedly as you continue to grind down on the fake cock. He twists his wrist at the head of his length and groans loudly, closing his eyes, imagining you’re coating his dick, coming all over it. His cum stains his fingers and his white shirt, chest dropping harshly with every breath he drags in. His body feels weightless, eyes heavy, and he opens them to watch as you roll over on the bed, on your back with your legs parted, showing him and the camera the mess you’ve made.

Zayne’s cock twitches back to life at the thought of cleaning you up with his tongue.

Before he closes the video, he watches till the end. Stares at the way you slowly come back down to earth, sleepily stretching and grinning at the camera, voice hoarse, “Thank you, doctor,” you giggle, before the screen goes black, and Zayne is left to stare at his sweaty, fucked out expression in the reflection.

“Fuck,” He says.

[eightglass]

What laptop manufacturers think people want:

What people actually want:

Seriously!

Like, what happened to 4:3? Websites and word processors work with VERTICAL SCROLLING. That means we want more VERTICAL SPACE.

What happened to buttons on the trackpad? The smooth square is bullshit. Bring back buttons. Also there should be a scroll wheel beside the trackpad.

Why are laptops so thin nowadays? Where's the sturdiness? Where's the space to put things?

What happened to the io? I WANT MORE USB. I should not have to buy an adapter to have enough USB ports.

Disc drives! SD card readers! Why did they leave?? Put them back.

And easily removable batteries!! That should be common again!! If the battery stops carrying enough charge, anyone should be able to replace it easily.

Also, like, why are laptop speakers consistently so ass? Make them good!

Keyboards should have more buttons! Un-merge the function keys and the, like, volume and brightness control keys. More buttons more better.

Why is there usually only a power button? Put a sleep button next to it!!

[eowynstwin]

Ghoap x reader. Autistic reader. Christmas angst. Allusions to Ghost’s backstory. Salacious use of ribbon. Soap being inappropriate. NSFW.

Soap fidgets on the train the whole way over to the light show. You don’t notice, of course, your earplugs are in, but Ghost, hypervigilant for the season, cocks an eyebrow.

“Itches like mad,” Soap grouses. He tugs at the collar of his sweater, a ghastly thing in fuzzy green, red, and gold, with LED bulbs embroidered down the front.

Ghost scowls at him. Soap purses his lips, not chastened. You sit between them, oblivious, fingering the zipper of your purse.

There’s enough cheer on the train to make up for their collective lack. More than one person wears a dumb Santa hat, and at least every other has on something colorful and festive. It seems like everyone feels some sort of Christmas spirit but Ghost, and it makes his hackles tense up.

Your hand slips into his then, smooth like silk settling over his palm. He looks at you; your gaze is fixed steadily ahead, unfocused. He’s not sure whether you reached for him to find comfort or offer it, but he closes his fingers around yours anyway.

He looks over—Soap has your other hand. Reaching to find, then. He squeezes.

The three of you wait until the very last moment to disembark when you arrive, letting the crowd out first. Ghost’s choice. The absolute last thing he wants is to lose either you or Soap in the stream of people flowing from the train—Soap will get distracted, and you hate it when strangers crowd you. This is going to be a trial as it is.

Ghost has to admit—once they reach the grounds, the displays are something to see. Together, you walk through a tunnel of lights leading you to the beginning of the walk, rings of warm white gently shining overhead, and Ghost, despite himself, can’t help but admire how it makes both of his partners look like they’re glowing.

Then Soap tugs at his sweater again, and Ghost bites down a growl.

“Oh, hot chocolate,” you say at the end of the tunnel, looking over at a cart laden with a few big steel samovars. “I’m going to get some, either of you want any?”

“Cider,” Ghost says, softening the curtness of his tone with the tenner he hands you. “If they’ve got any.”

“Coffee for me, hen, if you don’t mind,” Soap adds with a smile. You nod, and scurry toward the drinks.

Soap eyes him. Ghost knows what he sees—his back has been ramrod straight since the bloody month started. He holds his shoulders the same way he might if he had his rifle across his chest. His jaw has been hard as a cinder block any time the market clerk tossed “happy holidays” at him when he did his best to get away as fast as he could.

“Don’t,” Ghost says.

Soap says nothing.

This is not their first Christmas together, but it is their first with you. The sergeant already knows how Ghost feels about the holiday; you do not, and Ghost wants to keep it that way for a little while longer.

Divining your feelings about anything takes a little longer than it might with anyone else, but he’s pretty sure you’re excited, in your way. Soap, for whom pine trees and glitter and the smell of snow in the air seem to activate a sleeper agent in his brain that orgasms at the mere sight of tinsel, already has a Wellington resting in their shared fridge, and artfully wrapped presents crammed under their pre-lit tree. The two of you together have flooded the flat with lights, candy-cane frippery, crocheted snowflake doilies, and ski-lodge scented candles.

Ghost, for his part, has scrolled various travel websites to figure out if assassinating Santa Claus is something actually feasible. Maybe if he defeats the final boss of Christmas he can actually sleep through the night at least once this month.

It isn’t that he hates it, exactly. It’s just that Christmas, to him, began as a hazy game of roulette, wondering if the wild animal of his father would appear to ruin the exchange of charity-shop gifts wrapped in reused paper, and then solidified as an image reflected in pools of spreading blood.

The last happy Christmas, he had to burn down. That’s no reason that he has to ruin it for everyone else, though.

You return with three paper cups held awkwardly in your two hands, and Ghost and Soap relieve you of your burden. Your cup has a peppermint stick jutting up out of it, and you use it to stir your steaming drink periodically as the three of you proceed.

The path leads through an army of glowing snowmen in mismatched sizes, life-size gingerbread houses, past multicolor balls tossed across the top of a frozen pond. Trees banded with so many strings they look like branches of lightning reaching up from the earth. Electric snowflakes dangling above your heads from netting stretched between lampposts.

Ghost keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. His cider goes rapidly cold in his other hand, untouched. He probably can’t get his money back for it, but he’s agitated enough to start a fight and try.

Meanwhile—it’s obvious, you’re enjoying yourself immensely. You don’t say much as you flit between installations, running a hand over the glowing bulbs, tilting your head this way and that like a curious little bird. You take your phone out more than once to open your camera, and Ghost knows you’re saving pictures to put together a slideshow later on.

More than once, you look back at him and Soap, and grin wide at some novelty or another. Ghost manages to nod his head at you—go on, little birdie, keep having fun.

“Jesus,” Soap mutters, trying to scratch at a spot on his back for the third time.

“Fuck’s sake, Soap, just take the fucking thing off,” Ghost snaps.

“Canna,” Soap says.

“Why the fuck not?”

Soap’s mouth slants sideways. He looks around for spectators, and, finding none within eyeshot, lifts the bottom of the sweater.

Bright, shiny, very red ribbon runs in two lines along the naked cut of his obliques—down past the waistband of his trousers.

Ghost tosses the cider out of his cup and grips Soap by the back of the neck, throws, “OY! Duckie! Bathroom!” at you, and drags his boyfriend to the nearby public loo.

It’s empty, thank god, so Ghost wastes no time yanking the closure of Soap’s trousers open. The ribbon continues downward, downward, the V narrowing and narrowing until—

It converges in a (somewhat lopsided) bow tied right around the base of Soap’s dick.

“Soap, what the fuck,” Ghost says.

The sergeant backs up, and pulls the sweater fully off. It reveals a latticework of satiny red crisscrossing his chiseled torso: lines of ribbon accenting the curves of his pectorals, his toned abdomen, highlighting the small indent of his trim waist.

Soap’s cheeks flush pink.

“Goes further down,” he mutters, not meeting Ghost’s eye.

“What the fuck,” Ghost repeats.

“Was gonna do a big reveal when we got home,” Soap says. “Start stripping when we got the door closed. That rubbish.”

Ghost, incredulously, snorts, and Soap smiles at him.

“First time you’ve laughed this month,” he says quietly. “S’ why I did it.”

Ghost steps up to him and takes Soap’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “You fucking idiot,” he says, and kisses him.

The bathroom door opens, letting in a gust of wind, and Ghost and Soap jump back from each other momentarily, before relaxing when your voice reaches them.

“There better not be a handjob happening in here without me—oh,” you say, stopping short.

Shoving the waist of his pants down further, Soap turns around to show off to you the full extent of what he’s done. It gives Ghost a good look at the pretty intersections happening overtop of the muscles of Soap’s back, and the dip of the ribbon down between the two perfect globes of Soap’s arse.

You blink several times. “There isn’t a lock on this door, Soap. If I get down to suck you off, someone is going to come in.”

Impossibly, Ghost snorts again, and then laughs for real, a full-belly guffaw that comes out a little more harsh than it should. But you grin at him, and the line of Soap’s shoulders, which Ghost suddenly realizes has been as tense as his this whole time, relaxes.

He pecks the bare swell of Soap’s bicep, and then the crown of your head as he passes you by.

“I’ll hold it closed, duckie,” he says. “Do whatever you want.”

He only leaves the door once when he hears you shriek suddenly with laughter—to find that Soap has decorated his cock with a peppermint-loop of red lipstick, all the way to the tip.

“Fucking idiot,” Ghost repeats, and cancels his trip to the North Pole then and there.

[honeydippedfiction]

Can I get 15. "eyes open. keep looking." and 16. ^ and in the mirror--it's their large hand splayed across your abdomen, another wrapped around your perking nip. as they thrust into you, hard, slow, deep. their teeth sinking into ur neck.

with Joe and Angel, I just know they're nastyyy🤪

Listened to ‘Maybe’ by Teyana Taylor while writing this so everyone say thank you Teyana for the inspo

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#15. "eyes open. keep looking." & #16. and in the mirror--it's their large hand splayed across your abdomen, another wrapped around your perking nip. as they thrust into you, hard, slow, deep. their teeth sinking into ur neck.

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It was supposed to be a chill weekend.

With baby Zariyah gone to spend two blissful days with Joe’s parents—Robin and Jimmy, who were beyond thrilled to take over spoiling duties—the Burrow household had finally fallen into rare, golden silence. No bottles to warm, no 3 a.m. wake-up cries, no schedules to juggle. Just peace. Glorious peace.

Joe had made plans, quiet ones. Sleep in. Watch a little film. Maybe grill something. Wrap Angel in a blanket and cuddle until neither of them knew what day it was. It was supposed to be recovery—for both of them.

But by noon, Joe was starting to realize something: Angel had no intention of letting him enjoy any of it.

From the moment she rolled over that morning, her attitude had been locked in. Petty. Sharp. The kind of bratty that didn’t come from actual frustration—it came from intent.

“You breathing loud again,” she muttered from her side of the bed, voice low and gravelly with sleep, but lined with attitude like sharp eyeliner.

Joe blinked, still half-asleep. “What?”

“I said you breathing loud. Sound like a busted radiator.”

He frowned, turning his head toward her on the pillow. “I was asleep.”

“Exactly.” She yanked the blanket tighter around her like he’d committed some great offense simply by existing.

Joe stared at the ceiling for a long beat. Okay…

He let it slide. For now.

The day went on like that. Little digs. Passive-aggressive comments with a smile. Petty nonsense that she served up like appetizers at a dinner party. At first, Joe let it slide. He knew Angel. Knew when she got this way it was usually about something deeper—or nothing at all. But this time, there was no mystery. No hidden frustration. She was just… acting up.

On purpose.

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Later, he padded into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, hoping coffee might at least smooth things over.

Angel was already there. Perched on the counter in one of his old LSU hoodies—bare-legged, smug, and scrolling her phone like she was too cute to be guilty. She sipped from her mug without looking up.

“Morning,” Joe offered.

She made a noncommittal sound in response. Something between a hum and a hmmph.

He tried again. “I made coffee. Want some of mine?”

She finally looked up, blinking slow. “Did you put that dusty almond milk in it?”

“No. I used the new one.”

She took a sip of her own drink, then wrinkled her nose dramatically. “Well, mine still nasty. Probably your fault. You opened the fridge too long yesterday.”

Joe squinted. “What does that even mean?”

“Means now everything taste like fridge air and disappointment.” She hopped down, walked past him, and added, just loud enough, “Don’t nobody ask you to help and you still messing stuff up.”

Joe turned, confused, but she was already halfway back to the living room.

That was round one.

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An hour later, Joe tried to lose himself in film. He pulled up Week 5’s offensive breakdown and plugged in his AirPods. Angel was curled up on the couch beside him, allegedly watching TV—but what she was really doing was finding ways to drive him to the brink of madness without ever raising her voice.

First, she stole the throw blanket from his lap with no explanation.

Then, she took the last two slices of the cinnamon toast she knew he had been saving.

And finally, when he got up to go switch the laundry over, he came back to find the remote gone.

“Angel.”

She didn’t look up from her phone. “Hmm?”

“Where’s the remote?”

“Oh.” She paused for a beat, chewing her nail. “I think I dropped it behind the couch.”

Joe gave her a look. “You think?”

“Or maybe I put it in the laundry basket with the whites. Thought it was a sock.”

He stared at her, deadpan. “You put the remote control in the laundry?”

She shrugged with the exact amount of indifference that could drive a man to madness. “Don’t act like you use it. You just watch the same plays over and over. Ball. Throw. Catch. Repeat.”

He took a slow breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Angel turned her head and finally gave him her full attention. That familiar gleam was in her eyes—trouble, dressed up as flirtation. “I do. Question is… do you?”

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Later that morning, Joe tried to get a jump on laundry while Angel scrolled through her phone on the couch, pretending not to watch him.

He held up one of his favorite hoodies—the gray Bengals one with the frayed cuffs.

“Why is this in the bottom of the hamper?”

Angel barely glanced over. “Zariyah spit up on it. I used it to wipe the floor.”

Joe looked at her like she’d just confessed to a crime. “You used this as a mop?”

“It was right there,” she said with a shrug. “Quick reflexes. You should be proud.”

“That hoodie is from my rookie year.”

“And? You got a whole closet of free gear. You’ll live.”

Joe closed his eyes and took a slow breath. She’s trying to get under your skin, he reminded himself. Don’t let her win.

He tossed the hoodie back into the hamper and walked away.

Angel smirked.

Round one: her.

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By early afternoon, Joe was back on the couch, trying to reset the day. He figured if he could just carve out an hour—maybe two—to review some film, he could salvage some peace. Angel had drifted into her own little world, tucked into the corner of the sectional with snacks and a blanket, one leg draped over the armrest like she owned the place. Which, in many ways, she did.

Joe slipped on his noise-canceling headphones, pulled up game tape from Week 5 on his iPad, and settled in. All he needed was silence. Just enough to dissect a few coverages, double-check a couple reads.

But it didn’t take long for Angel’s show—some chaotic reality series where every scene sounded like a wine-fueled argument— to start bleeding through the headphones.

He paused the video with a sigh, pulling one earbud off. “Babe,” he said, turning toward her, “can you turn that down just a little?”

Angel didn’t even glance at the remote. “You got headphones in.”

“They’re noise-canceling,” he said, with measured patience, “not chaos-canceling.”

Angel slowly turned her head, one brow raised with deliberate sass. “You mad because my show got drama or because yours is boring?”

Joe blinked. “I’m mad because I can’t hear my tight end’s route because some girl named Shayla is screaming about her eyelash business.”

She scoffed, unapologetic. “Well, maybe Shayla got bills to pay. Unlike some people, she can’t afford to sit around analyzing football all day.”

Joe’s jaw ticked. “I don’t sit around, Angel. This is my job.”

Angel fluffed her pillow, adjusting it behind her like she was settling in for a long, loud binge. “Mmm. And this is my couch. I pay rent in sass and vibes.”

Joe dropped his head back with an exasperated groan. “I’m not asking you to go mute. Just lower the volume like… two notches.”

She turned back to the screen and, with all the exaggerated flair in the world, hit the volume up instead. The surround sound blared a high-pitched “YOU AIN’T GON’ DISRESPECT ME IN MY HOUSE” from Shayla, just to hammer it in.

“Seriously?” he said, sitting up straighter.

“Seriously,” she echoed, cool and unbothered. “But feel free to go in the guest room if it’s that serious.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

Angel finally glanced over again. Her expression was smug, unbothered, her whole body language reading what are you gonna do about it?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice saccharine. “I’m just minding my business. Watching my stories.”

Joe stared at her, the tension starting to settle into his shoulders. Not angry—but definitely annoyed. She knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t just being difficult. She was playing with him. Poking the bear. Testing how far she could go before he snapped.

Round two?

Definitely hers again.

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A few minutes passed. Joe didn’t bother restarting the film. He knew there was no point. Angel had kicked her feet up now, her legs stretched out across the cushions like a queen on her throne. She reached into the bag of Hot Cheetos next to her, crunching obnoxiously as she side-eyed him through her lashes.

“Hey,” she said, casual as ever.

“What?” he muttered.

“You left the fridge open earlier. Everything’s warm now. Might wanna double-check your almond milk before you start blaming me again.”

Joe turned his head slowly. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m adorable,” she corrected.

“You’re a menace.”

Angel smirked, licking red dust from her fingers. “And yet… you still married me.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped himself, catching the way her lips curled at the corners—the faintest glint of challenge in her eyes. She was baiting him. Hard. And the worst part? She was enjoying every second of it.

That realization settled in his chest like a match on dry leaves.

She wanted a reaction.

And if she kept going like this… she was going to get one.

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By dinnertime, Joe was running on fumes.

The kind of mental exhaustion that didn’t come from workouts or playbooks, but from one beautiful, petty little storm of a woman who had clearly made it her mission to test every ounce of his restraint.

He’d stayed calm longer than he thought possible. All day, Angel had poked, pushed, and prodded. The smirks. The side-eyes. The backhanded compliments. And the worst part? She did it all with that same effortless confidence, like she was swatting flies for sport.

He walked into the kitchen with the vague hope that a quiet meal might buy him a few minutes of peace. Maybe food would reset the mood. Ground them both.

But the second he opened the fridge, that idea died.

There, stacked neatly on the top shelf, were three sushi containers. His favorites, even. Tuna, shrimp tempura, avocado rolls. Perfectly chilled. Perfectly untouched.

But there were only three containers—and none of them were for him.

“You ordered food?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mmhmm.” Angel didn’t even look up from her phone. She was sitting at the table, one leg crossed over the other, typing away like she hadn’t just committed the ultimate disrespect.

Joe shut the fridge door slowly, deliberately. “And didn’t get me anything?”

“You were busy,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Didn’t want to interrupt your little quarterback study session.”

Joe turned, leveling a look at her. “I’ve been home. All. Day.”

She glanced up then, smile faint and maddeningly fake. “I didn’t think you’d want sushi. You’re always talking about mercury levels. Brain health. All that boring stuff.”

He walked over to the table, jaw tight, frustration starting to simmer just beneath his carefully built surface. He didn’t speak right away—just stared at her, like he was trying to read between the lines of her expression.

Angel finally set her phone down, folded her arms, and met his gaze head-on.

“You’ve been doing this on purpose,” he said.

She tilted her head, mock-innocent. “Doing what?”

“Acting like a brat. All day. You’ve been trying to piss me off.”

Angel leaned back in her chair slowly, the smugness in her expression blooming like a satisfied cat. “Maybe I have,” she said. “What you gonna do about it?”

Joe stepped in, closing some of the space between them, shoulders squaring. “Why?”

She stood up too—deliberate, calm. Not backing down, not flinching. She moved toward him like a challenge incarnate, the edge of her voice dropping into something softer, silkier, yet still taunting.

“Because,” she said, stopping just inches from him, “you’ve been walking around here all peaceful and patient. Quiet. Like you don’t see me. Like I’m just background noise.”

Joe blinked. “You think I don’t see you?”

“I know you do.” Her voice dipped lower now. “But you’ve been treating me like I’m some tired wife with spit-up on her shirt and oatmeal in her hair. I wanted to remind you I’m still me. I still need attention.”

“This was your way of asking for attention?” he asked, voice low, incredulous.

Angel smiled then—but it wasn’t sweet. It was the kind of smile that came with danger. Daring. A trap that she knew he would step into. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Joe stared at her, jaw clenching harder. “You really wanna test me right now?”

Angel lifted her chin, gaze steady, unblinking. “I’ve been testing you all day, baby. The real question is—how long you gonna let me?”

That was it.

That was the moment the tension snapped like a stretched rubber band. Joe moved before he had time to think it through. One hand gripped her waist, yanking her close. The other slid up the back of her neck, into the thick curls she’d piled into a loose bun that was now slipping free.

His voice dropped, rough and warning. “You sure you’re ready for what you’ve been begging for?”

Her breath hitched—but there was no fear in her face. Just desire. Hunger. Victory. She’d poked the bear until it finally turned—and she loved that it was her who brought it out.

“I’ve been ready, Joseph,” she whispered, voice velvet. “You’re the one who's been dragging your feet.”

His eyes darkened. “Say one more slick thing.”

Angel’s grin widened, slow and triumphant. “Make me.”

And that was all he needed.

Joe didn’t just respond—he reacted. He pulled her flush against him, locking her in place with the kind of intensity he’d been holding back all day. Every little comment, every eye-roll, every subtle jab had been leading to this. She’d wanted the fire behind the calm. The man behind the quarterback.

And now she had him.

Fully.

Completely.

Undeniably.

Angel had pushed every button he had. Poked every nerve. And now, as she found herself exactly where she wanted to be—held in place, breath short, eyes wide with anticipation—she knew one thing for certain.

She was finally being put back in her place.

And she was loving every second of it.

Joe moved his hand from the nape of her neck to the front of her throat—not gripping, not squeezing, just placing it there. Wrapping around it. Not enough to even slightly cut off her air supply, but enough to make it clear that he could.

It was enough to send a wave of heat straight to her core.

“You wanna play this game, babygirl?” he murmured, eyes boring into hers. “You think you can take it?”

“I know I can,” she replied, voice steady despite the tremble in her legs. She couldn’t help but smirk. “In fact, I’m gonna win it.”

That earned a snort from Joe, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Big words for someone who can’t even last five minutes without running that pretty little mouth of hers.”

Angel felt the challenge spark between them, hot and immediate. “Then why don’t you shut me up?” she said, voice dropping to a taunt. “If you can.”

Something feral lit in Joe’s eyes, and before Angel could take another breath, she was being turned around, her back flush against his chest. She could feel his erection pressing against her lower back, hard and thick through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. His hand stayed at her throat, keeping her in place, while the other gripped her hip, holding her close.

“Is this what you wanted?” Joe growled, his breath hot against her ear. “You wanted me to lose control, didn’t you? You wanted me to snap.”

Angel licked her lips, her heart pounding. “Maybe I did,” she breathed. “Maybe I wanted to see the real Joe. Not the controlled quarterback, not the calm, composed husband. I wanted the man underneath it all.”

She could feel his grip tighten on her hip, his fingers digging into her skin. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he warned. “The man underneath it all? He’s not always pretty. He’s got rough edges, dirty thoughts, and a hunger that never quite goes away.”

Angel shivered, a thrill running down her spine. “Then show me,” she whispered. “Show me all of it.”

Joe let out a low growl, his hand moving from her hip to the front of her thighs, pushing them apart. “Spread your legs,” he ordered, and Angel complied without hesitation, her breath coming faster now.

His hand slid up, fingers tracing along the seam of her leggings, finding the wet spot between her legs. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Already soaked for me, aren’t you? So ready to be fucked.”

Angel couldn’t speak, her voice caught in her throat. All she could do was nod, her hips moving involuntarily against his hand.

Joe chuckled, the sound low and dark. “But you don’t get to come that easy, babygirl. Not this time. This time, you’re gonna work for it.”

Angel felt a surge of heat at his words, but she couldn’t help but push a little more. “Work for it?” she repeated, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I thought you were going to shut me up, not make me work.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. “That’s it,” he growled. In one swift motion, he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. Angel let out a surprised squeal, her legs kicking instinctively.

“Joe! What the hell—”

But he ignored her protests, carrying her out of the dining room and down the hall to their bedroom. Angel’s heart raced, her mind buzzing with anticipation and excitement. She’d pushed him, and now he was pushing back.

Hard.

Joe kicked the bedroom door open, then slammed it shut behind him. He set Angel down on her feet, then sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at her with dark, hungry eyes.

“Strip,” he said, his voice low, not playing around.

Angel felt a shiver run down her spine, but she didn’t hesitate. She reached for the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it over her head. Joe’s eyes followed her every move, drinking in the sight of her exposed skin.

“Faster,” he ordered, his voice rough.

Angel bit her lip, her hands moving to the waistband of her leggings. She hooked her thumbs underneath and began to push them down, slowly revealing her panties. Joe’s eyes locked onto the sight, his jaw clenching.

“Keep going,” he said, his voice strained.

Angel stepped out of her leggings, then reached back to unclasp her bra. She let it fall to the floor, her breasts bouncing free. Joe’s gaze was fixed on them, his eyes dark with desire.

“Panties too,” he said, his voice husky.

Angel complied, sliding her panties down her legs and stepping out of them. She stood before him completely naked, her heart pounding, her body trembling with anticipation.

Joe didn’t move for a long moment, just looked at her, his eyes roaming over every inch of her exposed skin. Angel felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly turned on. She’d never seen Joe look at her like this before, with such raw, unfiltered desire.

“Come here,” he finally said, his voice low.

Angel took a step forward, her legs trembling. Joe reached out, gripping her hips and pulling her closer. He looked up at her, his eyes locked on hers.

“You wanted to know the real me?” he said, his voice dark. “This is it. This is the man you married. Now bend over my knee.”

Angel felt a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of fear. She knew what Joe had in mind, and while part of her was nervous, another part of her—the part that had been poking and prodding all day—was eager to see where this would go.

She bent over Joe’s knee, her ass up in the air, her face burning. Joe’s hand rubbed over her buttocks, the touch firm but gentle.

“You ready, babygirl?” he asked, his voice low.

“Ready for what?” Angel shot back, her sass coming through even in her vulnerable position.

Joe’s hand stilled, then he brought it down hard on her ass. Angel let out a yelp, her body jerking at the sudden impact.

“What was that?” Joe asked, his voice firm.

Angel bit her lip, trying to catch her breath. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice muffled.

Joe’s hand rubbed over the spot he’d just spanked, the touch soothing. “Good girl,” he murmured. Then, without warning, he brought his hand down again, this time on her other cheek.

Angel let out a moan, her hips moving instinctively. Joe spanked her again, and again, each blow landing in a different spot. Angel’s ass began to burn, the pain mixing with pleasure.

“You gonna keep being a brat?” Joe asked, his hand pausing to rub over her heated skin.

Angel nodded, her eyes squeezing shut. “Yes,” she whispered.

Joe let out a low laugh. “We’ll see about that,” he said. And then he started again, his hand coming down hard and fast, alternating between her cheeks.

Angel’s moans filled the room, her body jerking with each impact. The pain was intense, but so was the pleasure. She could feel her pussy throbbing, wetness dripping down her thighs.

After what felt like an eternity, Joe stopped. Angel lay over his knee, panting, her ass on fire.

“How many was that?” Joe asked, his hand rubbing over her sore skin.

Angel tried to think, but her mind was fuzzy. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted.

Joe let out a sigh. “Then I guess we’ll have to start over,” he said.

Angel groaned, but before she could protest, Joe started again. This time, he made her count out loud.

 “One,” she said after the first spank. “Two,” after the second. She made it all the way to eight before losing count again.

Joe sighed again. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Angel shook her head, her face burning with embarrassment.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Joe said. “So for every time you lose count, you get five more.”

Angel groaned again, but didn’t protest. She knew she’d asked for this, and a part of her wanted it—wanted to be pushed, wanted to feel the sting of Joe’s hand on her ass.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨.¸¸.ପໄଓ࿚ପଓ

Joe made her start over three more times before he finally stopped. By then, Angel’s ass was bright red, the skin hot to the touch. She lay over his knee, breathing hard, her body trembling.

Joe’s hand moved over her sore flesh, then dipped between her legs. Angel let out a gasp as his fingers traced over her slit, feeling her wetness.

“You’re soaked,” Joe murmured, his fingers teasing her entrance. “So wet for me, even after all that.”

“You want to come, babygirl?” Joe asked, his fingers continuing their torment. He circled her clit with one fingertip, feather-light. Angel jerked at the touch, a small sound escaping her.

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Please, I need it.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dark. “I know what you need. But do you know what I need?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, dipping two fingers inside her again. Angel’s back arched, a whimper escaping her lips.

“You need to admit it,” Joe continued, his fingers moving just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. “Tell me what you are.”

Angel frowned, confusion cutting through the haze of pleasure. “What I am? What are you—”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “Tell me why you’ve been acting out all day.”

Angel bit her lip, trying to focus through the pleasure. “Because I… I wanted your attention?” It came out like a question, uncertain.

Joe shook his head, fingers stilling. “No, that’s not it. Try again.”

She squirmed under him, trying to get him to move his fingers. “I was bored?”

Another shake of his head. “Wrong again.”

“Then tell me!” Angel snapped, frustration mounting.

Joe leaned down, his face inches from hers. “You’re a brat, Angel. You love pushing my buttons because you want me to put you in your place. You want me to remind you who’s in charge. Admit it.”

Angel glared up at him, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of anger and desire. “Fuck you, Joseph.”

But even as she said it, she knew he was right. She had wanted to push him. She’d craved this—his intensity, his dominance. She’d missed it, truth be told. With the baby, they hadn’t had much time for anything like this. And she’d been getting a little… restless.

Joe’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t get angry like she expected. Instead, he just sighed, resigned. “Alright, Angel. If that’s how you want to play it…” He pulled his fingers out of her, ignoring her whimper of protest.

“Joe, wait—” but she didn’t get to finish. In one smooth move, he threw her to land in the middle of their bed, flipped over on her back, pulling her to the edge. Before she could even process the move, he’d knelt on the floor.

He found his home between her thighs, and he made sure she knew it. Every lick, every suck, every tease was deliberate. It was a promise of what was to come—and a punishment for what she’d put him through. Angel had wanted a reaction? She had it. And more was yet to come.

Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him grunt against her pussy. The sound vibrated through her, drawing a guttural moan from her throat. He licked a broad stripe from her entrance to her clit, slow, savoring the taste of her. The way she shuddered, the way her breath caught—it was all fuel to the fire he’d been stoking all day.

Angel gasped, hips bucking involuntarily. Joe’s hands clamped down on them, holding her still with a grip that was anything but gentle. She tried to move, to grind against his mouth, but he was immovable. His control was absolute—and she hated how much it turned her on.

“Joe, please—” she broke off with a sharp cry as he sucked her clit between his lips, tongue flicking mercilessly. Her thighs trembled around his head, the muscles taut with the effort of staying still.

He pulled away, a string of spit still connecting his lips to her pussy. “Please, what? Tell me exactly what you want, Angel.” His voice was a dark rumble, eyes glinting with a mixture of desire and something far more dangerous.

Angel’s chest heaved, trying to catch her breath. “I want—I need—” She couldn’t find the words, her mind a haze of pleasure and need. But she didn’t have to find them. Because Joe knew. He always knew.

And with that, he leaned down and licked a long, hot stripe from her entrance to her clit. Angel cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Joe didn’t stop there. He continued to lick and suck her, his tongue delving inside her and then moving up to circle her clit. Angel writhed beneath him, her hips bucking up to meet his mouth.

“Joe,” she cried. “Oh god, Joe. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Joe hummed against her, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through her body. He continued to eat her out, his tongue and lips working her into a frenzy.

Angel was close, so close. She could feel her orgasm building, coiling tight in her belly. She was almost there, just a little more…

But then Joe pulled away. Angel cried out in frustration, her hips chasing his mouth. But Joe held her down, his grip firm on her thighs.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice husky. “You don’t get to come yet, babygirl. You have to wait until I say so.”

Angel whined, her entire body shaking with need. “Please, Daddy,” she begged. “I need to come. Please let me come.”

Joe smirked, his thumb brushing over her clit. “Not yet, we have all night. And I plan to take my time with you,” he repeated. “But soon. I promise.”

Without another word, he dove back in. This time, there was nothing teasing about it. It was all consuming, relentless. His tongue worked her clit in tight, focused circles while his fingers pressed inside her, curling just so. Angel arched off the bed, back bowed in a perfect arc of pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes—” she chanted, hips moving of their own accord now. Joe let her, one hand releasing her hip to grip her thigh instead, spreading her wider. He sucked her clit harder, fingers thrusting in time with his tongue.

She was close. So close. She could feel it building, that coiling tension in her lower belly, the sparks of pleasure that started at her core and spread out to her fingertips. She was almost there—

Joe stopped. Pulled back completely, leaving her empty and gasping. His fingers slipped out of her with a wet sound that made her face burn with embarrassment and need.

She propped herself up on her elbows, glaring at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” He leaned in, crowding her space until she was flat on her back again. His weight pressed her into the mattress, his erection hard against her hip. “You’ve been a little brat all day, Angel. Pushing my buttons, testing my patience.” He nipped her lower lip, none too gently. “Now it’s time to take your punishment.”

Angel’s breath hitched, a thrill of excitement mixed with trepidation racing through her. She knew that tone, that look in his eyes. He wasn’t joking. And as much as she wanted to keep pushing, to see how far she could go… part of her wanted this. Wanted to give in, to let him take control.

Because when Joe took control, it was never just about him. It was about her pleasure, her needs, her desires. It was about pushing her boundaries and bringing her to heights she hadn’t known existed. It was about trust and vulnerability and connection on a level that transcended the physical.

And right now, she wanted that connection more than she wanted to keep fighting.

She whined in frustration, her hips bucking against his hand. “Please touch me,” she begged. “Please make me come.”

Joe’s chuckle was dark and sinful. “You’ll come when I’m good and ready for you to come,” he said. “Now be a good girl and take what I give you.”

Joe didn’t let her rest for long. His hand slipped between her legs, his fingers finding her clit. Angel let out a moan, her head falling back.

Angel wanted to argue, wanted to push back, but the way Joe’s fingers were moving between her legs made it impossible for her to think straight. She could feel her orgasm building, could feel it just out of reach, and she was desperate for it.

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Joe kept her on edge for what felt like hours, his fingers teasing her, bringing her close to the edge, only to pull back every time. His mouth found her, tasting her, devouring her, but always stopping just before she could tip over into climax. He played her body like an instrument, knowing exactly which buttons to press, which strings to pull.

He looked up at her, lips glistening, eyes dark with lust and a hint of amusement. “What’s wrong, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

Angel groaned, frustration and desire warring inside her. “Why did you stop?”

Joe sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because you were about to cum. And you don’t get to cum until I say so.” His voice was calm, almost conversational. But there was an undercurrent of steel in it that made Angel shiver.

He started again, this time with fingers first. Two, thrusting deep, while his mouth found her clit. Angel’s head fell back, a low moan escaping her. He was relentless, working her up again with practiced ease. She was sensitive now, her nerves alight with the aftershocks of her interrupted orgasm.

This time, when she started to get close, she felt it sooner. The tension built faster, the pleasure sharper. Joe noticed it too. He could read her body like a book, every twitch, every tremor. And when she was on the edge, he pulled back again.

Angel whimpered, hands reaching for him. “Joe, please—I need it. I need to cum.”

He caught her wrists, pinning them beside her head. “You need to learn your place. You think you can push me around all day and then just get your reward? That’s not how this works.”

His hips settled between hers, the hard length of his erection pressed against her thigh. Angel tried to tilt her hips, to get that friction where she needed it most. But Joe held her still, her wrists immovable in his grip.

Angel bit her lip. She wanted to come so badly, but a part of her didn’t want to give in. “I… I…”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter, babygirl? Too fucked out to speak? What happened to all that back talk earlier?”

Angel glared at him. “I don’t want to admit it.”

Joe shrugged. “Then you don’t get to come.”

Angel let out a frustrated growl. “That’s not fair,” she said, stamping her foot.

Joe chuckled. “Life’s not fair,” he said. “But if you’re a good girl and admit what you are, I might let you come on my cock.”

Angel’s eyes widened. The thought of taking Joe’s thick length after all this foreplay was too tempting to resist. Slowly, she nodded.

“I’m a brat,” she said, her voice soft.

Joe smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Good girl,” he praised. Then he stood up, lifting Angel onto her feet. He kissed her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth.

When he pulled back, Angel was breathless. “Now,” Joe said, his voice low. He began to strip off his clothes, his eyes never leaving Angel’s. Once he was naked, he laid back on the bed, his back against the headboard.

“Come prove to me you’re sorry,” he said, his cock hard and ready.

Angel didn’t hesitate. She crawled up the bed, straddling Joe’s hips. She reached between them, gripping his length and lining him up with her entrance. But before she could sink down onto him, Joe gripped her hips, stopping her.

“Only good girls get to look at my face,” he said, his eyes dark. “Turn around and watch yourself in the mirror.”

Angel bit her lip but complied, turning her back to Joe. He helped her, placing his hands on her hips and lifting her, then turning her so she faced the mirror that hung on the wall across from the bed.

Angel’s breath caught as she caught sight of herself—naked, legs spread, Joe’s thick cock nestled between her thighs. Joe’s hands gripped her hips, holding her in place.

“Bend forward,” he ordered.

Angel did as she was told, bending at the waist. Joe’s cock slid between her legs, the head catching on her entrance.

“Now ride me like you mean it,” Joe said, his voice rough. ��Show me how sorry you are for being a brat all day.”

Angel didn’t need to be told twice. She slid down onto Joe’s cock, taking him to the hilt. The stretch burned, but it was a good kind of pain. She began to move, lifting herself up and sliding back down.

Joe let out a groan, his hands gripping her hips tighter. “That’s it, babygirl,” he praised. “Just like that. Show me what a good wife you can be.”

Angel rode him hard, her hips slapping against his. She could see herself in the mirror, her tits bouncing, her face flushed with pleasure. Behind her, Joe was moaning, his hips meeting her thrust for thrust. Suddenly, his hand came down on her ass, the slap ringing out in the room.

Angel yelped but didn’t stop moving. Instead, she rode him faster, her pussy clenching around his cock. Joe spanked her again and again, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

“Talked so much shit,” Joe growled in her ear, “now look at you. Taking my cock like a good little slut. This all you needed, baby? Your husband to fuck the brattiness out of you?”

“Yes,” Angel breathed. She was close, so close. She could feel her orgasm building, coiling tight in her belly.

Joe’s hand gripped the back of her neck, pulling her up until she was laying back against his chest. His other hand slid around to her front, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed her in fast circles as he fucked up into her, deep and slow.

Angel could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. The pleasure was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once. “Joe,” she begged. “Please, I need to come.”

“You need to come?” Joe repeated, his voice mocking. “Well, that’s too bad. I don’t think you deserve it.”

Angel let out a sob, her hips moving faster. “Please,” she begged again. “I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be the best wife, the best girl. Just please let me come.”

Joe reached his other hand up, wrapping it around her throat. He slowed his thrusts, fucking into her with long, deep strokes. “Hmmm, are you done being a brat?” he asked.

Angel nodded frantically, her eyes wide. “Yes,” she said, her voice choked. “I’m done, I promise. Please, Joe. Please let me come.”

Joe chuckled, the sound dark. “Such a good girl now, aren’t you?” he murmured. “Eyes open. Keep looking.”

Angel did as she was told, her eyes opening to look at her reflection in the mirror. She saw the large hand splayed across her lower abdomen, the other wrapped around her throat. She saw Joe’s broad chest behind her, his muscles rippling as he moved. She saw his thick cock, buried deep inside her pussy.

And she saw his eyes, dark and intense, locked on hers in the mirror.

“Good girl,” Joe praised, his hips never stopping. “Keep those eyes open. Keep watching yourself get fucked. Watch yourself come undone on my cock.”

Angel couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. She was mesmerized by the sight of herself, by the pleasure coursing through her body. Joe’s hand on her throat tightened slightly, and his fingers on her clit moved faster. His teeth sank into her neck, biting down on the sensitive skin.

“Come for me, babygirl. Show me how much you love your punishment.”

Angel couldn’t hold back anymore. She came hard, her eyes rolling back in her head, her scream echoing off the walls. She squirted all over Joe’s cock, her juices flowing out of her and down his balls.

Joe groaned at the feel of her coming, his fingers never stopping on her clit. He kept rubbing her, drawing out her orgasm until she was a shaking, sobbing mess in his arms. Then, after a few more thrusts, he came too, his seed shooting deep inside her.

Angel collapsed against him, her body spent. Joe wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. They stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard. Slowly, Joe released his hold on her throat, his fingers gently massaging the skin. He pressed a kiss to her neck, then her shoulder.

“Good girl. There’s the woman I married,” he murmured again.

Angel smiled, her body lax against his. “Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet.

Joe chuckled. “For what? Fucking you into next week?”

Angel laughed. “No, for putting me in my place.”

Joe pulled out of her, then turned her in his arms. He looked down at her, his eyes softening. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” he said. “Brattiness and all.”

Then Joe gently lifted her off his cock and laid her down on the bed beside him.

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her softly. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his thumb rubbing over her cheek.

Angel nodded, snuggling closer to him. “I’m perfect,” she said, her voice filled with satisfaction.

Joe chuckled. “Good,” he said. Then, after a moment, “You’re still a brat, though.”

Angel laughed, slapping his chest lightly. “Shut up.”

Joe just grinned, kissing the top of her head. “I love you, baby,” he said softly.

Angel looked up at him, her eyes shining. “I love you too.”

As they laid there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, Angel knew that she’d gotten exactly what she needed. She’d needed Joe to put her back in her place, to remind her who was in charge. And he’d done just that.

But more than that, she’d needed to be reminded that no matter what, Joe would always love her. That he would always be there for her, even when she was being difficult. That their love was strong enough to withstand anything, even a bratty wife.

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Just as Angel’s eyes began to flutter shut, the soft haze of sleep tugging at her, she felt herself being lifted gently off the bed. Joe’s strong arms wrapped around her, his chest warm against her cheek as he cradled her with practiced ease. She murmured something unintelligible, half-protest, half-contentment, but he only kissed the top of her head and kept walking.

The en-suite bathroom was softly lit, the overhead light dimmed to a golden glow that made the marble countertops gleam. Steam curled up from the large soaking tub, where fragrant bubbles danced on the surface of the water. Lavender and eucalyptus filled the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

Joe knelt beside the tub and slowly lowered her into the water, careful to ease her in rather than startle her with the heat. Angel let out a long, luxurious sigh as the warmth seeped into her muscles, dissolving the aches of the day. Her head fell back against the edge of the tub, her curls brushing the porcelain.

“Hold still,” Joe said gently, grabbing a silk scrunchie from the counter. He gathered her curls with care, tying them up into a loose bun to keep them from the water. “There we go. Perfect.”

She watched him move around the bathroom, his steps quiet but purposeful. When he turned toward the door presumably to go change the sheets on their bed, she made a small noise of protest, eyes fluttering open again.

Joe paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Shhh,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I’ll be right back, baby. Just gonna get the bed ready.”

She let him go, the sound of his footsteps fading. In the silence, the soft pop of bubbles breaking on the surface of the water became almost meditative. The warmth, the scent, the quiet—she could’ve stayed there forever.

But only a few minutes passed before he was back, stepping carefully into the room with two tall glasses of ice water balanced in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hydration, my love,” he said, placing the glasses on the ledge within reach. Then, with a contented groan, he climbed into the tub behind her, water lapping up the sides as his weight settled in.

Angel shifted slightly, nestling herself between his thighs, her back resting against his chest. Joe’s arms came around her, one hand finding hers under the water, fingers intertwining.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then nuzzled into the curve of her neck. “Music?”

“Anything,” she murmured, her voice nearly a whisper.

Joe chuckled against her skin, the vibration of it soothing. “Dangerous thing to say to a man with questionable taste.”

“You’re lucky I’m too relaxed to argue,” she said, smiling sleepily.

He opened his music app and started scrolling. “Let’s see… Jazz? R&B? Or are you in one of those movie-soundtrack-mood kind of nights?”

“Surprise me.”

He started reading off a few titles, his voice deep and warm, the cadence of it washing over her. By the time he settled on a mellow playlist and set the phone aside, her eyelids were already growing heavy again.

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Minutes passed—or maybe longer—and eventually Joe reached in front her and pulled the plug. The water gurgled and swirled, draining away in a slow spiral. Angel shivered as the steam dissipated and the cool air of the bathroom returned.

Without a word, Joe stood and stepped out, wrapping himself in a towel before returning to help her up. He grabbed a warm towel from the towel warmer and wrapped it snugly around her, patting her skin dry with gentle hands. “You good?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

She nodded, still wordless, letting him take care of her.

He lifted her again, as easily as if she weighed nothing at all, and carried her back to the bedroom where the bed now lay freshly made, the sheets crisp and cool. He laid her down carefully, smoothing a hand over her back before returning to the bathroom to hang the towels.

When he came back, he had the ointment in hand. Angel was already on her stomach, her arms tucked under her pillow. He sat beside her, uncapping the bottle, and squeezed a generous amount into his palm. The smell of menthol mixed with something floral rose into the air. He rubbed a generous amount onto her ass, the coolness of the ointment soothing the heat there.

She winced at first as he began to rub it in, but then her body gradually relaxed, melting beneath his hands.

“Mmm… thank you,” she mumbled into the pillow.

He smiled and didn’t reply, just continued the slow, soothing motion of his hands until every trace of tension was gone. When he was done, he wiped his hands off and tossed the towel into the hamper with practiced ease.

Without missing a beat, Joe grabbed one of his oversized T-shirts—soft and worn, smelling like him—and helped Angel into it. Then, from the nightstand drawer, he pulled out her satin bonnet.

She looked up at him with a grateful smile as he gently slid it over her curls. “You know I hate waking up looking like a madwoman,” she murmured.

“Which is why you never do,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

With that, he shed his towel and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. Then he climbed into bed, pulling the comforter over them both and wrapping his arms around her.

Angel curled into his chest, her cheek resting over his heart. The steady thump of it was her favorite lullaby.

“Love you,” she whispered.

“I love you more,” Joe replied, kissing the crown of her head.

Sleep claimed her swiftly, the weight of his arms and the beat of his heart anchoring her in a safety she never took for granted.

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The next morning, sunlight filtered through the car windows as they cruised down the highway, soft music playing low from the speakers. Angel’s phone buzzed in her lap. She picked it up, swiping the screen, and smiled instantly.

Joe glanced over from the driver’s seat. “What’s got you grinning like that?”

She turned the phone toward him. A picture filled the screen—Zariyah, their six-month-old daughter, laying on her little baby gym. She wasn’t playing with the hanging toys like usual. Instead, she had her head turned to the side, her eyes closed in serene contentment, a smile tugging at her lips as she sucked her thumb.

Joe chuckled, his eyes flicking from the road to the image and back. “Looks like our girl’s a little brat… just like her mama.”

Angel gasped in mock offense, swatting his arm. “She’s a baby, Joseph! Don’t even start.”

“She is your daughter though,” he teased, clearly trying to hide his grin now.

“Whatever,” she muttered, rolling her eyes—but her cheeks were flushed with affection.

Joe reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” he said, the words simple but deeply felt.

Angel looked at him, her heart full. “I love you too.”

And in that moment—sunlight on their faces, laughter in their voices, and love thick in the air—everything felt exactly as it should be.

[axeeglitter]

Back from the Vault: LifeX

Nathan Brown sat hunched over his desk, the glow of his laptop screen illuminating his tired eyes. His San Francisco apartment was a mess: clothes strewn across the floor, empty takeout containers stacked on the kitchen counter, and a half-empty coffee mug perched precariously on the edge of his desk. Nathan's bed was unmade, a tangled heap of blankets and pillows. The room smelled faintly of stale air and sweat, the result of a broken air conditioning unit and a lack of motivation to clean.

Nathan was staring at his laptop screen, scrolling through yet another round of job listings. His bank account was dangerously low, and the anxiety of unpaid bills was gnawing at him. He was 26 years old, recently graduated with a degree in communications, and he was struggling to find any kind of work. His YouTube channel, where he reviewed video games and shared walkthroughs, was his only source of income, but the revenue it brought in was barely enough to buy groceries, let alone pay rent or bills.

Nathan was average in build, with a light tan from his Latino heritage, and short, dark hair that he usually kept neat. His face was lightly stubbled, a sign of his growing indifference to grooming as stress took over. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones. He was on the brink of giving up when a notification popped up on his screen, breaking his focus.

"Subject: Exciting Opportunity for Collaboration!"

Nathan hesitated, then clicked on the email. It was from a company called LifeX. He didn’t recognize the name, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Dear Nathan,

We’ve come across your YouTube channel and believe we could work well together. LifeX is launching a groundbreaking new game, and we are looking for individuals to help us with beta testing and promotion. Your content aligns perfectly with our vision, and we think this could be a great collaboration. If you accept, you’ll also be able to help us optimize the AI of our games by creating your own NPC character, it’ll be later implemented in the game when it’ll be released. Of course, we offer financial compensation for your work.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Best regards, The LifeX Team”

Nathan’s first instinct was skepticism. It sounded too good to be true, and he’d heard horror stories of scams and phishing attempts. But the desperation for money overrode his better judgment. He quickly searched for LifeX online, finding only a sparse website filled with vague marketing speak about “immersive experiences” and “cutting-edge technology.” There were no reviews, no user testimonials, nothing solid. This should have been a red flag, but Nathan was too desperate to care. He needed this. He needed a break.

Nathan decided to respond. He typed out a quick reply expressing his interest. Almost immediately, another email arrived, containing a download link, setup instructions, and a NDA requesting his personal information: name, age, location, and other details. Nathan filled out the form, barely thinking about the potential consequences. He selected the longest trial period possible: one month, hoping it would give him enough content for his channel and enough time to determine if the collaboration was worthwhile.

As soon as he submitted the form, a melodic chime sounded from his laptop, followed by a smooth, professional voice:

“Thank you for signing up, Nathan. To begin your experience, you will first create the NPC character, and then you’ll be ready to start your experience in the environment you’ll choose. For the trial to run successfully, please ensure that your computer remains on for the entire duration of the test period: one month. Any interruption may result in data loss or corruption. Welcome to LifeX.”

Nathan frowned at the last part but shrugged it off. He figured it was just standard legalese, probably meant for immersion. The screen changed to a character creation window, displaying a basic human figure in a T-pose. Nathan leaned forward, curiosity piqued, and started customizing the avatar.

He named the avatar “Cody,” envisioning him as the polar opposite of himself. Cody would be everything Nathan wasn’t: confident, athletic, and effortlessly cool. He adjusted the height to 6'4", pushed the muscle sliders to the maximum, giving Cody bulging biceps, a broad chest, and thick, powerful legs holding a perfectly muscled ass. From the corner of his eyes, Nathan spotted a slider on the groin area. He laughed as he understood he could also determine how big he could adjust Cody’s penis and balls. Smiling, he selected the largest option possible for his dick and added a huge heavy pair of balls to go with it, watching it grow in proportion to the rest of his body. He added bright hazel eyes, bushy eyebrows, and messy dark brown hairs that would contrast perfectly to the pale sun kissed skin.

After the body customization, Nathan saw a new window open: Clothes and accessories. After thinking about it, he chose a pair of denim shorts that ended mid-thigh, showing off Cody’s muscular legs. Nathan opted for no T-shirt, exposing Cody’s ripped torso and added a ripped sleeve shirt opened on his muscled hair pecs. He then moved on to accessories and decided to put a loop earring on his right ear and a silver chain around his neck.

After the customization was done, it was asked for Nathan to enter some information about the NPC he just created to create a base behavior for him. After a while, Nathan decided to go for the stereotypical fratbro behavior to go with the appearance he just did. He started typing, adding details about Cody’s lifestyle. He entered notes in the behavior interface: “Cody is dumb as a brick. He loves gym, training and being barefoot, feeling the ground under his calloused feet.” He laughed as he added another line: “Cody never takes showers, loves the smell of his own musk, enjoys sniffing his hairy armpits after a workout and scratching his big dick every couple of minutes after what he smells them and always smile enjoying his own musk.” Nathan chuckled, amused at the thought of creating such a ridiculous character. It was so far removed from his real life that it seemed like a fun NPC to talk and interact with. Just a dumb easy-going character that is always down for a fuck and a drink after a gym session barefoot in the woods.

Satisfied with his creation, he confirmed the settings. The game prompted him to select a location, and he chose the Secluded Forest Realm, envisioning Cody as a carefree physical trainer just out of college living in a cabin in the wilderness.

The screen went black for a moment, and the professional voice returned: “Now that your character is complete, it’s time to play! Please keep your computer running at all times to maintain synchronization. Any interruption may lead to data corruption. Enjoy your month-long experience, Nathan, and welcome to LifeX.” Nathan was really getting excited now. He conder what kind of character he would create for himself when he saw a flash of light on the screen. It looked like some kind of swirling mesh, almost like a blackhole. For a moment Nathan thought it was kind of a cool effect, but everything changed when he went to grab his half drink cup of coffee sitting next to him only to realize his right hand was tingling and tiny particles were escaping his nails, flying straight to his screen.

A sudden wave of fatigue hit Nathan, and the lights in his apartment flickered briefly. A sense of unease washed over him, making the hairs on his arms stand up. Before he could react, the tingling sensation spread from his fingertips up through his arms. He stared in disbelief as his fingers began to dissolve into streams of glowing white code, spreading quickly across his body. He tried to scream, but his voice caught in his throat. His vision blurred as the Life X logo was pulsing in bright light in the center of the screen with a loading bar under it going up further and further. The last thing he saw was the 100% before everything went black.

Nathan found himself suspended in a void. He was floating, naked, surrounded by darkness. Panic set in, his heart racing as he tried to move, but his body was frozen in a T-pose. The sensation was bizarre, as if he were trapped in a dream. He wanted to call out, but his voice was muffled, like shouting underwater. The smooth, professional voice returned, echoing through the void:

“Welcome to your new life, Nathan. Don’t panic; this process is normal and painless. In a few moments, you will begin your ideal life in the Secluded Forest Realm. Relax and feel calm. Avatar synchronization will begin in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

“What the fuck, where am I? What is going on? Why can’t I move?! HELP!!” thought Nathan as he tried to scream even though his face remained frozen.

Nathan’s body suddenly stiffened. A pressure built inside him, starting at his core and spreading outward. His bones stretched and cracked, lengthening to match Cody’s new height. His arms and legs grew longer, muscles bulging and expanding to fill out his new form. Nathan could feel his muscles tearing and healing at an accelerated rate, becoming stronger and more defined with each passing second.

His skin began to tighten, smoothing out imperfections and leaving with a perfectly smooth skin all around his muscled body. Nathan would be screaming if his voice mas not muted. Everything was burning and it was like feeling his DNA being rewritten while still being conscious. As he felt tears rising up his eyes, a new sensation invaded his newly modified skin. In his pits, legs and between his pecs, he felt like thousands of needles were piercing holes. The sensation was only multiplied as he started to feel hair sprouting from the holes. They were dark brown and thick but worst, the sensation of piercing needles started to appear around his groin too. Still wondering what was happening to him, Nathan tried to connect the elements he could find and that when he realized. The secluded forest, the muscles, the hair; that was Cody’s information, which means… Just enough time to understand what was happening to him when the hair started to sprout in abondance around his dick and nuts and climbing up his sculpted abs in a thin happy trail. After the hair, the modifications started to appear on his face. His jawline becoming sharper and more angular, his cheekbones more pronounced. His lips filled out, becoming more defined, while his eyebrows grew thicker, framing his eyes. His vision sharpened, colors becoming brighter and more vivid. His brown eyes shifted to a bright hazel as he lost vision for a moment. Everything was happening all at once and still, Nathan felt like it was an eternity of pain.

Nathan’s hair thickened, turning into soft, dark strands that fell casually over his forehead. His ears reshaped slightly to match his new head structure. A sensation of warmth spread through his throat as his vocal cords tightened, his voice box reshaping. When he tried to speak, his voice was deeper, richer, and carried a slight accent, a relaxed, Western drawl.

Nathan felt a growing warmth in his groin and realized what was about to happen now. All of a sudden, he regrated giving Cody such a big dick and heavy nuts. His cock thickened and lengthened, becoming larger than Nathan had ever been. He could feel the veins snaking down his growing dick as his cock head started to grow thicker and bigger. He could feel the cold air surrounding him as the head sneaked out of his foreskin. Wait, his foreskin? He didn’t remember going this far in details. His nuts fall down and grew thicker and full of potent cum as he could feel them going overload working on creating new manly sperm nonstop. Nathan could feel the horniness starting to rise as his body was assaulted by huge amount of testosterone. A drop of precum appeared at the tip of his cock as he could feel the weight of it between his legs, an odd sensation that both embarrassed and intrigued him. His buttocks tightened, becoming firm and lifted, while his thighs and calves thickened with muscle.

The transformation was almost complete when Nathan felt a sharp pain on his left pec. He wanted to scream, but his body was still frozen. The pain was like a branding iron pressing into his skin. “What is this?!” screamed Nathan in his new deep voice. A voice appeared from all around him “Dear user: NATHAN BROWN, as talked with you earlier on, you agreed to review and help us create the new generation of AI used for our NPCs. For that, your character, CODY, will have to be monitored. This assignation, XXIV, is the link to your identity and allow us to track your character. Please relax as your actions will be tracked and then saved. The program will make sure to copy all your movements, thoughts and everything that your character, CODY, might do to make sure to copy human mechanism that will be implemented in our NPCs later on. Thank you for your service.” When it subsided, a Roman numeral tattoo “XXIV” was there, bold and black, as if it had always been part of him. Nathan could feel the tattoo pulsing with energy, as if it was more than just ink on skin.

As his body finished transforming, clothes materialized around him. He now wore a sleeveless, open checkered flannel shirt and a short pair of denim shorts. Then he felt his ear being stabbed as the earing appeared in it and the coldness of the silver metal appeared around his neck. His feet then started to tingle as Nathan could feel the skin of his sole getting thicker and denser to better serve his barefoot lifestyle in the forest.

Nathan was terrified about what he just heard; his humanity was going to be used to program AI that will be implemented in NPCs. How is that even possible? Does that mean he was Cody now? And for a whole month? He didn’t agree to this. He had a life outside, friends, job to find, maybe some interviews if he was lucky. And about the bills? What was he going to do?

As all the questions were swirling in his head, Nathan fell the restriction holding his body in place as it was being modified lift. He could move on his own again, and the first thing he tried to do was take of his shirt or necklace. But every tug on the clothes or metal fell like he was trying to rip a part of him away. The clothes were part of him now. Nathan started to feel tears rise once again in his ears as all he could see around him were the infinite void of this artificial world. “Modification process terminated, Assimilation to the realm starting in 3,2,1…” Out of nowhere, the ground started to shake under Nathan’s barefoot. Then he saw light pierce through the ceiling. As a reflex, he put his hands to cover his bright hazel eyes but the light was way too bright. Nathan could see entire walls of darkness vanish and being obliterated by this bright light coming from above and fear started to raise in him. Nathan closed his eyes as all he could see was the infinite light engulfing the void and him with it. When he opened his eyes, Nathan was alone in a cabin in the woods, standing in front of a mirror. For the first time, he could see from the first person point of view what the body he created really looked like. Everything was looking so life like, even scent of pine and dirt were coming from the opened window next to him. He could smell the woods, feel the sun on his skin, the wood under his foots. Everything was lifelike. As Nathan sight started to look what his transformed body looked like, his head started to spin. Nathan grabbed it with his two manly hands but the pain was growing stronger. And in the blink of an eye, Nathan was no more. Cody stared at his reflection before smiling and flexing his biceps while smiling. His right hand lowered to get inside his shorts and scratch his hairy dick before putting his fingers under his nose to smell his musk. Cody laughed as he walked away, grabbing a snack on his way out to go exercise a bit in the nature.

“New NPC starting test phase. Remaining time 30 days, 23 hours 59 minutes 23 seconds. Behavior analysis… Acting following user NATHAN BROWN encoding. Tester assimilation… Assimilation stable, user will turn back when tests are over.”

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys! Here's another story back from the Vault, and it's my first ever published story: LifeX Hope you guys enjoy this new version of my story. Let me know what you think of it. As always, my asks are open and i'm always looking for new ideas and prompts from you. I try to answer them all and I love to read your ideas so please, don't be afraid to send anything you'd like me to write and I'll do my best to do it :) Take care of yourself! P.S. A follow up to this story should arrive soon ;)

[cyberteez]

pretty series pt.2 - a warm mouth

pairing ⋆ p.seonghwa x afab!reader

genre ⋆ smut, angst

wc ⋆ 1.9k

summary ⋆ when money is tight and rent is short, you and your partner turn to posting adult content online.

warnings ⋆ reader has anxiety, fellatio, brief thigh riding, reader is called a cock sleeve, top!seonghwa, bottom!reader, lmk if i forgot anything

networks ⋆ @illusionnet @cromernet @pirateeznet

series masterlist

When you wake the next morning, you've maybe ten views on your video. Sadness pools in your gut, but Seonghwa gives you reassuring pats on the back, reminding you these things take time and that you both won't become an overnight sensation.

It's a weird feeling; going to work and pretending that you didn't post you and Seonghwa fucking for anyone to see. You smile and greet your peers, work diligently, then come home as if it were any other day. A weird sense of glee fills you, knowing that none of them know what you're up to. Yet another feeling, that of shame, consumes you. Why did you have to sell your body to make ends meet? It follows you for a week.

After taking your shoes off and hanging your jacket up, you make your way to the kitchen island, resting your hip against the counter and aimlessly scrolling on your phone. You wait for your partner, avoiding the website and sticking to instagram and other social media to catch up with your friends.

Seonghwa arrived home shortly thereafter, wrapping you in a hug that soothes your nerves. With a kiss pressed to the crown of your head, he leaves you to freshen up and start on dinner. You mull around in your thoughts while he does so, the anxieties creeping back in. You almost don't want to check the view count, but it's been a week and you haven't brought it up to your partner at all. When he returns you ask, "have you looked at the views lately?"

He shakes his head. "Wasn't sure if you wanted to look together."

A small sigh filled with relief leaves you. He doesn't know either. Good. You can both be disappointed at the same time.

Dinner passes by quickly and you fill the air with chatter about your days and what projects you've each worked on. Friday is coming to a close with the pair of you on the couch, a random tv show playing in the background while you both sit on your phones, avoiding the elephant in the room.

"Should we check?" He fills the otherwise quiet apartment.

"I'm scared," you admit, putting your phone down to wrap your arms around yourself. His hand smoothes over your back, pulling you into his side.

"Well, we need to check eventually. We're going to put out another video, no?"

You nod quietly, letting him open the website on his phone. He's silent for a few beats before shoving the phone in your face.

"A couple hundred views! That's great!" His enthusiasm bleeds into you, a flighty feeling overcoming your senses.

Your mouth hangs out in shock before murmuring, "that's more than I ever expected."

"Let's read the comments."

You groan, "let's not."

"There's only a few. Oh, like this one: 'cute pussy'" Your face burns.

"Oh god, Seonghwa, stop it. I don't wanna hear that!"

"It's true, though," he sends a wink your way while you bury your face in your hands. "How about this: 'need to see more of those tits."

"Seonghwa!" You cry, swatting at his arm while he giggles incessantly.

"We are definitely making more content," he muses, humming as he scrolls through the site.

"Oh yea, do I have a say?" You fire half-heartedly.

"Oh my gods, of course, pretty. Do you not want to?"

His head whips towards you, hands flying up as he realizes what he said. It's your turn to break into a fit of giggles, leaning towards him to press a kiss to his lips.

"Of course we can, silly. I'm just teasing." You smile, "do you like seeing others comment those types of things?"

"No…" he begins, "I like knowing you're all mine and they can't have any of you, though."

You shake your head, patting his thigh before standing.

"Well okay, silly, I'm going to bed. Maybe we can record something tomorrow."

"How 'bout now? Maybe we could practice?"

"Seonghwa, if you touch me I'm biting you."

"Will you, please?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Saturdays are one of your favorite days. You don't have to go to work that day, and you don't have to go to work the next day. A whole day of nothing. You couldn't ask for anything better… except maybe your lover's cock shoved down your throat while we works from home. You sat so obediently between his legs, mouth closed around his half hard length while he typed away at his keyboard.

"Come on, pretty, you can take me a little deeper, can't you? I'm not even fully hard," Seonghwa encourages, pulling your jaw closer to his pelvis.

Breath pushes from your nose across his waist, goosebumps raising from the cold.

"This could be content, no? We don't always have to have sex," he says after a while. It just slips out, he didn't truly mean it, but when you suck in more of his length and bat your eyelashes at him so lovingly he scrambles to grab the camera and mask on his desk.

His half hard length begins to stiffen, filling more of you mouth and making it difficult to keep inside. You sputter a bit on his length, backing up a bit, but still suckling on the amount left inside. Gentle motions around your face secure the mask in place, your hair covering the strap that holds it to you. He then pets your hair, clicking the camera on and adjusting the angle to capture your blushing face.

"Been so good for me today, haven't you, pretty?" He muses, "keeping me warm while I work. Do you enjoy being on your knees for me?"

A whimper escapes your throat in response, sucking in more of his length but staying still, waiting for him to guide you.

"Were you planning to stay like this all day? My cock heavy in your mouth while you do nothing else? You're just like a pet, aren't you? So obedient…"

The hand that cards through your hair pulls at the back of your neck, forcing you to take in more of his length. You gag around it, eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears. Your tongue laps at the underside of his length, providing stimulation but otherwise not moving.

"You're just a cock-sleeve, aren't you?"

You've never heard him call you that before, but you can't say you're upset. You moan around his member, vibrations causing a groan to leave your lover. Seonghwa guides you through the blow job, one hand pushing and pulling at the pace he wants while he whispers dirty words into the camera that captures your face. You do nothing else but satisfy him, hands secured neatly around your legs.

"Such a good princess. You aren't even touching yourself," he praises, "what happened to my brat?"

You blink slowly at him in response. Whines erupt from your throat as he speeds up your motions, hips bucking into your mouth. You respond in tandem, allowing him to abuse your throat as he chases his climax. Small whimpers travel from his mouth straight to your cunt as it clenches around nothing. His seed pours down the back of your throat and you gulp it down eagerly, not letting any spill past your lips. When the aftershocks leave him, Seonghwa pulls open your mouth, showing the camera you swallowed it all, pressing neatly on your tongue and sliding all the way to your lips.

"Good girl."

When the camera turns off, he pulls you into his lap. You grind against his softening length, eyes pleading for some relief.

"I can't fuck you properly like this, pretty." Adjusting your potion so you sit on his thigh, he leans in, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you invite him inside your mouth. If he tastes himself, he makes no indication or noise of disgust, instead sucking on your tongue and lapping at the inside of your mouth. His hands grip your ass cheeks, dragging your cunt across his thigh to provide some relief.

"Agh, Seonghwa, fuck," you whimper into his neck, fingers clawing into his shoulders as your clit rubs against the meat of his thighs. He tenses the muscles, allowing you to set the pace as you grind against him. Pleas fall from your lips as you draw near your climax, already so worked up from before.

When you do fall apart, your lover holds you closely to him, peppering kisses along your throat, shushing the cries that spill from your lips. He wastes no time in laying you in your shared bed, pulling the covers over your sleepy figure. You watch as he retreats to the desk, opening the video you just captured. You don't remember falling asleep, but when you wake later, the room is dark. The bed is empty and cold on his side. You notice you're wearing different pajamas than the ones you fell asleep in. These ones are softer and much warmer, covering your legs and arms completely.

Noise comes from the dimly lit tv as you creep from the bedroom to the living room. He sits with his chin resting against his hand, head falling forward every couple of seconds. You stifle a giggle as you come up behind him, hands smoothing over his shoulders. He wakes with a start, turning around to see you waiting for him.

"Hi, pretty. Why'd you get out of bed?" He asks, voice gravelly and slow.

"Why aren't you in bed?" You counter.

"Touché." The tv clicks off as he stands, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the bed. "Let's just go to sleep, huh, baby?"

You both crawl under the covers, letting him pull you into his side. His breathing deepens a minute later and you sigh. How he falls asleep so easily beats you. You could never. The last thing you think of is how you hope this video does better than the last, then sleep overtakes you.

The next morning, you waste no time in pulling out your phone and checking the views on the video. There's less than a hundred, but your previous video has gained more traction. It rests just below one thousand and a giddy feeling pulls you from the bed with ease.

"Seonghwa!" You call out. "Babe, we're just under a thousand views on our first video."

His gaze follows your figure as you make your way around the counter, embracing him and burying your face in his chest.

One of his hands rests between your shoulder blades, pulling you in tighter as he takes a sip from his mug.

"See, there's nothing to worry about. We're doing a great job. You're doing a great job," he emphasizes. Butterflies erupt in your tummy, tilting your head back to peer into his eyes.

"No, you're doing a great job." You smile and he reciprocates, rubbing small circles where he holds you.

"Should we do anything today?"

"Can we just relax again?"

"You always want to 'just' relax," he replies, setting the mug against the counter. "Let's go on a date."

"With what money?"

A pregnant pause fills the room.

"We don't need to spend money to consider it a date. What if we just took a walk around the park?"

You nod, a sigh leaving your lips. "I guess you're right. Shall we go get ready?"

"Yeah."

© cyberteez 2025

[littlealienproducts]

AI and PDF Crochet Patterns

AI generated images can be great for inspiring projects, but most of the time it's used online to generate revenue for scammers and the like.

Just scrolling through Etsy rn looking for crochet patterns, I've come across several listings (some with false 5 star reviews to boost engagement/trust) where the patterns and images are clearly AI generated and people, unfortunately, have fallen for the listings.

Some of the images might look totally obvious to you, but to the untrained eye they can be convincing.

SOOO, how do you spot AI crochet patterns?

Look at the stitches. Are there pieces that don't seem to stitch into one another? Are the lengths and sizes inconsistent? Some are more obvious than others, but AI fails to replicate consistent textures.

Lighting and saturation. AI images often are vibrant and cartoon-ish. Especially the eyes of projects - usually this is a pretty good giveaway. Additionally, is the image smooth? What's in the background? Does it make sense?

Limited photos on listing. Most legitimate shops are going to have multiple photos of the finished project on the listing - AI is fairly advanced, but not the best at recreating exact images. Does the listing only have one photo? Does it have multiple but with variants between projects (that are meant to be the same)? Are there any videos?

Is it even possible? This can be tricky if you are new to crochet, but as above, take a moment to look at the stitches and the overall shape of the project. Does it look plausable? Especially if they projects say 'no sew'. Additionally, if you have already purchased the pattern - does it tell you how much material you need, and does it make sense? Does it tell you crochet hook size?

Legit photo but AI generated pattern. Sometimes the images are real - but they've been stolen from another creators account and the scam shop has simply asked AI (such as ChatGPT) to write up a crochet pattern. These are less obvious at a glance, but most reputable shops will have social media, consistent themes of crochet projects and reviews with pictures of finished products uploaded by customers.

6. Ok, but what if they use AI but the reviews seem legit? Crochet Baby Duck - this is an AI generated picture and pattern, and while the shop has posted several pictures of the finished project it is clear that it does not match up with the AI generated duck pictured in the listing. The hat, feet, and bill are all different sizes and this is even noted in some of the customer reviews. While this isn't as scammy as straight up using AI generated images/patterns without showing how the finished project looks - it is still taking away from legitimate pattern makers. Being able to design and execute good patterns is a skill, and the prices of legitimate patterns often reflect this. Why does the shop even use AI pictures if they post the real life projects anyway? Cus it drives traffic, and lets be real - the real life plush dolls look no where near as good as the AI images.

This is the same as the walrus - AI generated image and pattern, this is even endoresed by Etsy so you cannot rely on 'Etsy picks' being legitimate as they choose profits over morals.

These patterns are not just limited to Etsy, they are often on Pinterest or websites for 'free' to generate traffic and collect data (asking for your e-mail for the free pattern). Such as this Peacock Crochet IRL figure by u/Echo-o_0 on Reddit.

This is not just limited to crochet, I've seen it in sewing, knitting, and any other PDF downloads that you can purchase or get for free. Unfortunately, it is a simple way for people to make a quick but and face little to no consequences as their store *might* get deleted and even then, they can just start a new one up.

[miamooooo]

loser chris who wants to get with you soo bad. ever since you got paired in a study group together for the college class you both share, he hasn't been able to keep his eyes off of you! the only problem is that he's slightly inexperienced, awkward, and doesn't know how to tell you how he feels. one day you go to his dorm to grab some notes for an assignment, and what starts as a quick and casual visit, turns into something entirely different.

(warnings): lowercase intended, nsfw, reader has female anatomy, dry humping, chris ends up cumming in his pants, might be a lil ooc but fuck it we ball, kinda proofread, please don't read if any of this is triggering!!

chris sat at his desk, leaned back in a chair, his phone in hand while scrolling through yet another manga panel he found on a random website that definitely wasn't legal. his hair was covered by a hood, his hoodie slightly oversized for his lean body, and his glasses kept sliding down his nose. if josh, his frequently absent and scheming roommate, wasn't busy trying to get him to go out with him, then this was just a typical evening for chris. well, that, and trying not to think about you too much. he glanced at the time at the top of his phone screen; 7:05pm. you had said that you'd be over by seven to grab the notes he had promised you.

moments later, a knock at the door made chris jolt upright in his creaky seat, nearly dropping his phone at the action. his heart started pounding, realizing that it was mostly likely you, and he wastes no time in quickly getting up, pushing his hood down and smoothing out his hoodie before making his way over to open the door.

"hey" you said, smiling softly as you greeted him. you were wearing a simple sweater and jeans, but to chris, you looked fucking amazing. every detail about you stuck in his brain, he couldn't stop staring. "sorry i'm late. got caught up in something before getting here."

you took in chris's appearance, not realizing just how cute he really was until you saw him like this, so casual and unguarded. the way his glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, his hair messily displayed, it all felt oddly endearing. you had been somehow overlooking so many details about him...

"no, it's cool," chris replied, holding the door open for you and stepping aside to let you in. "i mean it's not like, you were super late. it was only what, five minutes..? so not late at all, really.." he winced internally at his small rant, wondering why he couldn't have just shut up. cool it man, they're just here for notes...

you stepped into the room, glancing around. it was messy, but not to the point where it was overwhelming, or extremely dirty. notebooks were stacked messily on his desk, a half empty bottle of soda next to his laptop, and a poster of some anime character he probably thought was cool stared down from the wall. "cool room," you said with a small laugh.

chris hadn't noticed how carefully you were taking in his room, his focus shifting between your movements and the quiet comments you made. his gaze lingered on you for a little too long, his eyes perversely shifting down to your curves as you moved, eyeing your backside, internally groaning as his mind started wandering to places it shouldn't have been. 'focus, man...' you turned around to face him again, pulling him out of his thoughts abruptly.

"yeah, uh- sorry about the mess. didn't exactly expect company tonight.." he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

you dismissively wave off his comment. "it's totally fine, my room's way worse," you reassured with a soft laugh. a few seconds of silence passed between you two, before you started to remember why you were there. "so, the notes?"

"right!" he scurried over to his desk, fumbling through a pile of papers until he found the neatly written pages that he had prepared. "here ya go. i, uh, tried to make them clear. let me know if you need anything else."

you took the notes, quietly flipping through the pages. "wow, these are actually super good. thanks, chris.. i'd be screwed without you."

chris felt a small bit of pride at your words, though it was quickly replaced by the anxiety in his chest. you're standing right there. so close. in front of him. say something. do something.. but what? he wasn't exactly smooth with anyone he was interested in, no matter how much he tried to be. most of his conversations these days were just about something he found on the internet or characters from his favorite manga.

you lingered for a moment, not entirely sure if you wanted to leave just yet. glancing around the room to spark conversation again, you began to speak up, "so ... you must really be into this stuff?" you gestured toward the poster and stack of comics lined up on his shelf.

"uh- yeah," chris sheepishly admits hoping that you didn't think he was weird for it. "guess you could say it's kinda my thing — well, one of my things.. i've got layers, y'know... like a very nerdy onion."

when you laughed at chris's quip, his heart skipped a beat, surprised that his embarrassingly corny joke actually landed. "i like it," you said stepping closer to inspect the books. "i've read some of these too."

"oh yeah?" chris asked, voice cracking slightly as he tried his best to sound casual. deep down, his face was burning and his palms were starting to sweat. this was probably the longest conversation he'd ever had with you that wasn't about school. "which ones?"

"hm," you hummed to yourself, tilting your head before picking up a book with a gruesome cover. "this one. but it's been a while since i've read it. maybe you'll let me borrow it sometime..?"

borrow it? absofuckinlutely. chris nodded eagerly. "yeah..! totally! you can borrow anything you want.. anytime." he winced again at his overeagerness, but you only smiled at him, that same smile that made his heart do stupid little flips.

as you set the book back on the shelf, you turned back toward chris, giving him a soft and thankful touch down his arm, that you possibly, maybe knew would get him riled up. "you're really sweet, chris," your voice softer now, "not many people would take out this much time to do something like this for an old study partner."

the nonchalant act that chris was so desperately trying to keep up was crumbling down. the touch, the compliment? chris couldn't remember the last time someone had praised him like that. sure, his mom would call and tell him that he was doing great every now and again, but that didn't count. this was different. this was you. the person he'd been daydreaming about since the first day you got paired with him.

"it's nothing, really," he brushed off, his heart pounding so loudly that he was sure you could hear it. "i just, y'know, wanted to help. you deserve it." the words tumbled out before he could stop them, and he wish he hadn't kept talking so much.

your heart was practically swelling at chris's words. he seriously was the sweetest. while you were silently gushing over his thoughtfulness, you noticed a slight change in chris's demeanor. tilting your head and studying his expression, you prompt a question. "you okay..?" you asked, a teasing tone laced in your voice. "you seem kinda nervous."

"me? pfft, nah.." he said, laughing awkwardly and crossing his arm over the other. but the way he avoided your gaze told you otherwise.

you stepped a little closer, closing the gap between you two. "are you sure?" you asked playfully. "'cause you're acting totally different."

chris tried to brush it off, but his thoughts were spiraling. you were so close now, closer than he'd ever imagined you'd willingly get. and you smelled so good. he nodded with a tight-lipped smile, unsure of what to do or say. "i'm totally fine," he managed to calmly say.

"if you say so," you replied with a small laugh, leaning slightly closer. your eyes finally met his, and for a moment, he swore he saw you eyeing his lips. he wanted to do something. to compliment your face, or kiss you, but he thought it'd be creepy.

"you can sit if you want," he suddenly blurted out, gesturing toward his bed. "i mean, only if you're staying for a bit... not that you have to! but, y'know, if you want to..."

you laughed again, hoping that chris wouldn't take it the wrong way. "thanks," you said, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "i might, just for a little bit. it's nice to just hang out."

chris was so happy about your response, hoping that it didn't show on his face. you were on his bed. in his dorm. talking to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. well, it should've been, but chris was basically in love with you. he sat down in his chair, trying to seem casual, but his leg bounced nervously, a very telltale sign of his uneasiness that you quickly caught on to. "yeah, it's cool," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "hanging out is... cool."

as the minutes went by, the tension in the room grew. chris couldn't stop staring at you, his mind going to thoughts he knew he shouldn't have been having. every time you spoke, every little small habit you did that he picked up on, it sent his imagination to other places... he bit his lip, trying to actually focus on what you were talking about, but it was impossible when you sat there so pretty and so close to him.

and then, you finally stopped talking, your gaze locking with his. "chris," you said softly, but firm enough to pull him from his thoughts. "can i ask you something?"

he swallowed hard, quickly nodding. "y-yeah. anything."

"why do you act so nervous around me?" you asked, finally presenting the question that would hopefully break the tension in the room. though you felt like you already knew the answer, your heart started to beat faster in anticipation. maybe from nervousness, too. you wanted to hear him say what you were already suspecting. those lingering stares and the way he would stumble over his words weren't for no reason.

for a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parted slightly like he was trying to find something to say. his leg continued to bounce nervously as he let out a small sigh of defeat. "god, i'm so bad at this." he murmured, briefly lifting his glasses as he ran a hand over his face.

"at what?" you pressed gently, trying to show chris that you were attentively listening and weren't going to judge him.

he looked at you, contemplating if he really should say the truth. he thought of the worst possible outcomes. what if he confessed and you didn't feel the same way? or worse, you'd start avoiding him entirely. but the way you stared expectantly only made him want to confess, because if not at that moment, he'd probably never do it. you just made it easy for him.

chris exhaled sharply, finally conceding with a nod. "okay, i really like you. like a lot. i've kind of.. been waiting for the right moment to say it, but i don't think there ever is a right moment, so i'm just saying it now. sorry if it's weird or.. i dont know."

for a moment, the room fell completely silent. chris's face was so flushed, his eyes nervously searching your expression to find any signs of disgust or impending rejection. you could see how much effort it took for him to say those words, and the pure honesty and nervousness in his voice made your heart ache in the best way possible.

"chris, why would you think that's weird?" you questioned, shaking your head with a soft laugh.

"well- i don't know.." chris stammered, his face burning in embarrassment.

you started to feel bad for leaving chris hanging with his confession. but he looked so freaking adorable nervously fidgeting in his seat and mindlessly playing with the strings of his hoodie.

"i like you too, chris," you finally admitted. "i think i've liked you for a while, actually."

chris only blinked at you, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. "you're serious?"

"dead serious," you replied, and the room falls completely silent again.

you knew chris was too afraid to make the first move; the way he awkwardly fidgeted with his hoodie, his gaze occasionally flickering to your lips — that was enough to tell you. with a sigh, you placed the notes on the edge of the bed before standing up, taking a few steps closer until you're right in front of him. "can i kiss you now?"

chris looked up at you, nodding subtly, and that was all the permission you needed. you leaned down, your faces inches apart, until your lips pressed against his.

at first, chris was unsure of what to do, his hands hovering awkwardly between his lap and your sides. he was hesitating, obviously contemplating whether to place his hands on your hips, your waist, or maybe even your face, afraid of doing the wrong thing. he really didn't want to mess up.

sensing his hesitation, you reached down, gently guiding his hands to your hips. "it's okay," you murmured against his lips. your reassurance seemed to calm him, because soon after, his fingers were comfortably starting to dig into the fabric of your sweater as he pulled you down into his lap so that you were fully straddling him.

as the kiss deepened, chris's nervousness was still very evident, his lips moving sloppily and clumsily as he tried to keep up with you. he seriously didn't wanna screw this up. his hands gripped your hips tighter as you settle more firmly into his lap. the warmth of your body was so overwhelming, he couldn't believe that what was happening was real.

but then then something else happened.

he felt it. the tension building between his legs, one that he couldn't ignore, no matter how much he desperately tried to calm himself. he tried to shift slightly, hoping you wouldn't notice, but the friction only made it worse. he groans softly, and without thinking, his hips gave a subtle, but desperate push upward against you.

chris was mortified, his face flushing in complete embarrassment. "i-i'm sorry," he breathes out, pulling his head back slightly. his voice was so shameful, but even as he apologized, his body protested against his words. his hips pressed into you again, this time so much more urgent and messy and completely uncoordinated.

you didn't say anything at first, your eyes fixed on his desperate and flushed expression. his lips were parted, his breathing uneven, and his gaze was nervously avoiding yours. it seemed like he wanted to apologize again, but before he could even think about it, you were leaning in, pressing your lips against his jaw.

"chris, it's okay," you reassured him again, finally shifting in his lap, pressing down just enough to make another moan fall from his lips. his head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, as another shaky sigh escaped him. he looked so out of it already, so caught up in the moment that it was kinda flattering for you...

your hands found their way to his shoulders, steadying yourself as you rolled your hips over his. chris's entire body jerked beneath you, a strained whimper caught in his throat as his hands instinctively started to guide your movements.

your hips rocked against his with deliberate pressure, your own soft moans filling the room as your clit bumped against the hardness in his sweats. the chair creaked rhythmically beneath you both, his hips bucking up to meet yours with desperation and urgency.

he looked so fucking perfect under you, his fingers desperately digging into your hips, eyes slightly rolling as he silently urged you to go faster. it was so fucking sweet that you couldn't not answer to him.

the tip of his dick rubbed insistently against your clit through the fabric of your clothes, each movement of both of your hips grinding against each other's only made your moans grow louder.

chris's breathing grew heavier, his body shaking in anticipation. he was so overwhelmed, so needy and turned on. the moment he had been fantasizing about for months was finally happening and he couldn't hold himself together. he was so close and it was so embarrassing how fast it took for him to nearly cum in his pants. but you found it endearing, and it only spurred you on to move your hips with more purpose, matching the frantic movements of his own.

"oh fuck," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. he was panting heavily, groaning against your neck, small curse words slipping from his lips as his dick twitched in his sweats. he was gonna cum so hard, and for the first time that night, he didn't seem so shameful about it. he was so eager for it.

"are you close?" you whimpered in his ear, still dragging your hips against his lap, your pussy fluttering as you were also nearing your own release.

chris only let out a needy whimper, his hands boldly making their way from your hips to grab at your ass, starting to buck his hips up uncontrollably, desperate to reach his orgasm. his eyes were screwed shut, glasses sliding down his nose as he pushed his face further into your shoulder to suppress his noises, but it was of no use.

whatever noises he tried to keep to himself didn't last for long, because all it took was the sound of your breathless moans in his ear for him to let out a broken whimper of your name right before he's cumming violently in his sweats. he paints the inside of his sweatpants completely white, thick ropes of his hot cum shooting out of his needy tip and messily sticking to himself as he continues to grind up into you, riding out his orgasm.

your hips moved harder against chris's as you chased your own orgasm, his moans and whimpers filling your ears so prettily that you couldn't hold it in anymore. with a soft cry, your release washed over you, the slickness in your panties stuck uncomfortably to your folds as your body trembled and jerked softly against his.

the room was silent, the only sounds being the soft huffs and ragged breaths from you both as you came down from your high. chris's grip on your ass softened, his hands hesitantly moving back to your hips as he muttered to himself, his voice slightly cracking. "holy shit,"

if chris knew that his long time confession would end up like this, he would've told you how he felt way sooner.

[bunnyywritings]

extra credit assignment with the professor and honey bunny

PROFESSOR STEIN x F!READER

[a/n: sorry sorry! i'm falling behind...my motivation is waning BUT i am determined to finish this series so here's what should've been posted yesterday on my birthday ! professor stein will always be so fucking hot in my eyes...he can tie me down and dissect me any day lol anyways, once again: my use of the term 'little' has nothing to do with any body size or weight, this fic is also a little more on the 'plus size reader' side, sorry it just came out that way, i also dropped the ball and made him an ethics teacher instead of a bio/chem teacher like i originally thought...i blame @gojonanami and her amazing professor suguru series...i'm obsessed !!🫶🏼]

© bunnyywritings pls don't use my headers or writing without permission

wc: 3.1k words

WARNINGS: teacher/student dynamic (OF AGE), power dynamic, age gap, "shy" reader, skewed descriptions of ethics cause i googled and read like two things, sir kink, hair pulling, cowgirl, stein bends you over his desk, mating press, breeding kink, creampie, no use of y/n, reader is called: bunny, sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl, honey

“You need my measurements?” You asked, not sure if you heard him right. “What for?” 

“Well for your outfit, of course.” He chuckled, finding it amusing that you had already forgotten what the two of you had spoken about.Especially when your confusion led to a small lull of silence on the line. 

“Oh…oh right! Right, the whole school girl thing…uh okay-” You rattled them out and he wrote them down, scrolling through the website on his laptop to try and find the right look for you. 

When you two finally met, you were pleased with the tasteful outfit he had chosen. It looked like a legitimate look you’d wear to school. The light brown plaid skirt was paired with a white button up, a knit sweater vest, sheer pantyhose and brown loafers. 

He was sat behind a gorgeous mahogany desk, a small smile on his lips. “Have you ever done a scene like this?” You were flicking through the short script he had given you…more of a guideline really. 

“Uhmm n-no, not as in depth as this or with a partner. I did it for a live cam once…” You blushed, feeling somewhat insecure beneath his gaze. 

Stein was one of the more seasoned creators on the platform. His production quality was always high and his scenes balanced with both porn and plot. He was also extremely attractive. His dyed silver locks framed his face beautifully, his eyes reminded you of green sea glass as they sat behind his silver eyewear and his build…God. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and thick arms. His hands were big, lithe fingers just the right amount of thickness, knuckles prominent against his smooth, pale skin. 

Not to mention the age gap between the two of you…the power dynamic was going to be a little more believable when he was 14 years older than you. 

“You ready, sweetheart?” 

“Mhmm, yes…Professor.” 

And so, you stepped out of his office. Standing at the door for a good minute or two before rapping your knuckles against the shining wood. 

“Come in!” His voice was muffled but you took your cue and pushed the door open, making sure to shut it softly behind you. “Ah, bunny! Come on in, have a seat.” He gestured to the cushioned seat in front of his desk. His smile was soft as you stood by the door for a few moments before finally moving. 

“R-Right. Thank you, P-Professor.” You gingerly sat in the seat, back straight and stiff as you tugged the hem of your skirt. 

“So, what brings you to my office hours, hmm?” 

“Uhm well, I-I hate to admit it but I’ve been h-having a little trouble with our uhm, our new unit…” 

“Oh! Well, no need to be embarrassed, Kantism is a challenging subject. What exactly were you having trouble with?” 

“Categorical imperatives…” You shift your eyes away, cheeks flushing. 

“I see…well-” He starts to ramble on with the definition, rubbing his chin as he did so and you found it difficult to not stare at his fingers. “-does that make sense?” 

You blink yourself out of your daze before nodding, “I-I’m following.” 

A subtle smirk tugs his lips as he continues. “Kant also says that there are three different moral actions-” You wring your hands in your lap, playing up the nervous, jumpy act. As he continues to explain how utilitarianism plays a part in this subject, you tune back in. “That should be a bit more clarifying for you.” You nodded eagerly. “Did you have any other questions? Kant or otherwise?” 

“Y-yes actually.” You bit your lip, eyes widening as you clarified. “Not-not about Kant! I uhm…I was hoping to ask about some…extra credit opportunities?” He frowned, head tilting to the side. “My uhm, my grade isn’t where I-I’d like it to be…” You trailed off, eyes dropping to read the name placard displayed on his desk. He turns to his laptop, ‘typing and scrolling’ before the tension in his forehead releases. “Ah, a B- isn’t so bad, is it?” 

“W-Well no but I…I would like to keep my grade point average and grad-graduate summa cum laude…” 

“Hmm right, right…an understandable goal.” He closed his laptop, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Has my unit been so difficult that you’re falling behind? Is everything alright?” The slight twinge of concern in his voice made your thighs clench. Something that did not go unnoticed. 

“I’m sorry, Professor. I just seem to be dis-distracted…lately.” Your confession leaves him amused and you with bright, flushed cheeks. 

“Distracted?” He leans forward, elbows resting on the top of the desk, his chin in his palm. “I see…is it a boy, perhaps?” 

“N-No!” You grip the fabric of your skirt. “No…I uhm-I’m not seeing any-anyone.” 

His eyebrows jump. “Really? Forgive me for saying so but, surely you have boys throwing themselves at you?” 

A quiet, almost nervous laugh leaves your lips. “Yeah…n-no. Not that I’d really want the attention from guys here…guys my age, they uhm…well, they tend to be vulgar and simple minded.” 

“Hmm, yes, I suppose you’re right.” A silence lingers after his words. “A pretty, intelligent little thing like you should be treated with reverence.” 

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, squeaking out a, “Professor…” 

“Ah right, forgive me. That was highly inappropriate”. He sighed. “So, extra credit…I usually don’t make it a habit to offer it, since students use it as an excuse to lag behind-” He catched how your lips drop into a pout, eyes glistening with unspoken pleas. “But, if you tell me what’s been so distracting as of late, maybe we can come up with a solution to help you out, hmm? You’re a bright student and I’d hate to be the reason you lose your sheen.” 

You shake your head with earnest. That’s the worst thing you could do…how could you possibly tell him that-

“There’s no need to be shy, hmm? We’re both adults here and I’ve been teaching for years, I’m sure I can stomach it.” 

You mumble out a reason, as quiet and jumbled as you could, hoping to God that he’d give up and drop the subject. Your eyes trained in your lap in fear that you might give it away. Your deepest, darkest, secret…

He stands, rounding the desk and leaning on the edge of it. Gently but firmly, he grips your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t quite catch that…” His thumb caressed the skin below your bottom lip and you had to fight the urge to tilt your head down and take his digit between your lips. 

“S’you…s-sir.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” 

“It’s you, s-sir!” And oh, the way your lips wrapped around the honorific made his dick twitch against his slacks. 

“Is that right?” He felt like a fox playing with his dinner, the way your wide eyes stared up into his, begging to be devoured whole. 

“Y-yes…” 

He gripped your chin tighter, ignoring the whine that left your throat as he growled a hoarse. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir!” 

“Hmm good…” He sneered. “What exactly is it about me that’s so distracting?” He hummed, removing his hand from your chin, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Y-You can’t ask-ask me something like that…”

He chuckled, “Of course I can…and I expect an answer.” His eyes darkened lustfully. “So tell me, bunny. What’s distracting?” 

You fidgeted in your seat, fingers clenching the fabric of your skirt again. “Uhm…y-your voice…your hands-” 

He found it hard to resist a scoffed laugh and in the blink of an eye he stood behind you, leaned over just above your shoulder. “You like my voice?” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine and a rush of heat to your core. “Do you rewatch my lectures when you’re in your room? Touch that pretty pussy to the sound of my voice, hmm?” His lips pressed a feather light kiss behind your ear as you whined and as he trailed down your neck, the messier they got. His lips were surprisingly soft, massaging the sensitive skin at the hollow of your neck. 

You tilted your head back against his shoulder, opening yourself up to him. “Why don’t you show me.” He reached around the sides of the chair and roughly gripped your thighs watching as your flesh squished between his fingers, splitting your legs open for him and before you could even think to protest, a loud rip! filled the office. He had torn the crotch of your sheer pantyhose to reveal your soaked panties. “Is this all for me? You’re soaked…” He tsked, pushing your panties aside and tugging your folds open, caressing your pulsing clit with barely there touches. 

“Mhmm, all-all for you, sir…s’yours, all yours.” You keened at his gentle touches, hips twitching and desperate for more friction. 

“Then be a good girl and show me how you touch yourself to my voice.” You replaced your hands with his, starting to circle your bud in slow, soft circles, a drawn out moan leaving your glossed lips. 

“Good girl…” He purred. “Now suck on my fingers, show me how much you love my hands…that’s it.”

You wrapped your lips around his fingers, tongue swirling around his cold digits in earnest before taking them deeper into your mouth, gagging softly when his fingertips met the back of your throat before pulling back and taking them back in.

As you began to bob your head on his fingers, he couldn’t help pawing himself through the front of his gray slacks. His precum, no doubt staining the front of the fabric. “Oh look at you! Such a shy and prude girl, getting herself off while choking on her Professor’s fingers…fuck.” Your thighs twitched as you neared your first orgasm, sucking on his fingers bringing you more arousal than you thought possible. 

“Don’t even think about it.” He almost snarled, shoving his fingers roughly to the back of your throat. Your shoulders jolting as a particularly harsh gag wracked through your body. “Put your hands by your side.” Reluctantly, you did as instructed and he pulled his fingers from your mouth, giving your poor lungs a reprieve. 

As you attempted to catch your breath, he wrapped your hair around his fingers and pulled roughly, the action pulling you up from your seat before he was shoving you towards his desk. “Ahh! P-Professor!” With his fist still tugging at your locks, he bent you over and pushed your head down against the desk, your cheek landing harshly on a notebook and a few stray papers. 

“I’ve got to say…you’ve been quite the distraction as well. Always sitting in the front of my class, chewing on your lips or your pens-” He unbuckled his belt, popping his trousers open and letting them drop down around his thighs. “Always in your cute little outfits and short skirts.” He flipped your skirt over your ass. “I’ve dreamed of having you bent over my desk, creaming all over my cock.” He stroked himself a few times before tapping his heavy tip against your stocking covered ass. 

Not being able to help it, you wiggle your hips tauntingly. He groaned, “Oh just look at you…” He muttered before grasping the base of his cock and lining himself up with your entrance.

Your nails dug into the wood of the desk as he pushed himself in. Entranced with the way you seemed to be sucking him in, inch by agonizing inch, your poor pussy being stretched to accommodate his girth. You tried to push yourself further up the desk in an attempt to get respite from his sweltering length. 

“Nuh uh…don’t run, sweet girl. Don’t run…” He roughly gripped your hips and pulled you back onto him, sheathing himself entirely in your warm, gummy walls. “Stay right there.” 

Stein was brutal, bullying his dick into you repeatedly, meeting your womb in a deliciously painful kiss so much so that you lost track of time. “S’too much! T-Too…much!” 

Completely ignoring your cries, he snapped his hips once more and stilled them against your behind, pulling you with him as he sat in the chair you had been previously sitting in, situating you on his lap.“You wanted extra credit, right?” 

“Y-Yes sir…but-” 

“Then put in the work, bunny.” He brought his hand down in a rough slap against your ass cheek. “Show me how much you deserve that A.” 

Arching your back, you leaned forward and rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. Taking a deep breath, you lifted yourself slowly. Making it only halfway up before dropping yourself back down. It only took two thrusts before your legs were threatening to give out. The pleasure was overwhelming, Steins low moans and grunts only adding fuel to the fire. 

“S-Stein! I’m- M’gonna…!” You dropped back down on his length, back hunching over as your orgasm ripped through your entire body, mind reeling as you completely forgot to play up the whole ‘sir’ thing while Stein’s grip tightened around your waist so you didn’t fall over. 

Stein brushed your hair over your shoulder, pressing gentle kisses to the nape of your neck, tongue licking up the salty perspiration gathered there. “Shhh…shh, that’s a good girl…I made you feel that good, hmm?” 

A delirious giggle left your lips as you let Stein pick you up, inhaling sharply as he pulled out of you, your release dripping down his, still painfully hard, cock and onto the trimmed blonde hair at its base. 

Gaining a second wind, you shoved his name placard and a few other things aside before sitting on his desk, reaching for the hem of your sweater vest and tugging it off over your head along with your button up shirt and mindlessly tossing it aside. He watched hungrily as you kicked off your skirt and widened your thighs, the heels of your loafers resting on the edge of his desk. Your folds were dripping with arousal, your skin flushed and puffy as you clenched around nothing. 

“C’mon Professor, don’t keep your favorite student waiting…” 

Scoffing, he shrugged his tweed jacket off and you started to salivate. His mock neck shirt was short sleeved and tight. Almost like it was painted on him. His biceps bulged deliciously against the thin fabric, the urge to run your tongue across the veins running down his arms was strong but you held onto whatever self control you had left and waited for him to make his way between your legs. 

“And who said you were my favorite student?” A wet slap! slap! echoed his words as he tapped his tip against your clit. 

“You do this with all your students then?” You whined. “That’s no fair…” A pout tugged at your lips. 

He laughed softly, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender embrace, biting your bottom lip before pulling away. “I’m just teasing, bunny. You are, by far, my favorite…student.” He punctuated his statement by snapping his hips forward and burying himself into your sloppy core. 

“Ah-!” You lost your balance and landed onto the desk with a soft thump against the wood. He gripped the bottom of your thighs and pushed your legs up and folding you in half, straight into a mating press. The fabric of your pantyhose tightening against your skin.

His desk creaked with each of his heavy thrusts, scraping against the hardwood floor once or twice. “God, it was like this cunt was made for me! She’s swallowing me up so well…so warm…n’wet!” 

Your eyes rolled back in your head, the press he had you in made it feel like he was quite literally rearranging your insides, your mind quickly growing fuzzy and clouded with thoughts of his huge, thick cock and the way his scent enveloped you entirely as he leaned over to plant kisses down your neck, no doubt sucking marks into it. 

Stein felt himself twitch inside you as he gazed down at you. Your face was screwed up in pleasure, lips glossy with spit and parted as moans and whimpers fell from your lips. “Let me see those pretty eyes, honey. Come on.” Your eyelids fluttered open, lined with tears and the pretty color of your iris was swallowed up by your blown out pupils, hazy with euphoria. 

He shifted your hips and slipped deeper into you, if it was even possible, and found that spot that made you see stars. You fought to keep your eyes on him as you became consumed by one thing only. Your second orgasm. 

“Fuck…I-” He whimpered as you clamped down around him. “I-I’m gonna cum…” He groaned, attempting to keep a steady pace to bring you over the edge with him. “Where-?” He grunted, choked with pleasure. 

“Inside me, please! I want- fill me up, sir…p-please -!” Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your release shaking your body, thighs burning as your legs shook. Overstimulation creeping up on you as he chased his end. 

“Want me to breed this pretty little cunt? Huh? Make you a momma for extra credit?”

“Y-Yes! Yes!” You started to babble, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. 

His moans became hoarse, desperate whimpers, hips twitching before he stilled in you. Balls tightening as he emptied his load into you. A full, warm feeling taking over your body as your chest heaves to catch your breath. 

He pulled out with a hiss, watching his spend trickle out of you before fucking it back into you with his fingers, laughing softly as you whimpered. Your hips twitch to get away from him, and he apologizes. 

“M’sorry bunny, don’t want it to go to waste…” He then eased your legs down around his waist, massaging his fingertips into your tense skin. He watched in amusement as you leaned forward, lips pursed subtly and he met your lips. Exchanging a few kisses before easing you to sit up and wrapping his arms around you, cuddling you into his chest.

“I’d say that’s earned you an A+...” 

You cackled against his chest. “Yeah, it better have.” 

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[bullet-prooflove]

Buck + ferry ⛴️ flowers 💐 firetruck 🚒

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @sophiah2253 @qutequeersstuff @gatefleet

Buck meets you at Catalina Island during a call out. You’re dangling from a top rope halfway down a cliff face, rendering first aid to another climber, whose hanging 50 feet up in the air after knocking himself unconscious. It takes them a while to get down to you, they’ve come by air rescue because the fire truck can’t make the ferry trip to the island. They have to find the right anchor points to rappel down safely, bringing their kit and a backboard with them.

He can tell you’re on the job from the way you relay the information regarding the other Luis, the other climber’s condition. You use the same terminology, talk in a calm precise manner and you’re not squeamish, especially not about the bone that’s sticking out of the guy’s arm.

“They’ll get him down and then I’ll clip you in with me, the two of us we’ll go down together ok?” He says to you as Eddie and Chim begin to guide Luis’s form further down the cliff face.

“Honey,” You drawl, fixing him with a shrewd stare. “Trust me, I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way down.”

Honey…

For some reason the term makes Buck’s cheeks color.

As you start the descent it becomes clear to him that you’re a skilled climber, your movements are smooth, careful and in coordination with his own. The two of you set a quick pace as you abseil down the cliff. If it were any other circumstance he’d probably find it fun, but Luis has just woken up and he’s screaming blue murder because he’s just realised his forearm looks like something out of a gore movie.

“You’re one of us aren’t you.” He says when you both reach the bottom and you give him a quizzical look as you unclip the carabiner from your rope. “A firefighter?”

“Mountain rescue.” You tell him loosening the harness around your waist. “I usually work out of the national park. Today’s my day off, I thought I’d get some time in on a different rockface so I came out here to the island and then-” You gesture to Luis, shaking your head. “- your guy over there ends up bashing himself on a couple of boulders trying to get a picture with those flowers sticking out for the ‘gram.”

He's about to respond when Bobby calls out to him, he turns his head to acknowledge the words and by the time he turns back you��re already walking away to pack up your kit. He guesses you won’t be doing much more climbing today.

He can’t stop thinking about you on the way back, he takes out his phone and Googles the Los Angeles Mountain Rescue website, he finds your name on the Team Section. He spends the rest of the shift going through your Instagram feed, scrolling through your pictures, getting a sense of the person you are.

Fun, adventurous, a little wild, a little soft.

All traits that appeal to Buck in a partner.

“Are you gonna keep cyber stalking her?” Chimney asks as he drops down on the couch alongside him. “Or are you actually gonna do something about it?”

Sliding into your DMs reminds him of his dating app days and Buck, he’s not looking for something casual, he wants to settle down, experience something real.

It’s a few days later that you run into each other, literally. He’s grabbing a smoothie order for the firehouse when he collides with you in the doorway, he’s skimming through your feed again, whilst you have your eyes fixed firmly on your own screen. He apologises as he knocks the phone out of your hand, bending down to pick it up and that’s when he sees it. His profile live on your screen. It looks like he’s not the only one that’s been doing a little cyber stalking.

“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself the other day.” He says as he hands the phone back to you. “I’m Buck.”

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[bigwishes]

Terms and Conditions

Levi arrived at the train station late at night. Nobody else was on the train on his way home let alone on the platform when he got off. Levi took his ear phones out of his pocket ready for for his walk home but to his disappointment realised they were dead. He sighed folding up his earphone case shoving it back in his pocket preparing for the quite walk home in the dark. As Levi approached the station exit he heard what sounded like arcade music and saw flashing lights out of the corner of his eye. Tucked away in a small room was a table set up, arcade music was playing in the room as cheap disco lasers spun around. On either side of the table were posters of chiselled abs with the words "FREE TRANSFORMATION BECOME THE ULTIMATE MAN" written over the top in what looked to be a rushed photoshop job. Levi had been thinking about getting a personal trainer for a few weeks now and he didn't want to pass up on the chance for a free session or two, even if the trainer was this bad at advertising. He looked around for any information but all he could see was a QR code taped down to the middle of the table. Levi scanned it and it took him to a website just as corny and asked him to upload his 'before' photo. Shrugging it off he scrolled through his photos and selected one he had taken on a night out a few weeks earlier.

Once uploaded the website brought up a page 'TERMS AND CONDITIONS'. Levi began reading but after the first sentence assumed it was the basic bullshit all websites have, he tried to skim read it but after realising that the terms and conditions document was over 400 pages long he just speedily scrolled his way to the bottom ignoring all of it until a large blue button labelled 'ACCEPT' showed up. Levi pressed the button and his phones web browser instantly closed. Levi tried to do the whole process all over again but the browser couldn't even open the website anymore. Rolling his eyes in disappointment it became clear whoever was running this program was struggling to get their career off the ground because they were so bad at marketing or even basic tech. He put his phone in his pocket and left the station to head home and go to bed.

The next morning Levi woke up and felt groggy, his body was sore all over like he had just done a week long boot camp and he felt slightly heavier. He stretched and felt like his shoulds and quads were much tighter than usual. He put one hand on his shoulder to try and help stretch it but it felt larger, bulkier...

Looking down he saw that his shorts had split open in the middle of the night and out of the shredded fabric poked strong thicc smooth muscles. his abs were more defined and and his arms were pumped up with definition. He had always been fit but somehow over night had transformed into a complete jock. He covered himself up and took a picture, surely this was all just a dream.

Whilst trying to find his gallery he came across a new app on his phone labelled 'Ultimate Man' when he opened it he was saw just a page that looked like it was written in the notes app with a few sentences on it.

"congratulations on embracing masculinity, through your free transformation we are going to turn you into the ultimate man! get ready to embrace manhood big guy"

Levi cringed at the terribly written message but whoever was behind it clearly was doing something right, even if they came off like an idiot.

Suddenly Levi began to feel warm and could feel his heart pumping. But it didn't feel like exercise or even anything strenuous it just felt like he could really notice all of the blood in his body moving around. Levi felt himself get hard and he looked down under the covers. Even his dick looked bigger. He opened up his browser app and went to his favourite website to look at videos and images of hot guys. On the home page happened to be an image of a buff Olympic swimmer climbing out of the pool, instantly Levi moaned as he came without even touching himself. He looked down at his twitching manhood, it continued to drool over his bare abs. He cleaned himself up and put a pair of shorts on and tried to make his way to the kitchen. It didn't even take two steps before Levi moaned loudly again and his knees locked together causing him to fall to the floor. He felt his underwear fill with warms and he felt his dick pulse and twitch, he took a breath thinking it was over before it fired off again.

Levi squirmed on the ground moaning unable to stop as his body forcefully went through cycles of pleasure. He didn't even have the strength to sit up. His shorts had become drenched and were stuck to him but it didn't stop. Levi tried to take them off but his hands never even made it to the waist band he simply stopped and massaged his throbbing pelvis as waves of pleasure were sent up to the rest of his body. He didn't know what was happening and couldn't even think he just laid on his bedroom floor squirming in pleasure as he was forced to come over and over again.

After a few hours it finally stopped. Levi was stuck on the ground panting like a dog in summer but after a few minutes he was able to pick himself up. He pulled off his shorts now 3 shades darker and coated in a layer of sticky gloss. He went to put them in the wash basket but ended up just dropping them on the ground next to his bed and by the time the loud wet *shlop* of his shorts finished echoing around the room he had already forgotten about wanting to wash them.

Levi put on a basic black shirt and another pair of shorts, both felt so tight it was almost like a second skin. He passed the mirror in his hallway once again he looked bigger, more defined and the imprint of his dick stood out like a sore thumb. He was still hard and his sorts were so tight every second step made him wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as he had become so sensitive down below.

Levi went to make breakfast and realised it was almost lunch

"fuck I really need to get to the gym"

he thought to himself, forgetting that he didn't even have a gym membership. Mindlessly Levi started to make his way to his car and drove to the closest gym. He was panting like a dog the entire way as the vibrations from the car gently stimulated his manhood but to him it felt like the best pleasure his dick had ever received. He felt his shirt and shorts become tighter, a few tears began to form around his thighs and the shirt started to ride up revealing his abs, it was almost like his clothes were shrinking. His toes curled as his shoes felt tighter. Finally he arrived at the gym.

Levi needed to take a moment after parking his car, he was still panting and he couldn't help but rub his groin which alone was enough to make him feel like he was edging. After almost half an hour of sitting in his car trying to collect himself he finally got out and made his way to the gym entrance. His car somehow looked smaller to him, and all his clothes felt like one wrong move and they'd all rip off. He tried his best to pull his shirt down to his waist but there was still a few inches of skin that could be seen. His shorts where the worst, he could see in the reflection of the gym windows how they hugged his thighs forming a nice V shape and he could feel how they rode up his ass, like he'd put on a pair 6 sizes too small.

Levi opened the door and went to the reception desk as his body began to feel warm again. He rapidly dinged the bell on the desk a few times before hearing a slight click noise, looking down he noticed the top of the bell had caved in and he gritted his teeth with a slight look of embarrassment on his face. A receptionist walked over from the other side of the desk and took one look at Levi, without even thinking he said,

"forgot you member ship again big guy?"

the trainer sighed and buzzed the small plastic gates open, Levi was confused but didn't question it, he quickly walked through the gates feeling desperate to work out. As he walked he felt his thighs now rubbing against each other, he felts he biceps and pushing past his pecs as his arms swung, and he felt the monster python in his pants creep slightly further to the elastic in his underwear.

Levi set up the cable machine almost by instinct. He began pulling the weight and didn't even realise he had it set to the most weight possible, and it didn't even feel like anything.

His shirt felt tighter and tighter as the sleeves pulled up above his biceps and the waist pulled up almost to his pecs, by now it looks like he was wearing a crop top. Levi struggled to pull his shirt off and was stunned by the amount of mass on his body. He could barely pull his eyes away from the mirror as he watched himself workout, he was hypnotised by the way his biceps moved and the way his pecs bounced with each movement.

Levi felt himself get heavier and heavier to the point simply moving between machines now had him out of breath, his shorts were now so tight and pulled up they practically looked like a thong. Finally Levi stopped working out feeling the enormous weight of his size falling on his. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and stared at the freakishly massive man in the mirror.

He took a step back whilst flexing and felt something bump up against his ass. He turned around expecting it to be a bench but it was one of the gym staff.

"hey man, watch where you step hahah" the staff member laughed

It took Levi a minute to get the joke, he thought the staff member was sitting at first, but his eyes widened as he realised he was in fact standing. Levi scratched his head trying to work out if this guy just happened to be short but it was hard to work out when half his view was blocked by a massive shelf of his muscles that were his pecs. It was him finally realising he was half barefoot that finally made it click in his head. He looked in the mirror at the remains of his size 12 shoes torn to pieces and bits of fabric and rubber barely around his enormous feet.

He walked through the gym to the changing rooms trying to gauge how large he had become when he saw the weight station people used to track their stats. As he got closer to the station he watched the plank of wood used to measure height get smaller and smaller until he found himself in front, looking down at the number 8FT that was barely up to the bottom of his pecs. Levi stepped on the scales and watched the digital numbers rapidly shoot up until it began to slow around 700lsb. Levi took a deep breath as he moved his mass off the scale back down to the ground, even the 3 inch drop was enough to make small things on shelves near him rattle and shake.

Levi caught himself moving towards the changing room in the mirror, he thought he was walking normal but in reality he had a ridiculous wide waddle that took up the entire walk way. As he walked through the doors to the changing rooms a large thud caused everyone in the gym to turn their heads. Levi, not used to his new size had smashed his head into the door frame but it felt like someone had flicked him rather than walking face first into metal, as he took a second to recover he saw that the door frame had actually bent slightly from the impact.

The massive giant sat on the wooden bench alone in the changing room, it comedically bent in towards the centre, his massive weight almost causing it to bend to the ground. Levi scrolled his phone to find the app hoping there was a way to size down. He opened the app he saw a few notifications but clicked the latest one.

"Congratulations, you are almost the perfect man, one final step and you will be the optimal man! FINAL STEPS: Intellect deletion protocol and Personality Rewrite"

Immediately after reading those words Levi's head felt funny, felt almost blurry, all the embarrassment about turning into a literal giant went away, all the worries about clothes fitting him were gone and new feelings started to come in. Levi looked up into the changing room mirror and smiled.

He flexed his massive bicep

"OOOOOOH YEEAAH THATS NICE"

he rose his second arm to flex his other

"FUCK IM SO BIG, BEING THIS HUGE IS AMAZING"

He stood up once again feeling his insane weight

"Oh fuck, im so heavy, but damn, so big" He said as he struggled to reach across his own body to reach his bicep

His phone pinged loudly and Levi opened it to the app, but it looked like gibberish, he couldn't make out a single word, he scratched his head with confusion, Suddenly an audio file played

"Congratulations on becoming the Ultimate Man, we are currently offering a one time special offer for only the manliest of men, increase size by an additional 2 feet and 130 pounds, to claim say "I'm a manly man"

Levi's eyes lit up with glee, he didn't understand a single thing it said other than the words 'increase size' without missing a moment he yelled at his phone

"FUCK YEAH, IM A MANLY MAN"

He watched as his hands became thicker, watched as his dick print started to look like it was gonna rip through what was left of his clothes, his head turned to the mirror and he flexed his hulked out frame with all his might watching as it started to expand even bigger.

"FUUUUUUCCCKKK YEEEEAAHHH MAN" He screamed panting, completely out of breath as the giant before him got bigger and bigger and it was almost too much for him to even move......

[229zmi]

MY HEART, IT BEATS FOR YOU

Nagi Seishirō/Reader | 1.0k words, fluff, jealous nagi

Nagi, generally, is an apathetic person.

Yet somehow, there’s a taut feeling that twists its way through the gaps of his ribcage, stretching around his heart as his eyes linger on the fabric that hangs around your shoulders. Seeing you on the couch, casually scrolling on your phone while wearing a jacket he can’t recognise as yours or, even better, his as much as he wants to — the sight elicits something that’s not quite a painful feeling, but it isn’t exactly pleasant either, he thinks.

The wheels are still turning in his head when you finally acknowledge his presence with a smile, oblivious to the way he’s not even looking at you when you tell him, “Hey, Sei.”

Instead, he trudges over to you with the same passion as that of a sloth, and his voice comes out small, almost as if that same feeling in his chest has crawled past his shoulder to constrict his throat.

“That jacket— it’s not yours, is it?” It’s plain and simple, the way he states the observation, yet laced with the most marginal hint of spite.

“No, it’s Reo’s,” you confirm without missing a beat, and he narrows his eyes, so subtly that you don’t even catch it. You continue on about how you bumped into Reo by pure coincidence on your way to run an errand and how the weather’s been so volatile lately, oscillating between warm and sunny one day and freezing cold during the next. But Nagi—

Well—

Here’s the thing: as impassive as he is most of the time, Nagi is a great listener when it comes to you.

You’ve always been a priority to him and even more so in that facet. To relish in the fleeting moments of winning a game on his phone, or to know what happens in the latest chapter of his favourite manga as soon as possible — the rush of satisfaction he gets out of those is nice, he supposes, but not worth missing a word of what you say, be it something miscellaneous about your day or the biggest news he’s ever heard in his life.

And certainly, nothing is worth missing the small habits that make themselves known in your conversation, that make up the you he first swore love to near the bench outside the convenience store, holding your favourite snack in one hand and offering his jacket to you with his other because the harshness of springtime winds had swept away any warmth your flimsy sweater could contain.

It’s your facial expressions, your gestures, the way you look toward him at the end of each rambling, as if to ask, Are you listening? So then, he’ll answer— a nod, as if to say, Yes. Of course. Please say more. Because for you, it’s all ears and eyes wide open on his end.

But Nagi, admittedly, isn’t perfect, and this is not a matter of opinion. Even you can see the way he can’t stop staring hard at your jacket as though he’s trying to telepathically morph it into something that looks like it came from his closet instead.

Midway through an elaborate plan to sell the jacket for an outrageously high price on some sketchy website (you’re only half-joking… maybe), you finally notice his distant expression. “…Sei?”

His lack of response is all the confirmation you need for your suspicions. A grin then crosses your face, while your eyes sport a gleam that Nagi recognises as smugness once he eventually tears his focus away from the offending item of clothing.

You say his name again, this time teasingly. Then, “Are you jeal—?”

Your question cuts off unceremoniously when his hands reach over to latch onto the zipper of the jacket, pulling it down before tugging on the fabric near your shoulders. Despite the boldness of his actions, you don’t make any move to stop him as he flings Reo’s jacket across the room, hearing it land on the floor with a satisfying sound.

Moments later, he shrugs his jacket off in one smooth motion and then drapes it over your body. With his large palms smoothing over the fabric against your upper arms, it’s such a sweet gesture that you can’t find it in yourself to complain, although the opportunity to poke fun at him is hard to let slip.

“Woah, there.” Cheekily, you brush that one abnormally long part of his bangs away from his face and poke the tip of his nose, to which he responds with his signature pout before burying his face into the crook of your neck. As your back hits the cushion of the arm rest behind you and your hands come up to comb through his hair, you feel a bout of warmth surge through your collarbone area, accompanied by the sound of his voice muffled by your skin.

“I’m not jealous.”

A smile dances around the corners of your mouth despite your efforts to conceal it. “Really?” you say. “I think you are.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles. “You can’t prove it.”

“I mean. You’re kinda all over me right now.”

He huffs at the flurry of giggles that tumble from your mouth boundlessly, like clothes spilling out of an overpacked suitcase. Though, when your laughter finally simmers down and humour seems to have come to a standstill in your conversation, sentimentality weaves its way into your voice, in between mixed undertones of reassurance and leftover amusement.

(Because what you’re about to say is nothing but the truth itself: ardent and vulnerable, despite the sheer casualness in the way you present it.)

“You’re the only one my heart beats for, Seishirō.”

Lazily, he peers up at you. “Promise?”

“I promise. Besides,” you add, snuggling deeper into the collar of his jacket, “your jacket’s way warmer, anyway.”

That could be attributed to the fact that he has practically become your personal heater by sprawling his body over yours on the couch. Nevertheless, the envious fangs surrounding Nagi’s heart slacken, and with your fingers brushing through his hair once again, he can’t help himself from murmuring into your skin, sounding more relieved than he has ever sounded, “Good.”

[rookiesbookies]

Oh my God, if you wrote more sex doll!141 I would be thrilled. It's such a good concept and you've executed it wonderfully!! (Personally I'm partial to simon but if you wrote any of the other characters I would still eat it up).

-🦝

So I’m going to be honest, Simon is a very difficult character for me to right in intimate situations because of how his character is structured. It’s one of the reasons I have trouble flushing out how I write him and why he may be much more varying than my other boys when I write them fic to fic. He’s truthfully the hardest character for me to right and he’s the one I know the most about so I hope this is good.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!

I gift you, Sex Doll!Simon and his loser!reader as a gift. As always, under the cut.

A doll and his loser 2, electric boogaloo.

When Simon’s lady had ordered him, she had also been drunk. She was ovulating, feeling sorry for herself, and incredibly horny when the ad on whatever porn site she was on popped up for the sex dolls. So she scrolled through the options, noticing the ‘Johnny’ Doll was sold out, but it didn’t matter, one had caught her eye immediately. The doll style they had named ‘Simon’. His mask made her run wild. She noticed how the pants clung to his thighs and wide shoulders and it made her mouth water. She couldn’t even remember what she ordered the next morning between headaches and vomiting but she just assumed it was something she forgot and paid off that credit card charge.

It was days later when the box arrived.

“Big ole box you got there,” her neighbor teased, “need help getting it in, little lady?”

She huffed, she had been trying to push it in for about 20 minutes. “Please,” she whined.

Her neighbor helped get the probably 200 pound package into her room. The box was all scratched, fragile stickers torn. She thanked her neighbor and ushered him out as she began to open the weird box.

The language seemed made up, but she didn’t expect to get the box open and a giant Ken doll to fall on her with a loud thud as the two hit her floor.

“You’re a big bitch,” she groaned as she shoved the doll off her. His eyes fluttered open and she watched him curiously. “Hi.”

She was met with silence. He seemed mute, like his mouth was stuck shut.

Confused and slightly disappointed, she stared down at the doll lying on her floor.

She had expected an interactive experience, a companion that would fulfill her desires, but all she had in front of her was a lifeless figure. Frustration began to well up within her, fueled by the lingering effects of her hangover.She had gotten wasted the night before again.

Frustrated, she decided to give the doll a chance. After all, she had spent a considerable amount of money on it, and maybe there was a way to activate its features. She carefully inspected the doll, running her hands over its smooth, artificial skin and marveling at the intricate details. But no matter how hard she looked, there didn't seem to be any buttons or switches that would bring it to life.

Determined to find a solution, she grabbed her laptop and searched for the website where she had made the purchase. But it was as if the site never existed. It wasn’t in her search history, it wasn’t in her purchase history, she couldn’t even find a number on the box.

Frustration turned to confusion as she scrolled through her browsing history, desperately trying to find any trace of the website that had led her to this mysterious doll. It was as if the entire transaction had been erased from existence.

Feeling a mixture of unease and curiosity, she decided to take matters into her own hands. With the doll still lying motionless on the floor, she sat down next to it and began examining every inch of its body. Perhaps there was some hidden mechanism, some secret activation method that she had missed.

Then she saw the icon on the box between the gibberish writing, something about the lips.

She crouched down and tenderly pressed her lips against the cool, skin textured rubber of the cheek of the robot. In response, his previously stiff body began to move and his facial features softened into a look of happiness.

A surge of excitement coursed through her veins as she realized that there was more to this doll than met the eye. She had stumbled upon something extraordinary, something beyond her wildest dreams. Her hangover instantly forgotten, she eagerly awaited what would happen next.

Slowly but surely, the doll began to move. Its previously inanimate limbs twitched and flexed as if awakening from a deep slumber.

“Hi,” she said softly, running her hand over the mask.

He flipped his mask up over his lips and quickly kissed her passionately.

She let out a squeak as he climbed on top of her.

“So pent up,” he mumbled, kissing down her neck as she giggled. His hands roaming free. “So stiff, I could use a good stretch, love. And it seems based on your purchase of me, you could too.” He said with a teasing tone before pulling off her pants she wore to work.

He began to eat her through her panties, but it was more lip locking with her lower set. He moved her panties to the side and continued his make out session with her labia. His teeth occasionally gently pulling on them. He took his sweet time getting her wet before he did any more. He spit on her then dug in.

Messy, his face covered in her natural lube, mask rubbing against her clit.

She sat there like this for a while but she got too loud so he stretched his long arm so his palm stretched over her mouth, thumb rubbing her cheek as he continued. Her eyes rolling back as he edged her slowly. One, then two, then three times. Her body convulsing as he finally lifted himself, she let out a whine and he shushed her before freeing himself from his jeans.

He got real close to his ear. “How badly.” He commanded.

She whined out pitifully as a plea.

“Good.” He said, throwing a leg over his shoulder before sliding in and thrusting. A fast pace in, a roll of the hips, and slow pull out. He held this pace for so long she began to feel like the sex doll. It was brutal in the most wonderful way.

Toe curling.

Ball smacking.

Pussy dripping.

Best sex of her life.

Her cervix thoroughly bullied.

Her moans muffled and covered by his rough palm.

Her rug covered in sweat, her flooring under it glistening with heat.

When he finally let her come it was like reaching the peak of Everest. She gasped and whined and moaned, almost screamed into his palm. He fucked her through it and came not long after from her body milking his cock.

He removed his hand and cock making her whine, returning his mouth to her cunt to make out with it again.

He cleaned her of his cum before picking her up and running a bath.

“Worth every penny.” Was all her mushed brain could muster.

[honeydippedfiction]

hi lovie!! can i request anything from the established relationship list for tee higgins please 🤍 love all your writings!!!

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#15. Sighing and pouting loudly because you haven't paid them any attention. & #30. Falling asleep within minutes of you playing with their hair or scratching their back.

Tee Higgins x black!femreader

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The television flickered quietly in the background, some rerun of a college game playing with the volume turned low. The living room was warm with early evening light, slanting in through the wide windows, casting soft golden bands across the hardwood floor. But none of it was enough to distract Tee Higgins from what he considered a grave injustice.

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the skyline, bleeding a soft, syrupy orange through the living room windows. It painted everything in a kind of sleepy glow—the oak coffee table, the framed photos on the wall, the curve of her collarbone as she sat with one leg folded underneath her. Her phone glowed in her hand, casting soft light on her face, the light brown undertones of her skin catching the sun in a way that Tee Higgins always thought looked like warm honey.

Tee watched her from the other end of the sectional, arms crossed over his chest like a scolded child, his long legs sprawled out, taking up way more space than necessary. The TV was on—ESPN muttering in the background—but it might as well have been on mute for all the attention either of them gave it. He sighed once.

Loud.

Then again. Louder.

He shifted, making a big show of adjusting the blanket, letting the leather couch groan under his weight. Nothing. No reaction. She just kept scrolling, eyebrows occasionally lifting at whatever she was reading, lips curving in the faintest smirk that wasn’t for him.

He waited.

Still nothing.

Across from him, nestled on the other end of the couch, his girlfriend remained unbothered, her attention fully claimed by whatever was on her phone. Her legs were tucked underneath her, one hand supporting her chin, the other casually scrolling. Her skin glowed in the amber light, rich and smooth like polished mahogany. Her natural curls were piled into a loose bun, a few strands hanging down the side of her cheek in a way that made Tee want to be mad at her for ignoring him and kiss her at the same time.

He sighed again—this time louder, more pitiful.

Still, not even a glance.

“Damn,” he muttered, shifting with the grace of a man twice his size who was trying very hard to make noise while pretending not to.

She blinked, maybe halfway aware of his antics, but didn’t look up. Not even a hum of acknowledgement.

Tee sighed again—this one dramatic enough that it almost echoed. He let his head fall back over the edge of the couch, arms hanging limply now in full surrender.

“I’m dying over here,” he mumbled.

“You’re not dying,” she replied, without glancing up.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

He sat up slightly, twisting toward her like she was the one being unreasonable. “You’re really gonna sit over there and ignore me like I’m not suffering in silence?”

There was a pause—just long enough to make him wonder if she was really about to ignore that too. Then she smirked without looking up.

She finally looked at him—just briefly—and then looked back down at her phone. “You weren’t silent, Tee. That was your third sigh in under two minutes.”

He scoffed. “That’s restraint. I could’ve been groaning since you picked up your phone.”

Now she rolled her eyes, lips twitching.

“You’re a grown man, Tee. You’ll survive ten minutes without being the center of attention.”

“But I’m suffering,” he groaned again, heavier this time, letting his head roll to the side like his neck had lost all strength. “You see me? I’m fading away right in front of you. I’m wasting away.”

She snorted. “You’re 6’4” and built like a truck. The only thing wasting is your self-control.”

He gave her a look—wide-eyed and hurt, like she’d just called him ugly on live TV.

“Wow. So cold,” he mumbled. “A man comes home after training camp, emotionally vulnerable, physically depleted—”

“You ran six routes and caught passes for 45 minutes,” she cut in, still not looking up.

“—and all he wants is his woman to love on him a little.”

“I do love on you. You just want constant praise. You’re like a golden retriever in cleats.”

“I’m a very handsome golden retriever, though.”

At that, she finally laughed, the sound light and rich, and it made Tee’s chest unclench just a bit. She shook her head and set her phone face down on the coffee table.

He pressed on. “You really gonna leave me like this? Lonely. Starving for affection.”

She set the phone down with a slow exhale, turning her full attention to him for the first time since she sat down. “You had two team trainers massaging you this morning. And a cold tub. And a nap. And protein pancakes.”

“None of that counts,” Tee shot back, folding his arms again. “That’s not the same as you scratching my back and telling me I’m your favorite human.”

“You are my favorite human,” she said, easing toward him now, amused despite herself. “But you’re also the most dramatic.”

“I learned it from you.”

“Boy, please.”

Tee grinned then, victorious in his small, petty battle. He watched as she slid closer, her warmth already sinking into the space between them. Her skin shimmered slightly in the last slants of sun, and her curls—loose and full and slightly wild—fell forward as she leaned in toward him.

She pushed the blanket aside and patted her lap. “Come on, you big baby.”

Tee didn’t hesitate. He curled toward her like a plant toward the sun, resting his head in her lap with a satisfied groan that made her laugh. “Finally,” he muttered. “Equilibrium restored.”

“Mmhm. You act like you didn’t get 112 receiving yards last week. You’re spoiled.”

“And sleepy,” he added, eyes already drooping. “I got hit like... three and a half times. That takes a toll.”

She chuckled, brushing his hair back gently from his forehead. He relaxed instantly, the tension in his shoulders easing under her touch. Her nails traced slow, looping paths down the center of his back, and she felt him exhale—deep and heavy, like his whole frame was deflating.

“Right there,” he murmured. “You know that spot.”

“I know all your spots,” she said, voice low, affectionate.

He smiled lazily but didn’t reply. The muscles in his face softened. She shifted a little to make him more comfortable, letting his full weight settle against her. One hand moved into his thick hair, her nails scratching gently along his scalp in slow, practiced rhythm. His body stilled completely.

Two minutes.

That was all it took.

She heard his breathing even out, slow and steady. The rise and fall of his chest was rhythmic now, peaceful. His mouth parted slightly, lips relaxed, and one large hand dangled limply off the edge of the couch like he’d melted entirely.

She tilted her head, watching him sleep. So much strength, all wrapped in softness now. Tee Higgins, who could bulldoze defenders and outrun nearly anyone in the league, was out cold in her lap because she scratched his scalp.

She ran her fingers through his curls once more, slower this time, her touch more tender than teasing now. There was something about watching him like this—unguarded, quiet, utterly at peace—that filled her chest in a way no words ever really could. It wasn’t just the attention he wanted. It was her. The presence. The closeness. The safety.

She leaned back against the cushions, letting the moment stretch. The TV played on, forgotten. Outside, the city began to dim, the sky bruising into deep indigo. But inside, the living room stayed golden and still, the kind of stillness that only came with love that was safe, rooted, and full of unspoken things.

Tee shifted once in his sleep, tucking his face slightly deeper into her thigh. She smiled.

“Big baby,” she whispered again, softer this time.

But she didn’t stop touching him. Didn’t stop running her fingers through his hair.

She wouldn’t.

Not for a while.