#deadlock community

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑯𝒂 .⋆♱

𖤐 Mina's reaction to laning with Reader

“Oh, hello, beautiful, I’m loving your outfit! Wait a second, is that my lipstick you’re wearing?! You know you could’ve just asked to borrow it.. Well, if I ever need a touch-up, I’ll be sure to steal some off your lips~.”

𖤐 Mina requesting to swap lanes to be with Reader

“Yeah, no. If I want anything done, I’m going to need a competent teammate.”

𖤐 Reader assists in Mina’s kill

“You should’ve seen the look on their face when I killed them! Or well- when we killed them, hehe~.”

𖤐 Pocket nearly kills Reader

“Get your PAWS off my Moonlight, Pocket! Are you okay?! Don’t worry, they’re never going near you ever again, I’ll be sure of it!”

𖤐 After the ritual

“So you wanna go shopping after all this? Really?! I knew you’d say yes! Our ruling over all vampires can wait!”

.˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏

𖤐 The Doorman's reaction to laning with Reader

“Do you feel all prepared for battle, my Dear? It’s okay if not, you know I’ll always have your back and make up for any slip-ups. And after the ritual, would you like to accompany me in having tea at the Baroness? Your presence would be delightful~.”

𖤐 The Doorman assists in Reader’s kill

“Thanking me? That was most certainly all you. You really showed them no mercy~..”

𖤐 The Doorman scares Reader through a door he suddenly placed

“Boo! Haha, your frightened face is so adorable! Apologies, Darling, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay in York Lane. And from the looks of it, you have it all under control.” 

𖤐 The Doorman protecting the Reader

“You went through my door just in time! And you managed to take out the Bookworm on your way out? I’m quite impressed~.”

𖤐 Adjusting the Doorman’s clothes after a fight

“I’m flattered, Dear. It’s somewhat comical; usually, I’m at your service. I hope you know that the Baroness will always have a room for the two of us~.”

-ˋˏ✄┈ 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒆

𖤐 Paige's reaction to laning with Reader

“You want to know how my story is going? Oh, it’s going great! So great.. NO! No, you can’t read it! It’s too embarrassing.. Okay, well, maybe after the ritual, I’ll let you read it. I really do hope you like it..”

𖤐 Healing Paige while you’re both in a fight

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that! I would’ve been completely fine, I think.. You’re right! The protagonist never dies, especially when she has a family to come back home to, haha!”

𖤐 Paige assists in Reader’s kill

“That was incredible! You reminded me of the knight in the book I read this morning! You want me to be your princess? Only as long as I get to be your princess in shining armor, haha! Matching suits of armor?! Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

𖤐 Sneaking into the enemy base with Paige

“I’m really scared they might catch us.. I’m the bravest person you know? Oh, that’s so sweet.. Okay..! I can do this. We can do this! Let’s get those enemy shrines while they’re distracted!”

𖤐 After the ritual

“Okay, fiiine, I’ll let you edit my story after the ritual. But don’t judge me, it’s still not done! And don’t get suspicious if the main character is similar to a certain person I love. What? I didn’t say anything, haha!

𝑷𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕 “𝑨𝒓𝒊𝒏” ⋆˚✿˖° 𓆏

𖤐 Pocket's reaction to laning with Reader

“It’s nice to see a face that I can trust.. Well, I know it’s a given, I am your partner after all, but it’s just nice to verbalize it to my Love…”

𖤐 Healing Pocket after a fight

“I’m okay, I promise. Though, I’ll admit, it feels really nice for you to be taking care of me as you always do, no matter our circumstances..”

𖤐 Reader is impressed by Pocket

“You thought I looked attractive when I finished off the Doorman? Oh, it’s nothing.. Thank you. I won’t let him get close to you, my Love.”

𖤐 There’s an enemy Mina

“Don’t worry, my Love, you know you have my heart. If I see her, I’ll hide in my briefcase for you, haha. But on a serious note, know that I belong to you, eternally.”

𖤐 After the ritual

“After this, you said you wanted to get ice cream? I’m down..! I won’t be able to hang around for long, as you know, but I hope you know every moment I have with you is precious.” 

© luvvforlife ✧.* all characters belong to valve from the game “deadlock” that is still currently in its play test as i’m writing this. the reader belongs to you, and all voiceline headcanons belong to me, aigis.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ Your back presses up against the wall, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you hug your [weapon] close to your chest, curling your body to be as small as possible. All of your comrades have fallen, and you were the last alive, fleeing the scene using a nearby zip line, but not without leaving unscathed.

It’s hard to focus on what course of action you have to take when nearly all your health is gone, your healing items are all used up, your stamina is depleted, and you’re far away from your base. You could only pray that the enemy wouldn’t find you.

And if they did, you could only hope they would show you mercy. 

It would still be a long while until your comrades were able to respawn, so you decide to stay where you are now. It’s better to wait for all your cooldowns to come back in case you run into an inescapable and inevitable fight. Given the nature of the entire battle, your life is too crucial to take any reckless action. 

A few seconds have passed, and your labored breathing has finally calmed down enough for you to take a peek around the wall, making sure the coast is clear before you book it back to base. 

Clutching your [weapon] as you’re about to step out of the alley, an enemy cuts your path short as you nearly bump into them, not just any enemy, but The Doorman. 

His piercing blue eyes, which seem to resemble the heavens, peer right into your soul, but remembering how ruthless he was fighting against your teammates, you know he is nothing compared to an angel. 

“Fancy seeing you here, [Name],” he charmingly greets you, giving you a pleasing grin, his sweet greeting contradicting the gun he was aiming right at you. 

“Hello, Doorman,” you greet back, holding your arms up in surrender as you take a step back. 

Your heart beat picks back up, the calm moment you had was short-lived as panic crept back into your body. Every step back you take is another confident stride forward that the Doorman takes. 

“It’s a shame your team has left you alone, my dear,” the Doorman fake mourns, a subtle smugness you can’t miss dripping from his tone. 

Your back suddenly hits the wall, cornered, dread fills your veins as the realization processes in your head: you found yourself at a dead end. 

“You killed them all,” you spit out, eyebrows knit together as the Doorman’s words torment your mind. 

He was toying with you like a predator does with its prey. 

“Oh yeah,” the Doorman chuckles, leaning in close, close enough for you to feel his breath fan against the shell of your ear, “well, I’m sure your team wouldn’t mind if we kept you company until they come back.” 

You swallow thickly, replaying his words carefully through your mind. Oddly enough, comfort washes over your form when the Doorman stashes his gun away. 

You are at ease; perhaps he doesn’t want to pose any threat to you. 

That’s when your eyes widen, “What do you mean by ‘we’?” 

The Doorman doesn’t respond to you; instead, a door opens from behind you as the Doorman pushes you through it, knocking the wind out of you as your back meets a hard chest, dropping your [weapon] in the process.

“Well, hello to you, too, darling,” a rugged voice speaks from behind you, holding you by your shoulders. You look down to see his long, clawed fingernails digging into the fabric of your clothing. 

Instantly, it clicked in your head just whose hands they belong to as you sheepishly turn your head. A shiver runs down your spine as Drifter’s red orbs practically size you up.

“Hi,” you meekly shudder out, standing in fear like a deer in headlights, knowing you were squished between two powerful and demonic men. 

“You know you in our territory, yeah?” Drifter asks you, using one large hand to play with a strand of your hair. 

You’re shaking now; they can do anything they want; the fact that you’re not bleeding out and limp on the ground was a surprise; a death that never came was torture. 

“Please, I just want to go back to my base,” you plead, quivering, looking down to see Drifter’s hands move down to your waist, still holding you in place. 

“I promise you, [Name],” the Doorman begins, stepping forward but not entering the door he had placed down, reaching out to you to caress your cheek, “you’re safer here with us compared to being caught by anyone else on our team.” 

Your heart continues to race; you aren’t sure if you can trust the Doorman or Drifter, for that matter. Though despite the hold Drifter has on your waist, you admit his touch felt oddly gentle. You notice the Doorman’s hand embracing your cheek while his other hand goes to rub the top of your head. Maybe they are being truthful.

Still, there’s an inkling of concern hidden away inside, “What is it that you both want?” 

There’s a chuckle that erupts from behind you. Drifter rubs your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder, “We’ve seen the way you been looking at us, [Name].” 

 “What?!” You shout, flailing around in Drifter’s hold, wanting to escape before you’re humiliated to death by the two attractive men. 

When did they get so hot? 

“Oh, you make it so painfully obvious, [Name],” the Doorman teases, pinching your cheek and making you grumble at the touch. “Oh, don’t make that face, I’m actually quite flattered.” 

The Doorman reassures you, the grin never leaving his lips, “I’ll have you know that your wandering eyes are one of my favorite things about you.” 

You’re taken aback; you know deep down, somewhere in the back of your head, there is a voice that was telling you that it was wrong to be flirting with the enemies when there are more important matters to be attending to. But there is a louder, passionate, and hungrier voice screaming within you, knowing you want this much more than performing the ritual: to be stuck between Broadway and Greenwich, to be helplessly sandwiched between the Doorman and Drifter. 

A much-needed truce. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try to deny, casting your eyes to the floor, unable to stop the small smile sneaking its way onto your face, feeling shy underneath the intensity of the Doorman’s tall stature. 

You’re suddenly spun around, now facing the Drifter, “Well, I know the type of person you are, when you spot somethin’ you want you’ll always be cravin’ for it.” 

Drifter smirks, licking over his top teeth, flashing his fangs at you, “So why don't cha’ come over ‘ere and kiss me.”  

And with a surge of confidence, you grab the collar of Drifter’s shirt, smashing your lips into his in a hungry and heated kiss, his stubble tickling your face, Drifter’s deep, musky scent surrounding you, his tongue delving into your mouth and savoring your taste. His hand grasps the back of your head, deepening the kiss as your lips move in rhythm. Playfully, you bite into his bottom lip, pulling lightly at the flesh as you suck on it, the groan that emits from Drifter’s throat pleasing your ears and making your knees weak. 

A new set of hands begins to peel your bottoms off your hot skin, you jump, breaking the kiss as you turn your head to look behind you. 

“We unfortunately have to make this quick, lovely,” Doorman responds, removing your undergarments and folding them into a neat pile atop your bottoms on the ground, “but don’t worry, I’ll be sure to prep you well, so just pay attention to Drifter, okay?” 

The Doorman’s high cheekbones, the ones dusted in freckles and in a pink hue, as he admires your half-naked form, is a sight you wish to capture for eternity. 

You could only imagine what other parts of him are sprinkled in those adorable freckles.

“Okay,” you acknowledge, smiling at him, and assuring him that you have given your consent. 

“Good [girl/boy],” the Doorman praises, kissing one of your ass cheeks. 

Before you could respond, Drifter interrupts your moment with Doorman by attacking your neck with kisses and harsh sucks. You mewl loudly, reaching up to lock your fingers in his long, black hair, knocking the newsboy cap off his head. His fangs ghost across your skin, reminding Drifter just how soft and fragile you are in his hold; he really can just sink his teeth into you if he wasn’t careful. 

But with the Doorman busy between your legs, making sure to keep the barbaric man in check. Speaking of which, the Doorman has removed his pristine, white gloves- gingerly sucking on his middle and forefinger, completely covering the muscles with his saliva, lubricating them as much as possible for your entrance. He slips one finger into your hole, curling his fingers while he stretches out the rim for another digit, while his other hand strokes up the back of your thigh. 

You are lost in the different stimulations; they’re vicious with each action, Drifter switching to the other side of your neck, leaving hickies and lovebites in his path, groping your chest from outside your fabrics with his large hands. If only he could just tear all the clothing off your body. The Doorman’s treatment of your body is different, gently fingering you as opposed to Drifter’s rough manhandling of you. He isn’t careful in adding a third finger into your tight hole because he’s afraid of how fragile you are; no, he’s cautious because you are the most precious and interesting thing to him. 

“Love how soft ya’ feel,” Drifter practically growls out, hands now slipping underneath the fabrics as he pinches your nipples, sinisterly twisting the buds, his lust fueled by your whimpers. 

“You’re taking it so well, [Name] dear,” the Doorman coos, thrusting his fingers in and out of you as his other hand fondles your bare ass cheek, marveling at the jiggle of the flesh. 

There is nothing more euphoric than being ruined by two powerful beings, fighting for your attention, yearning for you. You’re like the main character to one of Paige’s eroticas stories she’s mentioned, funnily enough, you know she wouldn’t believe the very position you caught yourself in. 

Abruptly and in sync, the Doorman slips his fingers out of your hole while Drifter pulls away from your ravaged neck. There’s a breathless sigh that you all share until the Doorman suddenly spins you around. The man who was lovingly stretching you out with his delicate fingers, praising you with his smooth voice, his gaze holding an intense and fiery hunger. 

If it weren’t for the Doorman’s self-restraint, he would’ve consumed you. That can be a fantasy the Doorman can indulge in another time, for now, he needs to treat you with tender care and affection. 

Unlike the Doorman, Drifter wanted to break you, his rough hands finding purchase on your hips as he pushed his strained bulge against your bottom half, bending you over. The Doorman holds onto your chin, tilting your head up as you stare up at him through your lashes. 

“Is this okay, darling?” The Doorman asks you once more, making sure you haven’t changed your mind. 

“Yes, please,” you beg, enthusiastically grinding your bare ass against Drifter, who practically growls at your teasing, “I want this.”  

Drifter haphazardly unzips the fly of his pants, slipping his thick cock out from his briefs, the head of his member a raging pink that contrasts against his pale, ghoulish skin with a thick vein trailing up the side. The Doorman is much more patient with you, slowly slipping his pants and boxers off until his cock slaps against his stomach. The Doorman’s cock is longer compared to Drifter’s, curving upwards, his tip equally as pink and dripping precum.

Your mouth salivates at the sight; you need to feel them, you need them to fill you to the brim with their cum. Drifter circles your hole with his cock, coating the outside with thick precum: his way of prepping you, almost like he cares about you. 

With that thickness and his action, the sweetness of the act feels misplaced, knowing how selfish and reckless that vampire normally was, but you know it’s futile; his thickness is going to make your legs sore no matter what. 

“Can’t wait to fuck the lights outta ya’,” Drifter comments, massaging and pulling your ass cheek to the side, adoring the way your hole puckers around nothing. 

Your hands clutch at the bottom of the Doorman’s coat to keep you steady. He brushes and taps the head of his cock against your lips in anticipation, smearing the clear liquid leaking from his cock over your lips. 

“You look astonishing bent over for us, dear,” the Doorman sighs, his hand once again resting on top of your head. There’s a tenderness in his touch as he cherishes the position you were all in. 

Before you can thank the Doorman, Drifter’s patience has finally snapped, pushing his cock into you in one swift motion. Your body lurches forward, moaning loudly as your grip on the Doorman’s coat tightens. 

“Fuck, feels so good,” Drifter hisses, enjoying the tight squeeze you have around his cock.

He pulls out just to quickly shove himself back in, grinning and laughing maniacally by the way your ass slapped against his pelvis. 

You’re practically hypnotizing him by the way your body is reacting to his aggressive ministrations. 

The Doorman pushes the hair that fell across your face to the side, and he gawks at you, your beauty surpassing the artwork displayed at the Baroness.

He relishes all your expressions as Drifter pounds into you, “Take your time, sweetheart,” he comforts. 

Although the Doorman’s hard cock aches for the chasm of your throat, he admits he is just as content watching you getting fucked on Drifter’s cock. He removes one of your hands from his coat, moving it towards the length of his cock as you instinctively wrap your fingers around him. 

Your resilience makes it seem like you were made for this. 

With each snap of Drifter’s hips, his cock reaches deep in the depths of your hole. Your hole aches as it stretches for the Drifter’s unbelievable size, his nails leaving crescent shapes into your soft flesh as his heavy balls slap against you with each harsh thrust. Your body rocks forward, the motion assisting your hand that was leisurely pumping the Doorman’s cock. 

You find the rhythm in the relentless pace Drifter had set, trusting his tenacious grip on your form as you leave a small kiss on the Doorman’s tip. You can’t neglect him any further. Tentatively, you lower your mouth around the head of the Doorman’s cock, sucking on it as you bob your head lower, taking in more of his shaft down your throat. You keep your throat relaxed, even if every time Drifter slides his cock out, he just slams it back into your hole, forcing you to take the Doorman’s cock even further in your mouth. 

One of the Doorman’s hands reaches under your chin, touching your neck and feeling how his cock bulges inside your throat. He shivers as the ridges of your throat expand from his length. He is quite impressed by the work of your mouth. Your mouth that skillfully wets the Doorman’s cock, sucking him and licking up his length as you begin to push your hips against the Drifter, meeting up with his thrusts. 

A pleased chuckle meets your ears, the Doorman resting his other hand atop your head as you continue to slurp around his cock. 

“Naughty [girl/boy], [Name],” the Doorman teases, his booming voice turning you on further as he guides your head down onto him, beginning to thrust his cock down your throat in time with the bobbing of your head, “I wasn’t aware of how much of a slut you were; taking two cocks with ease~.” 

You moan in response, sending vibrations up the shaft of Doorman’s dick, your hole clamping around Drifter. The Doorman’s cock twitches in your mouth, groaning as he keeps a tight grip on the back of your head. 

You feel as helpless as you did each time you found yourself a hotel guest at the Baroness. 

“Hole’s so tight~,” the Drifter breathes sharply, his heightened sense of smell drinking up your pathetic sounds and addicting scent.

You shriek from the harsh slap across your ass cheek, the sting of pain blossoming as the Drifter kneads the flesh with his usual blood-stained hands; the ones that, no matter how many times he washed them, wouldn’t be able to erase the hundreds of lives he’s stolen. 

“Ohoho~, that make ya’ heart beat fasta’~?” He draws out. 

You can’t answer, not when drool begins to seep past the corner of your lips; trying your best to swallow, but with your lips wrapped around the Doorman’s cock, your attempts were useless. 

Everything felt like it was spinning as you put full faith and trust in Drifter to keep you upright, splitting you on the girth of his cock while precum gathers around his shaft. The control the Doorman and Drifter had over you felt exhilarating, your mouth and hole being abused by their cocks while your whole team was still dead. 

All you could do was greedily accept the pleasure being offered on a silver platter, the ripples of the Doorman’s portals creating a magical and surreal scene. At the same time, your body ran feverishly as the contrasting crisp air of New York brushed your body. 

“Fuck,” the Drifter growls past his teeth, giving your ass another slap, the sound echoing, “yer insides feel like heaven.” 

Your jaw goes slack, taking all your willpower to focus on slurping around the Doorman’s cock through the ruthlessness of the Drifter’s thrusts. 

“Tell us how good it feels, my dear,” the Doorman encourages, slipping his cock out from between your lips and letting you breathe, replacing your mouth with his hand as he quickly pumps his cock. 

“It feels so good,” you stutter, your words being interrupted by the Drifter’s powerful thrusts ruining you, “I love it when you use me~.” 

The sound of shared laughter plays in your ears, one with fondness and the other filled with madness. 

“How amusing,” the Doorman teases, jerking himself off as he stares lovingly into your eyes, “look how quickly you pounce for an opportunity like this~.” 

You hum in response, sticking your tongue out as you lick and sucked at the tip of the Doorman’s cock.

Pulling your mouth off the Doorman’s cock, you scream as Drifter’s nails begin to dig into the flesh of your ass, leaving red scratch marks in its path. 

”Scream for me,” the Drifter yells, slapping your ass, the skin of it rippling as small amounts of blood drip down your cheeks from the scratches Drifter inflicted on you, “say ya’ want more!”

You break down, sobbing and pleading as eternal night consumes your senses, “Please, harder! Both of you, please fill me with your cum!”

Your vision blurs as the Drifter pounds into you harder, your helpless body being ravaged by the Doorman and Drifter. The Doorman shoves his cock back into your mouth, his tip instantly hitting the back of your throat, fucking your throat and matching his thrusts with the Drifter. Your body felt sore, the heels of your feet digging into the ground to keep yourself balanced, overpowered by the extreme pleasure washing over you like intense waves. 

Your mind is hazed over, taking every thrust of their cocks, every praise and degrading sentence telling you how much of a good little slut you are, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

There was no announcement, no warning; instead, the Drifter slams his cock inside of you in a sloppy and animalistic pace, heavy balls slapping against you, until finally growling as he bottoms out inside you. In sync, the Doorman’s seed shoots across your taste buds as you cum from Drifter’s last thrust. 

The Doorman lets out a pleased sigh, removing himself from your mouth as you instinctively swallow his load, his taste overwhelming your mouth.

Lying your tongue out, showing him that you swallowed every last drop of his cum, “You’re exquisite, [Name] dear.” 

You whine in response to the loss of pleasure when Drifter finally slips his cock from your hole. Standing up straight with the help of the Doorman, you let out a small huff as you feel Drifter’s cum ooze out of you. 

Turning around, you’re met with Drifter’s charming smile- or as charming a smile as he could muster with his monstrous fangs as he held your chin, “I’ll see you ‘round, sugar.” 

And with that, you’re suddenly pulled out from between the doorway and into the Doorman’s embrace. The door shuts itself instantly as you’re back in the alleyway you were originally hiding in. 

“That hooligan has no manners,” the Doorman scoffs, not attempting to hide his annoyance with the hobo vampire by rolling his eyes. 

His intense blue orbs shift back to you, his sour mood switching the moment his eyes meet yours, and his eyes immediately filling with warmth, “Let me clean you up, darling~.” 

“Okay,” you agree, still a bit out of breath from your earlier rendezvous. 

On wobbly legs, the Doorman guides your hands to the brick wall of the alleyway. You’re confused for a moment until you feel the Doorman’s cold hands spread your legs apart. 

Oh. 

You whimper at the sudden prod of his tongue, lapping up at the juices that spilled from your hole. He spreads your cheeks open with his hands, the flesh of your ass burning underneath his palms, his tongue delving into every crevice, cleaning you up, and savoring the taste of you and the Drifter across his taste buds. 

Once satisfied with his work, the Doorman pulls away, licking his lips, “Let’s get you clothed now, shall we?” 

He insists on helping you get dressed, the small domestic act making your heart flutter. When your underwear and bottoms are on, he adjusts the fabrics of your top, fanning off any dust that may be on it. 

There’s a dusting of pink across the Doorman’s freckled cheeks, taking you in, “You’re beautiful.” 

You sheepishly thanked him, suddenly feeling shy despite everything, “You’re quite charming yourself.”

Taken aback, the Doorman’s mouth hung agape briefly in surprise at the compliment until he grinned, “How sweet of you.” 

A grin overtakes your lips, too, basking in the wholesome moment.

“Do you have any healing amenities on you?” He asks. 

You checked your pockets; surely all your items were off their cooldowns, and luckily for you, they were! 

Quickly healing yourself, letting out a sigh of relief now that the scratches have lost their sting, you’re sure that eventually the rest of your health will come back up passively. 

“It’s still dangerous out there, so I’ll be escorting you personally back to your base,” the Doorman states, holding his arm out for you. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, bashfully interlocking your arm with his. 

“Of course, my dear,” the Doorman chuckles, “unlike that vermin, I am a gentleman.” 

Your nose crinkles in a chuckle of your own, hoping that maybe this can happen again. 

ཐི♡ཋྀ Drifter has no idea how it happened. He was known as the cruel and bloodthirsty Drifter, who tore down and broke all vampiric traditions and stereotypes. He didn’t care for status, riches, eternal youth, romance, or love. He was above those things. That’s what he told himself, that’s what he believed. But lately, it feels like his heart and mind have been disobeying him. His heart left his ribcage and found home on his sleeve.

The Drifter somehow found himself fancying you. It kind of scared him, the feelings he harbored for you as they grew more and more each day. These feelings made him feel small, vulnerable, and weak.

He hasn’t felt like this in centuries.

After meeting you, getting to know you, the way he felt about his feelings started to change. You’re comforting, nostalgic, and you feel like home. The Drifter has always lived his life selfishly, but if he was given one last selfish act, it would be to stay by your side.

Valentine’s Day was fast approaching, and the Drifter knew he needed to get you something special.

But how do you get the right gift for your special someone when you haven’t given a gift to anyone in ages? These aren’t questions or thoughts that typically run through the Drifter’s mind.

But as the Drifter looks into the glass window of a jewelry shop, the perfect gift seems to have arisen.

You’ve left your mark on Drifter’s heart, as if you owned it, and he was going to make sure he’s left a permanent one on your own.

When Valentine’s Day finally arrived, the Drifter was quick to show you the matching necklaces he had gotten for both of you. Don’t ask him how he got them.

Or do! When figuring out what to get you, like a giddy puppy, he so badly wanted to tell you what he had planned to get you days in advance. It’s not his fault; every time he spent time with you, it was like the butterflies swirling in his stomach wanted to creep up his throat, daring him to let slip the special gift idea he had for you.

He swears you’re killing him slowly.

When you choose to walk next to him, and as closely as possible. The shine of your necklace is never able to outmatch the beautiful glimmer of your eyes as the moonlight reflects off them.

The Drifter is completely transparent with you; this isn’t something he’s used to doing. There’s no one else in this world he’d go the extra mile for. The night reflects that as you both take a relaxing stroll together, the Drifter’s arms wrapped around your figure, holding you close, protecting you as you converse back and forth.

His hold on you is firm, and to most it may be suffocating, overwhelming. But to you, it’s exactly what you need.

You’re the person that haunts him when he closes his eyes, and he swears that even in the dark, he still sees your outline, your lovely shape.

ཐི♡ཋྀ You wouldn’t think Billy would be the type to shower the people he loves and cares about with gifts on this special day, but you’d be wrong. In fact, Billy is the type who plans out gifts way in advance. Holidays are so conformist, but his love for you isn’t.

What people don’t give Billy credit for is that he’s observant; his gifts are sweet and handmade, showing you just how much he pays attention to you.

Attached to your waist is a little plushie that looks like you, because Billy remembers the time you pointed out the goat plushie he often brought along with him. He remembers letting you hold it, awing at the craftsmanship, hugging it close. He’d steal it back from you, turning his face in embarrassment, wishing it were you giving him hugs. But the memory of your happy face holding the little plushie made him realize he needed to do something to bring it back.

Adorning your figure is a jacket that Billy has taken the time to decorate just for you. Billy points at all the designs he’s added in fabric paint and what they all mean. There are handmade pins, grommets, chains, studs, patches, and spikes that litter the garment. He’ll help you slip the jacket over your shoulders, letting your arms rest in the sleeves. When he takes a step back, he’s in awe. You look amazing.

Billy rubs the back of his neck, flusteredly telling you how he tried not to go too intense on the design, just in case you wanted to make it yours with your own embellishments.

You can only smile, rushing to his body with your own, embracing him. Billy may be caught off guard, but he will always return your hugs. Your warmth is something he never realized he’s been missing in his life.

Billy then would slip a cassette tape into your hands along with a portable player: a mixtape with the list of songs he’s lovingly and selectively chosen that either reminded him of you, or songs he thought you may enjoy. It’s a gift you can’t enjoy at the moment, after all, you’ve got a concert for two that Billy has bought the tickets for. But whenever you do listen to it, you realize just how lucky you are to have met someone who knows you so intimately.

The concert is wild, featuring several punk bands performing that night, with loud music resonating within your heart.

Billy sticks by your side the whole night, whether that’s choosing to be off to the side, just enjoying the music. Unless you’d rather get closer to the stage, dancing and singing your hearts out. Or maybe you want to be in the pit, then Billy makes sure no one is too forceful or aggressive with you. Your Billy is protective; he won’t hesitate to ram into anyone with his horns if that means you feel safe and get to thoroughly enjoy yourself at the concert. Kind of like your own bodyguard! He knows you’re strong; he knows that all too well, after all, your strength is one of his favorite things about you. But tonight, he doesn’t want you to worry at all about being strong. Let him take care of everything and have you enjoy yourself.

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑨𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒔

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑩𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒑

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑩𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒐

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑫𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑫𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑫𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒚 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒆

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝑳𝒐𝒗e, 𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒖𝒔

ཐི♡ཋྀ The Baroness was completely booked on Valentine’s Day, which makes sense, but what people didn’t know is that the Doorman had rented every room just so you could enjoy the Baroness and its services alone. This is a gift he must give you to show his gratitude because you’re the most interesting human he gets to observe and dedicate himself to.

His favorite human for showing him what it means to be just that: human.

The day starts with you waking up to the delicious smell of your favorite breakfast foods. Opening your eyes, you’re suddenly surrounded by the warmth, plush pillows, and comforters belonging to one of the suites at the Baroness Hotel. Not too far from you is the Doorman pushing a breakfast cart towards the side of the bed.

If you’re comfortable, the Doorman would love to personally feed you. Today, he wants to treat you like royalty. The Doorman’s got you, so don’t even think of lifting a finger today.

After breakfast, it’s spa services. Massages, facials, you name it! Today is about relaxation. The Doorman has always been a giver, and he finds great enjoyment in watching your content and calm expressions as every muscle in your body relaxes. The session is filled with small talk with your favorite fragrance dancing around the room from the scent machine, a comfortable quietness that neither of you thinks is worth interrupting, just enjoying each other’s presence and company.

The Doorman nearly forgets to blink, forgets to breathe, though I guess he doesn’t need to. Your precious skin underneath his hands is something he lovingly worships, whispering to himself all the things he adores about your soul.

The whole experience feels euphoric; you’re sure you’ve nearly fallen asleep between each touch. He’s gentle, yet firm, making sure he really works through all of your tension.

Such an exquisite human; The Doorman can admit that. He’s been blessed by your being on a special day for the living. Love has always fascinated the Doorman. He wonders what love looks like. What does it feel like?

They’re questions that ring in his head as we transition to the hotel lobby, embracing your form in a little dance, a slow and intimate song humming from the gramophone. The skin of his hands touching your own, he can't help but feel the gentle expression that takes over his features. With you, it’s hard to control his form. You feel so fragile in his hold; he’d mend and mold himself to match you, to protect you, to love you.

When he looks down at you, into your [color] eyes, the smile that never leaves your lips, perhaps he’s perfect the way he is.

His arms outstretched, putting you in a spin, you’ve easily become his whole world. Or maybe you were the sun, with the way you radiate and brighten your entire surroundings, the way you radiate and brighten against him.

In all the years the Doorman has been living, somewhere deep inside him, in his heart, in his soul, he knows that there is no one in this whole universe, in all dimensions, who is like you.

⋆˚✿˖°

The ascent up the stairs to your apartment complex feels long and agonizing. With every step feeling heavier than the last, your hand on the stair railing keeps you up while your face contorts in a grimace, remembering your awful work shift. 

But you keep your head up high, holding the bouquet of wildflowers close to you as you’re now in front of your apartment door. You let out a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding in, and the tension in your shoulders feels a bit less tense. 

Work may have been stressful, but you’re not going to let it ruin your day. Instead, you let the butterflies fluttering in your stomach consume you as a shaky hand goes to unlock the front door. 

It was your anniversary with Pocket, and although dating for a year now, you can still feel your heart wanting to leap out of your ribcage. Your warm, clammy hand contrasts against the cool metal doorknob as you turn it, opening the front door. 

Your apartment, despite being small, is humble and cozy. Gradually, your minimalist home begins to fill with the clutter and belongings of your partner. It started with Pocket’s shoes, making a permanent home next to your own by the front door, the second toothbrush living in the cup on your bathroom sink, or the half-empty bookshelf you’ve been meaning to add more books to, now complete with Pocket’s favorite pieces of literature. 

Your eyes scan across the open kitchen and living room, your eyes locking on with Pocket’s. They close the book they were reading, standing up from the armchair in excitement at your presence, running towards you as you ready your open arms to embrace them, meeting them in the middle of your shared home. 

“Happy anniversary, Pocket,” you whisper into their ear, giggling to yourself when you feel Pocket’s lips against your neck.

“Happy anniversary, my love.” 

After a moment, removing themself from your neck, but not pulling away, they plant a small kiss on your lips, one that you reciprocate back with a smile. 

When pulling away, you note the small blush across Pocket’s cheeks as you unwrap your arms from around them. 

“These are for you,” you say, bringing the bouquet close to them. 

Pocket’s eyes widen, looking over the wide variety of wild flowers present in the bouquet with a grin, “They’re beautiful.” 

Pocket’s decaying hand accepting the flowers, the hand that was a reminder to them of their troubled past. 

“I believe they represent new beginnings,” you chime in, relishing in the way Pocket hugs the bouquet. 

And as you take in the sight of Pocket standing in the open area where your kitchen and living room meet, your heart soars. 

The sound of Pocket’s laughter surrounds you, “I’m glad to start this new beginning with you.” 

In a home, Pocket never thought they’d have a partner who they love dearly, to live comfortably as themselves: Pocket truly is the luckiest. 

In unison, you both move towards the kitchen island, as if it were practice, having performed these motions many times: with you emptying the flower vase of its old flowers and washing it clean of its contents, as Pocket begins to prep the bouquet for its new home. 

“How was work, my love?” Pocket asks, trimming the ends of the flowers with a pair of scissors you passed to them.

You let out a dramatic, exasperated groan; even just the mere mention of work was terrible as you fill the vase with water, “I was debating on leaving work early all shift.” 

Pocket bursts into a fit of laughter, having to pause their actions to compose themself, “That bad?” 

“You have no idea,” you sigh into Pocket’s shoulder, hugging them from behind as they finish cutting the ends of all the flowers. 

Gathering all the flowers by their stems, Pocket neatly displays the flowers in all their wild glory in the vase.

“They really are beautiful,” you confirm, peering at the side of Pocket’s face from their shoulder. 

Pocket glances in your direction, blushing and shyly looking away once meeting your eyes. “Thank you, my love.”

You and Pocket have been dating for a year now, living together for two. Yet when you look at them, it’s like Pocket was always meant to be here. 

They‘re perfect right where they are. 

They are meant to sleep in late with you on weekends with your legs tangled together, meant to read countless books in the cozy reading nook of the living room, and meant to experience mundane tasks like cleaning and cooking when you are off at work with a smile of accomplishment. 

Living with you, Pocket never realized just what they were missing.

Pocket will always be grateful for being found badly injured on the front steps of your apartment building. Both of you were apprehensive at first. You were unsure whether or not you should’ve invited a suspicious stranger into your home to recover, but the months spent living with Pocket have been the best. Your apartment didn’t feel as lonely anymore.

When Pocket’s health returned, it was difficult for them to admit that they enjoyed your company and presence while they were resting, especially after the attempted assassination. It’s been difficult for Pocket to trust and be honest with others. 

But with your calming voice comforting Pocket through their restless nights, as the pain made it hard for them to sleep, reading aloud the books you had bought them would always soothe them. A type of attention and care they haven’t had since they were young that warmed their heart.

It was lovely to feel that sense of familiarity. 

Pocket also really liked it when it was your day off work and you spent those days with them. The day would start with Pocket sitting at the kitchen island while you cooked, listing all the ingredients and walking them through each step, their eyes holding a certain charm of curiosity. 

Or when it was time to bathe, you would always help Pocket with brushing and drying their hair. They even liked it when you would wash their back and hair for them, even if they were a bit shy to accept your offer.

You never gave Pocket a reason to have any distrust in you. You are kind and caring because you can be, and Pocket will always admire and grow to adore you for that as they continue to live with you. 

Spending all this time with you felt so intimate and personal. Pocket wasn’t sure if they’d ever experience anything like this again, and you weren’t sure either. 

You haven’t laughed and smiled like this in a long time.

So just as Pocket was about to step out of your front door, nourished and healthier than they’ve been in years, you asked them to stay. 

And without thinking about it, Pocket accepted your offer.

The past year was full of moments of being vulnerable with one another, Pocket opening up to you about their dad and the briefcase they’ve been protecting, and the horrors of what it was like living out on the streets in constant fear. 

That night, you promised Pocket that you’d do your best in your power to make them feel safe. You didn’t know it then, but Pocket knew that the walls they’ve built up ever since the day their life flashed before their eyes were coming down, thanks to you. 

Looking back on it, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly when you both started falling for each other. Everything was so natural, gradual. When did the line that separated you both from being roommates to lovers suddenly erase? 

It was true, Pocket and you cared for one another since the very beginning. Touches that lingered were normal, smiles that made your and Pocket’s cheeks hurt were normal, and sitting close to one another on the couch during movie nights was normal. 

You think to yourself, setting the table as Pocket prepares the food onto the plates they made for both of your romantic dinners. 

It could be the time you came home from work, completely exhausted from your tiring shift. All you wanted to do was collapse into your bed and cry into your pillows; overtime was not fun. Stressed from work, and even more stressed considering you had all the chores you needed to get done before you could prioritize yourself. 

When you open the front door, you’re greeted with a spotless apartment with dinner already made, Pocket waiting for you at the table with a propped-up book they had been reading from. 

“You seemed like you were in a rush this morning,” Pocket casually mentions, closing their book, “So I decided to take care of your chores for you.” 

“Thank you, Pocket,” you say, voice wavering as you stumble into their arms, shoes still on, dropping your bag onto the floor, as tears blurred your vision. 

“Of course,” they comfort you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and kissing your cheek.

Pocket pulls away from you, apologizing, “I didn’t mean to-”

“Can you do that again?” You asked. 

Pocket chuckles, wiping the tears that streamed down your cheeks with their thumb, “Of course.”

Closing your eyes, you felt their warm lips across your cheeks once more. 

Someone was taking care of you for once. Not because they owed you, or needed something from you, but because they wanted to. Pocket noticed something was wrong and picked you back up when they saw you were slipping. 

Just because. 

Instinctively, you reach up to touch your own cheek as you reminisce about the moment, smiling to yourself.

“What’s got you smiling?” Pocket asks, drying their hands after washing them. 

“Thinking about your kisses,” you laughed to yourself, now embarrassingly rubbing the back of your neck. 

Pocket smiles, setting the plates at the table as they walk back around to kiss your cheek. Before Pocket could slip from your grasp, you pull them back into your embrace, pressing your lips gently to theirs, savoring their taste as their lips moved in sync with yours. 

Pulling away with a shared sigh, both staring at one another lovingly for a moment, and for this moment, you have to lose yourself in Pocket’s eyes before you break the silence, “Perhaps we should eat now before our food gets cold.” 

“That sounds like a great idea,” Pocket agrees, planting one last kiss onto your lips as you pull out their chair, helping them sit down. 

You sit across from Pocket, mouth already watering at the sight and smell of the home-cooked meal. The meal was clearly made with a surplus of love and care, as the flavor of spices burst immediately across your taste buds after just one bite.

The setting felt romantic and moody, the bulbs of the kitchen light imitating golden hour, painting the two of you perfectly.

Being able to catch up throughout a delicious meal will always be one of the best ways to spend quality time with Pocket.

“So, what was the book that you were reading earlier?” You casually asked. 

Pocket’s eyes widen, their speech interrupted by a fit of coughs from your inquiry, having to take several gulps of their glass of water to compose themself. 

“Oh yeah, I picked it up from the bookstore a while ago,” they try to mention with the same casualness, wiping their mouth with a handkerchief. 

You would’ve left it at that if you hadn’t noticed the small blush dusting their cheeks, or the distant look in their eyes. You could tell Pocket is lost in thought. 

Taking another bite of your meal, you decide to tease them a bit, “What was it about?” 

Pocket bites the bottom of their lip, going silent as they try to think of how to respond to you. 

Shifting in their seat, they finally reply, “It’s a romance book, I believe?” 

“You’re not sure?” You teased, acknowledging the way their sentence sounded unsure. 

Pocket feels their body heat up, the look in your eyes making them want to shrink in their seat; why did you have to look so good? 

The buttons on your work shirt were unbuttoned halfway, giving Pocket an enchanting view of your chest, with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, showcasing your forearms. Meanwhile, your hair, although no longer in its perfect style, remained sexy in a laid-back fashion. 

Pocket blinked to themself, snapping out of their daydream after you had been calling out their name, hoping their arousal wasn’t too noticeable. 

Pocket crosses their legs, shivering from the small friction of pleasure. 

“It was pretty romantic, I’d like to think,” Pocket starts, grinning to themself as a finger circles the rim of the glass cup, “Romantic, yes, but it was also very lewd.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, leaning back into the chair, eyes darkened over with desire, “Why don’t you come here and tell me more?” 

The legs of the chair scrape against the wooden floors as it's pushed out, Pocket excitedly rushing over to sit themselves atop your thigh, their arms instinctively wrapping around your neck. 

Pocket sighs, their eyebrows scrunch together as they feel your hand begin to stroke their clothed thigh, so close to where they need you. 

“From what I read, it was pretty good,” Pocket begins to describe, melting in your grasp, “It made me want to try something new with you.” 

“Enlighten me, wild one.”

Pocket whines, feeling you rub over their crotch from the outside of their pants as you begin to plant kisses on the side of their neck. 

Pocket whispers into your ear, causing your eyes to widen, heat creeping up to your own cheeks. Not wanting to wait any longer, you bring Pocket to your shared bedroom, laying them gently on the soft mattress. 

“So, let me get this right,“ you begin, Pocket hanging onto your every word as you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “You said you wanted me to fuck you like I was breeding you?”

Pocket gulps, sitting up, and allowing you to guide their cold hands to your chest, the warmth of your skin igniting their fingertips like magic. 

“Just like the characters in my book, please.” 

You chuckle to yourself, rubbing at Pocket’s forearms until you grab their wrists, pulling them close until their body is flush with yours, “Your wish is my command.” 

Your lips meet Pocket’s in a passionate kiss as you help them undress. You pull away from the kiss to pull their sweater vest off, your lips instantly latching back to theirs once the clothing item is discarded across the bedroom floor. 

Like muscle memory, your hands expertly untie Pocket’s tie, letting it fall as you unbutton their button-up. Pocket’s arms are wrapped around your torso through your open button-up shirt, the heat from your body radiating off them. 

Your tongue slides across theirs, desperately kissing them as if you both have been starved and deprived. In a sense, you both were. Pocket had only gotten through the day yearning for your return home, dinner awaiting you that would have to be eaten as leftovers. Meanwhile, you had only gotten through the day because of Pocket being at the forefront of your mind. 

Pocket’s tongue is slick against yours; the taste of the previous dinner remains, but you didn’t care as you suckled on the warm muscle, your hand moving down to grope their ass.

Pocket whines against your lips, heart pounding in their ears as they feel themself subconsciously grinding against you.

Anything to relieve the need they had between their legs. 

They will always adore this overwhelming feeling when their body acts on its own, seeking out whatever pleasure it can find. 

You pull away from the kiss, breathless as you stare down at Pocket, who is also panting. You stripped yourself of your button-up, feeling much more comfortable now that the fabric was off your body. Turning to Pocket, you help them remove their arms from the sleeves of their shirt, setting aside the garment as you gently hold their hands. 

Their eyebrows furrow at the sight of the purple skin of their decaying arm as opposed to their other untouched arm.

You bring their hands closer to you, kissing the delicate skin, “You’re beautiful, Pocket.” 

Their expression instantly softens, basking in the affection in your eyes. 

“You’ve been through a lot, and tonight I will be sure to take such good care of you,” you plant another kiss on their knuckles, “because you deserve it.”

Flustered, Pocket looks away with a big grin, “Gosh, you’re such a mush.” 

“I get it, I get it,” you teased, putting your hands up in fake surrender, “you just want me to get to stuffing your pretty hole.” 

Pocket whimpers from your vulgar language, tilting their head to the side and allowing you access to kiss their neck: starting from behind their ear until you finally trail the kisses to the space between their neck and shoulder. 

Pulling your face out from Pocket’s neck, you whisper into their ear, “My partner just wants to be bred like a cute little housewife, yeah?” 

Pocket hums in response, covering their mouth with the back of their hand, their other hand resting atop your hand that is rubbing their crotch from the outside of their trousers. 

Pocket’s head felt like it was spinning; they couldn’t believe you agreed so enthusiastically to their idea. You can’t believe it either. When living with someone, you inevitably learn a great deal about each other, especially in two years.

But even some skeletons in the closets can go unseen if you aren’t told about them. 

Always a fantasy Pocket kept pushed down, down the garbage disposal as they prepared dinner. Even in the back of their mind, they wished you would come home and take them over the kitchen counter as they adorned nothing but a pinky and frilly apron.

Frustratingly, Pocket pushes your hand away from their crotch so they can quickly remove their pants and underwear, now completely bare. 

“Impatient are we?” You ask, chuckling to yourself as Pocket lets out a huff.

“You have no idea,” they confirm, guiding your hand to their folds. 

Swiping your two fingers up their folds, your fingers immediately coating in their slick, “ Oh, you poor thing, if I had known you were this needy, I would’ve made sure you were stuffed every day.”

Pocket moans when they feel you begin to rub their t-dick, spreading their essence around as you start to nip at the side of their neck.

“Please,” they beg, lying across the fortress of pillows and blankets that make up your shared bed as you suck and kiss at the side of their neck. 

Leaving one last kiss on their neck, you coo into their ear, “Looks like I’ll have to make up for lost time.” 

Lowering yourself so your face is right in front of their cunt, you plant a small kiss on their t-dick before licking up the muscle. Your tongue flicks back and forth against the bundle of nerves before your lips pucker and slurp around it, your arms clutching around Pocket’s thighs as they drape around your shoulders. 

Pocket stares down lovingly at you through half-lidded eyes, their hand resting atop your head as the other grips the sheets of the bed. You work your tongue, applying just the right suction in a way that Pocket has always liked. Your tongue memorizes every nook and crevice as you wet their clit and cunt with your spit. 

One hand reaches out to press against Pocket’s stomach as your other hand strokes up their slit. Your fingers delve between their folds, rubbing their cunt until you let one finger slip inside them. 

A whimper slips past Pocket’s glossy lips, wanting to bury their face in the pillows, their cunt tightly wrapped around your finger. 

With your other hand rubbing at their stomach, you lift your head off their cunt as you regain your breath, “You would look so pretty with your belly all round and full.”

You both know that will never happen, yet some fantasies can still be enjoyable to think about and indulge in. 

Pocket moans, cunt fluttering around your finger as you start to thrust them in and out of them, their pussy practically gushing around just one finger as your mouth continues to pleasure their t-dick. 

“Please,” they mewl through gritted teeth, eyebrows furrowed, the pleasure sneaking right up their back.

You chuckle to yourself, the sound vibrating around Pocket’s clit, “Did that turn you on, my precious wife?”

Slipping another finger into Pocket’s cunt, curling them until you hit that sweet spot that always made them roll their eyes back in pleasure. 

“I can feel you tightening around my fingers,” you comment, your fingers continuing their teasing ministrations as Pocket’s wetness begins to soak into the sheets. 

Pocket whimpers, the slurping around their t-dick, the relentless pace of your fingers making their legs twitch, as an electrifying feeling creeps up their spine. 

Lost in all of the pleasure, a knot creates itself in the pit of their stomach. 

Pocket is putty in your hands, shaping them with your skillful mouth and fingers, inching them closer and closer to their release.

They attempt to push your head off their clit, afraid of reaching their orgasm too quickly. But they can’t help it, you know exactly what buttons to push to have their toes curl, their back arching off the mattress, and their hands gripping the bed sheets. 

“Please,” Pocket begs, hips subconsciously bucking to meet the thrusts of your fingers, “I’m so close.”

You shoot them a wicked grin, “Go ahead, cum for me like a good, slutty wife.” 

All Pocket can see is white, letting themself get overwhelmed by the pure bliss of their orgasm. And like a dam that has burst, Pocket moans loudly as their cunt flutters around your fingers, squirting into the palm of your hand, soaking your hand completely. 

“There we go!” You exclaimed, continuously thrusting your fingers inside their cunt, encouraging Pocket to ride out their orgasm.

Pocket whimpers from the sensitivity, legs twitching as you slowly withdraw your fingers. The sound of Pocket catching their breath fills the room, giving them a small kiss to the side of their temple, telling them you’ll be right back. 

Your figure discreetly slips out of the room, only for you to quickly come back with a glass of water. With Pocket finally catching their breath, they chug down the water until it is all gone, as you tuck some of the hair that fell into their face out of the way.

“You did amazing, Pocket,” you reassure, caressing their cheek as they lean into the warmth of your hand.

“Thank you,” Pocket says, grinning up at you as they set the empty glass on the nightstand.

“Do you think you have enough energy to keep going, my love?” You ask, holding Pocket’s chin, stroking their bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

“I should,” Pocket answers, beginning to paw at your bottoms, wanting you to undress completely.

“Perfect,” you comment, “care to help me out?”

Pocket nods, getting up from the bed to go to the nearby closet to return with [a condom packet and lube./a condom packet, lube, and a strap-on]. Setting the contents on the bed, Pocket gets down on their knees and slips off your bottoms along with your underwear. 

They help you slip the condom onto your [cock/strap-on], applying lube to it in preparation.

Pocket lies back onto the bed, spreading their legs eagerly. Their head is crowned by the pillows, looking like a monarch as their fingers spread their pussy lips apart. 

“You ready, lover?” You ask, guiding the tip of your [cock/strap] up their folds, smearing their slick around, “Ready for me to fill your pretty cunt?”

Pocket feels a shudder crawl up their spine, their arm wrapping around you and ushering you closer, their decaying arm leaving a cool sensation across your back. 

“I’ve never been more ready,” Pocket sighs dreamily.

Slowly pushing your [cock/strap] into Pocket’s cunt, easing the length into them with a shared exasperated groan. You both look down, watching the length disappear into them, a sight that never gets old. 

You don’t move, letting Pocket adjust to the sudden thickness, peppering their neck and face with kisses, distracting them from any discomfort. From underneath you, you feel Pocket begin to shift, grinding their hips against yours, signaling their need. 

You chuckle, pressing one last kiss over Pocket’s lips as your hands grip the underside of their thighs, “I got it, I got it.”

“So needy,” you tease, kissing the side of their leg, slowly moving your hips back, “I’ve got you, dear.”

Thrusting your [cock/strap] back into Pocket, that electric pleasure coursing through their body as the tip of your [cock/strap] kisses their G-spot. Pocket’s moans are immediate, their walls wrapped lovingly around the girth. 

Pocket’s eyes practically roll back, their desire in the form of drool seeping from the corners of their lips, “I love being stuffed with your cock.”

“Oh. I know,” you coo, your thrusts slow and deliberate, making sure Pocket feels the whole length and thickness of your [cock/strap-on], “it feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” Pocket hums, mind going numb from the euphoria, “it feels amazing.”

“So amazing, you want to just live on my cock forever, yeah?” You asked, the condescension in your question building up the pleasure you both are feeling. 

Their body flashes hot, every syllable ringing in their ears as the pace of your thrusts becomes rhythmic. 

Pocket whimpers, too embarrassed to respond to you, slick leaking from their poor cunt as it throbs around your [cock/strap-on]. 

Rocking your hips into Pocket, one of your hands detaches from their thigh to rub smooth circles on their stomach.

“You’ve been such a hardworking, stay-at-home wife,” you remark, the hand that was caressing their stomach trailing down until your fingers reach their t-dick, rubbing the bundle of nerves, “let me make all your thoughts disappear.” 

Pocket’s eyes are half-lidded; they swear they’re seeing stars with the added pleasure of you jerking off their t-dick, with the grinding of your hips that Pocket can just get addicted to: the mixture of pleasure that wraps around them like a blanket. 

You’re taking such good care of them. 

Pocket twitches in your hold, your body overpowering them in every way, feeling safe to hand themself over to you willingly. 

Because Pocket trusts you. 

“Let me make you forget everything but my name,” you whisper into Pocket's ear, leaning in close and licking up the shell of their ear. 

The walls of Pocket’s cunt tighten around your [cock/strap-on], their arms and legs wrapping themselves around your figure, never wanting to let you go. 

This slight change in position makes Pocket feel your [cock/strap] deeper. Their breathing picks up as the speed of your thrusts starts to increase, generously rubbing their t-dick in unison. 

“Fuck, [Name],” Pocket whines, soft brown eyes pleading with you, “I’m close again..” 

You rest your forehead against Pocket’s, their skin warm and slightly damp with sweat, “Yeah? You wanna cum again, sweet thing?”

Pocket’s back arches off the mattress, their slick practically seeping into the sheets, their grip on you like iron, “Please.” 

You chuckle in response, biting into your bottom lip as you thrust faster into their weeping cunt. 

Pocket is just too precious. 

Butterflies swarm your stomach as you start to pant, doing your best to retain the rhythm of your thrusts. Watching Pocket’s cute reaction is just so amusing; you can’t deny how much it is turning you on. 

“Cum for me then, my sweet wife,” you groan, “and don’t hold back.”

At this point, the only thing leaving Pocket’s lips is incoherent pleas, moaning loudly between breaths as you lift their legs over your shoulders, your [cock/strap] burying deeper into Pocket’s precious cunt. The sweet pace you had at the beginning is gone; instead, it’s replaced with the unforgiving and relentless pounding. The sound of their wet cunt taking all of your [cock/strap-on], the headboard hitting the thin walls of your apartment, as the mixture of your shared moans harmonizes throughout the room. 

Whether it is the neighbors or the whole world, you’re going to make sure they know just how much you love and cherish Pocket. 

Bucking your hips, your skin rubbing against one another as Pocket’s eyes wander between their legs to where you’re both connected, watching the way your [cock/strap-on] rams into their cunt, making their mind go dizzy at the sight, a coil in their stomach starts to form. 

It was intense, and Pocket was struggling to breathe. 

Pocket’s eyes are far away, their clit puffy and swollen from all the teasing, their essence dripping down from your [cock/strap]. 

Pocket won’t last long. 

You feel Pocket’s legs begin to shake, signaling to you that they’re about to cum. You capture their lips in a heated kiss, muffling their loud moans, as the tight knot in the pit of their stomach tangles and tightens until it is finally released. 

And with a full body quiver, Pocket’s cunt clenches tightly around your [cock/strap-on], their juices spilling onto you and soaking the sheets. Making a mess of the sheets that you’d both clean up later, as you savor the taste of their lips. 

Your hips continue to slowly grind against Pocket, riding out their orgasm until you both pull away from the kiss, breathless. 

“You did amazing, sweetheart,” you praise, caressing their cheek, “I’m so proud of you.”

Pocket chuckles, leaning into the warmth, still a little out of breath, “I love you,” they murmur into your palm, and kiss the flesh. 

“I love you, too,” you reciprocate back, kissing their forehead, their temple, their cheek, their nose, until you reach their lips. 

Pulling away, you hold onto Pocket, rolling over until they’re on top of you.

‘Whoa!” They exclaim, laughing to themself as they lay their head down onto your chest, listening to your heartbeat. 

You share a moment of silence, rubbing their back as you bask in each other’s warmth, as their walls still lovingly wrap around your [cock/strap].

“Happy anniversary, Pocket,” you softly whisper.

“Happy anniversary, my lover,” Pocket responds, grinding themselves back onto your [cock/strap-on]. 

Your hands instinctively cup Pocket’s ass cheeks, eyes wide in shock. 

“You never got to cum, right?  Want to go for another round?” They ask. 

You chuckle down at them, squeezing the flesh of their ass, “Pocket?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever ask me that question and I say no, shoot me.”

© luvvforlife ✧.* arin "pocket" fairfax belongs to valve from the game “deadlock” that is still currently in its play test as i’m writing this. the reader belongs to you, and the story belongs to me, aigis.

𝑫𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 ‧₊˚✩彡

𖤐 Dynamo’s reaction to laning with Reader

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, Dear! I feel pretty relieved fighting with you by my side, actually. My prediction is that whoever we’ll be up against will have to prepare themselves because together, we’ll be an unstoppable force.”

𖤐 Dynamo assisting in Reader’s kill

“My Love, you truly shine the brightest when you get your way. Don’t worry, I’m all for it! I’m here to enhance your light.”

𖤐 Dynamo healing Reader

“Hey, hey, hey! Are you okay, Sweetheart? I can’t have my Universe dying on me! Just stay close to me, okay? I’ll always be here to protect you.”

𖤐 Dynamo getting distracted

“Oh! Was I spacing out? Sorry, Dear, you just look so astonishing. Yes, I’ll be sure to stay focused on the objective. It’s just that you in this lighting, it makes me want to take you out on a romantic date, haha.”

𖤐 After the ritual

“You remember my promise, right? After this is all over, I would like to spoil you. We can go to our favorite restaurant and spend the whole night together, yeah? Perfect.”

𝑽𝒚𝒑𝒆𝒓 ˖‧ 𓆗 ࣪‧ ˖

𖤐 Vyper’s reaction to laning with Reader

"How's it going, Baby! You come 'ere often? Oh yeah, I would know. I can never forget a sexy face like that. How about after the ritual we go have some fun, yeah? Or if you're that needy, we can find an abandoned alleyway~."

𖤐 Reader assisting in Vyper's kill

"Hey! We could totally be partners in crime! Except let's try not to get caught, because I cannot go back to prison.."

𖤐 Vyper letting Reader know that she'll be farming

"Alright, so I'll be right back. Imma go and farm real quick because I need more souls. I won't be far, but if ya' need my help.. then I don't know yell for me. Okay, Toots?"

𖤐 Vyper scares the Reader from another lane with her fast movement

“It’s just me, Baby! Just wanted to make sure you’re not dead after I left to go gank someone. Oh, don’t give me that look, I’ll try not to scare ya’ again!”

𖤐 Vyper protecting Reader with her ult

“Oh no you don’t, Lash! Don’t even think about putting your hands on them. Now, run, Babe! Get outta here before he’s no longer petrified!”

𝑽𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 ⋆˚ʚɞ

𖤐 Victor’s reaction to laning with Reader

“Remember, Babe, let me take the hits. You know I can handle it. And when they’re distracted, I trust that you’ll finish them off from a far~.”

𖤐 Reader healing Victor

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Dear. Though, I appreciate it~. You make the pain all worth it~.”

𖤐 Reader stealing Victor’s camp

“Oh, you brat! You really needed that camp, huh? It’s okay, I get it, you just wanted to help. Don’t worry, you’re plenty of help, my Love~.”

𖤐 Reader disengaging in enemy fights with Victor

“Just go, my Love. You know me! You know they can’t kill me! I'll be back at your side soon!”

𖤐 After the ritual

“Hot dogs after this is all over? It’ll be on me! Yeah, I’ll figure out a way to pay for them, don’t worry. Remember what you told me about how with life you need to treat yourself? We both deserve exactly that~.”

𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑮𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒕 ♬⋆.˚

𖤐 Lady Geist’s reaction to laning with Reader

“Oh, would you look at that. If it isn’t my lovely partner~! Don’t worry, Dear, with the power of Oathkeeper, I’ll be sure to have them all suffer. We’ll get exactly what we want after the ritual~.”

𖤐 Lady Geist healing the Reader with self drain

“Please, come here, my Darling. Behind this wall, let me give you some of my life. It’s okay, I do not need it as much as you. When those fools get overly confident, I’ll be sure to make a soul exchange~.”

𖤐 Lady Geist complimenting Reader’s kill

“You look so fabulous, Darling~! You really did them a favor, no one deserves to be seen wearing that hideous thing..”

𖤐 Reader assisting in Lady Geist’s kill

“You truly let me shine, my Dear~! My heart soars each time we’re able to synchronize on a kill. You’re the exact reason why I sing, my Love~.”

𖤐 Reader healing Lady Geist

“Thank you, my Love. I needed that after that turmoil. I still look beautiful, right? Good! Don’t worry, I will make them pay in order to protect you~.”

© luvvforlife ✧.* all characters belong to valve from the game “deadlock” that is still currently in its play test as i’m writing this. the reader belongs to you, and all voiceline headcanons belong to me, aigis.