#'i feel like you should have more thumbs?' is. oh. this conversation only gets better

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x flexible! reader, AFAB reader, allusions to PIV sex

Eddie finds out you're double jointed.

A/N: This one's super self indulgent because I'm very bendy and I felt like writing about it. Also they smoke weed but everything's consensual✌️

"C'mon, there's gotta be something about you I don't know already", he prompts after another smoky exhale, blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It wisps out into the evening air beyond the back doors of his van, opened out to overlook a moon dappled lover's lake.

This is what the conversation had dwindled down to after having spent the whole day together, most other talking points already stretched thin by now.

Usually you would have considered the question more carefully but now that your intuition's been dulled by his stash, you search through the foggy corridors of your mind for an answer like you're feeling around for a light switch in the dark.

Eddie has been your closest friend for the better part of five years now and you weren't exactly a closed book by any means which made coming up with something all the more difficult.

Most of what comes to mind feels too mundane to mention so you pass them over in favor of searching for something that might pique his interest.

"Hmm, I'm kind of double jointed I guess", you slowly recalled, too mellowed out to realize the kind of implications something like that might carry to a man like Eddie.

But where there should have been raised eyebrows and a lascivious curve on his lips you find his eyes narrowing into a puzzled little squint instead as he looks at you from where he's leaned against the back of the driver's seat.

"But we've only had one", he turns the joint in his hand over to examine it closer as if a second one might be hidden somewhere underneath.

Maybe you'd given him too much credit.

You roll your eyes at him playfully, leaning closer on your hands and knees to pluck the joint out of his hand and take another puff. The weed might have made him a little slow and sluggish to fully comprehend your what you'd just shared with him but not enough to prevent him from sneaking a peek at your cleavage from this angle.

"No Eddie, it just means I'm flexible. Like, a little more than most people", you return to your side of the van, leaning back against the side door with your knees pulled up to your chest.

"So, like the splits?"

"More than that"

"More?", his eyes go wide and you can see a hint of redness bordering his sclera, certain the same tinge is present in own eyes too.

"Yeah, like check this out", you hand him back the last of the joint for him to finish off and put out. Holding up your left hand, you fold your thumb into your palm and gather the rest of your fingers with your right hand, slowly bending them back beyond what he thought to be your limit.

The unnatural arc might have unsettled anyone else but not Eddie and you begin to giggle when his face lights up instead of twisting into a wince.

"Shit, does that hurt?"

"Nope", you start to beam a little, letting him take your hand in his when he reaches for it eagerly.

Carefully, he manipulates them, making them bend in all kinds of ways; touching your thumb to your forearm, pushing the first joint of each finger back as far as possible.

"Oh that's fucked", he smiles big and wide as if he could gladly spend an entire day just messing around with your fingers.

"What else can you do?"

His impress fills you with a new kind of high, one much more heady than the weed and you fail to resist it now that you've gotten a taste.

"Mm, I can get my legs behind my head too", you shrug, this time much more aware of what you're divulging.

"Seriously? both of them?", he manages to ask calmly enough though you can almost feel him buzzing under his skin like a cicada about to take flight.

"Yeah, don't even really have to stretch to do it"

His jaw tenses, his normally expressive face unreadable before he quietly asks, "can I see?"

Oh this is dangerous. You feel like you're entering uncharted territory in your friendship but you like the look stirring in his eyes too much to deny him.

"Maybe just one", you offer, thankful that you're wearing your cotton shorts today instead of something denim.

Sitting criss cross on the old blanket he uses to carpet the back of his van for smoke sessions, you slip off your flip flops and place both hands on your right foot. With your left hand cradling the ball of your foot and your right hand gripping your heel, you begin to lift your leg up past your chest.

The underside of your thigh which he only gets to secretly ogle on days when you're dressed like this is bared to him as you get your calf over your shoulder, no trace of pain or discomfort on your face. Dropping your right hand, you duck your head slightly to maneuver your foot over it with your left hand then it's done. Your foot slips into place behind your head, heel nudging the nape of your neck. You're able to straighten up to look him in the eye, shooting him a wink while you wiggle your toes.

"There. Not so hard", you can't help but show off, drunk on the stunned look etched on Eddie's face.

And then his eyes trailed lower.

He does it quickly -- a mental snapshot that he'll file away for later. He memorizes the way your shorts have ridden up, so tight around your core he can make out the print of your underwear and the shape of your cunt beneath the stretched out fabric, wishing he could rip the stitches of the offending material apart and fit his tongue there instead.

Pleased with your display, you untangle yourself smoothly, limbs returning to their rightful alignments as Eddie takes a few seconds to blink himself out of his thoughts. His entirely non platonic, downright debaucherous thoughts.

"Woah that was...wow", he settles, pressing his lips together before his motormouth revs up and he lets out something he'll regret. 'You're like a sexy stretch Armstrong', nearly makes its way through but he's able to bite on to it and swallow it back down just in time.

"You're the first guy I've ever shown that to", you laugh but it comes out a little weak now that you're processing what you've just done.

"Seriously? what about Mark?", he asks, face scrunching up slightly like the name left a bad taste in Eddie's mouth.

The mention of your last ex sobers you up even more. "No, I never told him", you tell him simply, smothering down a laugh. The truth was Mark's idea of kinky was leaving the lights on so you never brought up your little contortionist act, afraid it would be too much for him to handle.

"Don't think he would have been into it", you tell Eddie instead and he looks back at you, deadpanned.

"What?"

"Sorry I just find that really hard to believe", he clears his throat, barely disguising his own interest.

The silence that follows has a certain weight to it. It's a familiar kind of weight that you've felt before on days when you're alone with Eddie and the line between friends and something more begins to blur. The weight of possibility.

"Always wanted to try it", you add, hoping like hell that you haven't misread that hungry look in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I don't know just seems like it could be...fun?", you shrug, a not entirely successful attempt at appearing nonchalant because you've begun to sweat. The van feels far too small all of a sudden which doesn't make sense because you're nowhere near as close as you would like to be with the boy who's seems to be stuck on what to say next.

Call it a leap of faith or call it a huge fucking mistake but you decide to take the plunge and ask him the question that's been beating on the inside of your cranium like a hammer on a nail.

"Eddie, would it be weird if I ask you to-"

"Yes", he answers quickly. Resolutely.

The swiftness of it hurts like a guillotine coming down on your heart -- shot down before you'd even finished the question so you swallow down your regret like a throatful of gravel.

"R-right. Yeah I know it was stupid of me to even try to-"

He doesn't know where he went wrong until he sees your bottom lip tremble and the confidence you'd worn up until now completely strip away, realizing you've mistaken him eagerly jumping the gun for flat out rejection.

Eddie's hands come down on your shoulders as he bolts up to kneel in front of you, shaking you to shock the tears away before they have a chance rise and turn your eyes glassy.

"No! I mean yes, it's not not weird but I don't care because YES, I want to um, do that with you… is what I meant"

His grip eases up but his eyes stay wide to read your expression, chest no longer feeling like an anvil had been dropped on it when a smile breaks out on your face, the kind that feels like it could reach beyond his ribcage and touch his heart.

"Really?", you ask, somehow understanding him perfectly. If there was anyone who could make sense of Eddie's nonsense it was you.

"I mean, if you want to...", he leans closer when he catches you looking at his lips.

"I do want to", you lean in too, hands smoothing up his chest, bringing your lips closer to his.

For all the effort he put into keeping his unfiltered thoughts from spilling out it's just his luck that he stumbles over the very last hurdle before the finishing line.

"Oh my god I'm going to fold you like a pretzel"

It's so abrupt and silly and just so Eddie that you can't help but laugh, dropping your head. His lips skim your forehead and he laughs too, both of you holding each other, locked in a giggle fit until it tapers and subsides.

When you do look back up the heat that had been there before his gaffe returns tenfold. "Maybe leave the dirty talk to me", you place a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

[freedomfireflies]

Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun pt. 2*

Summary: The sequel to Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun

You find yourself sat next to the Harry Styles on a plane.

And what better way to get to know each other than a quick induction into the Mile High Club?

Word Count: 2.1k

(Thank you for letting me spam you guys for one whole year🥹💞 I love you!!!!!)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

“Hi, Stranger.”

Harry grins as he pulls the small door shut, secluding the two of you in the world’s smallest bathroom. “Hi.”

“Gonna be honest, I didn’t expect you to show,” you admit.

“Oh?” His arms cross as he takes a step closer, effectively closing the only gap between you. “And what about our earlier conversation suggested I wouldn’t?”

“Well, maybe the fact that you’re all talk and no game,” you retort, eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Or the fact that you don’t seem like the quick-airplane-bathroom-fuck type.”

“I have a song about eating pussy, is that not enough?” he teases, a smirk dancing across his lips. “I feel like that should solidify my case.”

“Yeah, you’d think…but no.” Your eyes trail across his jaw, drawn to the sharp curve, intrigued by the subtle beauty. “Maybe if this were the first-class bathroom. Which would make a lot more sense for you.”

“What’s wrong with coach?”

“Nothing. When you’re poor. Which you’re not.”

“And that has to do with us fucking…how?”

You hesitate, mouth clamping shut. “I…don’t know.”

Nodding with an amused grin, he reaches out to place his hand on the small sink and lean forward, trapping you to the wall. “I think you’re nervous.”

“Well no shit, Sherlock.”

He hums, kind eyes helping to relax you. “Guess we’re both more talk than game.”

And maybe you are. Maybe this is nothing more than you calling his bluff. Or calling your own. Maybe this was you getting swept up in the idea of Harry Styles. The man, the myth, the legend. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that you could.

Either way, despite the nerves, you’re oddly tantalized by the idea. Wanting to seize the moment, the opportunity that most people would kill for.

So, you surge forward, and press your lips to his.

It’s a hesitant kiss. On both ends. The first few seconds a tad awkward as you work to wrap your heads around how you got here. How you really feel about it.

And then…something changes.

He steps closer, straightening up to deepen the kiss, and you nearly wilt when his large hand slips around the back of your neck to keep you against him.

Things suddenly feel effortless. Practiced yet relaxed. Mouths and tongues moving together like they were always meant to. Molding seamlessly until all of your air belongs to him.

His other hand finds a home on your hip, pushing you against the small bathroom wall while his knee takes its place between your thighs.

And when he finally pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, it feels as though everything makes sense.

“We can go back to our seats,” he whispers, giving you an out.

But you don’t want an out. 

“No,” you murmur, fingers tangling in the shirt on his chest. “No, you promised to make me scream your name. Can’t pussy out on me now.”

The smirk returns as he brushes his thumb along your cheek. “So I did. But I guess it depends on which name you call me by.”

Your breath hitches.

“You can call me Harry,” he begins softly, dipping back down to ghost his lips across yours, “or you can call me Daddy.”

And discovering that Harry Styles has a Daddy kink makes more sense than it should, and you have to grin as you press your mouth to his. 

“Okay, Daddy,” you agree, just to watch him swallow. “Then why don’t you make good on your promise to fuck me?”

You watch the most beautifully dark expression flash across his face before he’s grabbing onto your waist to spin you around.

Your cheek is pressed to the wall while those large hands that have been taunting you for the past half hour begin to tease you again. Crawling up the inside of your thigh until he can grab onto the waistband of your jeans and yank the material down your legs.

“Just so you know,” he grunts in between the rustling of his belt, “I’m normally pro-foreplay. But I figure we don’t exactly have the time right now.”

“I know,” you agree. “It’s fine.”

He reaches around your hip to slide his palm down your cunt, and you sigh when you feel him cup you in his hand. 

“What’s this?” he hums, rather sadistically as his nose brushes against your cheek. “Guess I didn’t need to work you up, anyhow. Seems you’re already dripping for me.”

Your lashes flutter as he kneads your pussy for a moment before he lets go to take hold of his cock. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, angel?” he whispers, dragging the tip through your throbbing folds just to make you whimper. “You gonna be loud for me? Or are you gonna be quiet?”

More of a rhetorical question, you figure, because the answer is given to him when he pushes in, and you moan fervently.

He chuckles from behind you before it melts into some sort of delicious grunt. “That’s it. So fucking tight, darling. Take it, just like that.”

He pulls out, giving you only a second of reprieve before pushing back in. Stretching you a little more as he drives himself deeper into your cunt.

Your lip flies between your teeth as you swallow a string of curses and whines, desperate to feel him in every way possible.

“You all right?” he calls, and you feel his fingers gently squeezing your hip for reassurance.

It makes you smile. “Yeah,” you say back, nails scratching down the wall. “Go. Keep going.”

He obliges, working himself in at a quicker pace, and you see him watching out of your peripheral.

He seems mesmerized by the way his cock disappears into you. Addicted to the sounds now beginning to echo around the small space. Mixing in beautifully with his soft pants and your anguished whimpers.

“S’a good girl,” he murmurs beneath his breath, almost as if it wasn’t meant for you. “Fucking taking me so well, look at you. Pretty pussy just stretching for me. Likes having Daddy’s cock, doesn’t she?”

And maybe you shouldn’t be surprised by the filth coming from his mouth, but you are, and it makes you clench until you’re both gasping.

“Shit, angel,” he groans, burying himself a little deeper as you keen. “Like it when I talk to you like that, hm? Not so vanilla now, yeah?”

You want to thank your lucky stars for that damn book that led you both to this moment, nodding quickly as you squirm back against him. “Yes, Daddy—”

He pushes in to the hilt, overcome by the pleasure your words provide. His chest presses to your back, and instantly, you reach over your shoulder to grab onto his curls. Needing to hold him in some way.

“Fuck,” you sigh, vision hazy as your body works to accommodate him. “Okay go. Go, Harry, go.”

He smiles at the use of his name, and it does something strange to the butterflies already fluttering in your stomach. 

“Okay,” he agrees, pulling back and readjusting his grip on your waist to keep you steady. “Be good, yeah?”

The faster pace begins. Hard thrusts that nearly knock the wind from your lungs as your body shakes with each snap of his hips into yours.

It’s oddly satiating. Perfectly full and teasingly relentless. Quick fucks aren’t normally your forte, but this? With Harry? In the world’s tiniest bathroom?

Euphoria.

“Fucking squeezing me, darling, shit,” he exhales, gripping you tight in his hand. “Pretty little pussy looks so good clenching around my cock. Like it, angel, don’t you? Like letting me fuck your sweet cunt the way you’ve been needing?”

And you don’t know how he knows you’ve been so desperate, but he does, and it makes you mewl as you drag your nails down his scalp.

“Oh, I know,” he coos but it’s dark. “Can just tell. So fucking cock drunk. Desperate for anything I’ll give you. Even let a stranger fuck you, hm? Let me take care of you the way you deserve?”

“Yes,” you breathe, mindlessly reaching back for his other hand. Once you find it, you intertwine his fingers with yours and drag his palm up toward your neck. Placing it against your throat until he seems to get the hint.

He says nothing, simply squeezes you in his grip. Until the corners of your vision get fuzzy, and the small bathroom gets smaller.

“That’s it,” he hums, almost as if luring you into the darkness. “Let go for me, baby girl. Just like that. Daddy’s got you.”

Everything is heightened. Every sense, every second. You can feel his facial hair rubbing against your cheek. Can feel the calloused tips of his fingers cementing to your exposed skin. Can taste the drink he had on your tongue.

There’s a knock on the door. A hard tap, and Harry’s pace doesn’t falter for even a moment as he calls, “Fucking occupied,” before slamming back into you.

The noise you make is loud enough to be heard by whoever was on the other side. Perhaps his intention, and it makes your pussy clench once more at the thought.

“Bet you’d look fucking perfect on your knees,” he continues, unrelenting. “With my cock down your throat. Fucking drooling for me. And you’d take me, wouldn’t you? Take my cock like a good girl. Make me proud.”

The suggestion is exciting. The image in your head of you looking up at the glorious stranger from your place on the floor. Getting to feel him on your tongue. Down your throat. Anywhere he’ll have you.

You bet he likes to see his cum painted across a partner’s skin. Likes to run his fingers through it. His tongue. Collect it and taste it before spitting it into their mouths.

Your entire body shudders from the mental picture and even if Harry doesn’t know what garnered this response, he seems pleased with it. Tugging on you tighter until you’re practically sitting on him.

You’re running out of time. Running out of willpower, and he releases your throat to find your clit. The first time he’s truly touched it, and the sensation that follows nearly kills you.

You hadn’t anticipated being so sensitive, but you are, and it’s apparent to you both from the way you jolt when he pinches you.

“Oh?” He’s chuckling again, entertained by your reaction. “S’that all it takes then? Poor little cunt just needs some extra attention?”

He presses into you and begins to rub small, hard circles along the delicate nerves. Ignoring your cries and pleas for more.

Instead, his foot kicks your legs further apart, and his mouth attaches to your neck. Nipping just below your ear as he whispers, “Bet you taste fucking divine, hm? Bet I could write a whole song about the way this pussy tastes.”

He lets go just to bring his hand to his mouth. Sucking on the soaked digits and groaning in your ear.

A shiver rolls down your spine before he drags his saliva coated fingers back to your clit. “So fucking sweet, angel. But you already knew that, didn’t you? S’why you were teasing me all fucking day. Cause you knew I’d get addicted to you.”

You’re so close to release, you can see it. Can actually see the blinding stars barreling toward you like meteors. 

“And what if I am, huh?” He goes faster. Gets sloppier. Needing to get you both there. “What if I’m fucking addicted to you now? What if I can’t go without the taste of you?”

“Have it,” you sough, rolling your hips back against his cock. “Have me, Harry, please—”

“I will,” he growls, and you feel his cock twitch the closer he gets. “Fucking will, angel. Need you to come for me, yeah? Come for Daddy. Let me feel you around me, darling. Right fucking now—”

Everything is a blur. Maybe he comes first, maybe you do. It all melds together until it’s one, long string of orgasms and pleasure. 

He doesn’t let you go for quite some time. Pushing you to the very brink, making sure it goes as far as it can. Even after you’ve come down and are squirming away from the ministrations to your clit.

The sadistic need to make sure you’re ruined is evident, and he only stops when you begin to collapse in his hold.

“Okay, easy, angel, easy,” he whispers, grasping onto your hips to keep you upright. “You’re all right, yeah? You okay?”

You nod weakly as you catch your breath, and he takes this as a good sign. Allowing you to stand on your own when you’re ready.

But he doesn’t go far. He bends down and pulls your jeans back up. Makes sure you’re all right.

You notice he purposefully leaves the mess between your thighs, and when you shoot him a questioning eyebrow, his only response is, “For later.”

Which you don’t mind at all. 

I KNOW, I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER!!!! I'M SO SORRY BUT THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME AND BEING SO NICE, ILY ALL 😭💞💞💞

Previous Part:

~ Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282

I'm also tagging you guys from the first part just in case, but if you've already moved on, I can absolutely understand 😭💞: @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart

[wonryllis]

YES BABY? ﹙ in a lovesick smile.﹚

────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 .

( NOTES. ) lee heeseung as your comfort love. fluff. comfort hurt. fem!centered. lowercase intended. 810wc. frm my old acct. 𓈃 ๋ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

reqs are open!

you watch as heeseung laughs with jay, giggling and snorting over something you assume jay told him. for minutes you have been contemplating whether you should tell him or not, more like ask him. afterall it’s something he bought, you can’t just have it like that, even if its as minuscule as it is.

for as long as you can remember you had been scolded and talked bad about when you took anything without asking, even something like a thin cucumber slice as a child. eventually you stopped, not bothering to have or ask for things that you liked or needed; being told you waste money when you only wanted to enjoy suppressed your will to voice out or act on your cravings.

walking up to the corner of the couch where both the boys are seated, you stand in front of heeseung. looking at the tiny mole near his jaw in a fiddling nervousness while he's focused on jay. but all that focus shifts on you before you even tap on his shoulder to get his attention, your index finger mid-way in the air, hovering over his arm as he subtly gestures to jay and then turns to look at you. removing his cap so that he can see your face better, he asks,“yes baby?” a fond and lovestruck smile spread on his lips, his eyes twinkling with hearts and stars.

for as long as you can remember you had always been looked past, disregarded or brushed aside during conversations. people, even your own family members wouldn’t consider whatever you were saying as important enough to acknowledge. simply your words, your opinions weren’t ever important, at least that’s you were made to feel.

“the ice cream..i..-”, you mumble out in a small voice afraid of him getting upset and mad at you or so but instead he pouts in an apologetic ‘oh no’ look, almost making you believe it’s wrong. “i only got myself rainbow sherbet since you had a cold last week and they didn’t have you favorite,"

“should i go get you some now? you want it, right?” he asks softly, reaching out to hold your hand in his, gently squeezing your fingers and rubbing his thumb across them while lightly swinging your arm with his as he looks up at you.

“can i go with you?” his smile widens at that and he nods.

but it falls immediately when he sees your eyes starting to water, the white turning into subtle red, as the tears begin to shine against the light of the room.

and for as long as you can remember your presence was ignored whenever you cried, it didn’t matter even when it was something as serious as the worst mental breakdown you had ever had in your life. like you were invisible, people walked past you, talked and laughed while you were there crying just beside them. people who were supposed to comfort you. you could say you never had someone comfort you during hard times or something even as small as hitting your head against the car door, when you would mumble out a small ouch and no one around would bother to look at you. no one would even ask if you’re okay when you would fall over and scrape your knee or walk over a piece of glass.

but heeseung, he is the kind of person you should have had or perhaps needed your entire childhood and up until you actually met him. being with him made you realize that you could be treated like a princess, you could be given importance, you could be given respect and a kind of love which doesn’t put you down. you could be cared for like a baby yet still not be spoiled, you could make mistakes and not be made fun of for that, you could be taken seriously and most of all, you could be you and still be loved with all of a heart, mind and soul.

he made you realize, right people make you feel right and wrong people come disguised as people closest to you. they may not intend to hurt you but they did and you’re not obliged to forgive them.

in an instant your boyfriend stands up, bending to your height and cupping your face. bambi eyes big and concerned as he wipes the tears now rolling down and constantly muttering 'why’, this is what you had missed, never experienced.

when you step back a little and tumble on a cord on the floor, almost falling over he grabs you in swift motion before crouching down to let him give you a piggy back ride to the store just across the building because he doesn’t want even a scratch on you.

love might not heal but sometimes it shows what should have been.

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii

[offbrandkyoya]

[17]

m.list next

Practice ends, and Kageyama is exhausted and sweating like crazy. He sneaks a glance at his crush, who’s putting away their stuff. Kageyama blushes before getting hit behind his back. “What the-“ “We have to change.” Hinata says and starts skipping to the changing room.

Kageyama huffs and follows.

“It’s so nice of you to come by.” Yachi says, standing next to Milk Chan. They smile at her. “Well, I always wanted to see how the boys practiced. They’re all determined.” Yachi nods. In all honesty, she wanted to throw up talking to them because of her anxiety, but her secret is just too funny.

“Say, you guys must’ve had a blast.” “What do you mean?” “You know, staying at your classroom.” They blink. “I didn’t see him in my class. I guess we missed each other.” Yachi smiles innocently. “Oh really? That’s a shame.” She sees Yamaguchi giving her an unsure stare.

She gives him a thumbs up, confusing him even more, and talks to Milk Chan again. “He looked intimidating standing outside Class 2.” “What?” Yamaguchi places a hand on Yachi's shoulder. “Hi, I’m going to borrow her a moment.” “O-Okay.”

Yamaguchi drags her to a corner and whispers, “What’re you doing?” “Making conversation!” “You look evil.” “Rude…” She pouts. The boy furrows his brows. “You’re up to something.” “No…” Yachi smiles, but Yamaguchi doesn’t return the gesture. “Yachi.” “Yamaguchi.”

“I love you, but you know something that we don’t.” “Whaaaaaaaaat?” Yachi shifts her gaze away from his. “Yachi.” She puffs up her cheeks. “You’ll see.” He lets her go and watches her walk back to Kageyama's crush.

“Sorry about that.” She says this, and Milk-Chan waves a hand. “It’s okay.” Yachi can tell Milk-chan looks a bit confused, and she feels a bit guilty. “Um, I’m really sorry for what I said.” They laugh and say, “It’s okay.” There’s a moment of silence before they clear their throats. “Did you really see Kageyama in Class 2?”

Yachi gulps. “N-No! Sorry, I must’ve mistaken him for someone else! That guy just looked like him.” “Yachi.” Milk-chan smiles warmly. “Tell me the truth. Did you see Kageyama in front of Class 2?” Yachi only stares, but Kageyama comes into the picture, standing behind Milk-chan.

“Are you ready?” He asks them. Milk-chan gives him a comforting smile. “Yes.” Kageyama nervously clears his throat. “Let’s get going then.” Hinata comes running up to them and holds his knees as he huffs. “Jesus Christ Kageyama! Running out and leaving me behind! Are you that desperate to see-?“

Kageyama covers his mouth with a red face. “Shut the fuck up, dumbass.” Hinata muffles curse words and shoves his hand away. “Be grateful that I’m nice. If…” He glances at Milk-Chan as he is about to refer to them by their given nickname. “If they weren’t here, I’d ditch you.” “And I’d hunt you down.” “What the hell?!”

Hinata slides next to them and whispers loudly, “You see how he treats me? Better stay away; he’s bad news!” “Do not tell them weird things!" Kageyama bolts to Hinata, and the smaller exits the gym, with Kageyama following behind. Ennoshita walks up to them and says, “Don’t worry. They’re always like this.” He reassures Milk-Chan. "Yeah, they’re nut cases.” Tanaka adds in. “So are you.” Ennoshita claims which Tanaka growls at.

“I should go. Thank you for having me.” Milk-Chan says and heads out of the gym. Yachi stands there in uncertainty. Yamaguchi pats her head. “I don’t know what you said, but don’t beat yourself up.” “I feel like I did something insensitive.” Tsukishima stands by the entryway. “Tadashi,” he calls out. “Want to go to the convenience store?” “Uh…”

Yamaguchi glances at Yachi, and she smiles at him. “I’ll be fine. Besides, Kiyoko and I are going to stay here for a bit longer.” “Really?!” Tanaka and Noya exclaim. Ennoshita slaps their heads. “You two have to study.”

Yamaguchi nods at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll also make sure Coach doesn’t catch you.” She tells him. Yamaguchi smiled and hurried over to Tsukishima. “Okay, let me change real quick.” “Okay.”

“I can’t believe I wasted my money on you.”

Hinata grumbles, stuffing his wallet in his bag. “You’re going to get robbed like that.” Kageyama states, taking a bite of his meat bun. “Shut up!” Milk-Chan smiles at Hinata. “Thanks for buying me one.” “No problem. I like you more than him.” “Ugh, shut up!”

“I’ll pay you back.” They say so, but Hinata laughs. “You don’t need to do that, really.” He puts a hand on their shoulder. “A friend of Kageyama is a friend of mine.” He winks, causing Kageyama to push him away. Milk-Chan sits down at the curb as the two bicker. Kageyama grabs Hinata's jacket but notices his crush sitting down.

He drops Hinata and sits right down next to them. “Do you like the meat bun?” He asks with a blush. Milk-Chan simply smiles. “Yeah. It’s good.” Hinata stands by the store doorway, eating his own meat bun. He doesn’t want to intervene, but he wants to know what’s going on.

“Kageyama.” He looks at them. “It was really cool seeing you play.” Kageyama rubs his neck. “R-Really?” “Yeah. You’re so good, and the way you let your teammates shine is amazing!” Kageyama gets flustered. “T-Thank you. You’re…amazing too.” They giggle, “But I didn’t do anything?”

“I-I know but…” He takes a breath, rips a piece of his snack, and offers it to them. “You being a friend to someone like me is an amazing thing itself.” Milk-Chan blinks at the food, then at Kageyama, staring at his reddened face.

A soft smile plasters on their face. “Thank you.” They take the piece and eat it. “I hope we get to hang out again.” Kageyama smiles too.

They lean on his shoulder, and he shudders. “By the way, Kageyama, my class number is 5, not 2.” Kageyama froze. They stand up. “Thanks again for treating me.” They say and start to walk away.  

Hinata processes what just happened and bursts out laughing. “You’re an idiot!” Kageyama gets up abruptly and begins to chase him around the store.

I…rewrote this chapter a billion times and I’m still not happy with it…

but yk its..it’s fine!

been getting back into bnha again because I LOVEEEEEEEEEE monoma neito ❤️

sanemi y genya scene got animated…how do we feel….

@karma-gisa @cosmiicdust @abcdefghijklmzopqrstuvwxyz @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @xmagik @tnazips @zhochikennugget @makkir0ll @asp7n @hrkdlsjz @lucky-chars @azharyy @gigiiiiislife @ahnneyong @rouzuchan @bakarinnie @djmoyolehuani @rinheartshyunlix @weirdowithaphone @luvvmae @diorzs @stefnarda @ilovecandys2010 @samvagejkflxhrt

[princessslutt]

Flustered

———————————————————————

You have always been shy, ever since you were little. You don’t like talking to people you don’t know, and James always gets on you about using your words, and not to mumble. But you cant help it. Sometimes, you’re even shy around all three of the boys. But they assure you that you don’t have to be shy around them. During dinner, it’s hard for the boys to get you to talk. James and Sirius don’t really care that you’re shy during dinner. But Remus does. Remus thinks that people should talk during dinner, and when he says people, he means you.

“Are you gonna sit there and stay quiet through the rest of dinner?,” Remus says, glaring at you. Sirius just rolls his eyes, he thinks it’s ridiculous that you can’t talk on your own. Your bottom lip trembles, tears swelling in your eyes as you look down at your lap. James looks at Remus like he’s about to kill him. “Moony, not now,” Remus looks at you, seeing the tears falling down to your lap “princess, you’re fine. Eat your dinner,” You sniffle, Sirius pulls you for a hug, fingers gently massaging the skin of your scalp, as your cheek rests against his chest, you wipe your eyes on his shirt. You sit back up in your chair, picking up your fork and eating the rest of your dinner.

After dinner you and the boys go back to their dorm. You follow them back to their dorm like a lost puppy who doesn’t know how to bark. But can they really blame you though? You not being able to talk to many people isn’t exactly your fault. You don’t feel comfortable talking to random people, or even people you don’t see that often.

“Honey, you need to talk more. Use your words, I know you can,” Sirius says, sitting down on his work chair, you gnaw on the tip of your thumb, standing in front of your now sitting boyfriend. “Stop fucking doing that. You know I hate when you do that.” Remus adds to the conversation. You quickly take your thumb out of your mouth, playing with your fingers instead, looking down at them.

James leaning on the wall “she’s just a dumb puppy, doesn’t know any better,” Sirius grins, watching your cheeks get red. “aww, she’s flustered, James, you made her blush,” Remus chuckles. “Yet she still doesn’t know how to speak up,” James crosses his arms and walks over to you. He pushes your chin up, making you look at him. “So what’s it gonna be, pup? Are you gonna stay silent forever? Or are you gonna do the right thing and speak?” You nod.

“Well then, get to it, yeah? Don’t have all day,” Sirius adds, You look away from James. “m’sorry.” all three boys grin. “oh, so she speaks now?,” Sirius pulls you onto his lap, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you whine, blushing and getting nervous “I don’t know what’s the matter, doll. We don’t bite,” you cling onto Sirius tighter, you felt safer with Sirius.

he sat next to you anywhere you went, helped you with your homework, and was much sweeter. “siri,” you whine, he chuckles. “I know, I know, let’s get you to bed, yeah?” you nod, still trying to burying you face into his neck. he gets up and carries you to another room. He gently places you onto the bed, walking over to the closet and picking out some comfy clothes for you to wear to bed.

“alright doll, here we go. Let’s put these on.” he states, you sit up, letting him help you into the clothes. you smile and stare up at him. He raises an eyebrow. “Thank you,” he grin at your comment. “atta girl, see it wasn’t so hard, was it?” he sees the flustered look on your face. You bring your hands up to cover the redness on your cheeks “alright, alright, you’re okay,” he smiles.

you pull the blankets up and over your body and watch him lay next to you, laying your head on his chest. Your head only going up and down when he breathes. “I love you siri,” he kisses your forehead.

“I love you too princess.”

———————————————————————

˚˖𓍢ִ🩰✧˚.🐰୨୧ ⋅˚₊

[moonstruckme]

hey queen! i am humbly requesting some tasm!peter x plus sized!reader 🛐

maybe he was coming home from patrolling/being out as spidey and saw something in a window that reminded him of reader? like a knickknack or flowers or something like that? and he comes home and gives it to her and she’s all flustered and smitten 🤭

feel free to add your own spin to it or anything! i’m just in need of fluff and hugs from my boy 🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

tasm!Peter Parker x plus size!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Peter knows he’s got other things he should be doing. He’s technically not done with the amount of time he likes to spend patrolling every day (plus there’s a serial burglar out there he should really be trying to catch), and if he’s not doing that he should be getting home to work on the research paper he’s got due tomorrow, and if he’s doing neither of those things Aunt May’s been begging him all week to dust the shelves she can’t reach. But when you open your door and he sees the look on your face, Peter knows he made the right decision neglecting all that shit. 

“Hi!” Your voice lilts through the syllable, happiness coating it like honey. 

“Hey,” Peter says back, immediately losing whatever advantage he had in the conversation. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but he’s surprised to see you like this. You’re still in your pajamas, evidently enjoying a day in, a large t-shirt and draw-string shorts that make you look all lazy and adorable and leave the delicate flesh of your thighs on display. Peter wants to bite them, but that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly. 

“Hey,” he says again, blinking to clear the haze from his brain. “I, uh, you said you like irises, right?” 

“Yeah…” There’s a hesitant sort of question in your voice. You eye the small bunch of flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?” 

Peter grins. “Who else, sweetheart?” He tacks on the endearment mostly to see you fluster. It’s a success; your arms come up to hug your torso as your cheeks dimple, smile half-suppressed. 

He passes you the flowers before he can fluster too. The plastic wrap crinkles under your careful touch, and you glance between him and them like you can’t decide which to admire first. 

“Thank you so much,” you say. “Did we…have something today?” 

“No,” he laughs, hooking his thumb in the strap of his backpack. “No, you’re good. I was just in the neighborhood, and they made me think of you.” 

Your eyes go all pretty-pleased at the comment, but you tilt your head curiously. “What do you have to do around here?” 

Ah, the question he’d hoped you’d be too happy to ask. The truth is, Peter’s almost never in this neighborhood if not for you. Spiderman gets around, but there’s not usually as much going on here as in the rest of the city. He’d spotted the flowers at a stand he’d webbed a catcaller to on the lower east side, and then came over to your end of town to bring them to you. It was only, like, a ten minute swing. Much more efficient than the subway. 

“Thrifting,” he says slowly. “I was, uh, just looking to update my closet a bit, and I know you’ve got a lot of good thrift stores around here.” 

“Nice.” You smile, taking a little sniff of your irises. Their bright color makes your already exquisite face look even lovelier, and it’s such a perfect image Peter wishes he had his camera on him. “Can I see your finds?” 

“No,” he replies. Too quickly, so he tries to look really put out to compensate for it. “No, I didn’t find anything. I’m…really picky about my clothes.” 

“Oh.” Your eyes drop to his plain gray t-shirt and jeans, but thankfully you’re too nice to say anything. 

“Right,” Peter blazes ahead, tugging on the straps of his backpack, “so I just wanted to bring you those, and I’ve actually got shelves to dust, so I’d better go…” 

“Okay, thanks for the flowers,” you say. “They’re really pretty.” 

“Yeah, I figured it must be hard being so pretty all by yourself,” he says, spinning around to walk backwards so he can see your reaction, “so I figured I’d get you a companion.” 

You press your lips together, flushing and tilting your head downwards as if to hide it. “Thanks,” you almost whisper. Peter grins hugely. 

You look up just as he’s turning back around, your focus narrowing on something behind him. 

“Hold on a second.” Peter halts opediently, and you come outside, that t-shirt fluttering prettily around your hips. “Something’s falling out of your bag…” 

He thinks to be nervous just before you pull the red and blue mask from the unzipped pocket of his backpack. 

“What’s this?” 

“That…” Peter’s nodding but he doesn’t know why. It’s some sort of automatic response, like he turns into a bobblehead under pressure. His mouth is void of saliva. “That’s a costume.” 

Your eyebrows twitch together as one side of your mouth kicks up, like you’re not sure what to make of him. “You dress up as Spider-Man?” 

The nodding turns to shaking weirdly seamlessly. “No! No, of course not, I’m an adult. It’s—it’s not for me.” You look at him expectantly. “I’m making it…for my nephew.” 

“Oh.” You blink. “I didn’t know you had a nephew.” 

“Really?” Peter hears his voice pitching higher, but he’s powerless to stop it. “I didn’t mention him? We’re pretty close—well, not that close. He lives…away. In Connecticut. But he wants a Spider-Man costume, and obviously he wants me to make it, because…I’m the guy for that stuff.” 

You nod respectfully. “You are really good at sewing,” you say, and the look you’re giving him is so sweet it nearly takes his knees out from under him. “It’s nice of you to do that for him. You’re really thoughtful, Peter.” 

You say it all soft and considerate, like it’s a secret you’re letting him in on, and Peter’s honestly worried for his heart health. He’s not sure it can take the strain of all this. 

“Yeah, well, only for people I care about,” he says just as quietly. 

You drop your gaze, smiling to yourself, and start tucking the mask back inside his backpack. “Your nephew must be a cool kid. I’d love to meet him sometime.” 

“Yeah, maybe if he comes to town sometime.” Which will be, you know, never. But hopefully by the time it gets suspicious you’ll know enough that he can come clean with you about that. 

He hears the zipper close and turns before you can move away. Peter wants desperately to wrap his arms around you, feel the softness of your body pressed up against his, but he settles for taking your hand. At the look on your face when he smiles and gives it a squeeze, you would’ve died at the alternative. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Your lips part. “No problem,” you breathe. 

He gives your hand one more press for good measure, letting his fingers drag across yours as he steps away. “See you Friday, yeah? For dinner?” 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “I’ll see you then.” 

Peter shoots you one last grin over his shoulder, headed down the sidewalk. “Looking forward to it.” 

[lunajay33]

Both❤️‍🔥Part.2

Summary: There was just something about you that Rick and Daryl couldn’t deny, after your time with both of them and experiencing Daryl, Rick couldn’t wait anymore for his turn with you

•Masterlist• Part.1

It’s been a week since my first time with Rick and Daryl, i was sore for a little bit after but i was all good now and I really started craving them again but especially what being with Rick would be like but how do I ask for that again, maybe I could try and hint at it

Getting ready for the day I pulled on a pair of really short shorts I found out on a scavenge and a tight top showing my lower belly

I gained as much confidence as I could and walked out of my cell going outside to the field where the guys usually were working, but when I got outside they were talking by Daryl’s bike, I walked over stopping their conversation when they noticed me

“Hey guys” I said leaning on the front of the bike, they looked me up and down and god did it turn me on

“Hey baby, whatcha got on, pretty lil” Daryl said looking directly at your boobs

“What you don’t like it?” I asked fake whining

“No darlin, quite the opposite” Rick said running his hand up and down my waist

“Mmm good” I said as I moved around the bike and sat on it right infront of where Daryl was sitting, being basically ontop of his lap

“Always wanted to ride this” I said biting my lip

“What the bike or me?” Daryl asked squeezing my hips

“Both” I said as they laughed

“You know I still haven’t had my turn with you darlin” Rick said running his thumb over my bottom lip

“Maybe you should meet me in the guard tower later after our work, both of you” I said as I got of the bike, kissing both of them before walking off to help around the prison

“Damn what a woman” Daryl said to Rick

“You got that right”

After a long hot day of work and thinking about Daryl and Rick doing unspeakable things to me it was finally time to head to the guard tower

I had caught Daryl and Rick glancing at me throughout the day, and it made me smirk the way they’d look everytime I’d bend over, but I’d wasn’t innocent I checked them out too, seeing them lift anything as their arms would flex and the sweat would make them glisten it was mouth watering

Once I got into the top of the tower I pulled out this amazing perfume Maggie found for me hoping they’d like it, hoping to drive them even more wild for me

I did get a little nervous waiting for them but when that door opened and I saw them again I was ready but this was still only my second time, hopefully they could take the lead again

“Have ya been waitin long peach?” Daryl asked wrapping his arms around me going right into kissing my neck groaning when he smelt me

“Damn Rick she smells so good” he said leading me over to Rick who was already stripped except for his boxers, waiting in the mattress

He laid you on the mattress digging his head against my neck breathing me in and Daryl started pulling of my shorts

“Fuck, you’re intoxicating darlin” Rick pulled back eyeing my shirt

“Please…take it off” I whined

He took it in both his hands and ripped it off making me moan at the pressure

“What a pretty lil thing, matching panties and bra again, ya know red drives us wild” Daryl said as he played with the hem of my panties tracing the little bow and Rick started to massage my boobs over my bra

“Found ‘em, thought you guys would like it” I said grinding my hips up for Daryl to touch me

“Oh we like it darlin”

I felt something wet through my panties realizing Daryl was eating me out over my panties and it felt so much better than I thought, his lips sucking in my clit, groaning sending tingles through me, as Rick unclipped my bra and throwing them

Rick leaned in give me a sloppy make out, flicking my nipples as I slipped my hand in his boxer and took him in my hand running my hand up and down squeezing tighter around his tip, feeling his pre cum on my fingers

“You’re such a good girl, so good for us” Rick said between kisses spit all over our mouths and chin but it was so hot

I felt Daryl pull my panties to the side and the feeling of his mouth on my bare pussy was mind blowing but when he added two fingers curling them inside made me scream

“Ya feel good baby?” Daryl asked before diving right back in, I took a fist full of his hair and held him closer not caring that he needed air I needed more

“So good, fuck Daryl” grinding against his face, feeling his scruff rub against the inside of my thighs

As I continued to rub Rick he moved down to suck my tits, gently biting down and that’s what pushed me over the edge, cumming all over Daryl but he kept going

“Daryl wait…..fuck!……it’s too much” I screamed feeling so sensitive and soon I was cunning again accidentally squeezing Rick to hard feeling him cum erupt on my hand

As we all came down trying to catch our breath Daryl sat back his mouth and chin slick and shiny and I pulled my hand out of Rick’s boxers admiring his cum all over my hand

“Fuck sunshine ya taste so damn good” Daryl said wiping his face

I stuck my fingers in my both sucking the cum off as I looked Rick in the eyes seeing that feral look, then I took them out sticking them in Rick’s mouth feeling his tongue swirl around my fingers sent tingles to my clit making me moan

“I want you Rick I’m ready” I said spreading my legs even further for him as Daryl quickly stripped down to nothing

Rick ripped off his boxers and pulled off my panties, gripping my hips and spinning me over and placing me on my hands and knees

“Gonna take you from the back darlin, fuck you got such a nice ass” he said as he smacked my ass making me moan out not realizing it would feel so good

Then I felt a hand on my chin making me look up and it was Daryl looking down at me as his dick was hard and dripping infront of me

“Ya gonna be good fer us again?” He asked

“Yes I’ll be so good just both of you fuck me” I whined feeling incredibly needy still

I felt Rick’s tip line up with my entrance and feeling that lovely stretch as he slowly pushed in till he bottomed out, my mouth hanging open from how deep he was

“God Rick so good, you’re so big” I squeaked out as he pushed up against my cervix, feeling him in my stomach

He started to fuck me slow until I was stretch then picking it up, I took Daryl in my both swirling my tongue around his tip tasting that salty cum, it was intoxicating I loved it he tasted so good I could blow him all night

As Rick hit me from the back it pushed me further onto Daryl having his dick slide down my throat and it just kept going and going, the pleasure of both of them and the lack of air had my head hazy and a little dizzy but it almost made it feel so much better, and when Rick reached around and started rubbing my clit vigorously I came so hard only seeing white for a minute

Rick pulled out and came all over my ass and Daryl came down my throat at the same time, when he pulled out he held me laying me down

“Man I think we fucked her so good she in a trance” Rick said as they looked down at me

“I’m still here” I laughed tired still feeling my pussy throb

“Such a good girl, can’t get enough of ya” Daryl said as they both pulled back on their boxers, too taking his shirt and putting it on me

They both laid on each side of my running their hands up and my body

“You okay sweetie?” Rick asked placing gently kissed on my lips

“I’m okay, felt so good, did you guys feel good?”

“You did great, so tight I almost came right away you feel so good”

“Ya ain’t gotta worry with us peach” Daryl said rubbing my hip

“I…..I love you guys” I said feeling a bit worried that this was just sex for them

“Love ya too baby”

“I love you sweetie, you’re not just a nice fuck to us”

This was the start of a very loving, very sexually giving relationship, obviously Lori wasn’t happy but screw her she had her chance and blew it now Rick and Daryl were all mine

Taglist: @deansapplepie @ang3lc @blackvelveteen1339 @eternalrose81 @crashlyrose

[thus-spoke-lo]

pairing: dr. gregory house x fem!reader cw: canon-typical banter. reader has a backstory discussed. wc: 1.4k a/n: felt like writing dialogue. do not perceive me.

You move down the hallway, inching towards your bedroom, a kitchen knife held tightly in your shaking fist. The sound of your window opening—shoddily-painted wood scraping against wood—was just barely noticeable over the low din of your television, but your ears pricked up and your skin prickled at the sound. You flipped open your phone to dial the emergency line and tiptoed into the kitchen to grab your weapon of choice before investigating—a stupid idea looking back on it, fighting instead fleeing, but acting without thinking was a talent for you.

As you carefully creep around the corner, you nearly yelp and your pounding heart finally stops trying to crawl out of your throat—there in your bedroom stands your boss, Gregory House, leaning over your nightstand, inspecting your copious bottles of lotion.

You inhale deeply and lower the knife to your side, trying to resist the urge to throw it at him. “You know, breaking in to do reconnaissance usually works better when the subject isn’t home.”

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” he mumbles, not bothering to look up as he opens a dresser drawer and rifles through it.

“If you actually did your homework,” you grouse as you quickly cross the room to snatch a pair of your panties from his grasp, “you’d know I’m always here when I’m not at work.”

“Not my fault Chase actually took you seriously as a party girl.”

It was all too convenient, Chase sidling up to you as you pored through MRI scans, asking the kind of get-to-know you questions that felt more like you were answering ice-breakers at a corporate retreat than having casual conversation with a co-worker. So of course you saw fit to lead him astray, if only a little, embellishing your social life and your love of flitting from jazz clubs to bars to late-night diners as a way of de-stressing. If Chase had even taken a moment to consider the particular impression you gave off, he’d have easily seen through your fibs and realized you were more indoorsy than adventurous.

You scoff and set the knife down on your nightstand. “Oh come on, you wouldn’t have fallen for it? I did a stint with an improv troupe in my freshman year.”

“Of course not,” he shrugs, holding a catnip toy between his thumb and forefinger. “I can smell a lonely cat lady a mile away.”

You exhale loudly and turn to walk down the hallway, back to the sanctity of your couch and a re-run of an old sitcom. House follows after you, and you can almost hear the machinations turning, gears whirring and spinning, waiting for someone to hit the switch so he can begin his work.

“Well?” You extend your arms out to the side, turning to show off what passes for your living room. “What do you think?”

“Smaller than I was expecting.”

“Tell Cuddy they should pay me more.”

You perch on the edge of your couch-cushion, and House says nothing, only stands there glancing around the room, occasionally meeting your gaze that unsettles you, makes you feel bare and exposed. You pull a blanket over your lap as if you create some sort of barrier between you, and you still feel naked and at the mercy of this man who you tell yourself is an intruder despite somehow not minding his presence all that much, but now you also feel too goddamned hot.

“So—what do you want to know, House?” you blurt, trying to do anything to relieve the strained silence as he examines the room and you in it. “Are you here to ask me who my favorite author is and what I like on my pancakes? Or are you hoping you can figure out exactly who traumatized me and when? Because if you have time to unpack that, I can certainly—”

“Let me guess—an only child,” House interrupts, leaning his body weight on his cane. “Mommy and daddy’s special little bundle of joy, either by choice or by circumstance, always picked first by teacher and last for dodgeball.” A smirk quirks up the corner of his mouth as he scans your features for tells—he knows he’s on the right track. “Except, mommy and daddy didn’t get along so well, did they?” He grins and lowers his voice to a whisper. “So who asked for the divorce?”

“Neither of them.” You’re almost proud to prove him wrong—it’s a sick feeling that passes quickly. “They’re still married. Just…miserable.”

“And how old were you when you started having to raise yourself? When wine became your mom’s special little helper and dear old dad started working all the time?” He pauses and squints at you. “I’d say nine, maybe ten?”

“I was seven. And it was painkillers, not wine.” You chew on the meat of your tongue until it starts to tingle—why is he right, why is he always right? The smug grin that flashes across his face makes your skin crawl and your teeth ache—he knows you, down to your marrow, and there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it. He knows you in a way that feels invasive, and intimate, like no one has ever bothered to know you. It’s almost intoxicating, to be perceived against your will this way.

“Wanna take a stab at what my dad did for a living? Or what kind of pills my mom liked?” Your voice is shaking, why is it shaking? “Or is that just all superfluous because what you really want is to explain back to me what I already know—that I’m probably overly self-reliant, and a little bit broken, and a lot bit sad?””

House opens his mouth to speak but stops himself, a rare sight.

“Just get it over with.” You stare at your shaking hands as you fold them in your lap, unable to bring yourself to make eye contact and know just how deeply he’s gazing into your abyss. “Whatever it is you think you know about me, keep it to yourself, and whatever it is you still have left to figure out, just—just ask, okay?”

“Well I’ve certainly figured out you have a gift for whipping yourself into hysterics—”

You stand and cross to him in just a few short steps, your face just inches from his, close enough to feel his warm breath on your skin. “You broke into my home to dig around thinking I wasn’t here, and once you realized I was here, you’ve proceeded to psychoanalyze me and insult me at the same time, like some weird little two-for-one deal.”

This is what he wants—he wants you vulnerable, he wants you upset, he wants you malleable so he can fit you perfectly into the mold he’s already made for you. You stand there for a moment, almost swaying from your thudding heartbeat, closer than you’d like to be yet somehow not close enough.

“I think I’ve learned everything I need to,” he finally says after a moment, his voice low and the smallest hint of regret lingering in his tone. “For now.”

He starts towards the door, slowly, as if waiting for something. As if he knows all that will happen, has seen this night play out already and is simply lingering until the next scene begins.

“Do you want something to drink?” The words come out faster than you can stop them, faster than you can bite your stupid tongue. You want him to go, you want him to crawl back out the splintered window he came in through and leave you alone to sip your coffee and have one-sided conversations with your cat. Yet, there is something comforting about his presence, about having someone reach into your brain and poke around until they find something to exploit.

He lets out a small sigh and nods, and you head into your kitchen to rummage through the cupboards. You glance back to see House settling into your couch, an arm outstretched over the back of the seats, and something roils inside you, a disquieting feeling of—no, not that. It’s only courtesy that compels you to pour him the most expensive whiskey you have on hand, you remind yourself, nothing more. He’s already stripped you bare and left you raw and fragile—the least he could do is keep a lonely cat lady company for a little while.

That’s all.

[igotanidea]

Cheater : Dick Grayson!version

WARNINGS : SMUT, cheating, unprotected p in v (cause you know fanficion is not real life), teasing, angst, reader going against her own morals - so hypocrisy and poor life choices

MINORS DNI!!

***

„Dick we need to talk.” She texted

Of course they needed to talk. Or rather Y/N was going to talk and Dick was going to listen. At least that was the plan.

She was getting tired of playing cat and mouse, sneaking around and constantly watching her back. Damn it, she loved Dick Grayson with all her heart, but the thought that she was the second girl was slowly killing her.

Yes. She knew that Dick had a girlfriend.  And despite that she started meeting him. It was going like that for a few months now and there was definitely more of the tension between them. And someone had to be smart about it, before something wrong would happen.

As much as she wanted and craved his touch, needed to feel him and imagined all the things she would let him do to her…… she just couldn’t let it happen. It was wrong on so many levels. Not only because of ovary solidarity, but she simply couldn’t bear the thought of making someone unhappy. And this was the way it was going to end up.

And that was the reason behind her text to Grayson, who were surprisingly quiet for too long and it got her spinning. What if his girl was around and saw the message? What if he was busy with her at moment, getting so loud he actually missed the notification.

Shit.

She didn’t want it, but the jealousy creeped inside her. This was so damn wrong! She never should have started that drama in the first place, but the heart and the body wants what it wants.

“Damn it, Dick. Answer me!” she almost begged, furiously poking the phone with her thumb, trying to refresh the conversation.

“What about?” he finally favoured her with the quick response

“You know what.”

“come at my place then.”

“Is she around?”

“No. She’s out for some convention. I’m alone for the whole weekend L Could use some company ;)”

“You’re not gonna like it.” She warned, biting on her lip and hesitating for a moment before sending that.

“Oh, sunshine, I love whenever you are around. Come on over, I am waiting for you.”

So that was it.

Tonight she was going to break this crazy, inappropriate deal. 

The way to Dick’s apartment was most likely the longest and worst drive she ever had in her entire life. It gave her mind way to much time to wonder how they met (at the Wayne gala), how she found out he actually had a girlfriend (well, to be honest, he pretty much told her that) and how she was going to let him go.

Yes. It just had to be done.

Even if her body and heart were screaming something completely different.

She had only been at Dick’s place for a couple times, since for obvious reasons, it was rather him to visit her. Even if nothing explicit ever happened between them. It was all innocent kisses and hugs and cuddling. However, anytime she actually managed to come, the magnificence of the apartment took her breath away. Grayson was the oldest son of the multimillionaire and it was definitely showing.

Once she stopped her old and a bit rusty car, next to his shiny porshe on the driveway it was clear that they did not fit each other. Taking her sweet time, almost like her legs were begging to turn around and keep things in the same way Y/N managed to walk to the doors and gathering all her strength knocked a few times.

“Baby!” Dick was so fast to open that if Y/N didn’t know better she would think he was actually waiting for her. But no, it was just his Nightwing instincts.

Yeah, right. Nightwing. That was just another little thing he was using in their relationship.

Did his girlfriend even know about that other side of his?

Did he even love her?

Because it was obvious that his girlfriend loved him. But if it wasn’t reciprocated than maybe……

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Dick became a bit alerted watching her blurry and distracted gaze. If only he knew how she was fighting inside. “Come on, talk to me….” He whispered, putting one hand on her waist, the other on her chin making her look up straight at him. Straight into those pretty, honest, blue eyes, she learned to love so much.

“I….I’m fine.’ She stuttered, raising on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek briefly, pulling away almost immediately.

“Nah. Give me a proper kiss.” He leaned forward and captured her lips into his again, this time with more urgency, passion and way more touching her body.

“Dick!’ she struggled free taking him by surprise ‘come on, stop. We really do need to talk.”

“Oh, no.’ he let out a chuckle “is it one of those it’s not you, it’s me situations. Cause I…..” he stopped in the middle of the sentence noticing her stern gaze.

“Can just come inside?” she sighed deeply.

“Of course. I suppose it’s not the kind of conversation you can have on the threshold?”

Dick led her through the maze of corridors and just following him got her a bit dizzy. Finally they ended up in the living room,  as he motioned for her to seat down on the couch, which she refused and completely unable to stay put started walking around watching all the bibelots on the shelves.

“Would you  like something to drink? Seems like you need it.”

“I don’t.” she mumbled, still walking around. Shit. How was she even supposed to start talking. Not even a single word could get past her throat.

“Sunshine.” Dick took a step forward and reached for her hand.

“We need to stop this.” She burst in response

“End what?”

“this….” She waved her hand around between them “this crazy shit going on. I don’t even know what we are anymore. I don’t know who I am!”

“You’re the woman I love.’

“Oh, really.” She scoffed “than how come you still have an official girlfriend and …. Me? I am some sort of distraction for you?”

“Baby…..” he sighed

“Stop calling me that!”

“I told you, I’m in this official relationship, because of ….”

“Bruce. Yeah, I remember you saying that. But this secret mission or whatever you say you need her for, is taking way to long. And becoming way to real for me to like it” she pointed at the photos on the shelves in those tiny, cute little frames. “It’s not a mission anymore, Dick. You have a life with her. Not me. And every time we meet in secret it makes me feel dirty. I feel like a fucking whore, Grayson. Even if we never….. you know….”

“You’re not a whore. You could never be, my sweet girl.” Before he could reach for her she jumped away and turn her back to him, now carefully observing all the other pictures hang on the walls. Photos of him, of her, of them together. Laughing, kissing, fooling around. Just simply being happy.  She just couldn’t handle it anymore. She wanted him, but not for such price. Not for the price of another girl’s broken heart.

“Do you love her?” she cried out when the tears started falling. It took him a bit too long to answer “do you love her, dick!?” she repeated this time yelling and facing him through her wet eyes. “Do you…..?” her voice broke

“I…..” he started, but she didn’t let him finish.

“Fuck you, Grayson! Look what you made out of me!” she clenched her fist, barely holding back for throwing something at him. It was crazy. All the contradictory things she felt just found a way out and instead of confronting him calmly, she was ping-ponging, torn between begging him to choose her,  shouting at his face or running away, slamming the door behind her and never getting back here. And the realization that she was acting crazy actually made her calm down in a blink of an eye.  “That’s it, Dick. It’s over. I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired and sick of myself. I’m leaving.” She spun around but before she could really leave, he grabbed her arm and that sudden touch made her freeze on the spot.

“Why?” he simply asked.

“Why?” she repeated, eyes growing wide, not that he could see it “are you serious?”

“Yes.” He took a step forward pressing his chest to her back tightly, moving his hands up and down her sides “you know I want you, baby. Why do you keep resisting me?” now his lips were kissing her neck. So lightly, almost impalpably  and yet sending shivers down her spine and making all her noble impulses crumble.

“Dick….. I …..” she moaned unable to hold back due all his touches and nibbling on her skin. She was literally on fire and even if she knew that at this moment there was no way out, she was still trying to fight.

“yes, baby?” he whispered against her skin, hands sneaking under her t-shirt and travelling onto her belly and lower, playing with the hem of her pants and panties.

“this is wrong….. “ she whined and squirmed a bit, fighting the urge to grab his arm and guide him where she needed “this … this will be cheating. You’ll be a cheater.”

“Then tell me to stop.” He bit on her earlobe “tell me you don’t want this the same way I do and I’ll let you go. You’ll be free of me. Forever. Tell me if that’s what you want.”

“Fuck.” She hissed when his fingers dig under her underwear. Now she just couldn’t hide how much she wanted him as well. She was soaked and he felt that.  

“so, what���s it gonna be?”

“Ah!” she threw her head back onto his shoulders, feeling the tease on her folds “Dick!”

“What do you want, babe?”

“Fuck me….” She breathed out.

And just like that she relented to him. She was just a girl and he knew how to use that.

“Finally….” He groaned spinning her around and in a blink of an eye, pinning her to the wall “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you?” her shirt was gone, all that soft skin exposed and it was impossible for him to keep his hands from touching, caressing and pinching it “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamed about having you like this? How many patrol nights I spend with your body on my mind?” he released her from her bra in one single motion taking just a second to gloat the sight of her bare breast, bouncing up and down because of her heavy breath “but you were just so stubborn, baby.” He put his lips on hers kissing her with fire that was burning inside him. God, he was going to devour her, trap her underneath him for hours, teach her a lesson for all the times she turned him away “your girlfriend this, your girlfriend that” he mocked, playing with the button of jeans and pulling the zipper down “fuck, you are so much better than her. You’re the one I want. Shit, you’re the one I need.”

“Dick…” she whined, arching her back to him, embracing him, wanting him closer to her. Impossibly closer. She craved the feeling of his naked skin on hers, but knew he wouldn’t be the one to satisfy that need too easy. Oh, that little prick was in a teasing mood. “Please… don’t …. Talk about her. Not now.”

“Right. Sorry.” He whispered, running hands thought her hair, tilting her head back in the process, kissing the column of her throat. Oh, that sweet view was making him impossibly hard. Painfully hard. She was right in front of him, almost completely naked except for that little piece of material that were her panties. “It’s just you and me now.” he grabbed her hips and grinded on her clothed pussy, earning a loud moan and scratching on his back “you’re mine.”

‘I want you, Dick!” She cried out, once again trying to lift his shirt up but he caught her wrists in one hand and lift her hands above her head.

“Not just yet, love. You’ve been a bad girl, you know. Making me go through a lot of trouble to help myself….”

“I’m sorry!” Y/N screamed when he leaned down and focused on her tits, nibbling, kissing and sucking on the nipples, alternatively “I’m sorry, Dick, oh, god, this feels so fucking good. Don’t stop, please.”

“I’m only getting started.” He smirked and before her lust-driven brain realized what was happening he tore her panties away, grabbing her backs of her thighs and wrapping them around his waist, holding onto her tightly. He had her. Absolutely exposed, clinging onto him with need, want, lust. She wasn’t running or denying what they had. Not anymore. And after tonight he was going to make sure she would never do that again.

“Dick…” she squirmed in his embrace, creating a bit of friction she so desperately need, those soft hands cradling through his hair, mouth on his, unable to pull back even for a second. She was going to burn if they were separated for barely a second. “I want to feel you.”

“Here?” he smirked

“No.” she whined “take me to bed. Take me to your bed and make me yours.”

***

A minute later she was laying in the same sheets, the other girl used to be in, her hands tied to the headboard. Fuck, Y/N was going to have sex with Dick in the same bed, she was sleeping in. And when he throw her on the mattress and climbed all over her, caressing her whole body and pressing into her, that though suddenly became so hot, rather than repulsive. She was in his bed cause of some crazy scheming, Y/N was here cause he wanted her to. And his every touch and movement were proving that.

“please take it off.” She glanced at his shirt and this time he listened, pulling it away and throwing somewhere on the floor, immediately focusing back on her.

“Y/N….” he groaned “you’re better than I imagined. So much better.”

“Please let me touch you….” those stupid ropes, he was so good at tying were biting onto her oft skin but surprisingly even to her, this pain was strangely turning her on.

“are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

‘Yes, yes, please, anything you want.”

‘I want those hands on me while I fuck you. I want those eyes staring into mine when I make you feel good. Can you do that, Y/N” he lift his head a bit and glanced at her.

“Yes…” she gasped “Please….”

“Hmmmm.” He tapped his chin “I thought you wanted my pants gone, before…..”

“I do. God, shit, fuck, Dick. I want everything! I want anything! Whatever you give me, just please do something ‘cause I swear I will combust!”

“We don’t want that, do we?” he smirked and did all of those things at once. His cock was free, as well as her hands and she wasted no time in wrapping all her limbs around him.

“You want me ?” he asked eyeing her

“So bad, dick, so fucking bad.”

“you have me.” He pushed in, slowly, not to cause her any pain. It was  their first time after all, and since he was planning on many, many more, it wouldn’t be wise to give her any trauma. It took him a while to bottom put, all while feeling that sweet scratching on his back, and when he did they both moaned in unison, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of one another.

“You taste to sweet, so good. So much better than….”

“Sh!” he kissed him only to shut his mouth up “don’t talk about it.”

“Sorry baby.” He extended his hand towards her right side of the bed reaching for something that sparkled a bit in the dimly room and throwing it away. The thing ended up on the floor, broken, judging by the sound.

“What was that?”

‘nothing important.” He responded, resuming worshiping her and moving slightly. Even though at this point he didn’t have to do a thing since she was desperate enough to fuck herself on his cock, he wanted to make her feel good.  To prove all those words from before. Her hands digging into his shoulders, grinding on him, lips being connected, teeth clashing, hair getting pulled at was telling him that he truly was doing a good work. She just wanted him closer, deeper, railing her stronger, faster, harder.

“more dick, more…”

“I love you.” he whispered, now complying to all her wishes ‘only you. I want to be with you.”

“We can talk about it later, now just give me an orgasm Dick. Cause fuck, I’m so close, so fucking close!”

“What do you want?”

“You. All of you. Give it to me Dick.” Y/N tightened the grip on him, opening her legs a bit more, allowing him to reach her g-spot, pressing her body tighter, spasming underneath him “just give it to me. Ah! I’m …. I’m gonna cum”

“Look at me baby. Look at me when you do.”

“Ah! DICK!” she screamed when the high hit her, almost making her black out, the only word on her mind being limited to him. “Dick, yes, oh, yes, yes, so damn good. So good, baby, so good. Don’t pull out….” Y/N stopped him when he tried to move away from her body

“Inside?” his eyes grew wide.

“Yes. I told you, I need to feel you.”

“shit, you’re so hot” their mouths crashed again, swallowing each other’s moans and groans when his cum filled her up completely. Their bodies sweaty and trembling due to extortion, but not ready to let go of each other yet, instead holding close and kissing, but this time slower, gentler without the urgency from before. Now they had each other, for good and for worse.

“Stay with me tonight.” He whispered leaning his forehead on hers “don’t go back to your place.”

“I’m not. But……”

“I mean what I said before, Y/N” he confessed “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dick.” She sobbed and let him hold her and soothe her and whisper sweet words inside her mind.

Was it wrong? Yes.

But was it the best sex they both ever had? Also yes.

And they could think about the future and clearing all this shit out later. Preferably much later. But for now, all they needed was the bliss and aftercare and maybe round two. No talking and no thinking about the future.

Even if the future was heading their direction with the speed of light, since the convention was cancelled.

Whoopsy…..

To be continued? (if someone wants.... :D)

Edit: part 2

@justafanficsreader

@arfrona

[guitarstringed-scars]

on stage- s. hinata

uh oh

masterlist

notes/warnings: maybe a bit angsty but it'll all pan out in the end!

you sit in the stands, shoved next to yachi. the stadium roars at every point scored for your team. its a close game for almost the whole time, and the two of you sit on the edges of your seats.

in the end of the second game, it’s 24-24, a complete tie. the final point of the game. with a quick set from kageyama, you watch shoyo fly into the air, and spike the ball down, pounding into the gym floor. the arena goes silent for a second, before exploding into cheers. his teammates surround him, ruffling his orange hair, and smacking his back, thanking him for his point. the whole time, his eyes stay on you in the stands.

“he wants you.” yachi shouts over the noise.

“thats enough!” you feel your face grow hot, and throw out a wave to shoyo. he waves back grinning, and shoots you a thumbs up.

you watch the players file into the locker room, and you and yachi start to leave. as soon as you get out the door, you get a text from shoyo.

you wave goodbye to yachi, and head around the building to the back. just as you reach for the door handle, the door swings open, just barely missing your face. behind it stands koutaro, and behind him stands toru. ”YN!” your name is cheered by both. koutaro smothers you in a sweaty hug.

“congrats on the big win!” you say as you struggle to escape his arms.

“couldn’t have done it without you!” koutaro exclaims.

“where are you headed?” toru asks, a suspicious look on his face.

“i’m waiting for shoyo.” you say, poking him in the side.

“oh, we’ll leave you to it then!” shouts koutaro, as he drags toru out of the way.

shortly after those two leave, shoyo exits the locker room, freshly showered with his volleyball bag in hand. as soon as he sees you his eyes widen, and you are scooped up into a hug.

“y/n! im so glad you came!” he says, pulling away from you.

“i am too! that last point was incredible, i had no idea you could jump so high!”

he laughs, “lets go get that ice cream!”

the two of you walk out, faces illuminated by the city lights. your hands bump against each others as you walk, until eventually you find the ice cream shop. you both pick out your flavors, taking them to a nearby park to eat. as you sit, conversation is filled by talking about the game, the play, and anything else that comes to mind.

as you finish your dessert, a lull in conversation occurs. shoyo looks at you for a moment. you look at him. you watch his eyes flicker to your lips, only for a split second.

“can i ki-” he starts, but then your lips are crashing onto his, and his hand is brushing your hair behind you ear. he tastes like the strawberry ice cream he was just eating, and when you pull away you feel a little embarrassed.

“sorry.” you mutter out, looking at your shoes.

“don’t be. that was great.” he says.

“i should get home.” you say, standing up abruptly.

“let me walk you?”

“no, it’s okay-”

“are you sure?” he asks as you finally look at him. his eyes look confused and maybe a little hurt, “are you okay?”

“i shouldn’t have done that, i’m sorry shoyo, that was crazy unprofessional of me, and im supposed to be a good director, and that was not sma-” he cuts you off by kissing you again. once you pull away he speaks. ”sorry, that probably didn’t make it any better. i just, really like you.” he says, eye contact not faltering.

“i really like you too shoyo, its just-”

“the play, i know.”

the two of you stand in silence for a moment.

“i’m sorry.” you say.

“just let me walk you home.” he says. this is the most solemn you’ve ever seen him.

“okay.”

the walk back is silent. there is no bumping of hands. he keeps his hands in his pockets the entire time, eyes on the ground in front of him. once you get to your door, you both stand there for a second.

“can we, i dunno, pick this up after the play?” he asks, finally looking at you.

“i’d like that.” you say. ”okay.” its silent for another second, “could i kiss you one more-”

you grab his face and pull him in for one more kiss, before opening your door and going inside your apartment. you give him a weak smile and a nod before closing the door.

a/n: act one done! don't worry act two will come soon, just gonna take a little break!

[delopsia]

Icing | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 5,300 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, improper use of icing, food is mentioned several times, blow jobs, grinding, hand jobs, overstimulation, planning for a wedding 💐 it's porn with a very vague plot Brief Summary: This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. 

"Are you sure this is how we're supposed to do it?" 

"What makes you ask that?" Bobby chirps, barely audible over the hum of the hand mixer. His eyes flick down to the cake pan held between your hands. "Seems perfectly fine to me." 

The beater bumps into the edge of the bowl. Icing splatters across the countertop. 

You think that might be the whisper of a swear, crossing the room. 

"I don't know, it just...feels weird," but you're pulling open the door to the oven, anyhow. A plume of heat washes across your face, like the blaze of a campfire, threatening to roast you alive.

But fortunately, the only thing being baked is this tiny pan of cake batter. Locked away to its doom of inhumane temperatures until it rises to perfection. 

"Honey, there are only so many ways you can bake a cake," Bob's entirely unaware of the blue icing staining his cheek as he reaches for a damp cloth. Now that you give it a squint, you reckon it might be up in his hair, too. 

"Well, last I checked," reaching out to swipe at his face with your thumb, raising it to your lips. Different color. Same taste as before. "Most folks don't have to bake their own wedding cake samples."

His head turns back to the thin list of instructions, scanning over where he left off, and—oh, well, he's got blue in his hair, too. 

"Hey, get a load of this," Rhett's voice echoes from the living room, socked feet thumping across the hardwood. "They're sellin' that ol' rodeo property in town." 

You're not entirely sure what woke him; if it was the clatter of skillets as you clumsily withdrew them from the oven, or if it was the bickering over why Bobby continues to use the appliance as a storage unit. It had to have been something you two did; fifteen minutes is astronomically short for a Rhett nap.

Maybe he never went to sleep to begin with because he's got a newspaper in hand. Today's date sits proudly in the corner, next to his thumb; he must have picked it up from the gas station on his drive home. 

"We should buy it," waggling the paper in his hand, like it'll somehow convince you and Bobby to scrounge up ninety-five grand for an arena that has been abandoned for the better half of two decades.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Bob's mixer kicks back on, an obnoxious noise sounding through the kitchen. Surely, there have to be quieter models out there. "We'll put an offer in next week."

"Ha. Ha," Rhett's eyes roll, the newspaper falling onto the recently cleared counter, right where Bobby was saving space for the blue icing. "Funny." 

His mouth opens like he's got more to say, but nothing slips past those thin lips. Soft blue eyes flicker across the counter, scanning across your rainbow assortment of icings, the sample baggies of sprinkles and candles, and the portfolio of decorative figures. Not one of the premade couples comes with a third partner, but you're not entirely sure if you want to go that route to begin with.

Rhett's nose wrinkles; lost. You've got nothing more than a shrug to offer.

"All I'm sayin' is," picking back up on the hanging conversation, he reaches out to poke his finger into an open dish of sprinkles. The ones made to look like pearls. There were more, but half got lost when you accidentally ripped the package open. "You'll have a lotta time on your hands when ya leave the Navy."

The mixer shuts off. 

"Who said I was leaving the Navy?" 

Rhett's lifting a pearl to his mouth, obnoxious tongue poking out to catch it. "You, last night." 

"And the night before that." You add, with a nudge of your shoulder.

And the night before that one. Sometime five mornings ago. Again, last week. After the most recent deployment and the one before that. Before the engagement and way before the house was bought...actually, when has he not talked about this?

The pearl cracks so loud that you almost wonder if it chipped Rhett's tooth. His brows furrow, shifting the hunk of sugar around in his mouth. "The hell are you two doin'...?" 

"We're baking our wedding cake samples," and even with Bob saying it so matter of factly, it doesn't sound right. Nothing about this picture is correct.

Rhett's head tilts to the side. Even the dark hair cascading into his face can't hide those questioning eyes. 

"See?" Throwing your hand out as if Bobby hasn't noticed the puppy-dog of a man standing on the other side of the island. "Even he's confused by this."

Nobody bakes their own wedding cake samples. This is your sign to find a better bakery! Before the stakes grow even higher! 

Careful, Bob pulls the mixer from the bowl, turning around to drop the beaters into the sink. "He's always confused."

"Hey!" Rhett squawks. "Ya jus' gonna say that 'n turn your back to me?" 

Not a word leaves Bob's mouth, deliberately keeping his back to you and Rhett as if to drive home his unspoken point. He's doing his best to remain firm, but even so, you can see the way the corner of his lip rises with every passing second. Must be able to hear the way Rhett's rounding the corner, big hands reaching out to grab hold of bony hips. 

It's a little too easy for him to force Bob to turn. 

"What, can't say it to my face?" Any venom in Rhett's tone is lost in the midst of his chuckle. Amused. 

Still, Bobby remains quiet, defiantly folding his arms across his chest, like that will somehow stop the smile from bursting onto his pale face. It's a losing game. Rhett knows it. You know it. He knows it. The whole world knows it.

Rhett's tilting his head, leaning close. "Say." Kiss. "It." Kiss. Bob's hand reaches out toward the counter. "To."  Kiss. "My." Kiss. His finger dips into blue icing. "Face." Kiss. "Pal."  Kiss.

One blink, and you nearly miss it. The swift drag of Bobby's fingertip, smearing the artificially dyed sweetness onto Rhett's thin lips. Leaves just a big enough mess for him to lean in and press his mouth to Rhett's, that soft pink tongue darting out to lick it off. It ends as quickly as it started, with Bobby turning back to the counter, already beginning to pour another pack of sprinkles into an empty container.

Rhett's wide eyes meet with yours. Bewildered.

...huh.

"What do we think of lemon?" Bobby's speaking as if nothing ever happened. Acting it, too. 

You're not entirely sure what he means by that. "I'm sorry?" 

"Cake flavors," holding up a non-descript packet of mix. "There's lemon in here." 

Rhett's nose wrinkles, and you can't help but wonder if he's recalling the sourness of the lemon pie you two tried to put together for Bobby. Worst damn welcome home present you've ever made. 

"Is there a difference to the icin'?" Rhett asks, poking at one of the bowls. 

"They're all the same." Bob's head shakes, sprinkles audibly pouring out of the packet and into yet another bowl. Who's gonna wash all these dishes, anyhow? 

Rhett's eyes meet with yours. Brows furrowing, like this is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. If the initial confusion hadn't already worn off, you reckon you'd be feeling the same damn thing. Who does this, and why are you just letting it happen? Is your life so devoid of joy that this is what you've allowed yourself to resort to?

Or is Bob Floyd just very, very good at convincing you to blindly follow his lead?

Idle, Rhett's hand dips into some of the icing. Slow. Flying just below the radar of Bobby's peripheral. "So why'd ya make every color?" 

And your poor WSO hasn't the slightest damn clue, reaching for yet another container of sprinkles. "To see what—" 

Rhett's big hand presses into Bob's pale cheek, vibrant orange icing splattering against his skin. Dragging down, down, down his neck and onto the little bit of chest peeking out from the low collar of his shirt. 

You know what's going to happen before it even starts. Bobby's fingers dive into a pool of pale yellow. Smacking it into Rhett's broad chest, gets the base of his neck and all. And Rhett's reaching for the pink, dragging it across an unwitting forearm. Bob's going for green. Reaching for Rhett's scruffy jaw. Giggles bubble through the air. 

Blue splatters across the kitchen floor and across your shirt. 

Your white shirt. "Hey!"

"He started it!" Bob squeaks. But he's stumbling backward, bumping into you as he reaches for another bowl—ammunition for the next attack. 

All Rhett can do is grin. "Did I?" 

Insufferable. 

Your hand darts out from your side, venturing to the counter. 

Purple splatters across Bobby's clothed belly. The only spot you could reach. 

"Both of you?" Bobby's squawking. Twisting. Turning until he's got his back to the sink and not you or Rhett, his vibrantly colored hands held toward the ceiling. Surrender, or preparing his next move? You're not sure yet. 

God, he's a mess. Splatters of orange, pink, blue, and plain white, stretching from his nose to his belly; you think there might be a little bit of purple lurking beneath his chin. Rhett's not doing much better, green clinging to his jaw, chest decorated with a vibrant smear of yellow. 

"What else are we s'pposed t' do with all this icin'?" He asks, lifting his fingers to his lips, short pink tongue darting out to lap up the sweetness clinging to his skin. 

Bob's eyes roll. You wonder if he's noticed the drop of green on his lens. "Well, wearing it shouldn't even make the list!" But it's nothing compared to the icing on his neck, sickly sweet and spread thin over the thick vein that bulges from beneath his skin. 

"I can think of a few ideas," muttering, entranced. 

Out of his peripheral, Rhett meets your eye. The corner of his lip twitches up, fingers slipping out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' so loud that it echoes through the kitchen. 

"What..." Bob swallows. Adam's apple rising and falling. Soft blues flicker between you and Rhett; must be able to read the thoughts filtering through your head. "Would that entail, exactly?"

You don't know who steps forward first. But one way or another, your sticky hands are finding their way to Bobby's chest, bracing yourself as you lean in. Rhett's so close that his hair tickles your cheek; he had a longer distance to cross than you did, and yet he's already beating you to the point. Licking a fat, wet stripe up the side of Bob's neck. 

And you're in hot pursuit. Licking up the other side, trailing across that thick vein, multicolored icing greeting your taste buds. But that sugary sweetness is nearly dulled in comparison to the soft mewl that rolls out of Bobby's mouth, his head rolling backward. 

"Okay..." he breathes, "that's..."

The flavor of this icing is far from your favorite; it isn't even close to the one you had in mind when contacting the bakery, but you can hardly pay it any attention. Nothing but a mild annoyance when you've got this to preoccupy your mind with. Bob's hand, working its way up your side. Rhett's soft hum, downright delighted with this predicament. 

Careful, your lips press to a soft patch of skin beneath his ear, sucking lightly. Not enough to bruise his terribly sensitive skin, but still managing to leave behind a faint redness in your wake. One tiny little mark after another, spots blending amongst the vivid orange that you've yet to lick up.

This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. Him and his sticky, heaving chest, squirming as you work lower, lower, lower. Teeth grazing across his collar, tugging on the flesh stretched thin over the bone there. 

Rhett's shoulder knocks into your side, a little too broad to be squeezing himself in next to you. His hands venture to the hem of Bob's horribly stained t-shirt, yanking upward.

"The cake," Bob's panted protest is hardly one at all, "you can't...it'll burn." And yet he's obediently lifting his arms, letting Rhett pull the shirt over his head. Maybe letting it fall to the floor isn't the best idea, but you're in no position to raise even the slightest objection.

"We have time," you murmur. Lie. You don't even know if you set the timer. 

Frankly, you don't care. It's just too damn easy to forget about. Letting your mouth find its way down Bob's pale chest, a thin trail of saliva marking your path as if you could possibly become lost in this familiar terrain. 

But even though you've had a head start, Rhett still manages to beat you to the checkpoint, his lips wrapping around a delicate nipple. So sudden that Bob jerks beneath you, his feet stumbling. Two can play this game, though, and Rhett can only pay attention to one thing at a time. 

Without the slightest warning, you sink down. Knees thunking heavily against the cold kitchen tile. They'll ache when you ultimately climb back to your feet, but that's for the future version of you to worry about. Right now, your bold hand is soothing over the heavy bulge in these sweats, feeling how Bobby twitches from the simplest touch. 

"Can't believe you're already hard, Robby," teasing, your thumb swipes right beneath his tip. The wet spot forming in the thin gray material is like a reward.

"You're..." his head rolls, fingers tugging at Rhett's hair, "surprised?" 

Not in the slightest. 

It's Rhett who reaches for the thick elastic of Bob's waistband. Watching through thick lashes as you help pull it downso swiftly that his cock brushes your cheek as it springs up to smack against his belly. Flushed a bright ruby, a small bead of precum running down the underside of him.

"Shit," Rhett swears; it's so quiet that you can hear the way his knees creak as he settles down next to you. 

And now both of you are down here, caught up in some kind of perfect synchrony, leaning forward to run your tongues up the sides of Bob's cock. Relishing in that shuddered gasp as you and Rhett meet at his head, lips brushing in what was meant to be a sloppy kiss, but it's more of a clash of tongues than anything. Broken apart by Bob's soft cock head, caught perfectly in the middle.

"You...." Bob's hand bumps into your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there, "fuck, you two are..." 

Rhett's chuckle is all it takes to have Bob's sharp hips bucking forward, pushing himself right past your parted lips. Wasn't exactly next up on your itinerary, but you're rolling with it as if it was. Sucking gently, tongue swiping back and forth beneath it. Teasing while you still can. 

Not a single beat is missed. With the delicate hollow of your cheeks and the lazy way Rhett mouths at the side of him, it's almost hard to believe that this wasn't choreographed earlier in the day. As if anyone could have predicted that Bob was serious about this whole 'baking cake samples' thing.

"Y' likin' that, Bobby?" Rhett hums, pausing to graze his teeth against delicate skin. "Watchin' both of us on our knees for ya?" 

You're leaning back, and Rhett's moving in to take over for you. Doesn't need to use his hands, as he sucks that leaking tip into his mouth.

Bob sucks in a breath. His other hand dives into Rhett's hair, tangling in the mess of it. "How could I—mhm, not?" 

All of a sudden, Rhett's sliding further down, eyes scrunching shut as Bob knocks into the back of his throat, but that's never been enough to deter him. It's a wonder he's got a gag reflex at all. You can't help but twist yourself around, a hand coming to rest on his lower back, bracing yourself as you find your way to the underside of his jaw. Air audibly puffs through his nose. Always has been sensitive here. 

Sweet, too, with all of this icing to be licked up. There simply isn't another person cut out for this sort of job. The artificial flavor is far from your favorite, but you can't be inclined to share. Not when he tries to lean into it, a muffled grunt rumbling out of him. 

Above you, Bob can't close his mouth. "That's...oh, that's—"

A shrill beep tears through the air. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

So you did set the timer. Lucky him.

And Rhett laughs. Barely able to pull away before he chokes, swollen lips glistening as they meld with the shape of his smile. "Guess ya gotta check that, flyboy."

This is the first and likely the last time you'll see Bob Floyd check an oven with his sweats pooling around his thighs, heavy cock bouncing as he leans down to see what he's doing. Is the cake done? Or burnt? You haven't the slightest clue because Rhett's kissing at the side of your neck, and any self-control you had left dissolves in an instant.

"Shame y' didn't get more of this on ya," he's speaking into your skin, vibrating right up into your head and rattling all your thoughts off their metaphorical shelves. 

The stain on your brand-new shirt is speaking otherwise. "This stuff doesn't even taste that great."

"'s good when it's on one of you," he does, unfortunately, make a really good point. The kind that lets him get away with pushing your pants down your legs,  underwear and all, right here in the damn kitchen. So much for trying to break the habit of kitchen shenanigans. 

You wonder if this memory will wander back into your mind the next time you invite guests over and eat in this kitchen. 

Rhett's hands settle on the sides of your waist, pulling you into him as he leans backward. Knocking the back of his head against the tile can't feel good, but he doesn't react in the slightest. Too busy pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his wide hips. They hitch upward, so strong that they push you along with it, as he shoves his shorts down his legs, cock audibly smacking against his belly, swiping against your thigh as it drifts past.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Your hands brace against his chest, chasing the illusion of stability.

"Mhm," is the best he's got to offer, and he's hardly got to guide you any further. You're already beating him to the punch, grinding down against his length, letting him slip between your parted lips. 

Fuck, it's been a while since you last felt his weeping cock head drag against your clit. You wonder if he can feel the way you involuntarily clench around nothing, sent into a mindless spasm from that alone.

Bobby's knees audibly knock against the floor, and you're not entirely sure where his sweats went. "You two move too damn fast."

"Maybe you're just slow," there's nothing but playfulness in your tone, albeit the slightest bit breathless. You can't help it. Not when you've got this going on between your legs. Rhett and his big cock rolling up into you, chasing the feeling of your pussy against him. Beads of precum slicken the glide, every motion punctuated by a sickly wet little noise.

"'n ya say I'm the one always givin' ya trouble," Rhett's not doing much to help his own case, but then again, you don't think that was his goal. 

It's an awkward angle, with Bob sitting on his knees and Rhett laying against the floor, but he's craning his head up, tongue greeting the underside of Bob's cock. A fleeting sort of thing that only lasts a moment or three.

"You're gonna upset your shoulder if you keep doing that," Bobby hums, not making any move to stop Rhett from trying at it again, lips stubbornly wrapping around his mushroom tip. 

There's a spin in your head that wasn't there before. Lightheaded over the sight before you and the sweet throb of your cunt, sliding against Rhett's shaft like you're aiming to win a first-place trophy. Hands flat against his heaving chest, trembling arms hardly keeping your body upright as your hips roll. 

"Can feel ya gettin' wetter round me," Rhett's eyelashes are fluttering, and it's all he can do to keep himself from knocking his skull against the tile again. "Fuck." 

"As if you're not dripping like a damn faucet," your words hitching on a gasp, the embers of a whine building in the back of your throat. Getting off to this wasn't on your list of plans, but with every soft massage of his plush tip, you're growing closer to writing it at the very top. 

Rhett's back arches off the ground, legs kicking beneath you, like he can feel the heat that's flooding your lower belly. Makes it so damn hard for you to keep moving your body back and forth, hopelessly grinding back and forth, obsessed with the way he kisses your clit on every pass. 

"God, you two should see yourselves," Bobby says it like he's caught up in a trance; you don't think you've seen him blink since he knelt down here.

"Enjoying the show?" Speaking through a gasp. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your eyes are rolling backward, and Rhett's twitching against you, and it's so, so much. 

His hands settle on your aching thighs. Blunt nails digging into the meat of them. Does nothing to ward off the shiver that's settled into the muscle there. But his hips are rising up off the floor, and he's rutting himself into you properly now, rubbing against your poor clit over and over and over. 

"Rhett—" whimpering high in your throat. Head tilting back. You're...he's...

"C'mon," in that raspy tone of his, wavering with the motion of his body, "cum on my cock."

Bob's cool hand glides up the side of your neck, and that is it. 

A choked noise echoes through the kitchen and into the living room. Spasming, cumming to the drag of him against your clit alone.  Clenching helplessly around nothing but air, a ripple running up your spine. Your arms crumple out from under you. Stars sparkle behind your eyelids like the night sky. Falling into a messy heap on Rhett's chest, helpless as his cock keeps rubbing against your dripping cunt. 

"Ah—Rhett!" Jolting. Oversensitive. And it's all you can do to slide off of him, letting gravity drag you down to his side instead, a leg lazily sprawled overtop his thigh. You don't know if he's laughing or if you're hearing the hammer of your heart beating away in your ears. 

"Awful quick," Bob's eyes flick to you, hardly able to conceal the playful glint in them.  

You ought to give him trouble for such a comment, but your head is still spinning like it's about to float up into the clouds. The best you can do is to swipe out with your hand, smacking against his belly. "Like you're any better." 

Rhett's chest rumbles with a chuckle. You're not entirely sure when he got his arm around you, but it's carefully squeezing you into him. Keeping you snug against his chest as Bobby moves to settle between his legs. 

And this...this is a hell of an angle to be observing from. You don't have to move your eyes or tilt your head at all, comfortably gazing at the sight of Rhett's plush thighs caging Bob's waist. On its own, your hand darts out, grabbing a handful of one. There's so much more to squeeze compared to when you first met; he's exchanged that wiry frame for something thicker, stronger, too. 

Bob's reaching for his own cock, still wet with saliva, as he leans forward, fingers darting out to wrap around Rhett, too. 

One stroke and Rhett's hips lift off the floor. "Shit." 

He's so damn wet, with what mess you've made of him and the precum spilling out of his inflamed tip like a dripping faucet. Bob's thumb swipes out, collecting the clear fluid and spreading it onto himself, but before he's done there's already another bead of it forming. 

"Good lord, Rhett," Bob mutters, and you're not entirely sure where he got that packet of lube from, tearing it open with his teeth, already beginning to pour the sticky substance onto their cocks.

So much for trying to break Rhett of that habit.

If he'd give Rhett a few minutes, you think he'd spill out enough to warrant forgoing lube altogether, but Bobby can only stretch his patience so far. Never has been able to hold out for very long when it comes to you and Rhett. That big hand of his gives an experimental stroke, a wet squelch sounding through the delicate air; you don't know who groans louder.

What you do know is that the sight before you is downright obscene. Rhett's legs squeezing around Bobby like he'll disappear if he doesn't, their heavy cocks twitching into one another. How Rhett's tip has a darker shade of red as compared to Bob's pale pink. They look so similar until they're right next to each other like this; it's the only way to tell that Bob's a fraction longer but not quite as thick as Rhett is. 

Bob jerks forward, pressing impossibly closer. "Does that feel good?" As if he's not speaking around his own strangled breath. 

You have to lift your head to get a better look at Rhett's face. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth worrying his thin bottom lip, cheeks flushed with a newfound redness. "Uhuh." His head shakes with what you think is a nod.

Maybe that's an answer Bob was looking for, but you want to hear more. "Use your words, cowboy." 

"It feels—" Swallowing hard. A microscopic mewl breaks past his lips. "Feels good!"

He's already dissolving into a mess of squirms, wriggling back and forth, the swift stroke of Bob's hand too much for him to handle. Bucking upward, only to try and draw away, unshaven jaw shivering like a leaf in the wind. 

Your fingers drift upward, nails dragging across the soft meet of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against his balls as you drift past. Lightly rolling them in your palm would draw the prettiest sounds out of him, but today, you've got a slightly different plan in mind. Fingertips wander into the soft expanse of skin behind them, rubbing in loose circles. 

A pitchy cry rings in your ears. Rhett's hand flies up. Tugging at his own hair. Desperate to grab hold of something. "Fuck! 'm gonna..." His head thrashes, pretty neck barred to the world. "I'm, I'm—"

"You fixin' to cum for us, sweet thing?" Bobby's voice sounds akin to thunder, a little twang in his tone. His thumb darts out, rapidly swiping back and forth across Rhett's plush cock head.

Curls bounce with Rhett's nod. Hardly able to close his mouth and stifle his moan. Yet, it's so loud that you can hear it anyway. Your fingers keep spiraling, pressing the slightest bit harder. You're almost certain that you can feel the sporadic twitch of muscle as his back arches, cumming with a wail. 

A rope of white paints across his belly. The next one caught by Bobby's still moving hand. Disappearing into the squelching mix of lube and precum and your own juices, some kind of lewd recipe for disaster. Rhett's hips jerk. Yanks a grunt out of him. 

But Bobby's not stopping. Still pumping their cocks together as if nothing ever happened. If anything, you think he's going faster, and it's got Rhett jumping around like a wounded animal. Mouth wide open. Brows knit together. 

"Too much, too much, that's not—ah!"  He squeals. Panting hard. Frantically pawing at Bob's hand, but it's doing nothing to end his torment. 

"Hang on for me," Bob's eyes scrunch shut. Hissing through his teeth. Close. "You can do it."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't, that—haah!" Rhett's twitching. Wailing. Legs kicking in the air.Still smacking at Bob's rapidly jerking fist as if that can possibly save him, but he's not uttering a single note of his safe word. Merely dissolving into a frenzied babble of, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!"

That's all it takes for Bob's pale blue eyes to roll into the back of his head with a soft, deepened groan. Set off by the babbled cry of a helpless cowboy, trembling like a leaf beneath him. Rope after rope of cum, splattering against Rhett's lower belly and all over his softening cock. A visible shiver rakes its way up Bob's spine, and for a moment you think his glasses are about to fall off.

 Finally, finally, the motion of that big hand is beginning to slow, loosening until Rhett's length slips from his grip entirely, smacking against his skin. Between the wateriness of Rhett's eyes and the redness in Bob's cheeks, you're not entirely sure where to look. Each are tempting in their own right, but not enough time to focus on both. 

You suppose your distraction is why it takes a moment to realize that Bob's actually moving. Leaning down at a snail's pace, his lips pressing to your forehead, lingering for a moment or three before moving on to Rhett's, pressing a kiss to him, too. "Maybe we should call a different bakery," he murmurs, half-lidded gaze flickering to you. 

If this is all it took, then next time, you'll skip the arguing and jump right into kissing down his neck. "You think?" There's a hoarseness to your voice that wasn't there before; you blame the icing. 

Whether or not he caught the sarcasm in your tone, you have no idea. 

"Yeah..." Bobby pauses as Rhett leans in to steal a proper kiss on the lips. "Now we've gotta do something with all these ingredients."

Rhett hums. Sounds akin to a cat purring. "I have a few ideas." You wonder if those ideas include smearing each other with icing again or offhandedly snacking on sprinkles for the next several months.

"I'll hear you out on those ideas," yawning, a strangled little noise escaping you, "when we're in bed."

A valid request, but Bobby's wrinkling his nose at it. "How about a bath, then bed."

"Y' act like we were just rollin' in mud," Rhett's fingers tap at your shoulder, gently squeezing. 

"I love you two, but I draw the line at sticky sheets." Well, if Bob wants you to take a bath so damn bad, then he's gonna have to help you find the strength to get off this floor. Your hand reaches out, opening and closing in a grabbing motion. 

It takes a couple seconds of looking at it for him to realize what you're asking, but after a moment, he slips his hand into yours, holding it as he rises to his feet. Something in your knee audibly pops as he pulls you up, an ache blooming in the bone from digging into the floor earlier. Your feet stumble, knocking into Rhett and nearly taking him back down with you.

"You're a mess, sweetheart," Bob laughs, pulling on your hand as if you're still due to fall at any moment. You're not entirely sure when you acquired the purple icing on your thigh or the smear of green running down your leg; you refuse to acknowledge the array of colors on the floor until after you've had a nap. 

"So are you," not an ounce of venom in your tone, despite the attempt at mustering some kind of sarcastic bite. Behind you, Rhett hums his agreement. Someone started this, and it certainly was not you or Rhett. 

"No, I'm not," Bob's beaming, almost proud of himself. "You two licked me clean, remember?" 

It'll take the rest of the day for him to notice the icing on his glasses. 

[augustvandyne]

5 times she almost she almost confesses, and the one time she actually does. ( Lucy Chen x firefighter!reader.)

been in the works for a long time.. i apologize

it has been a while but i’ve been struggling (still kinda am) but im trying to work on myself and i have more time to write now!!

1.

The first time she almost says it, it’s mainly as a joke, but she’s cut off by you.

It was only the third or fourth time she’d met you, but she thought you were gorgeous and she would’ve sold her soul to go out with you.

On a random Tuesday, her and Officer Bradford responded to a distress call that happened to involve a house fire. Which was why you and your station were later called.

You’d had run-ins involving Tim Bradford and his rookies in the past, so you weren’t completely struck by this form of ‘teaching,’ but you were still surprised.

When you arrived on the scene Officer Bradford was telling Lucy she should help out since they were the only ones available in the moment, and you all but yelled out for Lucy not to do that.

“Officer.. Bradford!” Bailey shook her head in disapproval. “You should never enter a burning house without the correct equipment.”

“We were busy waiting. For you,” Tim leaned forward angrily, and that was when you entered the house, so you didn’t hear the end of the conversation. But you would bet good money that Bailey won that argument.

You moved through the house along with a few other firefighters, and that was when you found Lucy in the kitchen, all but coughing her lung out.

“Officer Chen,” You took one of her hands and placed the other on her back so you could help her out of the house and off the counter she was leaning on.

She leaned most of her weight on you, because she was weak from smoke inhalation, but you eventually picked her up to get her out.

You sat her on the back of the ambulance, and started checking her out since you had some paramedic training under your belt, and the other paramedics were checking on the more serious injuries.

“You okay?” You immediately put a gas mask over her face so she could breathe.

She tried to remove the mask to speak, but you shook your head and said, “Don’t talk. Just nod yes or no.”

She gave you a nod to let you know she’s okay.

Officer Bradford appeared in front of the two of you, but you shake your head at him.

“Uh-uh,” You pursed your lips and stepped in front of him. “I think you should go elsewhere. After the stunt you just pulled, you ought to be put on probation, but it’s not up to me.”

“I—“ Tim stood there with his mouth open, like you could stand there and talk to him like that.

“So you can take yourself back over there to the rest of your cop buddies, while I clear Officer Chen for duty,” You stood, one hand on the mask and one hand on your hip.

Tim clears his throat, “I’ll wait over there.”

“I thought so,” You nodded and watched him walk back over to the police cars.

Lucy let out an exasperated laugh, “Thank you. I needed that. I may regret it tomorrow, but, he deserves it.” Lucy pauses. “I literally lo—“

“It was no problem, really, I see he’s a bit stuck up. Someone had to put him in his place,” You cut her off, not even realizing she was trying to speak until after. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Huh?” Lucy thought it would be best if she acted like she wasn’t saying anything. “Oh, nothing.”

“Okay,” You nodded. “You’re okay to go, but take your time. Make sure if you’re out of breath at any time, that you take a second to rest. My orders.”

“You got it,” Lucy stuck her thumb up with a smile.

“Bye, Officer Chen.”

2.

The missile attack took everyone by surprise, even you.

The Los Angeles Fire Department worked to help with damage control and to help maintain traffic on the freeway and along the streets.

It didn’t work very well, but it made you feel better to do that than to just sit around while the world ended.

Angela and Jackson eventually told you to just give it up because nothing was going to help if the world was really going to end in less than an hour.

You fought against her, but she told you and Bailey you should go find Tim and Lucy and find shelter, as they weren’t answering the radios.

Bailey grabbed your arm softly and pulled you away, because she knew about your small but growing crush on the woman, and she knew how worried you were, even if you pushed it down.

Angela told you their last known location, and that’s where you found them, drinking their worries away.

“Officer Chen,” You nodded with a small smile on your face — although it was fake, it was nice of you to try.

“Y/n,” Lucy’s eyes softened at another familiar face.

You look to Tim, and even though you weren’t his biggest fan, you greeted him with a pat on the shoulder. There was no need to keep enemies if you were about to die together.

“What are we drinking?” Bailey asked nervously.

“Tequila and Scotch,” Lucy tried handing the tequila to Bailey, but she shook her head.

“I’m not a tequila girl.. wine, and I can get down with.”

You chuckle lightly as you watch Bailey wander off to find a bottle of red wine, and take the bottle from Lucy. Your hands brushing in the process.

“I think I love you,” Lucy stumbled over her words slightly, and you just let out a breathy laugh.

“That’s very sweet, Officer Chen,” You kept your eyes on her as you took a sip from the bottle.

“The world is gonna end, so I thought I’d tell you,” Lucy shrugged jokingly, but deep down inside (and later in the months) she wasn’t really joking.

When it was all over, you found yourself sort of wishing she’d meant it, but you’ve only seen her a few times, and you barely even knew her favorite color. Not to mention she’d never even asked you on a date.

3.

You were very surprised when Lucy had asked you to be her date to Officer Angela Lopez’s wedding, but you reluctantly agreed to go.

The two of you had swapped numbers after the false missile attack, and she texted you like crazy.

Not that you’d ever complain, because the pictures of puppies and random selfies throughout the day was something you came to look forward to.

It’s months later, though, and you’re glad Lucy asked you out (kind of), finally!

You lived with Bailey, as she was your best friend, and the two of you decided to get ready together since John Nolan had asked her to come along as well.

You wore a lighter blue dress that had just been sitting in the back of your closet for months. It was a spaghetti strap, and it flowed along your body nicely with a slit up your leg.

You bought it for another occasion, but never ended up using it, so you just pushed it in the back, thinking you’d never have another need for it. But Bailey found it and convinced you this was exactly what you needed to wear to impress Lucy.

And she was right.

You’d pay good money to relive Lucy’s reaction to your dress over and over.

She had no shame in looking you up and down, which was good, because you had no shame in doing it to her, either.

The both of you looked away with a small blush on each of your faces from being ogled. That is, until Jackson pushed Lucy towards you.

“I’m going to go check on Angela,” Jackson removes his hand from Lucy’s back, and the two of you nod, but you aren’t really looking at him — more at each other.

“You look.. gorgeous,” You shook your head, amazed.

“You do too,” Lucy scoffed slightly. “If there was a competition, I think you’d win with flying colors.”

“Have you seen yourself?” You continued to ogle her.

You grab her hand softly, and lift your arms above the two of you so you can spin her around, her dress flowing freely with her.

“Oo, you’ve got moves,” Lucy laughed as you spun her back towards you.

“Yes, I do,” You lifted your brows jokingly. “We’ll have to dance together later.”

“Why not now?” Lucy whined. “We could just dance right here, right now. I don’t care who sees. Please?”

“Fine,” A small smile graces your lips. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

You timidly place a hand on Lucy’s back, because this was new territory, and you didn’t want to overstep. And you place your other hand in hers.

The two of you slow dance to a song that doesn’t even match your rhythm, and neither of you care.

Lucy spins you this time with a giggle, and your all but fall into her arms on your way back in. But you’re especially struck when she dips you without warning.

“I have moves?” You question with a huge grin on your face. “Look at you, Miss. Chen!”

She slowly lifts you back up and you are about to kiss her when a bunch of people start crowding around you.

“Lucy,” John is the first to speak, and with a shake to his head, Lucy removes herself from you.

“What?” Lucy’s smile is gone, and she’s given sympathetic looks. “Someone tell me what’s wrong. Now.”

Tim steps forward anxiously and whispers something in her ear, and you only catch parts of it.

Lucy looks like her hearts been ripped out of her chest over and over again, “O— oh. What— who did this?”

You lean forward and grab her in your arms, because all you heard was “Jackson and Lopez,” and “Missing.”

“Lucy,” Grey says in a plain voice, but there’s so much behind it, and Lucy pulls herself together.

“I have to—“

“Of course,” You held onto her hands, pulling her in for a small kiss on the cheek. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yes,” Lucy nods. “I lov— erally can’t thank you enough.”

You shake your head trying to figure out what she just said, but then Bailey is beside you and the two of you are following closely behind them to exit the venue.

4.

You hadn’t heard much from Lucy in the span of a few weeks, and you were starting to worry.

Especially because Lucy was an over the top texter, and she hadn’t so much as sent one message a day. More like two in a week.

She was coping the loss of her best friend, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

You wanted to bake her some cookies and put together a small basket like she had when you were sick a month or two ago.

Bailey offered to come along, but you told her not to worry. Not because this was something you wanted to do on your own, but because she’d been off and on with Officer John Nolan, and you couldn’t stand to be put in more than one awkward interaction today.

Once the basket was put together (you had to have Bailey help you wrap it up and put the bow on, but that’s beside the point) you left and made your way to the station.

“Is Bailey with you?” John perked up from the front desk upon your arrival, but he was quickly put back down after not seeing her.

“Not this time,” You shrugged apologetically. “I’m looking for Lucy. Is she in?”

He eyes the basket up and down, “She might be in the break room for her lunch.”

“Has she eaten?” You knew it was a long shot asking him, because he’d probably been out there all morning, but it was worth it to try.

“If I guessed, I’d say no,” He shook his head.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek, “I’ll just have to force feed her some of these cookies.”

“Sounds good,” John chuckled as you walked through the station, finding Lucy sitting where John said she might be. No food in sight.

“Y/n,” Lucy gives a slight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey,” You placed the huge basket on the table and Lucy’s eyes are drawn to it.

“You didn’t..” Lucy frowned slightly. “You really didn’t.. have to.”

Lucy’s lips started to quiver, and you were quick to hug her tightly. You hadn’t seen her since the wedding, and obviously hadn’t spoken much either, so you were walking in blind today. No clue how she was holding up.

“Shh,” You let her cry into your chest, rubbing her back reassuringly. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay.”

Smitty begins to walk in, head hung as he looks at his phone. He looks up with a startled expression, “Oh— uh, Chen..”

“Get out!” Lucy cried into your arms, and you just chuckled at the interaction.

Smitty stood still, unsure what to do, “I think it’s best if you go..” The two of you stood awkwardly, just staring at each other. “Hello? Move.”

He swallowed and nodded his head, shutting the door on his way out.

“I lo—“ Lucy stutters and you just nod your head.

“I know. Shhh, I know,” You place a small kiss on her head. “It’s okay.”

5.

Responding to a quiet call in what looked to be an abandoned house was just what you needed today. Until it wasn’t.

You’d disappeared through a hallway because Bailey said she had the foyer, but she didn’t.

When you came back, she was trapped in what looked to be a trap of some kind — and you could only assume it had to do with Rosalind Dyer.

You and your group quickly called the LAPD, and soon enough, your girlfriend of two months walked in. You’d now known each other for a year and some.

“Y/n,” She hugged you quickly, placing her forehead to yours. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Gee, thanks,” Bailey said sarcastically from below.

“I don’t think I could handle it if it were me down there,” You say truthfully. “You’re smart, and you’ll know what to do, Bails.”

“It was designed for me,” Bailey quickly observes the tank.

Your heart drops and breaks in your chest for your best friend, and you’re so scared you feel as though you may have a panic attack.

You feel Lucy shift closer to you, her lingering touches bringing you comfort.

A sympathetic smile sets on her lips, a quirk in her eyebrow to ask if you were okay. You give a nod in response.

Things escalate quickly after that. John disappears, Bailey comes close to death, it’s a whole mess. And you’re struggling to breathe because you can’t lose your best friend tonight. It just couldn’t happen.

As Celina encourages Bailey to stay under the water longer when the explosions happen, you’re standing off to the side, a hand held to your mouth to hold the vomit in.

Lucy stands from her crouch, a gentle hand coming to your back to soothe your anxiety.

The bile lowers, and you attempt to speak, but she beats you to it.

“I l—“

For once you think you understand what she’s trying to say, and the swallow that contracts her throat says it all for her. You knew, and you reciprocated, but now wasn’t the time. There was too much going on all at once and you couldn’t accept the words here— not like this.

A slight nod from you and Lucy’s eyes changed.

“She’s going to be okay,” It was an empty promise, both of you knew, but she was trying to convince the both of you. “Come here.”

She wraps you in her arms and for once you feel safe.

+1

When she actually says I love you, you were in the hospital.

It was a fire rescue gone wrong, and you were in critical condition.

When Lucy got word she dropped everything and hurried to the hospital. Not even caring about Tim’s insistence on letting him drive her.

She broke twenty different laws on the way there, but the only thing she was worried about was getting to you.

A small smile formed on your lips when you heard her shouts — actual shouts — at the nurse to let her see you. You even think she flashed her badge, and if you weren’t in so much pain you’d laugh.

She does finally appear at your door, her pleads finally working, and you’re more than happy to see her.

She timidly sits on your bedside, afraid she’s going to hurt you from three feet away.

“Lucy..” You try to talk, but it pains you to even do that, and Lucy can tell.

“Don’t talk,” She reaches her hand out but draws it back at the last second because the last thing she wasn’t to do is make you uncomfortable. “Let me speak.”

You scrunch your eyebrows together in concern, because what did she have to say?

“I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t—“

“What did I say?” Lucy attempts to be stern, but it just makes you smile. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

Your lips wobble and she hates to see you like this.

“Bailey told me you had been rushed to the hospital. I’m so glad she did because I love you and I absolutely cannot lose you—“

Her eyes widen when she realizes what she’s said, her hand shooting to her mouth in shock.

“I.. I—“

“Lu—“

“Should I go? I should probably go, right?” Lucy nods nervously. “Or— just forget I said anything at all.”

“Lucy, I love you too.”

Your words catch her off guard, and suddenly the frown on her face is turned into a wide smile.

“You do?” She breathless.

“Of course I do. How couldn’t I?”

[chishiyae]

— HATE CONSISTENCY, BUT LOVE IT WITH YOU ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] hobie brown.

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ makeout sessions are lovely, but you'd prefer them to not have you pleading.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.7k words. implied fem!reader. there’s literally (little to) no plot whatsoever… just kissing and banter. established relationship. suggestive.

a/n. — there i was, on a road trip, listening to music when i thought about writing a quick little fic … so i opened up tumblr and found @/jasminesfury’s dialogue prompt. and oh, was i inspired

hobies thumbs circle the inner of your thighs before retracting and lowering his hands. the shorts you were wearing provided him with easy access, and he'd be damned if he didn't take use of it.

one of your hands was wrapped over his neck, supporting you in your straddling position. the other was found lying in between you and hobie, which was needless given how close you two were, but it's not like you're thinking right now. too engrossed in the sensations. the rhythmic motions of your lips lapping over each other. his hands stroking your thighs. the scrape of his jeans against your flesh (which you hardly felt now). all of it just had you — gone.

he pulls away from your kiss, a tiny rope of saliva tying your lips together. his gaze travels from the saliva to your eyes, taking in how distant you are from the world — from everything other than him. he couldn't stop smirking.

“look at my pretty girl.”

hobie dropped his head, brushing against your neck before giving pecks to the surface. you simply turn your neck to provide him better access. a calloused hand reaches for yours, and you almost miss it because of the warmth in your chest, or was it coming from somewhere else?

you're about to cease his kisses and bend in to catch his lips when you feel a harsher pressure on your neck. one that you can only consider as sucking. you gasp at the feeling; it being a wet yet ticklish heat.

his hand squeezed yours, and you reciprocated.

as he went on, the tingling gradually gave way to burning. and it takes everything you have to not let a noise escape your lips. to not let one out as hobie took his time sucking down on the sensitive skin, using his teeth, and then kissing the area as if to relieve the discomfort.

you let go of his squirming hand with reluctance. his fingertips slid up your arms so delicately that they were almost imperceptible. with each breath you take, he travels further. waist then hips. when he reaches the band of your shorts, he leans back and takes a good look at you. a discolored portion of skin stood out to him, the smirk on his lips becoming inevitable.

was he always this smug?

his tongue took only a second to sweep across his lips, but the way his teeth bit down on it made you want more. want him to take his lips into yours again. want the pool of neediness to subside. most importantly? you want him to stop fucking teasing.

your whiny expression says it all. hobie was skilled at reading people, but he didn't have to try just now, which he found very amusing.

"oh, shut up," you whined, giving him a push.

he only holds up his hands, “i ain’t even say anythin’!”

“you were going to.”

he pulls you in by your belt loops, sending you to fall over his chest. he looks down at you and mumbles, "wasnt."

liar.

you raise yourself higher and get closer to his face, hovering above him. your arms extended over his head and rest on the bedframe for support. it's quiet for a moment, with only the whistling wind to keep conversation going before you speak. “i hate you.”

he twists your belt loops and lightly yanks you back to your original position on his chest. when he stares down at you with that same expression, it's like deja vu, "oh yea’? should i stop?"

“i’ll push you off this bed.”

when you're staring up at someone, it's harder to be threatening. from the raise of hobie’s brow, you make a mental note of that.

"jus’ keep going," you continue, patting his chest as you prepare to sit up, when he gives you a knowing look.

your face falls. you already know what he expects. it was the only type of consistency he genuinely enjoyed, which you used to tease him about. getting a good laugh while he rolled his eyes, but nothing was funny once he brought up how you dreaded it, longed to just get your hands on what you desired. that's why the joke stopped.

“please?” you sigh, your voice quieter and less demanding than before.

a third smirk tugs at his lips today, to which you roll your eyes.

“see? was that so hard?”

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

[crazy4myself]

No Harm List | Pt. 14

Word count: 5.5k ish

Warnings: explicit language, violence, sexual themes

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

—------

A/N: Hiii lovelies I know it had been literal years since I’ve properly updated. To avoid confusion you may want to go back a few chapters to refresh; I recommend part 12. Also some of the next few chapters may look familiar bc I re-wrote them. But I think you will like this version much better :)

“Why did you avoid me after we kissed?” you asked again, your voice clear. You did not make yourself elaborate. You didn’t tell him how you’ve felt lost and helpless these weeks. And if you could take it back, you would. But if you were honest with yourself, no part of you really wanted to.

You just looked at him expectantly and watched him squirm in the silence. “Because.. I’m a coward,” he offered, looking down at his hands.

Your silence was loud in the air between you, pressuring him to keep talking, “I was scared because BTS has already put you in so much danger already. I mean, we're not even dating, and you were basically held hostage.”

“Don’t pin this on me.” you cut him off. You knew it was a valid point, but it wasn’t his only reason for not talking to you. “Whether or not I endanger myself to date you is a decision for us to make. Why did you avoid me?” you asked again.

“I was scared. I was scared it was an impulsive or pity kiss after being shot. I was scared you didn’t have feelings for me, so I avoided the rejection.”

You quirked a brow in disbelief. Oh, sure, he was scared of you rejecting him. “It’s true!” he insisted.

“And I don’t even know if I could date you,” he added, and you felt a part of your chest ache at the confession.

“I don’t know if I'm capable of dating with my lifestyle. It's not only a safety hazard, but I don't know if I’m capable of giving you any more of myself than I already have. I think about you all the time. And I love spending time with you. But our friendship, where we were before that kiss, it’s all I know how to give people.”

He turned to you, eyes searching your face for any signs of hurt or betrayal, but he couldn’t read your expression as you quietly whispered, “And what if I told you that’s enough?”

Jungkook parted his lips but was at a loss for words.

“I’ve never really dated,” you explained, “And I don't think I know how to. And school is so stressful, and the program is only going to get more complex. I’m not sure I have time to learn and figure out the ‘right’ way to do it.” You paused as you saw his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you realized how contradictory you were sounding.

“I like you, Jungkook. I like what we have, and I liked kissing you. But before now, I didn’t think I could date you. Not because of the whole ‘gang’ thing. But because I think-” your voice cracked, “I think something in me broke when I lost Daewon. I never,” You paused to swallow.

“I will never let anyone in like that again because it hurt so bad when I lost her. And we weren’t even together romantically. So, imagine how bad it would hurt to lose a partner?” a hot tear rolled down your cheek, and Jungkook reached up to wipe it. You leaned into the comforting heat of his touch as his callused thumb rubbed soothingly on your cheek.

“What I’m trying to say is we both clearly have boundaries and walls. And we both suck at keeping the other out of some of them. So what if we loved eachother in whatever fucked up way we know how and at least reap the benefits of having shitty partners?” You offered with a hesitant smile.

“The benefits being?” Jungkook asked with a quirked brow.

Mischief glinted in your eyes as you smiled at him before lifting onto your knees and crawling towards him on the couch. Jungkook knew this conversation wasn’t over. He knew he should stop you and assure you that nothing about you was broken for being cautious about who you loved. He wanted to tell you that you were good and kind and would make an incredible partner in any capacity, and he was worried he wouldn’t deserve what you were willing to give. But his mind went blank as you inched so close that he could feel your breath against his face as you murmured, “I can think of a few.”

You moved confidently but still grazed your lips against his in the softest touch as if asking for permission.

Jungkook leaned forward, capturing you in the kiss and pulling you into his lap. It was just as hungry as last time, as if he had been waiting to taste you again. Jungkook felt his body come alight at the joy of feeling you pressed against him. His hands rubbed eagerly against your thighs before wandering up your sides, your arms, and your shoulders as he took all of you in.

The touch wasn’t as much for pleasure as it was a claiming. But still, you skin tingled in response. A trail of goosebumps rose in the wake of every brush of his callused hands.

Finally, you broke the kiss to catch your breath. Pressing your forehead against his, you both smiled like idiots as you took eachother in.

Jungkook leaned in to kiss you again, softer this time. As if the raw desperation passed, he would savor every second now that he had you. His hands were firmly on your waist, and his thumbs rubbed in a soothing motion, lower, and lower as they crept under the hem of your shirt.

You felt core core turning molten and couldn’t reflect back on the last time you had been with someone in this way.

Jungkook’s mouth was hot against your neck, trailing down from behind your ear lower and lower, looking for the spot that made-

You gasped and arched against him in pleasure, your chest pressing harder against his.

There it was, his mind thought in primal satisfaction, as he bit down right above your pulse point, making you writhe against him further. He had been replaying the sounds you made during your last kiss in his head an embarrassing number of nights he was alone. He wanted to map your body right now and learn every spot that made you sigh and moan for him. His hands had migrated further up your ribcage, your skin flushing hot beneath his touch as his thumbs swiped just below your bra.

He was about to reach around to unclasp it when a cough from the kitchen cut his ministrations short. You both turned in shock to see Yoongi placing an expresso pod in the coffee machine.

“J-Hope is in the garage you might wanna,” he waved his hand in the air in a vague gesture to separate. “Or don’t,” he said with a shrug, “I think his reaction would be funny.”

You were scrambling off Jungkook's lap and shoving a pillow between the two of you. Your lips were swollen and bruised from the kiss. You straightened your shirt, which was more rumpled from your earlier fight than anything, and placed a pillow between the two of you as if to protect your chastity with seconds to spare before the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps echoed from the garage. You locked eyes with him as soon as he made it in the entryway. You could feel the anger radiating off of him as he entered the room.

“What happened?” He demanded.

Jungkook calmed his breathing, grabbing the pillow barrier to instead place on his lap as he reminded himself that the bakery was attacked. Hoseok had no clue that Jungkook was just kissing his best friend and that he was not in danger.

“Hobi!” you were up in an instant, ignoring his foul temper as you wrapped your arms around him.

He caught your embrace effortlessly, his eyes tracking you and then noting Jungkook and his new emotional support pillow as he squeezed you tightly before letting you step back.

“Are you okay?” you both ask in unison before cracking a smile.

“I’m fine I just had to lay low. What happened at the bakery tonight?” Hoseok pushed.

Your smile faltered for a moment. “There was an ambush, they didn’t touch me. I can’t say the same for them, but they’ll be fine.” you started.

Hoseok’s brow rose at your implication, “You took out four of the Black Tips best men?” he asked. He didn’t sound disbelieving, he sounded… impressed and maybe a little proud.

“Only two, and I wouldn’t call them the best. Why are you here if you’re in hiding?” you asked, ignoring the way his approval warmed you chest. “And why were you in hiding? And when did you dye your hair?” you pushed. Reaching up to touch the murky black locks. It was obviously box-dyed and barely covered the bright red it was days earlier.

Hoseok smiled tight-lipped before moving to the couch, “I’ll tell my story if you promise to tell yours when Jin and RM get back.” He offered.

You refrained from pointing out that the reason you were at the Den in the first place was to do exactly that. You were too eager to get some answers from Hoseok. Who quickly filled you in on the details of the fake assassination attempt that ended in a not-so-fake assassination charge. That led to Hoseok and Yoongi hiding out in some shitty safe house an hour outside the city, living off Raman noodles and re-dying their hair to more subtle colors.

By time Hoseok had finished, the other members of BTS began filing in. Hoseok told you they had only been called out of hiding so Yoongi could manage the video footage of the bakery and nearby security cameras for the police department and insurance claims. Jin wanted to edit out any evidence of a gang-related interrogation, or else their relationship was going to get a lot more complicated with the local authorities.

But apparently, there was no need. Yoongi was fuming when he returned from his office, informing the others that while the security cameras were able to stream live footage to their system, the memory had been wiped from BTS’s computers.

He still had to cover their tracks of abducting the Black Tips on any city cameras. But otherwise the gang was relying on you as the sole witness to the night's events.

Well, you and the four Black Tip members who attacked you. The men were currently stored away in a safe house under the greenhouse on the Den’s property. But with the excessive exposure to Jimin’s smoke, there was a chance their memories would be unreliable, if not nonexistent.

Jimin couldn’t even estimate a wake time for the men due to the level of gas they inhaled. It could be days before anyone could get answers out of them.

When Jin and Jimin finally returned from filing their reports to the authorities, everyone settled in the living room to hear your account. You recalled the night's events as detailed as possible, telling them how the man in the suit tried to buy your loyalty from BTS and describing him to the best of your ability.

To your relief, they all listened quietly while you spoke, and when you were done, it was V who helped you fill in any gaps you may have missed by prompting you with questions. His presence was steady and soothing, and you realized he was giving you a glimpse of the spider at work. The others didn’t dare interrupt him or ask their own questions, they trusted him to gather every drop of information.

What did the man in the suite look like?

Did he ask about BTS’s current movements?

What ‘sins against the city’ did he want to hold BTS responsible for?

What information did he want you to report back?

You didn’t have any answers to half of those questions, confessing you spent most of your time stalling and trying to get the man to reveal why he was bribing you of all people. You were convinced at the time that the alarm had alerted BTS of your situation and that they would arrive at any minute. The thought of the man getting away didn’t seem like a possibility.

And a small part of you, despite promising yourself you owed BTS nothing outside of your contract, couldn’t help but feel like this oversight was a failure on your part. Somehow, you let the gang down.

Jin clarified that the alarm had been disabled along with the cameras hours prior to the break-in. It was by luck and V’s intel that they managed to get to you when you did.

“And isn't that a big fucking problem?” Hoseok growled, unable to stay quiet any longer.

He stepped forward, glaring in Jin and Jimin’s direction, “Do you realize how irresponsible it was to schedule her on a closing shift alone.” He accused.

“Hobi, it’s fine I worked late all the time at my last job,” you started trying to diffuse the situation.

Everyone in the room refrained from pointing out how well that had gone for you.

“No, it’s not fine. This isn’t like your other job. What if they tried to get information from her at that moment, and she had nothing to give? What if V didn’t call in time? There are a thousand different ways this could have gone wrong. She is not a member of this gang,” Hoseok snapped.

You flinched slightly at his tone.

“She doesn’t have the tattoo. Debt and favors aside, she should not be this deep in BTS’s affairs. She should not be alone in our businesses. That bakery is a cover for Jimin’s lab and loitering drug money. Why the hell would you think it okay to leave her alone there?” He continued.

Jin’s face was like a stone as Hoseok lectured him, not wanting his own emotions to invalidate his brothers. “You're right.” Jin agreed, and you could see the full weight of tonight's events take a toll on him as his shoulders sagged and he turned to you with guilt in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry I put you in danger, Ella. We will never let it happen again.” Jin promised his voice was soft but earnest.

“It sure as hell won’t because she’s not working for you anymore.” Hoseok snapped.

“That's not your call to make,” you argued.

Hoseok turned to you, frustration evident on his face, “Do not fight me on this. You know tonight was too dangerous.”

“She was the dangerous part of tonight. She was fine.” Jungkook pushed, standing next to you.

“Stay out of this!” You and Hoseok snapped in unison.

Jungkook’s face puckered like he tasted something sour, but he sat back on the couch's arm.

“Tonight, you were lucky that man wanted you alive. He could change his mind at any point why can’t you see the danger in that.”

“I'm bound by contract to keep working off my debt,” you argued as you turned to RM for backup.

RM crossed his arms, taking in you and Hoseok as he contemplated his response.

“Blood debt runs deeper than civil law,” Hoseok said before his leader could voice his opinion. And a tense stillness fell across the room.

“Have you forgotten she’s on the No Harm List? That we are supposed to be willing to die for her.” he pushed. The whole gang's demeanor changed at the reminder Jimin downcast his gaze as his shame sank into his gut.

“I don’t want that,” you pushed, horrified, “Take me off the list I don’t - I did not ever want that.”

“Daewon, please, why won’t you let me protect you!”

The room fell quiet as his sister's name echoed through the room.

Your chest ached as understanding settled in, “Oh, Hobie,” you sighed.

“We’ll take a vote,” RM ordered, unable to stand another minute of this fighting. “We have damage control to take care of, and everyone is tired. We meet first thing, and we will decide as a team what we should do about Ella.”

Hoseok’s smile was mirthless at his boss’s half-ass attempt to placate him. “See you bright in early,” he said with a salute before turning for the garage.

You stared after your best friend, hesitant to follow him. “And do I get a say in that decision?” you asked RM softly.

RM sighed, “Your opinion will be considered when we vote. You will have full control over how we go about re-negotiating your contract if it comes to it.”

Assuming that was the best you could get, you sighed, eyes flicking over to Yoongi who flanked RM’s left, his arms crossed and his expression stoic.

“I guess I’ll go catch up with Hobi,” you offered hesitantly, not knowing what to do. Yoongi met your eyes but said nothing. Taking Yoongi’s silence as his answer, you squeezed Jungkook’s hand in a silent farewell before you followed Hoseok to the garage.

Hoseok kept his eyes forward as you approached his vehicle. He was sitting in his Porsche the engine purred a soft accompaniment to the rhythmic thump of his music.

“Can I catch a ride?” you asked, already settling into the passenger's seat and buckling before he could give an empty “Sure.” in response.

You didn’t ask where he was taking you as he sped out of the Den’s parking lot and into the streets of the seventh ward. His options were limited if he was still a wanted man, and you figured you would end up at your apartment by the end of the night.

“We need to pick up another box of hair dye. Whoever did yours did a shitty job,” you said, reaching to run your fingers through his hair.

The unique thing about your friendship with Hoseok was you two were forced to mourn together when you were getting close. Meaning you both had a talent for ignoring the elephant in the room and settling into a normal life where you talked around the big issue.

It wasn’t always healthy to ignore your problems like that. But for you and Hoseok, it worked. After big changes like this, you both had a habit of turning off your feelings for a while and giving each other space and time to process instead of forcing each other to talk about an issue before you were ready.

It’s what you did with Daewon’s death. It’s what he did for you when you first found out about BTS.

So tonight, you could make space for him. The two of you could go through the rest of the night without talking about the bakery or BTS at all if he didn’t want to.

You glanced out the window, realizing what street he was turning on.

“We’re going to see Dae?” you asked, surprised as he pulled to the side of the road outside the city’s botanical garden. The gardens were closed, which was no surprise considering it was close to one in the morning. But that was never a problem in the past.

“We didn’t visit her on her anniversary this year,” Hoseok said simply.

You both visited separately, though you wouldn’t point it out. At the time of Dae’s anniversary, you were still giving him the silent treatment for lying to you about BTS. You had visited Daewon’s grave on your own and saw that it had already been cleaned, and her favorite flowers decorated the small plot, meaning Hoseok had already beat you there.

At the time, you had felt guilty for the relief you felt in your chest. Visiting her that day came with the fear that you and Hoseok would cross paths before you were ready to face him. And you think Dae would have been disappointed to see the two of you arguing on top of her grave.

Because of that, neither of you had gone through with your tradition of robbing the botanical gardens.

Your freshmen year of college was filled with many adventures since moving to Alcor was still a novel experience, but it also came with many nights of being homesick. While Gautier was technically a territory of Kros, the country Alcor resides in, the cultures were very different. And the climate was shockingly different in the cold and wet port city where the smell of sea salt was on the breeze, you missed the clean and fresh scent of blooming heathers and rosemary in the spring, and the taste of sweet figs right off the tree in the summer time.

One night, when you were suffering from a rather nasty bout of homesickness, Daewon took you to the botanical gardens and taught you how to break in at night. At the back of the property, a mighty magnolia tree bloomed outside the garden's fence. It was almost too easy to scale the tree’s sturdy branches and dismount on the other side of the garden. The fences were lined with countless bamboo trellises fortified with different vine plants, making for an easy escape anywhere inside the garden.

You remember how your heart fluttered the first night the two of you broke in. You had to make an effort to hold in your nervous giggle as you scaled the magnolia tree and landed on the mossy lawn of the prehistoric trail, which was lined with ZZ plants and ferns with curling fronds. Sneaking your way through the trail and across the lawn of irsis leads you past the desert exhibit and to a greenhouse that honored the terrain of the eastern colony you called home.

The air was warm but much dryer thanks to the special ventilation system, but despite the heavy humidity missing from the air, the small shrub like plants thrived in the rocky soil, filling the air with the fragrant and aromatic scent of rosemary, lavender, and heathers.

You remember how a knot built in the back of your throat as you ran your fingers over the woody rosemary bush, taking in the earthy pine-like scent. Dae sat with you and listened to you go on about your childhood home for hours.

The giant rosemary bushes that were planted around your house were a staple in your kitchen and bathroom growing up. Your mother was always placing sprigs in her hair products, using it as her own perfume.

You told her the story of how your dad always tried to recreate your mother's french toast recipe on your birthday, but he always forgot to sweeten it so it just tasted like egg bread.

You told her stories of how your father courted your stepmom and how you watched them fall in love again, and build a new family together. One you didn’t fit into as snuggly, not for lack of love in your home, but because you were so much older than your siblings and you had your own dreams and life you were ready to find in Alcor.

Dae held you when you cried, then jokingly played the national anthem to Gautier on her cell phone. You guys laughed and danced around the greenhouse as she struggled to keep up with the lyrics.

The memory brought warmth to your chest years later, just like all the other memories with Daewon. But beneath the warmth, a sharp ache still lingered. Daewon wasn’t perfect by any means; she had a temper like her brother, and she could brood like no other.

But she was good. Daewon was good and fun and she loved so fiercely and encouraged and celebrated her friends. She was the type of person to buy you an ice cream after you failed a test and a cake if you passed.

She was the first person to encourage and support you in your adult life, even in scandalous situations like bringing you a spare set of clothes to the frat house so your walk of shame was a bit less shameful the next morning.

“God I miss her,” you sighed as you approached the magnolia.

“Me too. Every day.” Hoseok agreed quietly as he watched you scale the branches.

He was a worry wort and always made you go first in case you slipped.

“Did Daeown ever know? About BTS?” you asked curiously as both climbed higher in the magnolia tree.

“She knew some of it, like selling the spare car parts, and she could obviously guess some more once I got the tattoo, but she didn’t know everything.” He offered as you reached the branch just past the tall fence that protected the gardens.

‘She didn’t know I shot people,’ she could almost hear Hoseok say.

You ducked low as you approached the branch that led into the garden. Grabbing onto the limb above you to balance yourself, you carefully made your way forward as the branch dipped under your weight.

“Careful,” Hoseok warned.

“Whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes as you let go of the limb stabling you, tightening your core as you jumped from the tree. It was less than a 5-foot drop, but you kept your knees bent as you landed, feeling the impact reverberate back into your legs. You hissed as the pins and needles feeling swarmed the balls of your feet.

“You gotta tuck and roll,” Hosek laughed as you wattled out of his way.

You watched as he lowered himself on the branch the muscles in his body tensed before he sprung forward, extending his legs with his knees still slightly bent.

You sometimes forget the athleticism Hoseok hones in his body. You take for granted how smooth and precise his movements are. It was something you still couldn't quite replicate when you trained with Jungkook. But as you admired your friend, you wondered if he was responsible for training Jungkook to master his own smooth agility.

As his feet touched the ground, he pushed his momentum forward, curling into a ball and rolling across the grass.

“Ow fuck!” he exclaimed as he backrolled over a raised root of a nearby tree.

“And that's why I don’t tuck and roll,” you teased, walking towards him, the ach in your legs nearly forgotten.

You wandered out of the exhibit and towards the iris lawn. Dae’s favorite flowers were blue irises. She used to always pick a few of the flowers any time they visited the garden and keep a vase of them in the dorm room.

“You know they’re bulbed plants one day, we can go to the store and get our own,” Hoseok suggested.

“It’s not the same she says they smell better when they’re picked from the garden here,” you insisted.

“It’s not like she’ll be smelling these,” Hoseok grumbled under his breath but obliged when you held out your hand for his pocket knife.

The theft was quick and efficient. You cut loose five of the flower's long stems and returned back to the fence. Taking care that the flowers were unharmed as you shimmied up one of the trellises.

You were both back in the car within 15 minutes and driving down the road to her grave. The visit was a quiet one. Not tearful like in years past, and for a moment as the two of you kneeled and placed the flowers against the tombstone, you didn’t know if either of you were going to speak at all.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave the city,” Hoseok asked quietly.

You looked at him, startled, “You know my dream is to be a travel doctor,” you replied.

“Is that still your dream?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, your eyes searching his face for any indication of where he was going with this.

“Y/N, you were determined once. Focused. You lived and sacrificed for that dream and would never jeopardize it. And lately, you’ve-” You closed your eyes as you caught on to his intentions.

“Continued to sacrifice for it,” you interrupted him, “everything I’ve done, the debt I have isn’t so I can play gangster. It’s so I can finish school. The moment I graduate and the moment I pay off my debt, I’m leaving the city.” You assured.

“You could leave now,” he urged.

“Take a residency somewhere I know your grades are good enough for that accelerated program.”

“I can’t run out on my debt. They will find me.” You hissed.

“They won’t. Jungkook will pull RM off your trail, and they can’t send me after you. I would go with you. You’re the only family I have.” Hoseok pushed his voice urgent, “Things are getting bad. There’s a turf war brewing, and the Black Tips aren’t working alone. I don’t think that man who came after you tonight is from the west side. If power players from the East are involved, this whole city will go to shit. This isn’t a petty fight; people will die. The inner circle and whoever is affiliated with them will have a target on their back.”

“What about Yoongi?” You asked.

Your question was double-sided. You knew about Hoseok’s feelings for him and his unwillingness to move on from him over the years. Hoseok was always privet with the gang side of his life, but even before you knew of BTS, you knew of Yoongi and the web of feelings he carried with him. And you also knew of the second's ability to track down and find anyone. If RM wanted either of you dead, Yoongi would find you in a heartbeat and probably had the skill set to dispose of you himself, too.

Hoseok's eyes downcast “He would let us go.”

“You’re expecting a lot of loyalty from someone you plan to betray.” You pushed.

“You’re putting up a hard fight for someone who claims they don’t have a real reason to stay,” he pressed back.

You looked away from your best friend. The man who treated you like his own sister from the beginning. Who was ready to give everything up and run to make sure you were safe.

Why weren’t you willing to give up your fraction of this world in return?

“Perhaps things are more complicated than I give myself credit for. I kissed Jungkook, and I can’t just leave until I figure that out.” You admitted embarrassed. You braced yourself for the teasing or the anger. But Hoseok's face was calm as he responded his eyes ernst and urgent.

“I fucked Yoongi,” Hoseok countered. “If I don’t leave now. I never will.”

A/N: I haven’t updated in so long I totally forgot how tags and formatting work on this post. Hopefully it finds the intended audience… let me know if you read and enjoyed it!!! Xoxox

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[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 3!!

Okay, this thing needs a name. Please suggest ideas in the comments :) I know this part is tedious, but the thing with self-insert is you have Establishing to do before any Real Action happens. We'll get there, just hang on.

//Edited to include title.

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***********

The shaking must have been more visible than you thought, because Muriel is at your side before you can speak. They touch your shoulder gently.

“Um, excuse me,” they say, “Sorry, but you’re shaking an awful lot. Maybe you should sit down.” You nod, and it takes concentration, but with Muriel’s help you make it to the sofa. Apparently caffeine and adrenaline aren’t the best mix. Your breathing speeds up, despite your best efforts, and the rest of the room feels fuzzy. Shit, you do not need this right now. There’s talking and movement, but listening to the words feels too sharp, and the best you can do to convey that you are not okay is to shake your head over and over and over. You reach out a hand next to you, and are surprised to find the sleeve of Aziraphale’s shirt. It’s not ideal, but it’s something, and he doesn’t pull away. You focus on the feel of the cotton, the button on the cuff, the pattern of the stitching in the seams. Slowly, you’re able to tune back in. You focus on your breathing, you look around and count five things that start with B – button, books, brown, bow tie, black. Crowley hands you a mug of cocoa, and you accept it, running your thumb along the porcelain wings and letting your hands feel the heat of the drink. You take a sip and take stock.

Multiverse travel (?), mouthing off to the literal Voice of God (lol), brush with death (or...eternal saltiness?), confronting your very limited mortality (at least it’s 5 lives and not 3), panic attack. WELP. This is going well so far. Just peachy. You take another sip, and notice that everyone’s waiting. Oh, right. You clear your throat.

“Thanks,” You say, “Sorry about that. Um...I’m gonna guess that you all have some questions.”

“That would be accurate, yes,” Aziraphale says next to you. Now that you are better, he stands, straightens his waistcoat, and moves to stand nearer the chair (and Crowley), and watches you with his hands folded in front of him. “The first of which is, who exactly are you?”

“Buckle in, folks,” You say to them, “You’re in for a ride.”

And so you begin your info dump. You notice Muriel taking dedicated notes. Good, they’ll probably need those later. You tell them that you’re not sure exactly where you’re from, but it’s not here. You explain the tv show, the radio show, you even mention the musical, and of course, when you get to the book, you ask Crowley to find it on the shelf behind him. It’s right where you remember Jim leaving it. Crowley opens it, and you begin on instinct:

“’It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather seven of them thus far, and rain hadn’t been invented yet.’ Now skip a couple lines Crowley. ‘I said that one went down like a lead balloon.’ Sound familiar? There’s more.” You stop quoting there, because Crowley has started flipping through the pages quicker. Aziraphale holds out his hand, and after a while, Crowley hands it to him, then goes to a corner where you notice him taking a few deep breaths. You lean to the side to see that he’s not smoking, exactly, but definitely smoldering. You look at Aziraphale next, and see him turn white as a sheet, before handing the book to Muriel’s eager hands. The scrivener is the only one who looks delighted as they flip through. Aziraphale cleares this throat and composes himself.

“Uhm...now I believe you told Metatron that...The Almighty sent you here. Is...is that actually the case?”

“Honestly,” You say, “I have no idea. I just needed to get him out of your shop and away from you.”

“Away from...me?”

“Yeah...um...” You notice that Crowley has come back to the conversation now, although his sunglasses are slightly askew. You glance at Muriel, who has noticed the shift in your tone, has closed the book, and is now watching you. They put the novel on the nearest surface and reach for their notebook again.

And so, you explain the most solid fan theories that you know. That their joint miracle from the other day made them a threat for Apocalypse 2.0, and that Metatron was here to separate them, by offering Aziraphale the job of Supreme Archangel. This news is met with...surprise.

“Well that’s just stupid,” Crowley says, “He says no, in your tv show, clearly.”

“Yes, I rather can’t imagine I’d be so keen to return to Heaven after everything.”

“Weeeeelllll…...”

The room goes silent, except for Muriel’s writing. They stop after a moment, unaware of the silence.

“So then, you were trying to keep them from being separated because the power of an angel and a demon is most powerful together.”

“Yeah, or the power of love maybe. I’m not sure. Neil’s been kind of vague on that point.” You intentionally keep your gaze on Muriel once you realize what you implied. You will get there. Making those two talk about their feelings is on your list. Patience, patience.

“Oh, the author – Neil Gaiman?” Muriel points at the book with their pencil.

“Yeah, him. He answers questions sometimes.”

Muriel makes a note. You realize something.

“Wait a minute, Muriel,” You say, “Are you...on board with this?”

Muriel stops writing and considers your question for a minute.

“Well, see, the thing is,” They begin, “I’ve seen an awful lot that I never thought I would see? Just in the last week. Like a demon being nice –“

“HEY! Not nice!”

“And the Archangel Gabriel being in love with a demon and running away with them. And then you fell out of nowhere, and honestly what you said to the Metatron may have been a lie, and therefore, you know, bad, but it makes sense. If God didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. So if I help you, I’m helping the Will of God, right?”

Crowley is the one to break the silence that follows.

“Honestly I would have thought it’d take longer for you to take after me. I have to say, I am impressed.”

“Take what after you?”

“Nevermind.”

“Well,” says Aziraphale, “Is there anything else that we need to know about?”

You think about the kiss. You think about everything that came after. You think about ‘and I would like to spend -’ But no, none of that is relevant now. Why do you feel like you’re forgetting something?

The bell at the door rings. You turn around to see Maggie and Nina. UGH. Right.

“I’ve got it, ladies, no worries! Come back later!” You call, desperately.

“Excuse me! No, we need to speak to these two now if you don’t mind!” Maggie says. Clearly she doesn’t care who you are or what you’re doing here.

You roll your eyes. Honestly, you don’t have beef with Maggie and Nina. You agree with them telling off Crowley and Aziraphale, it’s just that you can’t help but feel that the clock is ticking. But, well, there’s no helping it is there? With a sigh, you stand.

“Come on, Muriel,” You say, “Let’s go to the kitchen and get some more cocoa while these four talk.”

Muriel follows you into the kitchen. You don’t listen, you don’t need to. All you need to do is refill your drink while Maggie and Nina tell them off. While you’re at it, you try to convince Muriel to have one. Despite your best effort, you’re unsuccessful. Oh well, all in good time. When you hear the bell chime again, you go back into the shop to find Aziraphale and Crowley looking very pink in the cheeks. You can’t help but smirk.

“All right, chaps?” You say in your best-terrible-British-accent. Aziraphale nods. Well good. Because you all have work to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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[weemssapphic]

Would you be willing to write Larissa Weems x nb!teacher!reader smut (still female anatomy though, but without a focus on r’s chest please) where they are watching the school play/musical and Larissa starts teasing reader? Like caresses on the inside of r’s thigh, inching dangerously close to their clit, etc., to the point that they have to leave to go fuck it out somewhere else (you can choose where exactly). And if you could, maybe strong praise kink with dom!Larissa? I love your writing so much omg omg omg it’s so good!!

hello! thank you for the request, and the compliment! <3 i had fun writing it so i hope you have just as much fun reading it and that it lives up to your expectations. also Enid is clearly my favorite Nevermore student so SUE me lmao. as always, ao3 link is in the title! ^^ warnings/content: nsfw (cunnilingus - Larissa receiving, fingering - reader receiving), dom!larissa, teasing/edging, semi-public sexual activity, praise kink, mentions of marking/scratching

words: ~3.9k

when the lights go down

“Hey, you’re gonna do great, okay? I promise!” Enid was practically trembling under your gaze, eyes wide, and you pulled her into a tight hug. As the teacher in charge of Ophelia Hall, you’d grown close to the young girl in your past year at Nevermore. She saw you as a bit of a mentor, often staying after class to help you clean up your classroom and ask you for advice, which you happily gave her - she reminded you a bit of your childhood best friend. You found yourself biting back wide grins as she would recount the latest gossip about her peers, always bursting with more energy in a single second than you thought you’d ever had in your entire life.

Other students bustled around the two of you as you stood backstage, when the lights out in the auditorium began to dim. 

“I gotta go okay, and you’d better get back in the dressing room. Break a leg, kid,” you gave her a final smile and pushed her towards the girl’s dressing room, waving to some of your other students who were huddled behind the curtain and giving them a thumbs up before sneaking out the back. You hurried your way through the hallways and slipped into the auditorium, scanning the rows for a place to sit.

The entire front row was reserved for the teachers and your heart skipped a beat at the fact that the only empty seat left was next to none other than your boss, Larissa Weems. 

“Hi,” you were breathless when you arrived at the seat. “Is this seat taken?”

“I should hope so,” Larissa looked up at you, her smile blinding, gesturing for you to sit.

“Enid’s very nervous,” you whispered in her ear, committing the way her eyes crinkled at the outer corner to memory.

“Miss Sinclair will be excellent. I’ve played Audrey myself, in fact -”

Oh? You wanted to probe her further on this revelation, but your conversation was cut short by the overture of that night’s show - Little Shop of Horrors.

The students were fabulous of course. Enid had nothing to worry about - the second she began her solo in “Skid Row (Downtown)”, you knew her worries were for naught. You couldn’t help but glance up at the blonde sitting next to you, wondering how she might have sounded in the same part. She was watching the stage with rapt attention, lips parted slightly, eyes sparkling.

Your cheeks warmed as sapphire eyes met yours in the darkness - you’d been caught staring. You averted your gaze back to the stage, trying your hardest to focus on your students and the production they were putting on - not that it wasn’t spectacular, truly. But your thoughts kept wandering back to a certain blonde principal, whose body heat you could practically feel radiating off of her at such a close proximity.

To how she would look gracing the stage with her regal presence, to how her angelic voice would sound crooning out some melody or other (you hadn’t known she could sing, foolishly hadn’t presumed she was into musical theater - what else didn’t you know about her?). To how lovely she looked tonight, a string of pearls kissing the smooth skin of her neck, a cream-colored dress caressing every curve of her body.

Christ, stop it. You chanced another glance at the blonde - only to realize she wasn’t watching the musical at all. She was watching you, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Larissa?” You felt utterly exposed under her gaze. 

“I feel I’ve flustered you,” she whispered, ducking her head so no one else would hear her. You could see amusement sparkle in her eyes.

“I’ve just been trying to picture you as Audrey this whole time,” you whispered back, reveling in the giggle she had to suppress at your comment. You’d never heard Larissa Weems giggle before, much less been the reason for a giggle of hers - you wanted to commit the sound to memory, to take it to your grave as a treasured gift.

“I knew it,” she smirked. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it sometime, darling.” You couldn’t help but notice how her voice dropped a bit at the pet name, subtly yet still noticeably. She placed a reassuring hand just above your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, and it took every ounce of willpower not to openly shiver at the touch. 

You turned your attention back to the stage, acutely aware of how Larissa’s thumb began to trace soothing circles on the inside of your thigh. At first, you weren’t sure she was aware she was doing it, when you peered at her out of the corner of your eye and she was watching the current song “Mushnik & Son” as if it were the most riveting thing she’d ever seen.

It soon became apparent, however, that she was more than aware of her actions, when her hand shifted higher on your thigh, subtly but definitely higher. Her thumb pressed insistently into the flesh of your inner thigh and you had to suppress a moan, cheeks burning brightly in the dark auditorium. 

Ms. Thornhill, who was sitting to your right, turned to look at you with furrowed brows, and you sputtered out a weak cough in an attempt to conceal the moan that had peeled from your chest moments before. 

You were disappointed to note the sudden absence of Larissa’s hand on your leg, cursing yourself for ruining the moment. Great. Now she won’t touch you for the rest of the evening.

“Sorry, Marilyn, I think I’m getting sick,” you shot her an apologetic glance, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Her eyes searched your face for a moment before her features softened, her hand giving your shoulder a sympathetic squeeze before she turned her attention back to the stage. You let out a defeated sigh and slumped back into your seat, stewing in your own misery at the desperate, building ache between your thighs. 

The fabric of your slacks shifted slightly as Larissa’s fingers returned to their former position, continuing their tantalizing ministrations. What was Larissa doing? Surely this woman would be the death of you… Her palm was warm against your leg and a fresh wave of arousal pooled at the apex of your thighs as you shifted in your seat in an urgent attempt to gain some sort of friction to relieve the tension building in your core.

Larissa’s hand caressed the top of your thigh, stopping just shy of your center, coming to rest. She leaned back in her seat as Enid began to croon out “Somewhere That’s Green” and you huffed in frustration, the coil behind your navel wound tight. You glowered up at Larissa until she finally, mercifully, looked down at you, eyes darkened with desire.

You bucked your hips up into her hand, forcing her fingertips to brush against your clit. She sucked in a breath, eyes darting down to your lap then up to the stage, as if contemplating something.

Her lips brushed against your ear, breath fanning across your neck, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as goosebumps erupted on your skin. Her voice was low and breathy as she murmured in your ear. “Follow me in 2 minutes, darling.”

With that, she stood and left the auditorium. You watched her go, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, slightly dizzy as you wrestled with your own desire. 

The longest 2 minutes of your life.

Once you were sure you’d waited long enough, you followed Larissa’s path out of the auditorium. As soon as the door swung shut behind you, a pair of strong arms pinned you to the wall of the hallway and a warm mouth latched onto your skin, peppering open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Larissa’s body pressed flush against yours, trapping you between her and the wall.

“Rissa,” you whimpered as one of her thighs came between yours and pressed into your center. You felt as if you were burning alive from the inside, desperate for her touch and already absolutely drenched.

“Shhh,” Larissa silenced you with a searing kiss, swiping at your lips with her tongue. You moaned into her mouth and she nipped gently at your lower lip. 

“Come with me,” Larissa threaded her fingers between your own, the close contact sending a shiver up your spine, and began a brisk pace down the hallway. You followed in a daze, hardly able to believe your luck. 

You’d harbored a crush on the woman since you’d started at Nevermore. Well… to call it a crush would be a bit of an understatement. You were quite sure you were in love with her. Everything about her drew you in - the soft, almost maternal smiles she would give passing students, the little creases that would form between her eyebrows when she was deep in thought, the way she seemed to be able to calm your nerves with nothing more than a hand on your shoulder and a whispered praise in your ear.

But she was your boss, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention intelligent, stunning, put-together, a consummate professional… Why would she be interested in you? And yet here she was, dragging you down the hallway to… your own classroom? 

Larissa fished her master key out of the pocket of her blazer and unlocked your door, all but pushing you into the classroom, locking the door behind the two of you.

“Don’t you look simply divine tonight?” Larissa husked, inching towards you like a tiger stalking their prey. You stepped back out of instinct, bumping into your desk. You couldn’t even the count the number of times you’d sat at that very desk, picturing yourself bent over it as Larissa towered over you, fucking you into oblivion. And here you were…

You gulped audibly, every nerve-ending in your body alight, heat pooling in your core. Larissa’s pupils were wide, eyes darkened with lust in a way you’d only seen in your wildest fantasies. 

She stopped in front of you, her breath warm and delicious on your face, raising the hairs on your arms. “I have wanted you since I first met you, my darling.” You whimpered, reaching out desperately and rather pathetically to pull Larissa towards you by the lapels of her blazer, rushing to crash your lips together. You felt the blonde smile against your lips, her hands coming to rest on your waist. 

“Tell me, can you be good for me tonight? Do you want this just as much as I do?” Her whispers against your lips shot straight to your cunt.

“Yes, Larissa, god yes. I want this.” Larissa smirked, sliding the blazer from her shoulders to reveal bare arms, pale skin dusted with light freckles that you’d never been privy to before. You traced them with your eyes, struck by the sudden sense of intimacy you felt clawing at your heart. 

A whimper clawed its way from your throat as a warm hand cupped your cheek, forcing your eyes to meet sapphire pools, swimming with lust. The pad of her thumb grazed over your bottom lip, dragging it down then letting go, her eyes watching intently as it snapped back into place.

You found yourself white-knuckling the desk behind you in an attempt to keep your knees from giving out as Larissa’s fingers began to toy with the button of your slacks, her teeth sinking into her lip in question. “May I?” 

“Do you have to ask?” Your voice was hoarse as you tried to rasp out an answer. The salacious smirk you received in return had you nearly melting on the spot, and Larissa wasted no time in dragging the slacks down your legs, nails raking at tender flesh on their way down. 

Larissa pulled you in for a heated kiss, teeth and tongues clashing, picking you up to set you on the edge of your desk. She rounded the desk until she was behind you, pulling you back against her until you could feel the swell of her breasts pressing deliciously into your back. 

Larissa’s hot breath ghosted over your neck as she nibbled on your earlobe, before her lips latched onto your pulse point. Her hands soothed over your torso, moving lower and lower until her right hand finally dipped between your thighs, knuckles brushing the damp patch at the center of your underwear. You felt a groan from Larissa’s chest vibrate against your spine.

“So wet already and I haven’t even touched you yet?” The low timbre of her voice caused a fresh wave of arousal to leak out of your core.

“Larissa, I-I need you, you have no idea,” you hissed as her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear and teased your entrance.

“I think I may have an idea, my darling,” the blonde cooed, finally applying the pressure you’d been searching for as she swiped two fingers up your slit. You moaned, bucking your hips up just as her fingers reached your throbbing clit.

She began to massage the bundle of nerves, drawing a series of moans from your lips as her own lips focused on your neck, your jaw, your shoulder, leaving little bite marks which she soothed with her tongue.

“Rissa, please, I need more,” you gasped, rolling your hips in time with her fingers in search of more friction. 

You could feel Larissa’s smile against the bare skin of your shoulder as her fingers dipped lower, spreading your folds on their way to your dripping hole. She dipped the tip of a finger into your entrance, immediately letting out a groan directly into your ear.

“I love how wet you are for me.” Her finger dipped further into your core, pumping slowly in and out, before adding a second finger, stretching you out.

“You take me so well, my love,” Larissa cooed, her thumb coming up to continue drawing languid circles around your aching clit. Long, slender fingers curled into your sweet spot and you arched into Larissa’s touch, hips twitching. 

Larissa could sense that you were getting close as your walls began to clench around her fingers, drawing them further into you, as your thighs began to tremble. She withdrew her fingers from your cunt, tracing your entrance with the pads of her fingers as she slowed her pace on your clit to languid strokes.

You whined at the loss of contact, bucking your hips up as the coil behind your navel twisted almost painfully.

“What do you say, darling?” The blonde teased.

“P-please,” you didn’t care how desperate you sounded, you needed Larissa inside of you again.

“Please, what?” She peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, fingers gliding through your wetness so lightly you almost felt you were imagining her touch.

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately rutting your hips against the air. “Please fuck me, I-I need you inside.”

Larissa’s fingers pressed more firmly now, giving in and providing you with more friction. She slid back inside you, curling her fingers just so as her thumb circled your clit.

“Right there,” you panted out between moans. “Faster.”

Larissa obliged, adjusting her pace as she added a third finger. You teetered on the verge of your orgasm, thrusting your hips up to meet her fingers, thighs twitching. The air between the two of you was charged with electricity, your body tingling from head to toe.

“That’s it my darling,” Larissa cooed, and you let out a low whine, your pussy clenching around her fingers. “You like being called mine?” You felt more than heard Larissa’s low chuckle as you nodded against her. You would be hers in whatever capacity she would allow it, in whatever capacity she wanted or needed you to be. 

“You’re doing so well for me,” she murmured. “Can you come for me?” Reaching behind you, you grasped at Larissa’s shoulders to steady yourself as you reached your high, thighs quivering as a string of obscenities dripped from your lips.

Larissa’s left hand was splayed across your stomach, pulling you firmly into her, grounding you as you rode out your climax. Her lips were on your ear, whispering faint praises that were lost on you in the moment, too focused on steadying your breathing.

“You look so ravishing when you come undone like that,” Larissa whispered in your ear as your breathing slowed. You turned your head, fingers twisting into the blonde’s silvery strands to pull her in for a bruising kiss.

She brought her fingers up to her lips, shining with the evidence of your orgasm. Her tongue swirled obscenely around the digits and she let out a guttural moan, immediately pulling you in for another kiss so you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“Fuck, Larissa, I need to taste you.” You watched the grin unfold on Larissa’s face as she dragged you towards the edge of the desk, sitting back in your desk chair - your desk chair, the one you sat in 5 days a week and would surely never see the same way again. She hiked her dress up around her waist, hooking her fingers around the waistband of her white lace panties and dragging them down her legs to reveal her own glistening arousal.

“Come here and take care of me, then,” Larissa husked, and you were off the desk and perched on your knees between her legs within seconds. After pressing alternating kisses up the insides of Larissa’s thighs, you flattened your tongue and dragged it slowly up her cunt. 

“Just like that, right there,” Larissa breathed. Your lips closed around her clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, pleased with the low whine you were able to elicit from the blonde.

She draped her thigh over your shoulder, the tip of her heel digging sharply into your back, a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. Your arms wrapped around her legs to steady yourself, surrounding yourself in Larissa.

“That feels so good, darling,” she moaned as she writhed beneath you, fucking herself on your face. You lapped at Larissa’s core, letting out unrestrained moans as you were finally given the pleasure of being able to taste the woman’s sweet nectar. The heat of her on your tongue only fueled your own carnal desire.

Larissa’s breath hitched in her chest as your tongue dipped into her entrance. “You know exactly how to make me feel good,” she breathed, her hands weaving themselves into your hair, fingernails scratching at your scalp.

You groaned into her pussy, the vibrations drawing heavenly sounds from her throat. Gazing up at her, you were in awe of her blissed out face, eyes screwed shut, head thrown back in ecstasy, mouth hanging open. Her cheeks were flushed the most adorable shade of pink and you felt wickedly proud of yourself in that moment to be the one bringing Larissa to the height of her pleasure.

Suddenly, Larissa’s hand pulled at your hair and forced you to still your movements. 

Larissa had stilled above you, her attention turned towards the door of your classroom. You strained your ears, unable for a moment to focus on anything but the dizzying sensation of Larissa Weems on your tongue, Larissa’s skin pressed against yours.

But then you heard it, the hallway flooding with students. The musical must be over by now, everyone must be heading out of the auditorium. Would anyone come looking for you? Or for Larissa? Surely no one had even noticed the two of you were gone. Right? In any case, it was too late now. 

Your eyes wandered back to the principal, who was gazing down at you with a fresh sense of unadulterated hunger - cheeks flushed, chest heaving. 

“Are you going to finish what you started?” Her voice was low and raspy, barely audible above the ruckus of students and staff just outside the door.

You were all too happy to oblige, bringing your tongue back to Larissa’s center. She rolled her hips against your face, pressing her heel firmly into your upper back as her thighs began to twitch around your head. 

“Make me come, love,” Larissa whispered, letting out a series of soft, breathy moans. Your gaze traveled up her body and you let out a loud groan when you caught her kneading her breasts, rolling and pinching her clothed nipples between her fingers. 

“Shhh,” Larissa cooed softly, “Can you be quiet for me, love? We wouldn’t want anyone catching us.” You whimpered and nodded softly, though from the smirk Larissa was giving you, you were quite sure that she was at least a little bit turned on by the illicit nature of your situation.

“I’m s-so close,” Larissa gasped quietly, and you could tell that she was by the erratic way her hips bucked against your face, the way her heel slipped a little on your back, scratching at your skin, the way her thighs began to tremble, closing around your ears. She was losing her composure, and you were absolutely drunk on the sight.

You flicked and sucked at her clit as she came, her hands weaving themselves back into your hair to push you farther into her center, breath quickening above you. You licked at her core, gladly drinking up every drop of arousal she had to offer as she rode out her high until, finally, her thighs loosened their grip around your head and she sank back into your office chair. 

When you looked up at her, she gazed down at you through heavy-lidded eyes, lipstick smudged around her mouth, a blissed-out smile playing on her face. Her hand came to cup your cheek, thumb grazing over your lips before she pulled you up for a kiss, mewling into your mouth as she cleaned her own essence off your chin. 

“I suppose we’ll have to wait here until everyone has gone back to their dorms,” you teased as you straddled Larissa’s lap, eager to be as close to her as possible. Larissa hummed in agreement, pressing her forehead against yours. 

The two of you breathed in tandem, simply enjoying being in the other’s company as the din in the hallway slowly faded. Larissa’s hands pressed into your back, dipping under the hem of your shirt and pulling you against her while your fingers traced patterns across the freckles on her shoulders.

“You’re stunning, Larissa,” you whispered into the crook of her neck. She craned her head back slightly to peer down at you, a faint hint of amusement glittering in those gorgeous, sapphire eyes. 

“I could say the same about you, love,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair and pulling you possessively close. “However, as much as I would love to spend the night ravishing you, it is getting a bit uncomfortable here.”

“Hey, you’re the one who ordered these chairs for our classrooms,” you grinned up at her, raising an eyebrow in defiance. 

“That was before I realized I’d be fucking you in one, Y/N,” Larissa replied dryly, ushering you off her lap and smoothing her dress. You dressed almost numbly, unable to take your eyes off the blonde for too long, turning her words over in your head.

The two of you made your way to the door of your classroom. “Larissa?”

“Yes?” Her voice was gravelly with desire as she smirked down at you, fingers threading through yours to pull you down the hallway in the direction of her own quarters.

You cleared your throat and quirked your brow, trying to play it cool. “I believe you said something about ‘spending the night ravishing me’?”

“Oh, darling, you didn’t think I was done with you?”

x

thank you to the bestest writing buddy @afeatherformills for helping me edit this and work out some things!