#And I still need to find her a toy that has long hair like her mouseys

[slaymitchabernathy]

Staking the Claim

| “Nothin' happened in the way I wanted, every corner of this house is haunted. And I know you said that we're not talkin', but I miss you, I'm sorry.” |

Coriolanus Snow has sat in many offices.

It’s a way of life. He’s sat in front offices at school, doctor’s offices, work offices.

He’s never sat in a lawyer’s office until today.

Because today the divorce is being finalized.

He drums his fingers against the mahogany desk, thinking of where it went wrong and how this divorce will affect him and his reputation for the rest of his life.

He tried to be good, a good husband, a good partner, a good father. But he wasn’t and neither of them could try anymore, try to make it work.

Divorce is highly frowned upon in their elite circles, only occurring in cases of abuse but never has he laid a hand on his wife. But he’s definitely said things and she has too. It’s better this way.

It’s better this way.

“This will be quick,” his lawyer, Mr. Nimbus promises him with a polite smile, “we’ve already gotten all of the hard work out of the way. All that’s left is to sign the last few papers and it’ll be done.”

Eight years down the drain, boiled down to a few sheets of paper and scribbles from a pen.

Coriolanus still remembers the first time he ever laid eyes on his wife. He had been walking to the library when he caught a glimpse of her bright blonde hair headed to the courtyard. He was suddenly very interested in the courtyard.

He followed her there and couldn’t help but notice how the scent of vanilla seemed to follow her everywhere. After watching her for a few days, he worked up the courage to properly introduce himself to her.

Soarynn Nightingale was beautiful. She was kind, talented, generous, and so thoughtful of others. She was one in a million and he was one lucky man. She stood by his side through everything, through graduation, through University and until the last two months, his aspiring political career.

Coriolanus plans on becoming President one day.

This wasn’t something he had ever mentioned to Soarynn who never yearned for a place in the spotlight like he did. No, she was more than content to start their own little family and live a quiet, comfortable life.

That wasn’t good enough for Coriolanus though. He wanted more, needed more and in the end, it drove her away.

At first he didn’t understand why she’d ever suggest separating. They had a family, a daughter. How could she put their little girl through that?

But after reading through her file, her statements and reasoning behind this divorce, he understood where he went wrong. He pushed Soarynn to the edge with the late nights, long hours, high expectations and little reward. He became less affectionate, more cynical and critical.

There were days where he didn’t even see his wife or daughter and Soarynn eventually had enough of it.

It had caused quite a stir in their circles. Their wedding had been a high society wedding, watched by all and admired by many. Soarynn had been a beautiful bride and it had been a very expensive wedding.

He can’t believe it’s over.

The door opens and he sits up straighter, refusing to look over his shoulder, to look at her.

Their lawyers greet each other, he knows her lawyer, he’s been the Nightingale’s lawyer for years now. Once Soarynn filed for divorce, her father, Glen Nightingale made sure that his daughter demanded and received everything she deserved.

Soarynn and their daughter Ceraphina have been staying with Glen since then, leaving Coriolanus with an empty penthouse to come home to every night.

It’s an eerie, terrible feeling. To walk into his daughter’s room with all her toys but find it empty squeezes his heart. To walk into their bedroom and not see Soarynn lying on their bed or sitting at her vanity goes against everything he’s ever known.

He even finds it strange not to see Petunia prancing around their apartment, leaving little tufts of white fur wherever she goes.

Soarynn’s lawyer takes his seat next to Mr. Nimbus and Soarynn takes her seat next to Coriolanus. The scent of vanilla washes over him and he glances at her from the corner of his eye. He hasn’t seen her for a few weeks, he’s been busy with his campaign and she’s been busy doing her best to care for their daughter while dealing with this divorce.

Coriolanus isn’t a glutton for punishment and neither is Soarynn, which has led to this being a rather quiet and civilized divorce. There have been whispers about it of course, it’s not everyday a prominent Capitol couple calls it quits.

But Soarynn hasn’t run off to the tabloids to sell their secrets and he’s so very grateful for that.

She’s never been one to kick others when they’re down.

“Let’s get started then,” Mr. Nimbus grunts, opening the file in front of him, “I believe we are here to discuss the custody of Ceraphina Snow and who will be taking possession of the Snow penthouse on the Corso.”

Soarynn’s lawyer opens up his briefcase, pulling out his own documents.

“Yes, Ms. Nightingale has filed for her to have sole custody of their daughter, Ceraphina Snow. Visitations will be permitted, unsupervised as long as they are properly scheduled and approved by Ms. Nightingale.”

It feels like there’s water in his ears.

Coriolanus can’t imagine not seeing his daughter every day, not hearing her laugh, not seeing her smile up at him like he’s the greatest man in the world.

The masculine, dominant part in him wants to fight for her, to demand that he be given full custody or at least half.

But can he do that to his little girl?

He still remembers the night he came home to Soarynn packing her things into a suitcase, how livid he had been when he saw her packing Ceraphina’s things too.

“You can’t take my daughter away from me,” he had claimed, filled with anger and frustration.

“She’s my daughter too Coriolanus,” Soarynn had reminded him, closing her suitcase, “and it won’t be any different, you barely see her as it is.”

She was right.

Coriolanus has been offered a handful of opportunities to see Ceraphina since they moved out and he’s only taken a few due to his busy schedule. From what he’s heard, she spends every second with Soarynn, going shopping, going to the park, out to eat with friends.

Should he fight for custody of her, she’ll grow up with a nanny rather than her mother and he can’t do that to her.

He loves her too much.

“Give her full custody,” Coriolanus says to Mr. Nimbus, clearing his throat, “I’ll pay whatever child support the court decides on.”

Mr. Nimbus looks puzzled by his sudden and clear decision but Coriolanus knows what needs to be done. If he loves his daughter, which he does, then he’ll let Soarynn raise her. And he’ll visit when he can, take her out for little dates, remind her how much he loves her and how much Soarynn loves her as well.

She’s a spitting image of her mother in both looks and kindness and he’d be a monster to take that spark away from her.

He finally gains to courage to look over at Soarynn and he can see the relief in her face, the tears in her eyes. Her hands are shaking and she nods, blowing out a deep breath, “I agree to those terms,” she says softly.

Coriolanus wants to reach out to her. He wants to grab her hand and wipe her tears because she shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t have come here prepared to put up a fight to have custody of their daughter.

But she did and he can’t.

Nothing has happened in the way he wanted.

Mr. Nimbus scratches several things out on his documents and warily eyes Coriolanus, “Then it’s come down to the penthouse which might I remind everyone, is an ancestral home to the Snows, dating back to the beginning of Panem.”

Coriolanus remembers the day Soarynn moved into his penthouse. How she transformed it, made it into a home. He remembers their first night together, baking cookies in the kitchen, dancing in the living room. He remembers brining Ceraphina home from the hospital after she was born, just a tiny little thing.

Every corner of that penthouse is haunted.

“He can keep it,” Soarynn tells her lawyer who is now the one who looks surprised. Coriolanus is shocked as well, she put so much time and effort into transforming the penthouse, making it more timeless, a space to pass down for generations.

She tears her gaze away from the desk and looks at Coriolanus, taking his breath away, “It’s yours,” she says, “we’ll live with my father in my own ancestral home.”

Coriolanus doesn’t quite know what to say, while Soarynn came prepared to fight for their daughter, he came prepared to fight for his home.

It seems that they’re both full of surprises today.

“I agree to those terms,” he finally says, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

Their lawyers probably came here prepared to throw down and put up a nasty fight but neither parties seem interested in watching the other person bleed.

They’ve both been hurt in different ways.

All that’s left is to sign the papers.

“Sign here, here, and here,” Mr. Nimbus says to Soarynn, pointing at several dotted lines on different documents. She looks at her lawyer who nods, all terms have been looked over and agreed upon. He’ll keep the penthouse, Soarynn will keep Ceraphina who will be able to see her father whenever she pleases. Soarynn will inherit the money she’s entitled to and Coriolanus will keep the rest.

She signs the last line and holds out the pen to Coriolanus who slowly takes it from her hand.

He stares down at the papers in front of him. He can’t believe it’s come to this. He wishes he could go back, change the past, be a better man, a better father, a better husband.

But he can see how tired she is, how exhausting this has all been for her. Coriolanus hasn’t stopped loving Soarynn and he knows she hasn’t stopped loving him either but if you love something, then you let it go.

He signs the papers, finalizing their divorce in black ink.

After documents have been filed away, everyone stands. Their lawyers shake hands and whisper things to their clients who are both quiet.

Mr. Nimbus gives Coriolanus a pat on the shoulder, “Good luck with your campaign, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus nods, watching him leave the room.

Soarynn’s lawyer gives her arm a friendly squeeze and follows Nimbus out into the hallway. Leaving Soarynn and Coriolanus alone in a room for the last time.

“Here,” Soarynn says, sliding off her wedding ring, “you should have it back.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, doing his best to act nonchalant, “No, keep it.”

But Soarynn takes a step closer, a persistent look in her stormy blue eyes, “It was your mother’s, please, take it.”

She’s right. It was his mother’s wedding ring and it was the perfect fit for Soarynn’s ring finger.

He takes it from her and slides it into his pocket, “Thank you. Thank you for everything,” he says, hoping she picks up on what he really means.

She does. She does because she knows him like the back of her hand and she sighs, carding a hand through her hair, “We had a good run,” she decides, “good times, good memories. I hope we can keep it that way.”

Coriolanus smiles, a real smile, the first one in weeks, “I’d like that. I’ll see about scheduling a time to see Ceraphina.”

Soarynn slides her purse onto her shoulder, nodding, “Good, she’s been asking about you.”

He looks at her differently now. Soarynn is no longer a woman he’s expected to protect, to love and cherish and yet, he still plans on doing all of those things. Not out of guilt, but out of respect for what they had and what she’s given him.

She gave him eight amazing years, unconditional love and a family.

She gave it her all.

He sighs, this is it. No longer will they be known as the Snows. Death will not do them part.

“Take care of yourself,” he tells her even though he knows that Soarynn is more than capable of taking care of herself.

Soarynn smiles, “It was nice knowing you.”

He misses her already.

“It was nice knowing you too.”

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @wonderlandbound111 |

[call-me-lemon]

Im still thinking about that shit my boss said like legit how dare she

I was on my hands and kneese that day scrubbing her crusty ass shelves for her yucky ass bisuness, I followed her and my managers instructions to the fucking letter and took the heat whenever the instructions conflicted with eachother

Its legit not even just a me thing, since I started working there less than a year ago shes had to replace her entire wait staff and half of her kitchen staff.

She legit hired new guys for the pizza station instead of just finishing my training. She knows Im a fast learner but she insists she cant trust me for some fucking reason. Like is she fucking stupid?

After she intruded in my personal life, asked invasive questions, and tried to mother me.

Not to mention she hasnt even been sending me pay stubs since fucking august so I cant even confirm shes been paying me the right wages. Minimum wage in my area got bumped up by a dollar in september.

[byuntrash101]

still your biggest fan. – 송민기.

SYNOPSIS. your boyfriend is on the other side of the globe touring. somehow you fear the cheers of the fans will make him forget about you. so you decide to remind him you are still and will always be his biggest fan

or in which you find a novel way to use your lightstick and send the video to your beloved bf.

mingi x f!reader, smut, mdni

tags. etablished relationship, facetime sex, masturbation (f & m), BLACK UNDERCUT MINGI (!!!!!!!!), jealous + slightly possessive reader, but mingi reassures her (awwww), use of (unconventional) toys (wink wonk im insane pls stop me), pet names, multiple orgasms (f), praises, squirting. wc. 2k

a/n. this mingi has me feral and the concert videos got me in a chokehold. and it's only the first date i need help. also shout out to that one video of yungi saying they use the lightstick to "relax" at night. not proofread.

There was one thing that was absolutely certain about Mingi: that man loved attention. That man lived for the roars of the crowd. When he danced, he was electrified by the cheers of the fans. And you knew your boyfriend was made to be on stage. He enjoyed the attention of fans, hence the fact he was constantly body rolling, hip thrusting and tongue poking. He loved to see the thousands of people thirst for him, he loved looking at all the concert videos all over the internet. He laughed and giggled at the tiktok edits, at the twitter threads, at every comment more over the top than the next.

Usually you don’t mind, you even enjoy them too. You like seeing him happy and fulfilled in his job but today maybe you’re a little insecure. He just flew out to start the American leg of the tour and you’re left behind in this bed that seems so empty. You fear somehow the loud cheers will make him forget about you. You don’t want that. You want to remind him. You want to make sure that today when he goes to sleep the last thing he sees is you. 

You looked at the time, your eyes darted to the digital clock on your night stand. At this time he was probably already at the hotel. It was pretty late for you but you wanted to send him a little treat, you knew how Mingi loved when you sent him videos of you playing with yourself and today you might add a little twist. 

You didn’t have much time if you wanted him to see the video before he slept…

***

Mingi was spent, true. But he was still pumped full of adrenaline when he stepped out of the shower with the ends of his raven black hair wet, the longer strands of his undercut dripping down. He didn’t even bother stepping into his pajamas, the AC was off and this part of the world in July was pretty hot. 

He tucked himself in bed, still wide awake. He looked at his phone, a text from you from several hours ago when you went to bed. You were probably sleeping right now. He debated responding, fearing he would wake you. But he pictures you pouting when you’d wake up in a few hours without a response from him and he couldn’t bear to make you feel that way so he typed a quick answer. 

🎀 princess #2: hope the show goes well (ik it will because you gonna kill it cause you the best😌). i lob you. you know that right? dont forget about me ok? <33333333

👸princess minki (real): i could never baby i love you more. hope you have a great day and i miss you baby <3

then for a second the three little dots appeared and Mingi thought he hallucinated it. But then an other text appeared.

🎀 princess #2: i’ll always be your first and your biggest fan

Mingi didn't even have time to reply that he received a video file. He faintly gasped at the thumbnail. It was your legs spread out on his bed. The big play button in the middle of the frame though blocked out the most interesting part and he didn’t even breathe before he played the video.

He continued to hold his breath when he saw you rub your clit throught your white panties. He didn’t know how long you did played with yourself but your panties were completely see through. Your juices were sticking to your folds, the laces barely concealing you anymore. But still, he needed these damn panties out of the way. 

He wanted to see you. His hand found his cock on instinct, immediately palming his hardening bulge. And his prayers were answered. You pushed the panties to the side uncovering the most beautiful sight Mingi had ever layed eyes on. He exhaled a long sigh when long strings of slick connected you to the thin fabric of the underwear. How bad he wanted to be there, to stuff your soaked panties into your mouth while he thrusted his thick fingers into you. How bad he wanted to feel you twitch around him. How bad he wanted to hear his name fall from your quivering lips as he brought you to your peak. He wanted you so bad.

But then you grabbed hold of something, something that emitted light… The lightiny? Mingi’s jaw hung open when he saw you bring the handle to your center, rubbing it through your folds, coating it with your juices before bringing it up to your hard clit playing with a little, prying beautiful muffled sounds out of your mouth. Just to bring the handle down again, you took a firm grip of the rounded part and pushed the handle inside your trembling core. 

“Fuck” Mingi exhaled as he started pumping his balled fist around his now fully hard cock, he kicked the covers off him just to be able to jerk himself off without resistance. 

“Nghhh” you moaned quietly as you bottomed out. “M-Mingi are you watching?” As if you could see him, Mingi nodded vigorously, qmd you gave more purpose to the coming and going of his wrist. “Keep watching me. K-keep- fuck aaaah. Keep looking at me. I’ll make myself cum for you, ok?”

“Fuck yes baby I wanna see it all.” Mingi replied in a strangled breath, his hand going to play with balls, while his other hand held the phone incredibly close to his face. if he could have he would have gone through the screen and right into you. 

You started to slowly bounce on the lightstick. You were obviously already really worked up, your pussy was clenching down on the shiny copper handle and the light was perfectly shining on your hard clit, making it obvious that you were pretty close. Red and swollen, ready to explode. Just how he liked.

So you did. In a few seconds your thighs were trembling and your movement became uneven. You started to squirt small translucent spurts, one then two.

“Fuck baby you’re so fucking hot” Mingi breathed and pumped himself faster. 

You took the copper handle out and rubbed your clit in tight and fast circles, squirting more translucent liquid and soaking the sheets. Your center quivering around nothing. You slowed down with a sigh and the video stopped.

Mingi felt like he was going to sink into eternal darkness and despair if he didn’t see more of you right now. His cock was twitching in his strong fist, his cockhead was leaking so much precum he wanted you to see him too. He wanted you to know what you did to him.

So he pressed FaceTime. It rang once, twice then you picked up. You looked disheveled and short of breath. Fuck how fucking beautiful you were. Mingi wanted to kiss you all over this pretty face of yours.

“Why do you torture me?” he said a little more whiny than anticipated. 

He was so cute with wet hair and his eyebrows meeting on his forehead. He flipped the camera to show you his swollen cock, hard, red and leaking. You bit you lip at the mouth watering sight.

“I just wanted you to remember me. That's all.” you started, your hand finding your folds once again. “Remind you I will always be your biggest fan”

“Fuck how could I forget about you? Are you insane?” he breathed out, his voice sounded strained, in pain almost. You could only imagine how worked up he was and this urgency in his tone compelled you to find a new angle to the video call. You balanced it on the covers and your wet pussy and the mess you made came into view again.

“Fuckkkk” Mingi sighed again, trying his hardest not to be too loud. San was next door and the last thing he wanted was for him to bring up his little intimate session with you tomorrow at breakfast. “You’ve made such a mess. I usually hate it but God I’d give everything to sleep in the wet spot tonight”. You saw him jerk himself off faster, his thumb spreading the precum all over his tip and dragging it down his shaft. Squeezing the head the bring out even more and repeat it again. 

“Please show me again” he didn’t intend to sound so desperate but it couldn’t be helped because he in fact was that desperate for you. “Please show me how you fuck yourself with the lightiny”

“O-okay” You brought it back and stuffed it inside your clenching little pussy with a sigh, your other hand spreading your lips apart, making sure Mingi had the first raw VIP view of the show. 

“Fuckkkk” he whined again. “You’re so fucking nasty for me, doll”

You chuckled, knowing your little scheme had worked. You knew right now he was only thinking of you. Completely pussy drunk even though he was thousands of miles away.

“I wish it was you inside me right now, Mingming”

“Fuck me too baby” he said strangling his cock tighter, more precum oozing out again. He was close judging by the way he kept on twitching in his own hand. The sight urged you to bounce harder on the handle of the lightstick, your pussy clenching around it, gliding so smoothly in and out of you while your other hand kept on abusing your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Baby I-I’m close” he said, a certain rasp about his voice that was only giving more weight to his words. His fist was frantically moving along his cock, now mainly focussing on his tip, making the poor thing absolutely miserable: all wet and beet red, close to bursting.

“M-me too” you said,  feeling the familiar knot in the pits of your stomach approaching its rupture point. The premise of your orgasm manifested itself in the form of an other small sprut of transparent liquid “Nggghh fuck-” you gasped. “I’m c-cumming again” you whined, rubbing your clit faster, in thighter circles. You ripped the handle out of you and one big squirt came out of your abused little pussy, joining the existing mess in Mingi’s sheets. 

“Oh fuck baby” Mingi couldn’t peel his eyes of the screen. “Fuck baby me- Fuck… Me too” He watched as your thighs became weak and as your pretty little pusy gushed out more and more fluids. You were the hottest thing he’s ever seen. And he couldn’t possibly take it anymore. He let himself go. He abruptly stop stroking himself just to let the first big rope of cum sprout out of his slit and crash over his stomach. You moaned louder at the sight. He kept on stroking again, milking more delicious cum out of his twitching red cock, completely repainting his stomach with thick and white cum, grunting as his hips involuntarily thrusted upwards until it all stopped.

When he had caught his breath he approached the phone to show his stomach and scooped some of his spillage between his fingers. 

“Look what you did to me? Just cause you got a little jealous of the fans?” he chuckled.

“I did that?” you said appalled, “No you did that! Stop making me jealous and it won't happen again” He flipped the camera again and you couldn't help but to smile mindlessly at the screen. He was a complete wreck, sharp eyes half lidded, bottom lip swollen and red from being bitten and strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. This haircut made him ridiculously hot. A mischievous smirk pulled at his full lips.

“Or…” he trailed off. “I don't this stop and you make me dirty sexy videos after every show”

“Yeah” you said, sarcasm tinting your voice. “Let's see you do that! We’ll see how it goes when you came back” you challenged him. Your smile sent shivers down Mingi’s spine. He loved you but you definitely could be scary sometimes.

“You know what, I changed my mind. I'll just behave and you can reward me when I get home.”

want more? try my fic facetime ♡

SYNOPSIS. mingi has a small favor to ask you real quick.

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[mostly-imagines]

Who Needs Heaven? : Safe & Sound

jason todd x fem!reader

aka your daughters learn what happened to jason

warnings: nonspecific discussions on how jason died

(1) the drop-in

The sound of water splashing under toy boats and fish fills the small room.

You ring the washcloth out over the suds, Rory’s idle hands scooping up the excess. She entertains herself with the slowly dissolving bubbles between her fingers as you fill up your cup.

“Put your head back,” you tell her, nudging her forehead.

She does, squeezing her eyes shut.

You pour the cup of water over her head, combing through her hair. You refill the cup again as she pipes up. 

“Mommy,” she says with a casual lull in her voice. 

You pour it out again, making sure to rinse the shampoo at her roots, “Hm?”

Her hand comes up to wipe the stream from off her forehead, “How did daddy get that scar?” 

“Well, daddy has lots of scars,” you say carefully. “You know that.”

She shakes her head, “Littler scars. He has a big one though, right here.” 

She points up and down her torso. 

“What happened?”

You take a breath, eyes focused on the dissolving suds. “What happened…”

She continues on, “He said scars come from when you get hurt and the bigger ones are bigger hurts. How did he get such a big hurt?”

“Um...” She’s quite young to hear that story, especially coming from you. Your older daughters have an awareness of what happened, though it’s never been formally discussed. You think Mia knows what the autopsy scar is and the twins definitely know he died at the very least. You’ve been made aware that there’s been…discussions at school about who their dad is and how he one day died and then years later magically reappeared. You and Jason had decided that you would talk to them about it eventually, but only when they were old enough to not be completely traumatized hearing it.

You just hadn’t assumed that day would creep up on you like this.

You sit back, tense. “Did you ask him that?”

“No…” she says gravely. “I don’t wanna make him sad.”

You nod, trying to collect your thoughts. How can you steer away from this without attracting more questions? 

“Do you know what happened?” she asks, scanning your face.

You do your best to reset your expression to neutral.

You start without really knowing where the sentence is going, “We…we can talk about it later…”

Rory tilts her head, “Not now?”

You shake yours, “Not right now.”

That’s enough to appease her curiosity for the rest of the bath, but you know with that one, it won’t last long.

You’d gotten her dressed and sent her on her way, but your mind stayed heavy the whole time.

You walk downstairs slowly, hands still damp from the bath. As you turn the corner from the stairs you find Jason, reading contentedly by himself in the living room.

You cross the room without hesitation, climbing into the spot next to him on the couch. He doesn’t need to look up, only adjusts the position of his arm so its draped over you, pulling you into his side.

“So…” you start, “Rory was asking about your scar..”

He turns away from the book, looking at you with serious eyes. “What did she say?”

“She wants to know how you got it,” you tell him. “I didn’t tell her, but she didn’t want to ask you either.”

“Why not?” He asks quickly, face brimming with anxiety.

You shake your head, calming his worries. “She said she didn’t want to make you sad.”

He relaxes a bit at that, taking in the information.

You break the silence after a minute, quietly telling him, “I think it might be time to talk about it.”

He looks dejected, eyes on the floor. “They’re still little..”

“I’m not saying tell them everything right now, just…acknowledge it.”

“I don’t—” He sighs, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell them that.”

You think for a moment, nodding. 

“Tell them how you told me. Just…more kid words.”

He still looks resigned at the idea so you continue, “You know how to talk to them. Just tell them what you want them to hear. They’ll listen.”

He nods, eyes low. “Okay…”

You stand up, and he grabs your hand as you rise, pulling himself up too.

You give each other one more confirming look before calling up the stairs, “Girls? Come here.”

There’s a ten second delay before a scuttle of footsteps starts down the staircase, arriving with a low-liveliness, nearly bedtime energy amongst them.

The second you’re within sight of them, they’re keen that something’s not right.

“What’s going on?” 

“Is—”

“Everything’s alright. Nothing’s wrong,” you tell them. “We just want to talk to you for a minute.”

Your words don’t do much to ease their minds, but after a moment they slowly gather onto a single couch. They’re all squished in together and Rory’s half on top of Anna and Laine, the latter of which can barely move. Still, there’s no complaints to be heard, only an air of seriousness throughout the room. 

Jason clears his throat, though he has trouble looking at them, the easier option seeming to be the carpeted floor. 

“Alright,” he starts with a deep breath. “So my, uh, my Y scar…”

The air in the room drops the second the words are out, the girls all quiet and listening closely. You can tell this is something they’d been wondering about for a long time.

“When I was younger and I’d just started doing the, uh, special job my brothers and Bruce do…” He takes another breath, “Some things happened that shouldn’t have and I got hurt..”

“What things?” Ryan asks.

“I…I got tricked by a bad guy and…I just got hurt.”

It’s uncharacteristic for the girls to all look so dejected and serious like this. Goes to show that you were right—they do have an understanding of what happened.

Anna is the first to pipe up. 

“Did you die?”

“Anna—”

“It’s alright,” Jason interrupts. He collects himself before eking out, “Um…yeah, I-I did.”

He’s still stuck on those words and you have to silently push for him to keep talking, so as to not give their imaginations time to run wild.

He takes the hint, stuttering, “But, um, it’s complicated, but I came back and—”

Laine interrupts this time, almost teary-eyed.

“Are you going to die again?”

Jason shakes his head quickly, “No. No, honey, not for a long time.”

It’s quiet for a moment as they process, sorting through the details into something their minds can understand.

Rory looks on edge, wide-eyed, as she asks, “Are you a ghost?”

“No, sweetheart,” Jason answers calmly with a shake of his head. 

That seems to calm her anxiety more than anything else.

“Are you better now?” Laine asks. 

Jason nods, “Yeah, I’m a lot better now.”

Ryan looks skeptical at the choice of words. “How did you…get better?”

He takes a shaky breath, “Well…your mommy helped me a lot. And then you helped me some more. And now…now I’m all healed.”

None of them seem to really understand, but they accept the answer anyways.

The next question is from Anna. 

“Is the bad guy in jail now?” 

Jason only momentarily stutters in his response, but pulls it together nicely. 

“It’s not something you need to be worried about. I promise. Nothing like that’s going to happen again to me or you or anyone.” 

This appears to appease most of the concerns flying around in their heads. 

He continues, “We can talk about it more when you get older, but…

You take the queue, nodding Rory and Lainey your way. 

“Let’s go get ready for bed, okay?”

You nudge the younger two upstairs, who, to your surprise, go without resistance.

You give Jason one last glance before heading up the stairs, happy to see him much more relaxed than he was at the start of this conversation.

He’s left downstairs with his eldest three girls, each nearly bursting at the seams full of their thoughts and questions. 

Jason thumps down on the couch between them, a heavy breath following.

The trio watch him quietly for a moment before Anna speaks.   

“I know what it is,” she tells him somberly. He looks at her with more melancholia than he would’ve hoped for.

She continues, “There’s autopsies on my show sometimes.”

Right, her show. The X-Files.

Jason nods, a bit remiss at the idea that she knows.

From his other side, Ryan pipes up. 

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head, “No, I-I wasn’t…” 

Wasn’t alive. He doesn’t want to say that, though. 

Ryan nods, understanding anyways. “Did it hurt when you died?”

He hesitates before answering, wavering between lying to protect their minds and telling them the truth. In the end, he decides that you’re right, they can handle it in small measures. 

“Yeah. It did, a little,” he confesses. ”But like I said, that’s not going to happen again.”

From behind Ryan, Mia speaks so softly Jason almost misses her words. 

“I’m sorry.”

He looks at her, brow furrowed. “For what?” 

“That that happened to you,” she says. Her eyes are filled with an equal sadness to his and it breaks his heart. Even more so that her words are so clearly meant sincerely.

“Oh.”

It’s all he can manage to say.

He was only a little older than Mia when his life had been taken away from him and he’d been forced to reset everything he ever knew. And now, all these years later, he sits here surrounded by his children, his world that he was given a second chance to create. His children that don’t see a monster when they look at him, don’t see the scarred giant that he sees. They just see their dad. 

When they were still young they’d started getting almost excited whenever they got a scar from playing too hard because it made them more like him. It took Jason years to just bear the thought of his scars, but his girls look at them like art. Even when they know he got them in bad ways, they pour out nothing but affection. No disgust, no fear, no hate. Just love.

His eyes close and his face falls in his hands, overwhelmed by the idea of his children being such angels, despite being products of him.

“Dad? Are you okay?” 

He nods, face still covered. His voice is muffled as he says, “Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, I just, um…” 

His words die off with little fight, and when his hands drop his eyes are red. 

Anna, who’s usually compulsed to only touch emotion with a ten-foot pole, is the first to wrap her arms around him, holding him tight. The gesture takes him by surprise, especially from her, and he tenses briefly before deflating like a balloon. Mia and Ryan are quick to follow suit, basically dog-piling over his opposite shoulder.

“It’s okay, dad. We love you. And your scars,” Ryan tells him. 

Oh, they think he’s sad.

Hell, thirteen years ago he would’ve thought he was sad. He only started to understand his feelings after his first daughter was born. He doesn’t tell them he’s not sad, doesn’t tell them that he’s crying because life slapped him around and then gave him everything he could ever want five times over. 

Instead, he just nods, pulling them impossibly closer.

who’s your fav daughter

[sugarverse]

𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣

word count: 4.8k

dilf!tenya iida x babysitter!reader

warning: dilf! iida, praise!kink, size!kink, pet names, smut like almost immediately, iida is 43 yummy. reader is 22 and in school :) listen headcanons are headcanons if you don't like it, scram 👵🏾🤜🏾

It was almost 8pm on a Wednesday. Not that you minded, but your boss wasn’t the type for such late plans. What could be the reason he’s leaving? Does he have a date? You question, a small frown coming to your face as you packed some things to study over at his house. His daughter was probably one of the coolest 4 year olds you had ever babysat, well mannered and just a world of silly. There would be times you had to remind Ingenium there was still pink paint on his nails, or that he had glitter all over one of his ties because Melody thought “dad needed some fairy magic!”. You knock on the door to their home, fumbling with your rings. It was still very nerve racking to stand in front of such a big house. You weren't used to it, but the pay was something you could get used to.

"Good evening y/n, Sorry I needed you on such short notice. They told me there are some after action reviews that hadn't been updated..." He grumbled, a vein from stress in his forehead as he forced a smile through the annoyance. He pushed his glasses up, shaking his head to himself before pulling out his wallet and counting a few 20s in front of you. He handed it to you with a more sincere smile. “Thank you for always being there when I need you, y/n.”

Before you could answer, you hear a pair of small footsteps running down the hall towards you. “Y/nnnn!!” Melody comes running up to you, fake fries in one hand while a barbie was dragged in the other. She put her arms up to the best of her abilities, offering her fries out to you. 

You smile wide at the little girl, quickly folding the money and sliding it into the pocket of your bag and taking the fries. “These look so good! Do you have anything else for me?” The little girl nodded, running away to go find more.

"Take your time, I brought stuff to catch up on while me and Melody hang out!” You begin to set up in the dining room, sliding your shoes off at the door. It was spotless aside from the dollhouse next to the television, there were all kinds of toys hanging around it but what else could you expect?

He let out a deep chuckle before his wrist caught his attention. He huffed, poking around on the new Apple Watch he bought not too long ago. "I'll be back as soon as I can, it's just to refill out reports from lord knows how long ago." He was clearly irritated, mood changing as his daughter came running down the hall once more. 

He kneeled down to kiss Melody on the forehead, giving her a big hug. She hugged back, giggling and handing him the fake food as well. “Are you gonna play too?”

He frowned for a moment, shaking his head no. “Daddy has to go to work for a little bit. He'll be right back, But Miss l/n is going to have the best time with you.” He smiled, watching his daughter cheer and hug you next. He stood, wiping his knees off and leaning in to talk to you. “There's money on the table to order anything you're hungry for, I should be back in two hours.” And with that, he left.

It didn't take long for the toddler to get tired, only about an hour in and she was letting you tuck her in. You turned on her nightlight for her, watching stars cover the ceiling from the pillowpet she had. Her room was so colorful, you could just tell he'd do anything for her. It was incredibly sweet. You leave her door cracked upon her request, walking back into the living room to get started on your work. You put your hair up and out of your face, making sure everything was put away before you sat cross-legged in front of the glass coffee table before you.

The main reason you had been babysitting for The Turbo Hero, Ingenium, was to pay off the hell that is college. He paid you almost a thousand a week for watching his daughter. It wasn't like you didn't love her! She was easy to take care of. Never cried a lot, says funny stuff, lets you do her hair instead of running.. But the first reason had always been the money. Now? It might have been seeing her father come home with ruffled hair from combing his hands through it so much throughout the day.  Always in such an unresting state, irritated from the world just to come home and be so loving towards his daughter.. and quite frankly, you. There would be times you cooked for him as well as his daughter,  those were the nights he said he'd be home by a certain time and couldn't be.. which happened more than once a month. He always repaid you with more than just money, not that it was a big deal. You repeatedly told him it wasn't. But he was raised better than that. Other nights when he'd come home earlier, he'd ask you to stay for dinner.  Melody loved when you stayed longer so why wouldn't he?

Maybe he felt the same way I did?  You thought to yourself. Who am I kidding, Hes a Pro-Hero, he seems so engrossed with being perfect and keeping an outstanding reputation.. There was no way! He was older anyway, what would he want with his 22 year old babysitter.. You bit the sides of your mouth subconsciously, trying to focus rather than doodling in the margins and thinking of your boss. It was unprofessional. But that still didn't stop you from showing up in shorter clothes, wearing lip gloss from time to time to see if anything in the air changed. A man with money was the dream. But a man with money, a sweet heart, and towers over you? That's a different kind of blessing.

Tenya sat at his desk, groaning quietly as he slid a rough hand over the tip of his cock to cover it in his own precum. It helped the friction and helped him distress.. plus there was hardly time to unwind except in the comfort of his office. It was almost embarrassing. He let out a low groan, bucking his hips into his hand as he threw his head back. Teeth bit harshly on a navy blue tie, letting his mind wander. He had met hundreds of people throughout his life.. but no one as gorgeous.. As heavenly as his babysitter. Now that was embarrassing. The way he'd have to hide his erection when you wear that specific skirt, or the way he couldn't help but stare when your tits were out. 

Did you care that he could see? Did you just need someone to put you in your place? He thought about how he wouldn't mind.. bending that pretty little ass over his lap until you'd had trouble sitting for days. Maybe it would knock the common sense right back into that little brain of yours.There was no way you dressed like that by accident. The more he genuinely thought about it, the faster his hand moved.

Shuttering at the thought of you, he shut his eyes tightly. Thinking about the times you wore those too short shorts, Or being bent over to grab the remote that mysteriously fell as soon as he got there and had been ‘too far’ under the couch. Seeing you in those pretty blue panties you wore. It was on fucking purpose wasn't it? God. Why has it taken so long to put it together? He sees the looks you give him but he just thinks its in admiration and he could be confusing it but.. now he's sure that's not all behind your eyes.

He bit harder onto his tie, feeling his cock twitch as he came onto the bottom of his desk. His head began to spin, Having held in that orgasm a bit too long. He gave a small huff as he spit out his tie, looking down at his mess. He groaned, going to clean his mess with a tissue as he tucked himself back into his boxers. He was going to have a talk with you when he came home. He couldn't help bouncing his leg impatiently after cleaning up his mess. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. The little things.. like touching more than his hand to get his attention, touching his thigh to lean over and grab the remote. You had to have known you were being such a tease.. how could he be so blinded to see it.

By the time he was on the way home, You had gotten some studying done… Along with ordering food, washed some clothes for his daughter, emptied the dishwasher, and vacuumed. After counting what he had given you? You felt the extra things were almost necessary. You heard the keys jingle from the other side of the door as the lock finally clicked, watching the door open. And there was Ingenium, disheveled with eyes glossed over from under those sharp square glasses.. Tie already loose and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. 

“I'm sorry I didn't think it'd take..” He started before you cut him off, smiling and starting to close your notebook for school. 

“You don't have to apologize, Mr. Ii-..Tenya.” He had corrected you on it before, using first names was fine to make you feel more comfortable around him. It just wasn't often that you needed to say a name at all. You could hear him sliding his shoes off at the door, setting the keys in a bowl. He locked it after him as always, setting his tie against the couch as he undid his sleeve buttons.

"Do you mind staying a bit longer? I need to talk to you." He shined a smile at you as he watched you nod, you had just begun to get up but your butt landed right back in the spot you'd been in. He walked past the couch and to his daughter's room, shutting it slowly so it didn't wake her. He then went across the hall to his own room to change into something comfier than a suit and tie.

It didn't take him long to change into an old white t-shirt, gray and black checkered pajama pants hanging onto his long legs. He walked into the living room, pulling his glasses off and wiping his face with his hand. "Y/n.?" He put his glasses back on to focus on your pretty grin, watching your thighs press themselves together as you sat up to prove he had every ounce of your attention.

"Your clothes are always very.." He huffed, looking up at the ceiling fan before right back at you. In your eyes, this time. "Your clothes are often too short for appropriate attire. It seems like every week or so your clothes get shorter and shorter. Are you trying to get my attention? Because now you have it." He couldn't believe the last few words coming from his mouth. Did he sound like a pervert talking to you like this? He wasn't trying to jump so far. He was just trying to let you know you really do have his attention. It's hard to focus as the day goes on, he thinks about you so much.. he thinks about what you'd say in certain situations, what kinda things you'd like when he stops for lunch. There have been plenty of times where you needed to accompany his pretty girl for the beginning of a field trip and he met in the middle of the day. You both would stay and Melody would have a ball.. He really couldn't stand when you weren't around.

You could feel your face flush, looking down at your outfit and tugging your shirt up slightly to cover your chest better.  "I.. I wasn't meaning to- It's just been very.. hot." That had some truth to it but your voice still cracked. Although it was hot, it didn't take away from the fact you were trying to at least see if he was into you.  Maybe he's not into-

"Come here, y/n." He stood with his arms crossed, his chest puffed out slightly. His ruby eyes followed your body until you stopped in front of him, watching you nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

"Do you think I don't notice when you bend over?" He grabbed your jaw with a large calloused hand, attempting to be gentle with firmness to his words. "How you look at me?" He could feel the blood rush to your face, not letting his eyes leave yours at this point. He leaned down a bit, not wanting to tower over and intimidate you too much. He wasn't actually upset. In fact…

"Do you think I could have you?" The Pro-Hero leaned down even more, rubbing his index finger across your bottom lip. He let his thumb and middle finger pucker your lips from gripping your face just a bit harder, feeling you nod in his hand as response. 

“p..please..” Was all you really could muster out before he slid his index finger into your mouth. You could hear him mumble some sort of praise, giving your temple a small kiss.

He didn't care about the small whimper you let out, loosening his grip on your face to slide in his middle finger. "Suck, sweetheart.." Letting the pads of his fingertips brush over your tongue sloppily. He watched as you involuntarily drooled all over your chin and his hand. "Good girl. You're so obedient for me already.." Tenya grazed his fingers over your teeth before shoving them deeper into your mouth, seeing you gag a bit with a smirk. 

You didn't mind the feeling, staring up at him as he began to stand up straight. He watched your pretty eyes fill with a few tears, starting to gag once again. You could feel him pull the digits from your mouth and replace them with his thumb. He cupped the side of your face and gave you a kiss on the opposite temple. "You're just so gorgeous." You shivered at the thought of him, Letting a few tears spill as you attempted to blink them away before trying to pull away from his hand. 

"I.. I wanna kiss.." You spoke quietly, feeling him tap the side of your face with his index finger. He let his 6'5 frame tower over you for a few extra seconds, leaning back down to press his lips against yours. You whimpered into his mouth before wrapping your arms around his neck since you were still having trouble reaching him. He lifted you into his arms, his hands holding your under thighs as he walked towards his bedroom. You slid your tongue into his mouth first, before he followed suit. 

You let out soft moans, squeezing him between your legs even tighter. You tried not to bite his tongue, sucking and swirling around it as you felt him sit onto his bed, pulling away only for a moment to leave room for words. "Are you okay with this y/n? Do you want this to go any further?" He cupped your face softly once more, breathing uneven and heavy but you knew by his tone that he meant it. "We can always stop my darling, I'd never wanna make you uncomfortable.."

You nod, scrambling to speak instead so he knew you were for certain. "Yes sir.. I want you.” You gave him a smile, watching as he kissed down your neck. You let out a happy sigh, squirming impatiently. He got the message, stripping your curves of the thin clothing that clung onto you.

His face burned at the sight of you, holding you closer to him by your hips. You could see him twitch inside of his pants, hands going to massage his scalp. He leaned into your touch for a moment, sighing in mostly relief as you slid to your knees and helped him out of his pajamas. 

“You're so sweet to me Tenya.. I'm so glad I can finally show you how much it means..” You teased, eyes focused on the navy blue trail with sprinkles of gray led down toward his cock. You started to feel nervous, looking at his length and then back up to his face. which was bright red, his mouth covered by his hand as his glasses hung from the edge of his nose. It sure was a sight to see. 

“Look at what you do to me, y/n..” He teased, his cock visibly twitching from the cold air in his home. You stared at him for a moment, feeling your legs press together tightly before sitting up on your knees.

You started closer to the base, licking upward to his tip before trying to fit him into your mouth. He rested a hand behind your head, massaging your scalp as you took as much as you could down your throat. He didn't want to force you, but he couldn't stand not watching you struggle. 

You started slow, bobbing your head and using your hand to make up for what couldn't fit in your mouth.  He let out a drawn out sigh,  head tilted back in enjoyment as he took a fistful of your hair. “You take me so w..well..” He laughed nervously, breathing starting to get uneven as you sped up. he didn't expect it, but gladly enjoyed it. He started shoving your head down gently, not pushing with much force but definitely pushing. 

You gag, rushing to move away from his cock before he told your head still. “Breathe- Breathe through your nose, pretty girl. ..That's it. Look up at me, hm?” He pulled your hair, tilting your head back enough that he could see those pretty brown eyes.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes, doing as asked. Your head spun from the lack of oxygen, but it was worth it to see him moan and buck at your touch. Especially when he talked so.. properly. And here you were, watching him crumble.

His mind was fuzzy. Thoughts everywhere as he let out noises of pleasure. Rocking his hips against his bed slightly to reach deeper in your throat. Once he reached where he wanted, he let out a sharp gasp. You watched his face contort, shoving your head down roughly as he chased his own orgasm selfishly. 

You moved your hands onto his legs, nails digging into muscled thighs as he abused your throat. You shut your eyes tightly, slobbering as gags and gulps came from you. He came quickly after speeding up, letting you go as you pushed away from his length. You cough, swallowing what you could as your tears fell onto the floor. It was a lot more than you thought, but definitely worth it.

Your nose scrunched at the taste, wiping your droll from your bottom lip with the back of your hand. You stared up at him, watching his cock twitch and stay hard even after all that. You whined at the sight, thinking about how sore your jaw is going to be. Before you can continue, he moved to sit up. He wiped the fucked look from his face, “Get on top of me, sweetheart.”

You got up slowly, feeling your legs shaking from sitting on them for so long. You ignored the ache, climbing over him and hovering over him carefully. Your eyes drifted to the detailing in his room, trying not to be too nervous. He held your hips to steady you, kissing your collarbone and leaning in to inhale your scent. 

He felt like it was almost addictive, nibbling and leaving small red kisses over your breasts. “Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away and looking up at you. His glasses were still tilted, trying to see you through the little bits he could.

You nod, hiding in his shoulder with a nervous laugh. “It's just a um.. a lot. is all..” You muster out, feeling his tip rub against your slit and against your entrance. He chuckled nervously,  rubbing your waist and ass slowly.

“You can do it my pretty girl. Come on, Try..” He pulled away from your chest, looking up at you to let you know how serious he was. If you couldn't do it, he'd stop and just eat you out. He gave you time to get used to it as he pushed in, watching your back arch and you squirm in his arms. He mumbled praises against your skin before bottoming out inside of you.

Your mouth hung open, whining at the friction. “O..Oh fuck- ohmygod..” You dig your nails into his shoulders until you feel comfortable enough to move, moans coming from both of you as you readjusted yourself. He rubbed your back in circles, letting you sit as long as you needed.

“That's it, like that..” He kissed your temple, feeling you slowly raise yourself and lower back onto him. His eyes fluttered, trying to concentrate on you. He hugged your waist tightly, grinding you down against him so your clit was simulated too. After a moment he decided you were moving too slow, bucking his hips up into you. “Come on y/n, Don't give up on me now. You can take it,” He encouraged, watching your face contort with pleasure. 

You could feel his skin under your nails as you drug them upwards against his shoulders. It was truly a lot. “I..Im trying sir..” You stutter out, biting your bottom lip and moving faster. He adored how gorgeous you were in his arms, wincing at your sharp nails and practically drooling as he pushed his face into your tits. You could feel his cold glasses smoosh against your skin, tangling manicured hands into his hair and holding him close.

It was definitely more intimate than you imagined, listening to the sounds your body made as you held each other so close. It was different from any other time you had had sex, besides what.. Maybe your first time? It felt nice for someone to be so loving behind it. He looked up at you, leaving small amateur hickeys for someone older than you. He moved his hands down to the curve of your ass, Big hands grip your ass, helping you take it just a bit more by moving into you at the same time. You were almost seeing stars.

“Does that..” He panted out, head moving back slightly so words could escape.  “Feel better?” He soaked in your facial expressions, watching you nod slowly and lay your head on his shoulder. He'll take care of you from here, you didn't have to overdo it. 

He made sure to stay steady, moving from your tits to stare into your eyes. He listened to your cunt squelch, looking down at your sexes before back at you. Your puffy lips tried to stay locked with his but you couldn't help but be loud. You hid your face into his shoulder to muffle yourself before he pushed you to sit down fully. “Let me see you angel, Just C..Cover your mouth..” He gave your temple another soft kiss, feeling you slowly sit back up to cover your mouth. 

Tenya stared at you with lust clouded eyes and a smirk. He groaned, tilting your hips upwards. He began doing all the work to fuck into you, wanting to watch come undone as he abused that poor sensitive spot so you could finally finish.  You covered your mouth with both hands, feeling as if the room was spinning as he held onto you. You tried your hardest to stay quiet, thighs already aching from the vast difference between your laps. 

You get louder behind your own hands, eyes rolling back as you came hard against his cock. Your body began to shake, laying your head onto his shoulder and staying in his touch. He stayed inside of you, letting out a deep chuckle. He stood with you in his arms slowly, turning to lay you on the bed instead. “Look at that pretty face.. I knew you'd make such expressive faces..” He held your legs against his chest as he slammed into you once more.

You raised your back off of the mattress, nails gripping onto the soft blue sheets. Your knuckles turned white, moaning into the pillow beside you. He held your ankle with his hand for a moment, kissing your legs softly as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. “Faster– ah sh..shit- harder..” You whine softly, trying to hold him closer with your legs. 

Iida was obviously close for a second time, his brow twitching as he concentrated on reaching deeper inside of you. He hugged your legs at your knees and slid your hips up towards his own. He moaned against your soft brown skin, kissing your calf. He began snaking a hand down your thigh, rubbing your clit so the two of you could cum together this time. You shut your eyes tightly, moaning into your hand or into his shoulder whichever was closest when you needed it. He sped up like you asked, watching you squirm under him with a very satisfied look in his eyes.

"Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me..” He stopped moving, holding your hips to stay still against his. He lightly touched your clit as he spoke, watching your eyes struggle to look up at him. “I want you to cum, y/n.. Watch you come undone for me..” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead softly before continuing his movements once more.

He let out low groans and grunts into your skin, hips moving desperately against yours. He stared into your eyes, strong hands keeping your knees pinned to damn near your shoulders. Your hands found their way to his back, tapping it slightly to let him know you were close like he wanted. Shoving his lips against yours, you could feel him slam into that spot before coming to a halt. You could feel him twitch inside of you, earning a whine as you came against his cock as well.

You clung to him as tight as you could, shaking from the stimulation as he slowly pulled your legs down. He chuckled, making sure to be slow when pulling out. “I..” He stuttered, ears turning pink as he stared down at the mess you two had made. “I couldn't help myself.. Apologies..” He said nervously, looking up at your face and holding it in his hands gently.

“Are you alright, angel?” He asked with genuine concern. You nodded, arms loosely hanging around his neck. He smiled, kissing your cheek and pulling away to stand. He lifted you into his arms, resting you against his abdomen as he walked down the hall. “Let's get you cleaned up..”

“My thighs are sore..” You mumble from his shoulder, giggling quietly and drawing swirls onto his soft skin. He frowned slightly, turning to kiss your cheek as he stared into the tub. He gave you a quick kiss, turning the hot water on and resting you on the side of the tub. 

“I'm sorry– Is that a good thing or bad?” He asked as he searched for towels in the linen closet. Once he found one, he wiped off his fogging glasses and grabbed some soap to pour into the tub. He wanted you to be as relaxed as possible, especially since none of this was planned and normally he is much more gentlemanly about wanting to have sex. Maybe he was overthinking it.

You shook your head no, giggling once more and leaning up to give his arm a kiss. “I prefer to be left that way..” You tease, watching his face turn all pink again. He set his glasses down on the counter next to the towels and continued to make the water juuuuust right. 

You spun your legs around, the smell of lavender filled the room. He stopped the water, kissing your temple and rubbing your back. You felt the warmth cover your body, sinking down into the big bathtub. You let your head stay above water, giggling and watching him get in as well.

This was something you could get used to.

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the bomb ass art boarders! will def be using them more :)

and thank you @fizziedoodle for the moodboard !!

[horror-sapphic]

HER ★ GIRL | Victoria Neuman x Fem Reader

Summary: You're having an affair with Vice President Victoria Neuman, and you're her star girl.

Cw: Secret affair, Smut/NSFW(18+), “light” dom/sub dynamic, spanking mentioned, slight hair-pulling kink (Vic), hinted pain kink(Vic), escorting mentioned (r), desk sex, Strap-on(R receiving), cum licking, cum handkerchief used as a gag, this is straight up filth tbh, angst, secret mutual pining, not much dialogue

A/N: Inspired by a post I saw by @princesssmars, I couldn't stop thinking about it. This was supposed to be like 200 words but i literally couldn’t stop writing omg I need her.

Barley proofread (sorry for any spelling or grammar errors, I wrote and "checked" this in one sitting)

V.N Masterlist

wc: 1.9k +

You quickly became Neuman’s star girl.

You undoubtedly stood out from all the other girls Victoria would hire for nights of lustful fun, she fell in love with the sight of you working between her legs while tucked under her desk while she worked.

She’s still locked in on the memory of you two a few nights ago, she remembers the contrast of her quiet office being disturbed by her loud broken moans coming from her widened lips as your pillowy mouth has been tightly latched on her leaky cunt for the past hour, your jaw hurt but you didn’t care since you love her taste as much she loves yours.

Your forehead is lightly coated in sweat from the lost time you’ve spent on your knees, while your ass is stuck out and lightly colored pink from the spanking she enjoyed dishing out to you earlier.

She’d have you snuck in after hours by her most trusted guards, She can now easily recognize your speedy footsteps “discreetly” rushing down the echoey hallway by the clinking that comes the designer shoes she’d send you as a ‘thanks’ for your hard work. She’s already wet, daydreaming about what the night has to offer, she can see it now. You both slick with sweat taking turns making each other cum again and again.

She’s so hungry for you, that she doesn’t even have the patience to start your routine of normal small talk. Or even start by telling you how sexy you look in the skimpy lace dress you picked out for her to take off, she simply slams the door shut and pushes you against it immediately finding the waistband of your underwear, dipping her desperate finger to toy with your throbbing cunt.

“You miss me?” she teases under her breath, earning a sloppy nod from you. She drops to her knees pulling your thin panties down your long soft legs and throws them aside while you bunch up your dress to look down at her, she grabs your leg slinging it over her shoulder.

“Not used to seeing me on my knees huh? you get special treatment tonight hun” Her voice is laced with arousal. She wastes no time before diving into your hungry cunt and latching her mouth on your raised clit — sucking and licking the bud, she ignores your whines and continues to press her face into you more, becoming pussy drunk from your aroma.

She pulls back to look up at your messy state and meets your drowsy eyes with her starved ones, her pink lips covered with your slick. She motions you to bend down to suck on the two fingers she has held up so she can use them to move your wetness around before thrusting them inside your tightness to be greeted by your warmth.

She continues to ignore your wails and starts fucking you faster, drinking in the feel of you tightening around her digits, the lewd sounds of your sopping cunt being stuffed relentlessly by her snug fingers makes her cunt drip. Your slick begins to trickle down her working hands as she greedily licks the trail up, ending up back at your raised clit that’s poked up from between your glistening folds.

Her warm lips wrap around your clit once more earning a pitchy whimper from you, her mean taunting eyes cutting back at you as her movements intensify.

Pummeling her pumping fingers inside of you, repetitively hitting the soft spongy spot lodged in your squirming cunt.

Her sucking intensifies, the speed of her fingers drive you crazy as you begin to sluggishly thrash against the thick white door your body is pushed against, your hand begins to wonder from its current spot on your hard nipples and finds its way into her thick hair — lightly pulling on it as your pointy heel slightly digs into her back, gaining a deep growl from her.

It all became too much. The pounding from her fingers, her mouth latched on your clit sucking hard, and the sound of your drenched cunt filling the room drove you over the edge. Your cunt begins to spasm around her — you feel her smirking against you, your cries become louder and she takes no initiative to quiet you down.

Your vision goes blurry and your knees slightly dip as you climax, her movements slow down but don’t completely stop —letting you ride your orgasm out, your body still slightly jerking as you’re still coming back down to normal. Your grip on her hair softens as she pulls her fingers out, tasting her girl on them before standing up with a proud grin on her face.

She pulls a handkerchief out of her all-black suit to wipe your residue off her face. She grabs your jaw and forces it to open with her thumb, stuffing the cloth in your mouth.

“Bend over the desk” she firmly spits out, your legs still weak from the rough play she previously displayed on your cunt with no mercy. You wobble over to her desk trying to ignore the feeling of your cum smudged between your legs, you can feel her staring while you do as you're told — bending over her dark wooden desk.

Your tongue gently toys with the cloth lodged in your mouth in anticipation, you hear the sound of her dress pants being unzipped and kicked off amongst ripping and clicks. Your hands begin to instinctively pull your dress up to have it pool by your waist, then find themselves behind your back waiting for her next move. You feel her come up behind you, slowly rubbing your ass with her soft hands before pulling it further apart — prodding her index finger at your soaked hole once more.

“Gooood” she praises, and without teasing she pushes in making you widen your legs even more, your whines become muffled by the makeshift gag which only intensifies in pitch as she slips her index finger out and adds her second finger, scissoring them to stretch you out.

Your legs grow weaker from pleasure, feeling that familiar build in the pit of your stomach. She gently pulls her fingers from you as you feel the tip of a condom that’s placed on her fake cock at your entrance, you begin to wonder how many nameless working girls she fucked with it.

The jealous thought is shoved from your fucked out brain as she doesn’t even give you any time to get used to the size of her cock before fully thrusting it into your soaked cunt, “Fuck” she whimpers behind you.

The feeling of her cock easily slipping in and out of you as she begins to slam harder into you, your ass meeting the base of her strap just riles her up even more.

The gentle knocking of her clit against the strap makes her more wet than she has been all night, she looks down at your hands behind your back as you lay over her desk getting fucked out by her.

She takes in the sight of your face contorting in pleasure while the cloth gag shyly peaks out from your mouth, taking one of her hands to grab yours that's placed on your back and her other by your face to add more force behind her thrusts.

You love being fucked senseless like this by her, your eyes can’t help but roll over as the squelching from your cunt is the loudest thing in the room.

Only she can fuck you like this.

You feel yourself leaking onto her desk below you and you can’t help but smirk at the messiness from tonight's activities, she bends her mouth down to your ears while her thrusting doesn’t slow down not one bit. God you love this.

She whispers in your ear about how good you are at taking her cock, she praises and mocks you before asking if you want to cum. You desperately nod and whine as she somehow starts to pound into you harder and faster than she’s done all night, you hear her breathing pick up as her little whimpers grow louder at your ear. This speeds your orgasm up as you can tell hers isn't far behind.

The tight coil in your stomach starts to build up with a burn as you can feel yourself close to another promised orgasm, you let out one last cry of pleasure before cumming hard around her.

Your tight cunt clamping and gushing around her cock as she’s cumming with you, you feel her hips stutter as her climax fills her senses. She thrusts a few more times before completely pulling out of you. You weakly moan out at the empty feeling.

You lay there for a second before feeling her mouth behind you fixed on your cunt again, cleaning you up. She pulls away and stands back up “You did good” she lipped, her voice still breathy from cumming.

She turns you around to take in your disordered state of watery eyes, and slight drool swimming in the corner of your mouth. ‘Pretty’ she thinks to herself. She gently pulls you from the desk and takes the makeshift gag out of your mouth, tossing it aside to kiss you.

This takes you back as this isn’t something she does very often, you both tiredly moan into each other's mouth before she pulls back to look over your shoulder at her desk. You turn to see what she’s looking at and see a small patch of your arousal on it.

“Lick. it. up.” she teasingly said, you voluntarily walked back over to the spot you previously lied on – doing what she instructed. Licking up your liquids, which came with a hint of embarrassment, ‘there’s so much’ you think to yourself, you can feel her brown-eyes gaze burning a hole through you.

After the spot is licked clean you find yourself back on your feet waiting for any more instructions she has to give, she puts her pants back on and puts away her toy and you can’t help but watch her walk to her black chair behind her “tidy” desk she just fucked you on, as she-man spreads before patting her now dressed thigh.

You confidently stride to sit on her leg as she pulls out her checkbook and metal black and gold pen and begins to write your payment for tonight's events, part of you wants to tell her that it isn't necessary and that these past nights that you spend with her no longer feel like work and you love how she makes you feel.

But the other part of you knows that she’s not one for having girls stick around, she likes to have them in and out. You’re the only one she’s ever had repetitively. The second she gets an inkling that they have feelings, they end up never seeing her again.

As someone in her political position, these paid nightly pursuits would destroy her career, so you quietly sink into yourself while watching her write out commas and numbers – forcing any pining after her to quiet down inside you.

She rips the check out with a tight-lip smile, you look at the long roll of numbers and stand up – walking over to put it in the pocket of the long black coat you came in with. You hear her punch in numbers on her black phone on her desk calling for her guards to come and pick you up.

She hangs up with a click before walking over to take you to the door she had previously fucked you against. She helps you put your coat on before giving you away to her guards, the familiar sound of your heels clinking against the white marble floors of the hallway fills her ears once more, as she dreadfully watches you walk away from her.

Again.

A/n: Very nervous to post this but thank you for reading. Pls reblog if you enjoyed it!

[covenofagatha]

Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 3)

Word count: 3100

Warnings: semi-public sex, sex toys, masturbation

You spend almost all of Saturday and Sunday at the bakery, just waiting for Agatha to walk in. 

She never does. 

It was especially hard on Saturday, opening up the box full of sex toys she had sent you and then having to come into work just an hour later, being more turned on than you ever had in your life. The only thing you were looking forward to was Agatha walking in and smirking at you. You were sorely disappointed.

So much so that you hadn’t even found it in yourself to use the toys she had sent. The vibrator, dildo, clit-sucker (you had finally figured out what it was), and the long distance vibrator had sat in the box on your floor for the whole weekend, you trying to not look at it whenever you walked in. 

Was Agatha worried she had made a mistake? You hadn’t texted her Saturday morning upon receiving the package, assuming she’d be in the bakery that morning, but now it seemed too late to send a message. 

Now it’s Monday and you’re supposed to go on a date tomorrow. Maybe you can wear the vibrator on Tuesday. Even just thinking about her letter sends thrills down your spine. 

Is the date still on though? 

And then the door opens and in walks Agatha. Your breath catches in your throat and you stand up off your stool. She is stunning. 

She shoots you her signature smirk and all of your worries and doubts just melt away. 

“Hey, doll,” she says, coming to a stop in front of the register. 

“Agatha,” you sigh. “I haven’t seen you all weekend.” 

She runs a hand through her hair and you find yourself transfixed. “Sorry, sweetheart. I got a new case and it’s very time-consuming. I kept trying to get away but I just couldn’t.” 

And then you feel bad, because of course the excellent lawyer was working and wasn’t avoiding you. 

A glint appears in her eyes. “Did you have a busy weekend?” 

There’s only one thing she could be possibly talking about in that tone with that look on her face. Your cheeks redden and you look at the counter, wiping an imaginary speck of dust off it. 

“I-uh-haven’t actually used any of them yet,” you answer sheepishly. You dare to meet her eyes to see that her smile has gotten bigger if possible. 

“You haven’t? Why not?” 

You shrug, too embarrassed to tell her that you were worried she was icing you out. It sounds stupid now, with her standing right there, but your thoughts tend to get the best of you when you’re alone. 

“Do you need some help with them?” Agatha asks and you choke on nothing. You open and close your mouth a few times, not able to think straight but trying to formulate some kind of response, when she tosses her head back with a laugh. “I’m just joking, doll.” 

“Do you really want me to wear the vibrator tomorrow?” Your voice falls to a hush even though it’s only the two of you in the store. 

“You aren’t wearing it right now?” She teases and you gasp at the thought of her toying with you while you try to make coffee and talk to customers. 

“No,” you squeak and shake your head furiously. “I didn’t know-”

“I’m kidding, doll,” she assures you. “Wear it tomorrow only if you want to. It connects to an app so you’ll have to send me the code on the manual once you open it. If you want to, of course.”

“I do,” you say hoarsely, feeling a flush all over your cheeks and neck. She smiles triumphantly and taps the counter. 

“So, where are you taking me on our next date?” 

You had actually spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. Obviously, as a college student making just above minimum wage, you couldn’t really treat her to a nice restaurant and you weren’t quite sure what she liked to do. 

So you were settling for something simple. 

A nice picnic in the park to watch the sunset. Maybe go for a walk after. Quality time is very important to you and you wanted to just be with the older woman. 

You hoped it would be good enough for her. 

“It’s a surprise. Pick me up at 6 tomorrow?” Not super classy to make her come get you, but you’d much rather ride in her slick, black Range Rover than have to pick her up in your ten year old Subaru. 

“Any plans for after the date?” She asks casually. 

Your mouth opens in mock outrage. “Do you think I’m the kind of girl to have sex after two dates?” With her, you are. You hope she says yes. 

She smirks. “You seemed pretty desperate for sex after the first date, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything though. We could always go back to my place and just watch a movie.”

“That would be nice,” you admit, even though you know you want her hands on your body. Fuck, if she wanted to come around the counter and slip her fingers into your pants right there and then, you wouldn’t be opposed. 

She seems to know where your head is at and by the darkening in her eyes, she is feeling a similar sort of way. “And if you wanted to, you know, bring those toys…maybe we could finally put them to good use.” 

Your eyes widen and you nod eagerly before you can stop yourself. She chuckles. 

“Alright, well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night at 6,” she says, drumming her fingernails on the counter one last time before shooting you a wink and leaving the bakery. 

“Don’t you want-” Your attempt to ask if she wants coffee or cake falls upon deaf ears as the door opens and she’s gone. 

You breathe a sigh of relief that she was just busy the past two days. And you’re sort of mad that you wasted those last two days not using the toys she had sent. 

But that would end tomorrow. 

Heat was already igniting in your stomach at the thought of it. You had never used a toy before and you were especially looking forward to trying the long-distance vibrator. 

The rest of your shift is pretty quiet, not too many customers either on Mondays. 

When you get back to your dorm, though, you realize that you are positively dripping. You guess your interaction with Agatha had more of an effect on you than you realize. 

You chew on your lip and your eyes keep darting back and forth between your bed and the box of toys on the floor. 

It couldn’t hurt to test one out, could it?

You grab the box with the vibrator and open it. Glancing at the instructions, you press the power button and gasp as the purple toy buzzes to life in your palm. You turn it off, heart pounding, and lay down. 

You close your eyes and remember what it was like to kiss Agatha at the Winter Wonderland the other night. Her tongue in your mouth, her sucking your lip, her hand under your shirt. You shift and hike up the skirt you were wearing and place the vibrator on your clit over your underwear. 

A whimper is forced out of your throat and your back arches off the bed. Quickly, you pull it away. 

Holy fuck. 

You’ve never felt anything so intense. 

You take a deep breath and slowly place it against you again, mind wandering to Agatha. 

Her veiny hands, her mouth, her confidence, the way she fluffs her hair. You imagine the way her fingers and tongue would feel on you. Your hips are rolling against the vibrator – that she gave you – and you’re already close. You truly cannot believe you’ve never used one before. 

You cum harder than you ever have by your own hand at the wishful thought of Agatha laughing as she holds the vibrator against you. 

It takes you a second to calm down and when you turn the toy off, you can still feel the rumbling in your hand. 

And then you reach for your phone. Just used the vibrator. You click send before you can second-guess yourself. 

Agatha’s response comes immediately after. And? 

Changed my life lol. 

She doesn’t reply for a few minutes so you go wash the toy, but when you come back, there’s a new message. 

Just wait for tomorrow night, doll. 

Heat flashes through you and you seriously consider using the vibrator again. 

But you want to wait. You can wait. 

However, the next 24 hours pass so slowly that you think time might have stopped. 

There are countless times you look at the clock, expecting an hour to have passed, only to find that it was three minutes. 

It’s like being a child on Christmas Eve again. Except instead of presents, you’re waiting to get fucked by an older woman. 

Finally, finally, she texts you that she’s on her way and to get ready (she sends a winky face, as if there’s any doubt what she means). 

You’re wearing a short lilac skirt so you bunch it up with one hand and slide your underwear to the side. You’re already wet just at the thought of seeing Agatha so you’re able to slide the bulb easily into you. It’s not too big but you can definitely feel it deep inside you. The other piece rests against your clit and you can only imagine what it will feel like when she turns it on. 

You find the bluetooth connection instructions on the instruction manual and text it to her. 

Barely a second later, she texts back Good girl. I’m about to turn into the parking lot. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

You wait until you see her car pull up before exiting the building, and as you’re walking to the car with the basket of food and a backpack with all the toys and some extra clothes, she turns it on. You almost fall to the ground. Thankfully you were holding onto the dinner tight.  

If you thought the vibrator from yesterday was intense, it’s nothing compared to the sensation of it against your clit and inside you. 

And just as quickly as the feeling came, it’s gone. You gasp and stumble hurriedly the rest of the way to the car before she can do it again. 

Agatha’s smirk is dripping with smugness. “How does it feel?” 

“Fuck,” is all you can say and she laughs. 

“Fuck, indeed. Now, where are we going?” 

You give her directions to the park. It’s in a pretty secluded area and there’s never really anyone there when it starts to get dark, so it should be empty. Even if it’s not, you’re just having a picnic. 

And just as you suspected, there’s no other cars in the lot when Agatha pulls up to park.

“What are we going here, sweetheart?” She asks, curiosity tinging her voice. She’s not judging though. You knew she wouldn’t. 

You hold up the basket. “I thought we could have a picnic?” 

She smiles. “I think that’s an excellent idea, honey.” You lead her over to a spot by the perimeter by the hand and don’t let her do anything while you shake out the blanket and take out two plates of sushi and a bottle of wine. You pour her a glass while you finish making everything perfect and she watches you amusedly while sipping on the Rosé. 

Dinner is so comfortable and filled with laughter and jokes and questions, and once you both are done with the food, you lay down on the blanket, Agatha’s arm around your shoulders and her other hand pointing out the constellations to you. 

She shows you how to always be able to find the North Star, which is in Ursa Minor, and then points out the Big Dipper, and you lose yourself in watching her point to all the stars and hearing her tell you the stories. You’re having so much fun with her and she makes you feel at peace. 

“I didn’t realize you knew so much about astronomy,” you say in awe, focusing on her face rather than what she’s showing you. She turns her head down so she’s looking at you. 

“Have you been listening or have you been staring at me the whole time?” She jokes, kissing your nose and chuckling as you scrunch it at her. 

“I’ve been listening!” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that one then?” She points at a star and as you peer at it, her finger fumbles with something and the vibrator inside of you turns on, turning your thoughts to mush. 

You had honestly forgotten that you were wearing it. 

But it’s impossible to forget now, and your fingers dig into her side and you let out a quiet moan. 

“Agatha,” you whine when it turns off. 

“What constellation is that?” She turns it on again and your hips start undulating involuntarily as you rack your brain. Your eyes frantically dart to the surrounding stars as you start whimpering. 

“Andromeda?” It’s partly a guess but you do remember her saying something about that one. You can vaguely remember the story too. Something about her mom being vain and then Andromeda being chained for a sea monster but Perseus rescues her. 

The toy turns off and you gasp for breath. Your hips are still gently riding against nothing, missing the stimulation. 

“Very good,” Agatha muses. “How are you feeling?” 

“Why don’t you feel for yourself?” You challenge but your smirk turns into a gasp when she reaches over, pushes up your skirt, and rubs your slit over your underwear. Your hips chase her fingers but she pulls away. 

You are throbbing. 

She holds her fingertips up to the lamp and you both can see them glistening. You have soaked through your panties. Before you can say anything or be too embarrassed, she sucks them into her mouth and your jaw drops. She moans at your taste and when she opens her eyes, you can barely see the blue with how blown out her pupils are. 

“Can we go?” You rasp. 

“Sure, doll,” she says and helps you pack up so the two of you can get in the car faster. You’re checking the spot one last time just to make sure you have everything when Agatha turns the vibrator on. Your knees buckle this time because of how needy you are, but she catches you. 

“Agatha,” you breathe, pleasure overtaking your body. 

“Thought you wanted to leave?” She teases innocently and you wrap your arms around her so you can try to walk because she hasn’t turned it off. 

You’ve become a moaning mess, face pressed hotly into Agatha’s neck while she basically drags you to the car. You can see goosebumps on the older woman and you can hear her breathing get heavier so you know she’s at least a little affected too. 

“Please, please, Aggie, so close,” you babble and it seems like the car is a mile away. 

“Aw, does my baby need some relief right now?” She asks, and as pathetic as it is, you nod your head eagerly. She turns it off and you’re able to stand on your own, but Agatha takes off in a different direction of the car. 

“Where are you going?” You call after her, but then you realize she’s making a beeline towards a bench. You follow in a daze, not really sure what’s going on. She sits and pats her thighs. 

“Since you’re so desperate,” she says with a smirk. You think you might cum right then and there. She spreads her legs when you get closer so you’re able to straddle one of her legs. “Grind.” 

She doesn't have to tell you twice. You wrap your arms around her neck and bury your head back into her, moving your hips experimentally. 

And then she turns the toy back on and you rip your face out of her shoulder to bite your hand before you moan loudly. 

“Fuck,” you keen, rhythm getting sloppy but she moves her hands to her waist to help you out. 

“You like this?” She pants into your ear and your resounding moan is all the answer she needs. “You like riding my thigh in a park where anyone could walk by and see how much you need me?”

You nod frantically, every single drag against her leg pushing the vibration against your clit. It feels so delicious and you’ve been on edge all day. 

“So desperate for me, so desperate for mommy,” she whispers and her voice shakes a little on the last word, almost like she was nervous. Clearly she had nothing to be nervous about though, because your walls clench even more and you let out a loud whine. You can practically hear her smirking at you. 

“Mommy,” you gasp, moving your hips faster, chasing your high. “Need to cum, so close.” 

“Do you want to cum all over my leg right now?” She says lowly, peppering your jaw with kisses. 

“Please, please, yes, mommy,” you beg. Agatha grabs your chin and tilts it up to lean in for a kiss, but she stops a breath away from your lips. 

And then the vibrations stop. 

“No, no,” you cry, furiously grinding against her leg, trying to regain the stimulation that you just lost. It’s no use; it’s not the same. Her fingernails dig into your hip to stop your movements. 

Your head drops against her shoulder in frustration and you can feel her body shake with contained laughter.

“Why?” You ask and you’re almost ashamed of how needy you sound. Her thumb swipes your bottom lip and then brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead. 

“I’m not having the first time I make you cum be on a park bench using a vibrator,” she says matter-of-factly. “It’s going to be in my bed, with either my fingers or my mouth.” You bite your lip at the thought and your hips give another weak jump. She smirks. “After that, we’ll have all the time for toys in the world.” 

And with that, she stands you back up and pulls you to the car, intending to make good on her promise. 

[girlokwhatever]

as a sleepy girl i would love some sleepy girl inspired smut🫣 with paige

YESS PERIOD i’m a sucker for this

.ೃ࿐𐦍༘⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ early morning,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

once you feel the familiar sensation of paige’s hands on your stomach, you lean into the warmth. its welcoming and gentle, making your skin tingle wherever she leaves the ghost of her affection. she’s trying to pull you out of your slumber, her patience wearing thin.

it always does. you sleep late on the weekends and paige can’t stand it. she has to wait for you and never lasts very long in her attempts of letting you sleep.

even though it’s only 8 am, she doesn’t think she can wait any longer.

the air around you is cold, encouraging you to seek comfort in your girlfriend. you’re turning over onto your back, craning your neck in her direction and entangling your legs together. you’re easily able to admire her beauty from your position below her, taking note of her wavy golden hair. her aura brightens the room, a white light glowing around you and you feel it in your soul.

she’s admiring you too; your skin is glowing and you look radiant. you whine at the sun hitting your eyes and it makes her stomach flutter with the memories of last night.

you under her, legs spread and thighs glistening. she swears your pussy is speaking to her, begging for attention. so wet you’re dripping down onto the blanket under you. you were whining because she just kept looking instead of addressing your needs. she had you practically grinding into the bed. every little sound you made drove her crazy, sending her mind into a frenzy.

this morning was no different. she feels you open your legs from under the covers, stretching out the morning stiffness. if she had a dick, paige is absolutely certain she’d have morning wood.

she slots her bare knee between your legs. once it connects, you’re letting out a whimper and gripping her arm. she feels the dampness between your legs and knows you’re wet too. your girlfriend relishes in the way your heat feels against her, your slick making a mark on her knee.

“mornin’ sleeping beauty,”

your lips connect, working together in a serene unison. it lacks any rush, just the pure and sultry intimacy of your love clashing together. you’re getting drunk on the feeling, not even fully awake yet. you can hardly breathe, pulling away to gather yourself. the arousal you both feel floats in the room, suffocating both of you.

her head is buried in your neck now, peppering soft kisses as she reaches her hand into your underwear. she immediately finds your throbbing nub, lightly pinching and massaging it. you choke on a moan at her ministrations, letting your eyes flutter open before you’re quickly shutting them again.

paige gathers your slick and admires the way she can lubricate her hand with it, gliding it over your own skin. she’s moaning into your skin as she gently pushes her finger into you. you’re squeezing her so nice and she’s only half-way in, your core yearning for her.

she goes slow, knowing you’re still sleepy and tired from last night’s activities. your girlfriend doesn’t mind though, appreciating the lovingness of it all. she feels like one harsh moment might shatter you into a million pieces.

“s’pretty baby, can’t get enough.” she glides a second finger in and out of you, the silence of the morning being interrupted by the sounds of your wetness. you’re nodding at her words, already too blissed out.

“can i taste you baby? you want me to?” you’re moaning out a ‘please’ and she’s up on her knees, kissing all of your skin. she’s making her way down to breakfast, sucking little hickeys on your hip and stomach.

now she’s on her own stomach, hand up your shirt and your legs on her shoulders, wrapping slightly around her head. her free hand pushes your panties to the side and spreads you open, snaking around your thigh with a ghost-like touch. she’s so soft, fingers gliding over and toying gently with your nipples while she wraps her lips around your clit. your back arches off the bed with a whispered praise that she doesn’t hear. you taste so good her ears ring and her vision blurs, only able to focus on the feeling of you in her mouth. your arousal is sticky on her chin but she doesn’t notice that either, only focused on the task at hand.

she wants to make sure you’re fully satisfied so she pulls away from your clit and prods her tongue gently against your entrance. you’re practically a waterfall at this point, your wetness gushing onto her tongue. she appreciates it all, pride swelling her heart and ego when she realizes she’s the reason.

your hand travels down to your clit and draws feather light circles. she thinks it might be the hottest thing ever, only encouraging her to push her tongue deeper against your walls. she’s searching for the spongey texture of your g-spot and she knows she’s found it when you creen off the bed. you’re breathing deep in your sleepy haze, skin glowing from the sticky sweat in the sunlight of the morning.

she hears your breathless whimper about how close you are and it motivates her to massage her tongue against you just the way you like, wanting to hear your moans as you finish. you’re teetering on the edge of blissful release, one last pinch to your nipple, one last finger circling on your clit, one last tongue curl and you’re falling into the feeling. your hips twitch against paige’s face as she cleans away your slick.

once she sits back up you notice it all over her mouth and chin, her face glistening in the light. she’s smiling big and rubbing your thighs, her day off to a great start. she leans up to kiss you after realizing she’s only done it once today, but you’re turning away and groaning.

“gross. go wash your face.”

“why would i wash it off. that’s like throwing out leftovers.”

“ew paige!” you’re lightly slapping her wrist. you both have a slight groggy morning voice and after being satisfied so well, you can already feel yourself drifting back to sleep.

“‘m going back to sleep,” voice muffled by the pillow, paige hardly understands you. but after all her work, after knowing she’s satisfied you, she also welcomes the idea of sleep.

she wipes her face off and quickly joins you again, pulling you on top of her. after a few minutes, your soft breath on her neck coaxes her into a light sleep. your limbs are tangled, wrapped around each other for extra warmth and comfort. your skin is soft against hers and she wishes she could absorb you into her own skin, never wanting to be away from you.

paige realizes she’s never been happier than she is whenever she’s with you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺₊⊹

period 😘😘😘😘😜

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[enwoso]

RUMOUR HAS IT — alessia russo x leah williamson x child!reader

couldn't not write this blurb icl-

grumpy masterlist

you were running after winnie down the corridor, the brown lab with her squeaky toy clasped in her mouth as she ran in front of you, a game of chase the two of you did regularly. but you always had to be careful you didn't run too fast in case you hurt yourself — mummy's orders!

"win slow down!" you giggled as you ran a little more, your lungs beginning to gasp for air as your legs slowed. "who's winning chase?" a voice said further down the long stretch of the corridor, winnie having stopped a little bit in front of you.

you looking up and seeing beth with her signature grin on her face as she happily walked down the corridor, winnie meeting her halfway as she begins to pet the brown lab. win rolling on her back in order to get her belly rubs.

you walk the short distance as you caught your breath back to join in on the affection, as you hugged beth’s leg in a form of greeting. noticing as beth leans slightly over you to tickle win's tummy a ring on her finger which you hadn't seen before.

"when did you get that?" that asked pointing to the ring as beth straightened up looking at her hand you'd just pointed at.

"get what? this ring?" beth asked as she pointed to the small glittery ring which was on her finger, a very pretty ring in your mind, as you nodded curious as to where it had came from.

"it's a promise ring" beth explained as you looked at her a little strangely not understanding the concept of a promise ring. your brain filled with little questions very quickly, what did the ring promise?

beth sensing your confusion as you looked at her with a  puzzled look, a small smile appearing as beth continued. "my vivvy got me it as a way to show that she promises to always love me even though we don't see each other as often anymore"

a small hum came from you as you sort of understood but still didn't really understand why beth needed a ring to know that but you let that thought pass, "mummy has a promise ring like that, le got her it!"

"does she now?" beth asked her eyebrows raising at the new information on her teammate, "and whose le?" beth added, not hearing the name before as you gave flashed her a dumbfounded look.

"you know le!" you giggled thinking beth was just joking with you and pretending not to know who leah was, but instead it was beth's turn to look puzzled.

"i do?" beth said as she tried to think of who went by the name of le.

"yes! leah one?" you stated like it was the most obvious thing on earth, and it kind of was.

“mhm, yeah but why is leah getting your mummy a promise ring?” beth questioned as you shrugged slightly before perking up with an answer.

“cause there special friends!” you smiled as beth opened her mouth to ask what a special friend was before you cut her off, “like you and viv!”

beth hummed realising now that a special friend was a girlfriend. “is that so”

you nodded a you watched winnie begin to get up and stretch before flopping back down near you as you started to stroke her again.

“is viv coming back this weekend?” you asked totally changing the topic as beth’s mind was still wiring with questions about the new romance of your mummy and leah.

“oh i’m not sure tiny, but when’s she back down i’ll make sure we stop for a visit so you can see her” beth ruffled your hair as you sat on the ground with win as you whispered out a small yay.

beth quickly leaving you to carry on your game with winnie as she skipped down the corridor with her new and found information, wondering how true it was. so who better to ask than either alessia or leah themselves which ever one she saw first.

but what you didn't know as beth skipped off down the corridor is that you had just blurted your mummy's relationship out to the team blabber mouth.

-

after finding out her recent news, beth wanted confirmation before she had the chance to spread it. wanting more of a fact check. beth skipping into the canteen where alessia was sat, headphones on laptop out coupled with a coffee as she typed away more than likely doing some sort of work to finish off her degree.

beth slotting down in a chair opposite with a big grin plastered on her face, as alessia looked up a blank expression on her face as she read beth's, having a feeling she wasn't going to like the conversation with the devilish look that beth had.

lifting her coffee to her mouth as she took a slip waiting for beth to start whatever she had to say.

"so miss russo, rumour has it you have a special friend in the form of a blonde defender who's name starts with l- and ends in -eah” beth grinned skipping the whole small talk thing and getting to the point as alessia's face dropped as she begins to cough.

"less? woah are you okay?" beth asks concerned momentarily filling her as she watches, alessia holding her hand up to give her self a minute as she catches her breath again after choking on her coffee from the abruptness of beth's statement.

"and where did you hear this rumour?" alessia questions having a few ideas in mind but one name stood out a little more than the others.

"oh just a certain someone" beth mumbled as alessia eye brows rose, her suspicions rising about who had slipped the information to beth being confirmed just from the fact that beth would say the name.

"lovie?" alessia blankly said as beth immediately began to shake her head rattle out an excuse as she began to back peddle.

“what- no? i didn’t even know she was here! i- i haven’t even see her?” beth lied as a small chuckle came from alessia as she lowered the screen of her laptop, alessia knowing otherwise.

“beth. you know she’s here. i’ve seen you running around with her and win” alessia smiled as beth sighed sinking back into her seat.

“ah- so maybe i have seen her but i never said i’d spoken to her!” beth smugly smiled as she thought she’d fooled alessia with her smart response but the look alessia was giving the winger said different. alessia knew that you must have let it slip about her and leah as you were the only one that knew apart form leah.

“ok ok, you got me! tiny may have let it slip that you had a special friend” beth sulked a little her mission of trying to be slick had failed — miserably at that. alessia shaking her head slightly at beth’s attempts.

“so is it true?” beth blurted out as alessia looked on a little strange forgetting totally what the forefront of the conversation actually was.

“what?”

“you and leah?” beth asked as alessia hummed nodding a little grin appearing on her face at the mention of her lover. as beth threw a few teasing comments.

“please don’t mention it to the others yet, we’re keeping it on the low for now” alessia quickly slipped in as before she started telling beth the in and outs that she would more than likely ask about anyway even if alessia didn’t tell her.

“less, don’t worry i’m brilliant at keeping secrets!” beth assured with a cute smile as she held alessia’s hands in hers as she made her comment. secrets and beth didn’t go very well together..

-

alessia was packing up her bag for the day, vic having already took the blondes car keys and you to the car but alessia knew she would no doubt find you and vic playing some sort of game in the car park but with the two of you out the way it would give the alessia a few minutes of peace.. she thought.

until she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist, alessia immediately knowing who it was as there was only one person who wrapped their arms around her waist and smelt the way leah did.

alessia sinking into her touch as leah peppered a few kisses to alessia’s neck, a small sigh coming from her as leah did so before she placed her head on alessia’s shoulder.

“oh love, before you go why did i have katie asking if me and you were in a relationship” leah whispered as a loud groan came from alessia.

“wait till i get my hands on beth-“ alessia grumbled as a small chuckle came from leah at alessia’s sudden threat.

“i’m lost, what does beth have to do with this?” leah asked taking her hands from around alessia’s waist and sitting on the bench where alessia’s things were sprawled out, most of it admittingly being yours.

“beth was asking about us this morning as lovie let it slip this morning about us being ‘special friends’ and beth promised me she would tell anyone” alessia explained as a loud laugh came from leah as alessia twisted a face at her girlfriend.

“wow, she kept that secret for a while!” leah joked as alessia hummed her eyes widening. “didn’t she!”

“no like she did, i’m surprised it’s taken four hours to do its rounds!” leah said seriously as a small nod of the head and giggle came from alessia as she’d finished packing up.

“well i better go and see what the two children are doing in my car!” alessia smiled as leah was now the one to look at alessia with a strange look.

“two children? i thought you only had one?”

“that was a joke le- lovie and vic are waiting in my car” alessia cleared up the confusion as it dawned on leah. alessia pecking her on the lips before leah waved her goodbye, telling her other half that she’d meet her at home a little later on.

[dolicekiss]

♡: i got this request but i accidentally deleted it :[ thankfully i took a screenshot so ill post it here n get to it. also love the idea of hannigram murking alana as a display of affection

Delicious Envy

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannigram x Jealous!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: SMUT (18+, mdni), unprotected sex, threesome, oral (male receiving), fingering, hair pulling, throat fucking, murder, slight gore, blood mentioned, dominant hannibal, soft dom will graham, sick murderers who only care about their darling, usage of petnames; (darling, bunny, bun).

SYNOPSIS: When your lovers began to show more attention to their colleague under the name of manipulation, you couldn't handle it but somehow Will always comforted you though one day, enough is enough and you snapped. Attempting to leave, your lovers show you just how obsessed and in love they are when it comes to you, going as far as to getting rid of the only problem between the three of you.

Envy had overwhelmed you like it was the only feeling you had known ever since your birth.

To be honest, you were a little creepy and too possessive when it came to your two lovers but to them it was perfect. You were perfect.

They didn't mind when you expressed your urges to kill everyone and anyone that even laid their eyes upon them or when your clinginess to them grew in heft amounts — to the point you had accidentally expressed your wish to live inside their skin.

Will was slightly take aback but Hannibal fell more in love with you. The idea of cherishing you inside their skins was captivating to them, all the more fascinating.

Things were going good for the three of you, so when Alana Bloom entered the picture, things went haywire. You'd never liked how she flapped her wings like an eager little butterfly around the two men but what you hated the most that now both your lovers were playing more attention to her than they were to you.

It angered you.

Will had comforted you.

That this was all to toy with her, mess her up between Hannibal and Will. Break apart the layers of her mind and confuse her to ridicule her. All in attempts to draw her attention farther from the murders commited by your lovers.

It worked.

For a short period of time, Will’s comforting words worked like magic and he serenaded you but it didn't last long. You'd grown restless, not liking how both arrived late at night. At times Hannibal would be nowhere to find and he'll tell you he was out having a fucking beer with Alana to steer her attention from the drink of suspicion she'd pour over them.

After a heavy amount of restlessness and patience, you snapped and here you were — standing outside Will’s office. Eavesdropping on the conversation as someone had told you that I could find both Will and Hannibal in Will’s office with Alana fucking Bloom.

“Alana, the killer is sharp. Look at these pictures, look at the way he has performed pieces of art with his victims.” Your stomach flipped with jealousy, not fond of the way Will spoke to her. Carrying such gruesome discussions with her.

When was the last time the man took you hunting? Teaching you how to lure in your prey, haunt them, catch them, all of the rules that lead to gaining a prey.

You could hear a sigh. It was Alana.

“Will, if there is a killer and he kills with such passion, he is not only dangerous but should be caught as soon as possible.” Palms becoming sweaty, you swallowed as your fingers ached with proper need to go inside the room and smash Alana’s head against the table and break her fucking skull.

But you controlled your impulses.

Feeling neglected, abandoned and ignored.

You turned around on your shoes and made your way back home. Holding back your tears was a difficult task but you still managed ti pull it, as you made it across the rout which lead to your apartment — or Hannibal and Will's. It didn't matter anymore.

As soon as you made it inside the apartment, you began to pack your items. This behavior was not normal, leaving over something so minor, you knew that deep down but you felt like you were betrayed. Lied to. There were other ways to get rid of Alana, why dedicate all their fucking time and effort to manipulating her and playing mind games with her?

Why play games with her when they had you?

Willing and pliant?

Submissive and eager to please them.

Angrily, you tossed your little frill skirts and dresses into the suitcase sprawled across the bed. Eyes continuously glossing over and over again, lips shivering from multiple times to keep your tears at bay. You heard the front door open and realized it was probably your lovers, coming back after being in Alana’s company for so long.

Two hours.

Two fucking hours.

Discussing what? Murders? Why the fuck did it matter so much? Why were they giving your share of attention to her too? It bothered you, displeasure coursing through you like rippling water. You continued packing your stuff, not bothering with the men who's presence was all powerful behind you.

“Going somewhere?”

It was Hannibal, his tone impassive. You continued rummaging through your closet, packing your items in a hurry and giving them silence. Your chest was rising up and down from how swiftly you were moving around the room, Will and Hannibal watching you almost in awe but also confusion.

“I asked you something.”

You didn't respond.

Will had enough of this so he reached over and grabbed you by your arm, pulling you with the force pull of one arm. Your body collided against his and you looked–no, glared up at him. Seeing the anger be this alive and incinerating in your gaze was a heart gutting sight for them both.

“Let me fucking go.” Your fists were quick to slam down on his chest and Will only tightened his hold around you. “Hey, what's wrong? Talk to us, pretty girl. There's no need to throw such a fit.”

Your brows furrowed. “Throw a fit? A fit? You're kidding, right?”

You were close to breaking apart. Eyes glossing and both men took notice of that, exchanging glances between them and communicating silently. You pulled your arm out of Will’s grasp and continued throwing your items messily into the suitcase. Having had enough of this back and forth situation with Alana. Just how much did they need to manipulate and gaslight her?

“She's jealous, Will.” Hannibal stated, with utter confidence. Like he'd sniffed the envy boiling inside you. Will tilted his head to the side, confused for a split second, before realizing that you indeed were envious.

“Just go to her. Next thing I know you'll both be fucking her under the name of manipulation.” Your tone was spiteful, your little dress bunched up in your fist. You tossed it inside the suitcase and swallowed, to preas down the tears.

But they flowed like a waterfall.

“We would never do that, bunny. You know that. We could never touch anyone other than you.” Inside you there was a heart and that soft heart wanted to believe the gentle words of your lovers but your evil brain didn't allow you to. Holding you hostage as you didn't listen to them.

Your teeth sinking into your lip.

“Shut up.” You spat, fingernails grazing against the bottle of perfume which belonged to you. “I heard you in the office with her. Why do you speak to her, why do you speak to her like that?”

Your gaze laid upon Hannibal, who stood there in complete silence as if he was waiting for you to calm down. Your tears fell in tiny streams and the moment he took notice of that, he walked over to you. Arms extemded to circle around your small waist, face burying in your shoulder.

“Darling, relax a little please.” Hannibal’s voice was so sweet, his words almost working like magic on you. Before you could throw more profanities of anger, Hannibal had already pressed his lips against the apex of your shoulder. One hand unwrapping around your waist and trailing up to your hair, to brush away the locks behind and expose more of your skin.

“You can't leave us.” He murmured, his eyes shut as his gentle kisses of love evolved into bites on your skin. “You know we won't let you, so why even bother.”

Your body shuddered, Hannibal’s kisses left goosebumps in its wake as he unwrapped the arm around your waist. His hand reaching for your hair to slide it back, revealing more skin for him to kiss. You shook your head and tried to step back, but you hadn't realized Will had slid himself behind you, trapping you between the two.

His chest pressed up against your back.

“She means absolutely nothing, especially in comparison to you. You're always going to be above everyone else for us.” Hannibal muttered, fingers clasped around the curve of your waist while leaving kisses up to your exposed neck. Will from behind kissed the other side of your neck, his hand roaming all over your body.

You didn't want to give in.

Especially when you were mad.

But it was difficult not to give in when you were sandwiched between two, beautiful men who you loved. You felt Will slowly drag you back, whilst taking a seat on the bed. Settling you across his lap. Hannibal kneeled before the two of you on the bed, his brawny hands finding your thighs and caressing them.

Will grabbed you by your neck, forcing you to face him and captured your lips in a rather passionate and fierce kiss. His soft lips were in stark contrast to his prickly stubble against your chin when he kissed you. You could feel Hannibal pry your thighs apart, palms settled over your knees. Your eyes opened and saw him already staring at you as his hand inched closer and closer to your seeping cunt.

Hannibal felt the arousal — the proof of your desire and allure. He brought your panties down in a single tug and discarded them aside, along with his own blazer. Your back arched into Will’s chest when the Lithuanian man entered his finger into your opening, your desperate hole clenching around that single digit.

Will’s hands fell down to your breasts, fondling with them. Thumb and fingers tugging at the hardened nipples through the knitted fabric of your dress.

“Filthy girl. Walking around without a bra, hm?” Will purred like a seductive animal against your lips and you whimpered. Fully reveling in the sensations these two men were bringing you.

Will’s one hand crawled back upto your face as he tapped his two fingers on your lips, a innuendo for you to open up. You parted your lips and his fingers entered your mouth, swiftly trailing along your tongue. He pressed onto your flaccid tongue and you stared at him, lips agape and teeth grazing against his fingers.

“Want me to fuck your little throat, slut?”

You nodded desperately, panting like some fucking dog in heat. Will grinned and began to slip his fingers past the little piece of flesh hanging from the roof of your mouth. You whimpered upon feeling his fingers enter the sensitive area.

You wanted to cough out.

But you didn't.

Tears emerged on your waterline, a few rolling down. Hannibal added another finger and then curved it, fucking into you deeply. His aim was to make you cum, right on his fingers before fucking you. Both men were fucking you, one fucking your cunt while the other fucked your throat.

Will loved the feeling of your tight throat against his fingers, feeling the flesh everytime he caressed your gummy walls when he fucked your throat. Enjoying the way it felt. Like he was intimate with you beyond average human understanding.

“Hannibal her throat feels so nice, so fucking delicious.” Will commented, staring at Hannibal who plunged his fingers inside you with utter determination. “Almost makes me want to cut it open and peek inside.”

Your thighs squeezed at that, cunt squeezing in Hannibal’s fingers. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “You won't believe it. She squeezed me in when you said that, Will. Our girl might be as filthy as us.”

Will laughed, mocking you in a way. You choked around his fingers when they slipped deeper, coughing out but that didn't stop Will from ramming his fingers inside your tight little throat. Hannibal fucked you, coaxing a releas out of you and soon you came.

Your thighs squeezing shut, cunt pulsating as tears and sobs escaped you. Such a pretty vision you were and the two couldn't wait to ruin you more, to prove it to you that they only had their eyes for you.

There was no one who could take your place, ever.

You came down from your high soon and as Will retrieved his fingers, you immediately voiced out your despair at that, whining desperately. He smiled at you, running that same wet hand over your cheek. “Patience, baby. You'll get what you want soon.”

You nodded your head obediently.

“Will, put her on the bed. Let's show our pretty girl how much we truly love her.”

The brunette nodded and pulled you on the bed, after sitting down against the headboard of the bed. Hannibal crawled between your thighs and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. Will stripped himself, removing his shirt and pants — exposing himself to you. Your face immediately nuzzled against his revealed, hard cock.

Cheek brushing against it.

“No, she doesn't get to suck you off. You want to see how much we love you, right? Today will be all about appreciating you.” Hannibal’s strict words not only made you pout but even Will was a little disappointed. As he was looking forward to your mouth wrapped around his cock.

You whined, knowing that this was all a subtle way to reprimand you for the way you'd behaved with them both, while also appreciating you and showing you they loved you. Hannibal was a cruel, cruel man but somewhere you loved how domineering he was.

Hannibal aligned his cock against your hole and then slowly sunk in. Your lips parted and you nearly had wrapped them around Will’s cock but Hannibal didn't allow you. Fists curling your locks around it, tugging your head back. You stared at Will, his large hand moving to cup your face.

“Our beautiful darling.” Will swiped his thumb over your lower lip while Hannibal continued to sink into you. His cock caressing the inside of your pussy as he fucked himself into you. His hips moving in a gentle rhythm, delivering the most sensual of thrusts to your frail little body.

You parted your mouth open, an invitation for Will’s thumb. He slid it in, pressing it along your tongue. There was desperation swimming in your blurred gaze and Will knew exactly what you craved. What your sweet little mouth craved.

So he used his own pretty privilege to his advantage.

“Hannibal, let me fuck her throat.” He said, looking at him. “Need to show her that her throat is the only throat I'd fuck. The only tight little throat I want my cock in.”

Hannibal’s grip tightened on your locks at Will’s sensual words. He couldn't help but already imagine you making the prettiest of gagging sounds on Will’s cock while he fucks you like a beast from behind.

You felt him thicken up inside you.

With a nod of approval, Hannibal started to pick up his speed. His thrusts grew more violent and firmer — as Will rubbed his thick cock head over your glossy lips. You parted open and immediately tightened your lips around his cock, sucking him in.

You hollowed your cheek but allowed Will to use your mouth however he pleased to pleasure you.

“Yes—fuck. I'm barely down your throat and I already feel like I'll cum anytime soon.” Will said through gritted teeth, open palm laying atop your head to force it down on his cock.

Hannibal dug his nails into your waist from behind, making sure to leave bloody crescent moons into your flesh. Every time Hannibal thrusted forward, your mouth inched closer and closer. Taking Will’s cock down your throat, feeling it slip past that forbidden barrier.

Will loved it when you sucked his cock.

His little cocksucker Darling who swallowed his dick like her life depended on it. You were usually so pliant, so obedient and well mannered but your envy always got the best of you.

He enjoyed this side of you though.

You were better than them. Possessed far more self control than they did. If someone had even tried to breath the same air around you, Hannibal and Will would've buried them ten feet into the ground.

They wouldn't bother serenading their death.

You sputtered around his cock, feeling saliva accumulate at your lips mixed with the salty taste of his precum. Hannibal violently used your cunt, his hands releasing your hips to move to push your head down over Will’s cock. Pressure so tight and firm, he drove your nose right into Will’s pelvis — feeling his neatly trimmed hair tickle your skin.

You tried to breathe through your nose as Hannibal fucked you from behind, akin to a wild beast. Each thrust was delivered with the potent intention to make you feel loved, wanted and needed by him.

You gagged around Will’s cock and he lost restraint, finally taking control and fucking his cock into your mouth. Repeatedly snapping his hips up and feeling his thick cock caress your gummy, wet walls. His veins sliding over your saliva tainted tight throat.

Tears slipped out and made more of a mess on your face. Will extended his hand, brushing a tear away with his finger before holding your face with both his hands, driving himself deeper into you.

“Oh her throat’s so fucking good. You take me so well, bun. You're made to take my cock.” Will panted out, teeth grinding together as he felt his stomach flip.

Hannibal drove his cock right into your stomach, hitting that bundle of nerves over and over again. You sobbed, small hands pressed tightly into Will’s clothed thighs for some support. Both men took you like beasts but you felt truly loved and needed.

This is what you wanted.

And only you deserved this.

Not Alana, not someone else.

Hannibal lifted your hips up, bringing you on your knees. It was so easy for him. You barely weighted anything for him, akin to a small pillow he could easily toss around. His chest rumbled with pure desire as he felt his cock twitch and his balls throb.

Your own stomach was flipping like crazy, shoulders taut and thighs bearing a tremor in them.

“I'm gonna cum, gonna cum in this tight little throat and you better swallow it— you're gonna swallow it, yeah bunny?”

You nodded your head, staring at him through your saturated lashes. Tear drops sat like tiny pears on your lashes, sliding down each time you fluttered them.

Will was fucking obsessed with you. A delicious sight you were. His stomach tightened as he finally spilled his cum into your mouth, forcing it down your throat. You closed your eyes, flushed cheeks hollowing to milk him dry. The act of suction made Will whine out — back arching as his hips stuttered.

His fist grabbing a hold of your soft hair, tugging on the roots tightly to release all of his load into your mouth.

When Hannibal heard Will’s moans and how you gagged around him, his own thighs shivered and he felt himself near.

The fact that they both had taken you at the same time made you feel giddy, even a little dizzy. Like some teenager who's crush had finally noticed her.

Will pulled his cock out. “Open your mouth. Show me, my beautiful Darling.”

You quickly nodded, parting open your mouth and sticking out your pink tongue. You'd swallowed all of his cum and he let out a satisfied hum, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your nose.

“I'm not done yet.” Hannibal said, rolling you over with his arm. You landed right on your ass and he was quick to pick up your thighs, bending them and entering you back in.

A whine erupted from you as Hannibal rammed his cock into your little cunt, all while Will watched. Your tears continued rolling as your little hands reached for Hannibal, to wrap around his nape.

“Feel loved now, d-don't you, Darling? Told you, we loved you and you only." Hannibal was unstoppable. He tore you apart, showing you no mercy. He loved you, he adored you, obsessively but your bratty behavior was anything but polite.

You dug your nails into his nape, leaving red marks of your upcoming climax and your thighs shivered. “H-Hanni, ‘m close. Please, please. I'm-I'm so close.”

Hannibal’s balls slapped across your cunt as he finally pulled your orgasm out of you. You let out a whine as your eyes rolled back to your skull — body nearly ascending to the false incarnation of heaven. Your orgasm blurred everything out, only the panting of both men could be heard.

You felt Hannibal fill you up, his load heavier than Will’s. His cock pumping you full of hot cum and you sniffled, feeling it just reach your womb. Hannibal wasn't satisified so he started to fuck into you again, all while releasing rope after rope.

“Oh my god—” You cried out, moving your head to glance at Will who looked completely awestruck. Like you were some painting hanging in a museum. Made with love and passion.

When Hannibal was done, he pulled out of you and fell right next to you. Your frail body could only take so much, especially when they were this determined to express their profound love for you.

You felt Hannibal’s arms crawl over you like vines of nature, pulling you in his warm and sweet embrace. You buried your face in his chest and then another pair of arms found their way around your waist, holding you from behind. Will’s dark curls tickled your nape and you let out a exasperated giggle.

The three of you still tried to catch your breath.

“We love you, Darling.” Hannibal whispered and you felt a smile break out, cheeks warming up. “I love you both too. I'm sorry, I couldn't control my jealousy.”

Hannibal delivered a chaste kiss to your head and tightened his hold. “Don't you worry, she will not be an obstacle anymore.”

You raised your gaze. “What do you mean?”

“He means we'll be giving you a present soon.” Will responded, glancing at Hannibal and nodding his head.

— ♡ —

You watched Alana, from behind the wall of Will’s hallway as the two men engaged in a conversation with her. They'd told you to stand there and watch and you could already feel your restraint slipping away, not liking how she accidentally crashed into Hannibal and touched him.

You bit on your lower lip, peeling off the skin while your nails tugged at the skin around them in sickening anticipation.

“Alana.” When she turned around, Will slammed a baseball bat down her head and immediately the frown disappeared from your face.

Replaced with a bright smile.

You watched as the blood from her cracked skull splattered over Will, staining his face and glasses. You wrote down a mental note to clean both of your lovers after they were done getting rid of the woman.

You stepped from behind the wall and Alana looked at you, still conscious. Her blood had made a mess everywhere, droplets staining the furniture though you knew how to rid the interior of her blood. It wasn't the first time you had taken part in the bloody dates your lovers had taken you on.

“Y-You.” Alana stuttered, eyes still wide open from the blunt force of the baseball bat.

You only walked over to Will, to hug him tightly. The blood were not an obstacle as it didn't bother you. Hannibal squated down next to the writhing woman, staring at her before raising his eyes to you.

“Do you want us to kill her or make her suffer, precious?”

You contemplated.

For a moment and then you shook your head.

“Kill her. Don't waste your time on her.” Your wish was Hannibal’s command. He retrieved a blade from his pocket and stabbed it into Alana’s neck — sliding it across and watching the woman finally succumb to her pain and injuries.

You leaned forward, still In Will’s embrace to press a kiss to your lover's lips. “Thank you, thank you. I love you both so much.”

You were a giggling mess. Cheeks red from how much you were blushing and clothes splattered with blood but it didn't matter. You had your lovers by your side, nothing else mattered anymore.

And they had proved their loyalty once more by getting rid of someone for you.

[skeltnwrites]

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist

part three - you help steve and penelope look for cinderella 11k

a/n - this actually took me ages oh my god. but to those asking about cinderella here you go! CW lost pet (happy ending i promise)

── .✦

The clock hanging in the hall clicks annoyingly loud. Tick, tick, tick, like a bad song stuck in your head. You watch the minute hand cross another line. It hasn’t been adjusted since the time changed last week. Similarly, the calendar below it has yet to be flipped. 

It’s November now, but more importantly, it’s Friday. It’s quickly cementing itself as your favorite day of the week. Friday’s mean lunch in Steve’s office and trading weekend plans and hearing about the kind of mischief Penelope’s been up to at home. 

But it’s a quarter past eight and Steve hasn’t arrived yet. He’s never been late, or even absent since you started volunteering. It’s odd, but everyone has their days you suppose. Still, a dull twinge blooms in your chest. Working without him might as well be a form of punishment. 

Someone had shoved a vacuum in your hands while they try and figure out if he’s coming. It’s boring work, not the kind Steve would give you. And when he has to give you boring work, he at least makes it fun. Turns most things into games or competitions. Like last week, he bet you any candy from the vending machine that he could sort donations faster than you. You bought him a Reeses, of course, but if anyone asks, you let him win on purpose. 

You hear Steve before you see him. He’s not loud, but his voice is distinct against any others. By now, you could pick him from a crowd by voice alone. You find him in the threshold between his supervisor's office and the hall. He lingers halfway out, toying with the door handle like he can’t decide if he should go inside. 

“Ah, look who finally decided to show up,” you overhear. “Was about to send a search party for you, Harrington.” The man cackles at his own joke, tone devoid of any edge. 

Steve laughs strangely. A laugh you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard from him before. He spills a string of apologies for his tardiness, but his boss waves him off and sends him to work. 

When he backpedals out of the doorway, you chide, “Tsk. Tsk. You’re late, Harrington.” 

Steve spooks easily. He hates to admit it but it makes him an easy target for office pranks which you do take full advantage of now that you’re friends. But you aren’t even trying to scare him this time. 

He visibly tenses at your voice, eyes snapping to yours. They’re as intense as you’ve ever seen the lovely shade of brown, yet dulled with the toll of exhaustion. The next thing you notice is his hair. It’s combed back behind his ears and by the looks of it has no product. 

“Hey,” he tries, stopping halfway to clear his throat. 

As if his appearance isn’t alarming enough, the lack of a comeback is triple worrisome. You try– and fail– to contain your concern. “What happened?” 

He deflates in one big sigh. Any attempt at a facade vanished. It’s impossible to lie to you when you look so concerned. 

“I’m the worst dad ever,” he declares, skimming your arm as he sidesteps past you. 

You catch up to his long stride with practiced eloquence. “Uh-oh. What’d you do?” 

“Cinderella’s gone missing.” 

“Missing?” 

He nods.

“But she’s an outside cat, right? She’s probably, I dunno, chasing birds or slumped over a can of tuna at a neighbor's house.” 

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s been four days. Four. She’s usually around at least once a day, if not, every other. I can’t even remember the last time–”

“Wait, wait. This makes you the worst dad, how exactly?” 

He forces his key into the lock of his office door, jostling the handle in frustration. “Because Penelope’s begged me since forever to let her be an inside cat and I always say no. She wouldn’t have got lost if she was inside.” 

You flick on the light and hum, understanding more than agreeing. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Steve, but I think you’re exaggerating.” 

He plants his bag on the desk and unzips it. “This is serious. She loves that cat more than me, I swear.” 

“Okay, first of all, not true. Second of all, this is serious and it sucks but it doesn’t make you a bad dad. You know that right?” 

“Besides the point,” he passes you a heavy pile of paper. “Will you help me hang these up?”

You don’t answer because you don’t need to. He already knows you’ll say yes. 

Black ink across the top page reads, “MISSING CAT”. There are two patchy images of Cinderella, one of which you’ve never seen and the other underexposed beyond recognition. Steve’s name, phone number, and address are listed at the bottom too. You flick through the stack, finding each version of Cinderella has been coated in a thick layer of brown crayon. 

“Penelope insisted on coloring all of them so people know what color she is.” 

Steve doesn’t have time for the pity party of a look you show him. If you cry, he’ll cry. And he’s cried enough in the last few days. 

You accompany Steve to the bulletin board outside his office. Unspokenly, you accept the very important job of paper-passer while he’s in charge of the stapler. 

“Thanks,” he says flatly, thumb catching on yours as he takes the page you’re holding out. 

“Don’t worry, Steve. She’ll come home. Cats just like their space sometimes.” You aren’t totally sure if that’s true about cats, but it sounds like the right thing to say. 

He mutters something under his breath. Not mean, just doubtful. 

It’s unusual to be the one filling the conversation. Steve’s good at talking, a Chatty Cathy as he often calls Penelope. But you try your best to fill his shoes. 

“How’s Penelope dealing with it?” 

“Awfully.” He chuckles dryly. “She’s on strike for just about everything right now. Refused to go to sleep, refused to eat breakfast, refused to get in the car this morning.” 

You nod and hand him another sheet. 

“I’d bet by lunch I’ll have to go pick her up. She was hysterical at drop-off.” 

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You have a funny urge to tack on something other than his name. Dummy or boss are typical but ill-fitting. And honey or sweetheart would probably cross a line, though, they’re nice to consider. 

He sighs, kneading his eye sockets. “I’m sorry. I’m being… I know you’re trying to help.” 

“You’re allowed to feel frustrated you know.” 

“I know. You’re just– thanks.”

“I’m banning that word from our conversations. You say it too much,” you tease. 

He gives you a look, neither happy nor sad. “Cause you’re always helping me, dummy.” 

You grin, largely at the nickname. 

Every board in the building is covered with posters and every person is notified of Cinderella’s disappearance in half the time it would normally take you and Steve. He’s not in any rush, just in his head. And after that, you dissolve into separate work, never far but still apart. 

By noon Steve’s on his third cup of coffee. But no amount of caffeine or sugar will erase the heavy bags under his eyes. Finding Cinderella might be the only cure. 

So there’s no debate in your mind when you offer, “I can come over and help look tonight?” 

Steve holds a finger up, gaze trained on an address book with his phone clamped between his ear and shoulder. “Hi, Miss Crawford?” He pushes the bridge of his glasses further up his nose. It’s rare that he wears them in front of you. Cute, nonetheless. “Yes, it’s Steve,” he says. 

There’s high-pitched rambling on the other end, not clear enough to discern anything other than an old-timey affection for Steve. You aren’t sure of the nature of Steve’s relationship with the woman, but he appears equally fond, even through the somber hues of his story. 

She offers no valuable insight as to Cinderella’s whereabouts but promises to keep an eye out, making her… strike seven. Steve’s determined to phone every person he knows and then every local in the phone book in the span of his thirty-minute lunch break. You joked about stealing his office neighbor’s phone to help, but Steve insisted you didn’t. 

When he docks the receiver you repeat yourself. 

“Sorry. You really don’t have to.”

“I know, but I can… If you want. It’s up to you.” 

“I– okay,” he sighs. “Only if you really don’t mind. It would be really helpful honestly.” 

“After work then?”

“Uhh, sure. I just have to pick up Penelope when I get off.” 

“Sounds good.” You grin and stir your food idly with a fork. It eventually goes cold in your lap. You’re more preoccupied with what you’ll wear tonight and what to bring Penelope to cheer her up. Candy’s probably your best bet. You know she’s already run out of Skittles from Halloween. 

Steve’s lips twitch happily as he dials another number. 

That’s about the happiest you see him. The rest of the day is a blur, mostly busywork as Steve is consistently ushered away by someone for something not even in his job description. For the first time possibly ever, he leaves on time. And he doesn’t say goodbye. He’s clearly having an awful day so you pretend it doesn’t sting, but the walk to your car is painfully silent. 

At home, you change quickly, pop something frozen in the microwave, and retrace your steps back to the car in record time. The drive to Steve’s is unfortunately not very long. It doesn’t give you much time to mull over every possible scenario like your brain desires. But you’ll survive. 

It still feels unfamiliar, pulling into his driveway. Less so than the first time, but still. You notice things you hadn’t before. The long crack like lightning in the pavement, the tinkle of a wind chime against the breeze, and the stepping stone with a ‘P’ carved in it. Halloween was the last time you were here. A couple of weeks has never felt like such a lifetime. Steve’s been busy parenting and working late and all. You don’t blame him. Sometimes you wonder how he ever made time for you in the first place with his schedule. 

On the front steps, Penelope plucks a weed and adds it to her bouquet. Her cheek is squished against the top of her knee and she’s curled over herself like a pillbug. Brown eyes flick up as you near. One blink, then two. The epitome of indifference. 

“Hi, Penelope.” 

“Hi,” she says. She sounds uncharacteristically small. And she is small, but her voice is anything but. You know her to be bold, unapologetic. But not today. 

You squat, toe to toe with her little Mary Janes, and wave a pack of Skittles. “Look what I brought,” you sing. 

The slightest lift of her frown before she restores the pout for good. “For me?”

“All for you.” 

She takes the candy and tucks it under her arm. 

“Wanna help me look for your dad?” 

It’s not a bribe, though her presence does tend to balm your Steve-induced nerves. So you are a little disappointed when she shakes her head. But disappointment wanes into sympathy and sympathy to determination. Determination to help her find Cinderella as soon as possible. 

You palm her shoulder as you stand. The front door is ajar, the breeze eating any warmth in the foyer. It’s eerily quiet inside. 

“Steve?” 

“One second!” he calls back, muffled from upstairs. 

The entryway is messier than you remember it. Shoes in a jumbled heap behind the door, Steve’s unzipped backpack slumped against the baseboards, and winter gloves and hats knocked haphazardly onto the tile. You bend to pick up a knit beanie as Steve hurdles down the stairs. 

He struggles to squeeze into a raincoat over the thick sweater he wore to work. “Hey,” he smiles softly, gaze sweeping across your clothes. “Thanks for coming.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Do you want a heavier coat? Radio said it’s supposed to storm tonight.” 

“Oh,” you peer down at your denim jacket. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

Steve tilts his head, passing you a bundle of crumpled pink cloth. “Give this to Penelope? I’ll grab you one.” He doesn’t allow you to argue before turning around, but he stops halfway up the stairs, leaning over the railing to say, “Tell her to grab her boots too.”

You find the boots in the pile by the door and bring them to Penelope outside. She stares at you helplessly with one shoe halfway on the wrong foot. 

“Need help?”

“Yes please.” 

You take her ankle and prop her foot against yours. It takes a few tries and lots of wiggling but you slide the boot on and lace the purple strings all the way up. The second round is easier but you still wonder whether kids shoes are supposed to be this difficult. 

The door groans behind you and a warm hand cups your shoulder. “Did you eat?” Steve asks. “I can make you something before we go.”  

You rise to face him. The sky’s overcast, muting his tan complexion, making him look even more spent than he had earlier. “I ate. But thank you,” you smile, hoping to encourage one back. 

He doesn’t but he unfolds the coat he’s carrying, shaking the arms free so it’s easier for you to slip on. “See if this fits.”

It’s not your typical size, but the extra weight is nice. Traces of pine and juniper linger, like it’s been taken on a hike recently. And you’re instantly warmer, a comfort that extends beyond the garment alone. 

“Nice,” he nods, taking it upon himself to even out the hood strings for you. His fingernail skips across the zipper teeth and for a second, you think he’ll zip it up too. 

“Daddy, are we going now?” 

Steve spins on his heel, shuffling for his keys at the door. “Yes, baby. What did we talk about?” 

Penelope kicks a load of gravel into the grass. “Ummm, I dunno.” 

“No running off. If I can’t see you, we go home. Capeesh?” 

When he jogs down the steps to her side, she sighs. “Capeesh.” 

“Ready?” He pats her head, “Got your detective hat on?” 

She peers up then, a flush of fresh purpose, and nods. 

“Alright, Detective. Let’s roll.” 

Steve’s yard is embraced by dense woods on every side but the road. He leads you to the tree line where a trail has been carved smooth with frequent use. Bark stretches tall and needle branches weave a canopy of orange above. 

“Katie said I need to think more like a cat.” Penelope cranes her head up, “Do you think Cinderella went in the trees?”

“Maybe,” Steve mumbles, focused on jamming his nail under the metal tab of a can of cat food. 

“So maybe I should climb up to check?”

“Not these ones, babe. Too tall.”

“But what if she’s in one? Like, a really, really tall one.” 

“I think she’d pick a shorter one so she could get down,” you supply. “It would probably hurt her nails going all the way up there too.” 

She hums. You drift into a steady rhythm of whistling and calling Cinderella’s name. Penelope waves a toy ball with a little bell inside while you rattle the jar of treats. 

Penelope orbits off course slowly and when she hops out of sight Steve calls, “What did I say Nell?” 

“No running away!” 

He shakes his head at you, “This kid’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

You grin, turning back to him when you spot Penelope. Steve has a lovely side profile. You try to memorize the shape without tripping over any twigs as you walk. “How was she at school?” 

“Sad, they said. She cried at nap. Refused to sleep at all.” 

You coo. 

“But she ate all her lunch, so that’s good.”

You hum in agreement. 

Penelope crouches to examine the inside of a log. Her pigtails flip as she tips her head upside down. 

“Did you find something?” you ask. 

Penelope pulls something dark out, a dopey smile rounding her cheeks. “A slug.” 

Steve scrunches his nose but quickly slackens it in a poor attempt to conceal his disgust. Thankfully, you don’t have to be a good actor to fool a four-year-old. “Nice, honey.” 

“I think he’s dead.”

“Why don’t you put him back? He’s probably hibernating.” 

“Hiding? Why?”

“No, hi-ber-nat-ing. It’s when the animals go to sleep during the winter.” 

She squints, “For the whole winter?” 

“Yeah, think so.”

“How do they do that?” 

“Umm, I don’t know.” Steve glances at you for help but you only shrug. “They just do.” 

One of the joys of parenthood you’ve discovered through Penelope is the plethora of questions that you have absolutely no idea how to answer. 

Penelope replants the slug in its home, making a point to clarify, “Cinderella wasn’t in there.” 

The trail dips steadily downward, covered with a mess of broken branches, scattered pinecones, and crunchy leaves that crackle beneath your feet. Steve’s leading the way, rambling about something or other and you’d swear you’re listening if he asked. But truthfully, your eyes trace the fit of his jeans shamelessly. He has a nice ass, it’s hard not to notice! 

Your foot snags on something hard– a root, a branch, you aren’t totally sure– and it all happens so fast. You yelp and pitch forward, knees and hands slamming into the dirt with the full force of your weight. 

Steve whirls around and assesses the damage, quickly determines there are no injuries severe enough to warrant a hospital visit, and then he fucking cackles. 

You scoff, burying your own amusement as Penelope mimics him. Some example Dad is setting. At least he offers to help you up, Penelope just watches your embarrassment unfold.  

“Don’t laugh!” You yank his hand, harsh enough that he stumbles forward onto your toe. “Ow– Steve!”

“That’s what you get!” He hauls you up, grip faltering with each peel of laughter. 

You twist around yourself, sweeping your backside. “Do I have leaves on my butt?” 

He looks for as long as he deems appropriate which is not very long at all. “Just dirt and a ton of bugs.” 

“Shut up,” you smack his bicep. 

Penelope points, “That is not nice!”

“Yeah, keep your hands to yourself,” Steve teases. 

You trap a retort behind clenched teeth and look to Penelope. “Sorry.” 

“Uhh. You’re supposed to apologize to me.” 

You skip past him to Penelope’s side. “I’m helping Penelope look right now. Maybe later.” 

Steve knows you won’t see it but he hopes you feel him sticking up his middle finger. 

Penelope trudges along, the corners of her mouth drawn tight in quiet sadness. She fills the silence before you find the words.

“Do you think she’ll come home?” she asks earnestly. 

“I do, Pen. I think she’s probably just hiding.” 

“Like hide and seek?”

“Yeah.” 

She considers your words carefully. “But why?”

“I dunno. Cats are just silly like that.” 

She smiles. “Like dinosaurs?” 

You smile back. “Exactly.” 

The trees taper off, merging with the cracked sidewalk lining a cul de sac. Penelope’s ponytails are swept off her shoulders as a car whizzes by.  

You cuff her smaller fingers in your own just as Steve tells her to hold someone’s hand. 

He stops at her other side, surveying the neighborhood. It’s the type you’d imagine families live in. Basketball hoops, sidewalk chalk, bikes thrown against the lawns. 

“I’m gonna go talk to some neighbors. Will you hang some posters?” Steve asks you. “We should hurry. I think it’s going to rain soon.” 

“Can I go?” 

Steve’s eyes trail from Penelope back up to you curiously. 

“Yeah, I’ve got her.” You squeeze her hand, reassuring yourself more than anyone. 

“Okay. Penelope, be a good listener. Don’t go on the road by yourself. I’ll be just over there.” He points to a house with yellow siding and starts across the road. 

You turn Penelope by the shoulders and unzip her bag, taking the stapler in one hand and the stack of paper in the other. 

“Can you carry these?” you ask, thrusting the posters toward her. 

You straighten out the stapler and pick a sheet off the top before she braces them against her chest. “You know, this reminds me of when we first met.” 

“Because I helped you hang up stuff?”

“Mhmm.” You line the page up against a tree, nailing each corner to be sure it sticks. 

Eventually, you're passed a different poster, a painting. It’s a charming tangle of shapes and a riot of brown and orange. At the top, "MISSING" is written with two backward S’s in a crooked slope.

“Did you paint this?”

“Yes, at school.” 

“Wow. Did you write this too?” 

“Yep. My teacher helped me.” 

“Very good!” You tack it to a telephone pole and pivot to face her, brimming with pride. 

She’s not nearly as happy as you are about it. Her lips thin as she stares at her work and she hesitates before asking,“Do you think we’re bad detectives?” 

Your chest aches so sudden and fierce like you’ve been punched. You crouch, rubbing the soft fleece at her elbow. “No. No, honey. We aren’t bad detectives. Detective work just takes time. We have a lot of ground to cover.” 

Her frown wobbles, lashes shining. “It’s taking so long,” she whines. 

“I know, Pen. Cinderella didn’t leave us many clues, huh?” You swipe a tear before it reaches her mouth. You want to promise her that Cinderella will come home but your gut won’t let you. You don’t know if she really will. “Let’s go check on your Dad. See if the neighbors have seen her. Hmm?” 

She nods and you give her your best loving squeeze. 

Steve’s halfway up the steps of someone’s porch, mid-conversation with a young woman. Her frown deepens as you and Penelope approach, unlike the baby on her hip who smiles at you. 

Steve glances over before continuing. “Well, please call, if you do happen to see her.” 

“Absolutely. I hope you find her.” 

“Thanks,” he waves, descending the stairs to stand beside you.  

“No luck?” you ask, peering up at the clouds. They’re getting moodier by the minute and it’s started to sprinkle. 

His hand settles around Penelope’s skull like a claw, he shakes her frown away but not easily. “Not yet. We’ll keep looking.” 

Penelope walks a few feet ahead of you and Steve. Every few mailboxes you and Steve stick another poster up. Penelope doesn’t stop to wait, but she’s thorough in her searching, checking under cars and in drain pipes. Enough to even out the distance that grows each turn. 

You’re faced away, unclogging the jam in the stapler when Penelope gasps. 

“Nell! Wait!” Steve shouts as you turn. By then she’s already halfway up someone’s lawn.  

Steve jogs after her and you jog after Steve. Penelope’s made it to the sideyard when you catch up, stretching onto tiptoes and squinting through a rotted hole in the fence. 

“Penelope,” Steve sighs.

“I saw her Daddy! She jumped over the fence!”

“Are you sure?” His hand curls over the top of the fence but his eyes can’t reach. 

“Yes, I promise! We have to go over!” 

He scrapes through his hair, judging the wood planks. They’re at least a head taller than Steve, but there’s a thin lip dividing each in half. If he angles his foot right, he could use it to boost himself over. 

He shakes his head. He might've hopped a fence or two as a teenager, but he's grown now. “We have to ask. It’s someone’s yard.” 

Penelope wails, yanking his arm repeatedly. “No! Daddy! What if she’s gone? We have to hurry!” 

“Just go,” you wave, already backing up toward the house. “I’ll go knock. See if they’re home.” 

Steve winces at himself for what he’s about to do. But one glance at Penelope’s worried little face is all the courage he needs. He tests his grip, the sole of a shoe scraping wood for a scary second before catching on the trim. With one leg on either side, he pauses to look at Penelope. “Stay there,” he says, before leaping into the grass. 

He scans the backyard. There’s a swing set, a raised garden bed, a kiddie pool, and lots and lots of toys. It reminds him of his own yard. Steve takes a handful of hesitant steps, gaze flicking across each window for any horrified faces. He’s thankful not to see any. 

Then, a meow—faint, but unmistakable. His heart lurches, his head whipping up to the nearest tree even faster. His eyes comb through branch after branch, then again when he comes up empty. But a second meow and he’s never been more sure. He wedges his heel into a groove, hugging the trunk for balance. His nails dig uncomfortably into the bark as he pulls himself up. 

And there! Right where he swears he looked, a strip of golden-orange fur, blending seamlessly with the leaves… Except, Cinderella isn’t orange, she’s brown. Steve’s shoe slips, sending his chin hard into a thick branch on his way to the ground. The cat hisses equally if not more upset than Steve about the situation. He groans, glaring at the tree as he picks himself up. 

“Did you find her? Was it her?” Penelope yells, still peeping through the hole in the fence. 

Steve waits until he vaults back over to answer. “No, princess. Not her.” 

“Your chin,” you point out, but your words are eaten by Penelope’s shouting. 

“It was her! I know it was! I saw!” 

“It wasn’t, Nell. Promise. That cat was orange.”

“But it was! I saw her!” Penelope crumbles into hysterics, batting her fists against Steve’s thighs like they’re punching bags.  

Steve scoops her up, clamping her arms between their chests. 

“Daddy, we have to go back! I saw her!” Several gasps slice through her sentence and tears pour down her face in even streams. 

Steve shushes her gently, fanning her hood across her head as it starts to rain. You follow him up to the road and then down the street. Penelope’s relentless, squirming and screaming in his ear. It’s the first of her temper tantrums you’ve seen in person, though you’ve heard plenty about them, and you caught the beginning of one once through the phone. Steve’s more composed than you thought possible, waiting patiently until her sobs have dwindled into teary hiccups to set her down. 

“It’s not nice to hit. Even when we’re mad, you know that.”

She glares at him, more serious than you’ve ever seen. 

“Are you ready to go home?” 

Penelope’s face starts to wilt. She nearly cries again. 

“It’s too rainy. We have to go home soon or we’ll get sick.”

“Five more minutes,” she begs. 

“Okay.” He buttons her coat up to her chin. “Are you tired?” 

She shakes her head, though her eyes say otherwise. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” 

Penelope thinks long and hard. It’s a trick question. Of course she wants to be carried but God forbid Steve finds out she’s tired. 

He picks her up anyway. “You can still look from up here.” 

Penelope hooks her chin over his shoulder, cheek tipping to kiss the pad of his jacket. So much worry and too many days of poor sleep etched into each flap of her lashes. She looks utterly exhausted. And she really tries to stay awake– she needs to find Cinderella– but she lost that battle before it even started. The hiss of rain and the warm swing of Steve’s embrace send her straight to dreamland. 

Steve feels her arms slacken and slide down his back. He chances a glimpse at you to ask what he already knows but can’t. Not when you’re already watching Penelope with a type of love he believed was his alone to give. 

Alarm pulses when he registers the weight of your stare has shifted to him. The same velvet endearment skips across every feature on your face. It’s lovely and adorable but it terrifies the hell out of Steve. 

His cheeks burn and he smiles like a madman. He can’t help it. It sticks long after his eyes dart away. 

You drift into a comfortable quiet. The spray of rain is like white noise, making even you drowsy. Maybe Steve could carry you back too. It’s an amusing idea, enough to make you grin to yourself. You’re glad he doesn’t notice. He couldn't torture that information out of you. 

Halfway home, you hit a particularly steep incline in the forest, slick with the beginning sludge of mud. 

“Here,” Steve calls, boosting Penelope higher up his chest before casting his arm at you. 

You accept his hand, grateful for more reasons than one, and trace the wet shoeprints he leaves behind with your own. It’s a slow journey. Steve strains with the added weight on his front, but he doesn’t let go of you until you reach the top of the hill. 

You cross the threshold back into Steve’s yard as a bout of thunder splits the sky above. Penelope shakes awake and peels herself off Steve. She blinks unhappily, cheeks stamped with red lines mirroring his coat folds. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, fixing her hood after it falls. 

“Cinderella,” she whimpers. 

“We’ll look again tomorrow.” 

She sniffles, voice so frail, hollow with sleep. “No. I–” 

Another wave of thunder startles her to panicked tears. Steve picks up the pace to the front door, shuffling through his pocket for the keys. He’s well-versed in unlocking the door one-handed– between groceries, backpacks, Penelope– he always has something to carry. But he’s thankful when you take the keys and do it for him. 

You scoot inside last, joining the choir of shoe squealing on the tile. 

Steve sets Penelope on the floor and kneels to unlace her boots. She wrestles with her coat zipper until Steve intervenes with much gentler hands. 

“We looked really good while you were asleep,” you promise while shedding your own coat. 

Her miserable expression doesn’t falter. 

Steve smears her tear tracks one cheek at a time. “Stay for a bit? Until the storm passes.”

You bend to collect Penelope’s coat off the floor and hang it next to yours. “Okay,” you say when you realize his words were directed at you. 

“I’m gonna give her a quick bath. Do you need anything? Water? Towel?” 

“Oh, no. I’m good. Thanks.” 

“Okay. We’ll be upstairs. Please, help yourself to whatever. Seriously.” 

When Steve disappears from view, you mosey into the living room, searching for something to keep your hands busy. And it’s not hard to find. There’s a pile of laundry that looks like it’s been trampled through more than a few times. Clothes stretch from one end of the couch to the other. You push them into a pile and get comfortable, folding each item with more care than you would your own. 

Four neat stacks later and Steve spots you from the stairs. “Please don’t do that,” he says. 

You clear your smirk as he nears. “Do what?” 

“You know what,” he snatches a sock from your grasp. It’s one of his, longer and duller than the others. “Sorry, I know it’s a mess.” 

“You know I don’t care, Steve.” 

He gazes down at you in pretend petulance. “Well, I do.” With a dramatic flick of his finger, he sends the sock sailing back into the hamper on the floor.  

“If it makes you feel better, I have a pile of clothes covering half my bed right now.”

 “Mmm. It doesn’t,” he decides. “But I came down because Penelope’s very kindly requested that you come read to her before she goes to bed. If you want to.” 

“Of course I want to.” Your lips bend into a funny little line, happy and curious and doubtful all dressed in one. “She really asked for me?” 

“Yeah,” he says in the same cadence he would duh. He offers his palm, drags you up easily. “Why’s that so hard to believe?” 

“I dunno.” A toothy smile slips onto your face before you can stop it. But your lips close as soon as you stand, pressed closer to him than you expected to be. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles, breaking away. “Come on.” 

He seemed nervous– the way he laughed, how his hands retracted like he was burned– but maybe you’re overthinking it. You forget about the interaction by the time you reach Penelope’s room. 

Several books are fanned around Penelope where she stands, like fallen petals from the stem of a flower. Her shelf has been mostly stripped. What isn’t on the floor has been scooped into a flimsy stack in her arms. 

Steve knocks on the door frame, “Ready?” 

Penelope turns and two books slide off the top of her tower. You can’t see her mouth but you can tell by her eyes that there’s a smile behind that copy of Goodnight Moon. 

“You can pick three, missy,” he says. 

“Five?” 

“Four.” 

“Four and a half?”

“Three.”

“No,” she giggles, definitely delirious. “Four.”

“Okay.” He kneels at her feet, reshelving unchosen books two or three at a time. 

It’s not an easy decision, but Penelope decides on her four and promptly thrusts them into your hands. You follow her to bed where she packs herself against the wall, politely leaving the rest of the twin mattress for you. 

“Wait!” she shouts when you open the first book, “The lights!” 

“I’m working on it,” Steve grumbles, standing to flip the light switch by the door. The room is swallowed in black apart from the nightlight glowing to life across the room. 

Penelope stretches across you to snatch something off her nightstand. A flashlight, you realize, as she clicks the switch. She trains the light on the page and beams at you with equal vibrance. 

The first story is the shortest and the second not much longer, but the third takes time. Time you get to notice the heat of her breath as she yawns into your arm and time to appreciate the weight of her head limp against your shoulder. 

You don’t have to look up to know Steve is still tidying. Every second counts when you’re a single parent. But you steal a glance in between each page anyway. Find him chucking clothes in the hamper and dumping an armload of stuffed animals onto the foot of the bed. They’ll be kicked to the floor by morning and yet he straightens them up anyhow. 

He concludes his rounds by the final pages of the fourth book, taking a seat on the floor just in time to hear you whisper, “The end.” 

Penelope bats her dark eyes up at you. She knows you’ll say yes before she even asks. “One more?” 

“No,” Steve interjects. “No more tonight, babe.”

“Pleaseee!” 

“No, you already hustled me into four. We usually only read two.” 

“Pretty please!” she adds, puppy dog eyes bouncing from Steve to you. 

Oh the cruelty. To defy Steve or disappoint Penelope. Both are terrible choices but only one of the pair currently has a heartbreaking little pout. 

“I’ll read one more really really short book if you promise to go to sleep after?” 

Her head bobs eagerly as she kicks the blankets off, springing to her feet.

Steve’s head flops against the sheets, hair like satin ribbons shining from root to end. You consider if it’s as soft as you assume and if you’ll ever have the chance to find out. 

“Supposed to be on my side,” he whispers through a gooey grin. 

“Am I?” 

He tuts, craning up to find Penelope. “Don’t take all of those back out. I just cleaned them up.”

She exchanges the two in her hand for a thick chapter book. 

“No ma’am,” Steve says as she turns. “Short one, ‘member?”

Penelope huffs and lugs herself back to the bookcase. She plucks a thinner paperback and uses Steve’s calf as a stool to launch herself back in bed. He doesn’t complain but he pinches her side in revenge. 

The book mirrors the length of tonight’s first, yet it takes double the time for your own selfish reasons. You linger on each word, emphasize each sound, and savor every second. Penelope is nestled against your hip as you read the final sentence, sleepy and oblivious that you’ve turned the last page. 

Steve pulls himself up to perch on the edge of the bed, mindful not to sit on anyone’s legs. He runs the back of his hand across her face, giving her nose an extra tap. Enough times and it’ll put her to sleep. 

“Can you say thanks, Nell? And goodnight.” 

She squirms away from his touch, pushing into your thigh. “I don’t wanna go to sleep.”

“Pen, remember our deal.” You squeeze her shoulder gently. “You promised, hmm?”

You swallow the urge to smile when she juts her lip out and frowns. The drama never ends with this one but you love it. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper. Your hand glides over the shape of her arm beneath the blanket. “I had fun reading to you.” 

She avoids your gaze, picking a loose string from her blanket. If she sees you grinning, she’ll end up grinning too. She can’t have that, she’s protesting. “Night.” 

Steve shakes his head dismissively at you, grinning fondly himself. “I’ll be down in a second,” he explains. 

You stand, slotting the book back in its home on the shelf and steal one last glimpse of them on your way out. A trail of nightlights guides you to the stairs like beacons. You end up in the kitchen, hands braced on the sink, eyes drifting around the backyard through the window.

There’s a patio with chairs and string lights. In the grass, a trampoline, a sandbox, and a toddler-sized picnic bench, all draped in purple moonlight and sparkling with rain. It’s easy to imagine life here. Birthday parties and cookouts and lazy Sunday afternoons. 

The swish of sock against tile knocks you from the fantasy. You locate Steve’s reflection in the glass.

“You better not be doing my dishes.” 

Your lips flex instinctually at his voice. “I thought about it.” 

He leans back against the counter, hip a hand’s width from yours. Strips of hair sag across his forehead like a botched set of bangs. Your height difference and the angle only accentuate how silly he looks. 

“What?” Steve smiles. 

You huff through your own. “Nothin’.” 

“Why are you laughing then?” 

“I’m not. Just…” you reach for his face but the courage fades halfway. You wave obtusely instead. “This hair,” you finish. 

He flattens the piece down, then another, combing more and more over his face like a real pair of bangs until the ends graze the ball of his nose. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Oh, it’s awful, Steve. Put it back.” 

“I dunno. Thinking of changing it up anyway.”

You shake your head, peeling your eyes away from him. “Stupid.” 

Stupidly gorgeous, you decide. He’s a mess, no doubt; rumpled and sweaty, and still, stupidly, impossibly gorgeous. 

He rakes his hair back where it belongs, “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Your gaze remains on the window but you watch Steve in your peripherals. “I’m the perfect amount of good to you.” 

“Well, agree to disagree. But, thank you for coming over to help look. Really I–”

You face him fully then. “Steve, you don’t have to thank me.” 

“No, I do. Really, you’re… you’re great and it’s been nice, you know, having help. Even just having company. It hasn't been easy making friends the last few years.”

Your brain stalls at his choice of words. You spout the first thing that comes to mind. “That’s what friends are for, right?” The words sting like acid on your tongue but you smile anyway. You’re pretty sure your heart just split itself in half on the way to the friend zone. 

He hums, pushing off the counter toward the fridge. “Let me return the favor, please. I’ll make you whatever you want. Spaghetti, PB ‘n J, uhh, pre-packaged salad?”

“I’m good, Steve. I ate earlier. And you don’t need to return the favor.” 

He sets a jar of jelly on the counter. “Your loss. Penelope says I make the best PB ‘n J’s.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” 

You settle at the kitchen table and watch him work unapologetically. His focus is entirely on a one-sided debate about the perfect peanut butter-to-jelly ratio, leaving him oblivious to your ogling.

He plops down in the chair across from yours when he’s finished. “Sure you don’t want some? You can have half of mine.” 

“Steve.” 

“Okay,” he sings and takes a bite. 

You watch the slow drip of water from the eaves. The rain has subsided enough that you could go, but neither of you suggest it. Your mind is elsewhere. Stuck on friends. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” Steve chuckles when you blink back to reality. “Did you hear me? I was–”

The trill of the phone interrupts. 

“I’m holding my thought. Don’t go anywhere.” Steve abandons his sandwich and crosses the room, pulling the phone from the counter. “Hello?... Uh-huh… Yes, yes.”

The sudden shift in his tone catches your attention. He sounds borderline ecstatic. 

“Okay. I’ll be right over. Thank you!” 

“Who was it?” you ask.

He snaps the receiver back into place. “A neighbor saw her just now.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes! Well, they’re pretty sure it’s her. It sounded like her, how they described. Are you able to stay here while I go check? I don’t wanna wake Penelope up.” 

You don’t even think about it when you insist, “Of course. Go!” 

“I’ll be right back. Thank you!” He squeezes your shoulder and jogs out of the kitchen. The sound of jangling keys fades with the closing of the front door and before you’ve processed it, you’re alone in Steve’s house. 

It’s a strange thing, being in Steve’s house without Steve. You’re not technically alone, Penelope is still tucked in bed upstairs, of course. But the silence is thick, suffocating even. So you’re admittedly glad when you hear tiny footsteps from upstairs. 

On the bottom step, Penelope freezes and her hand tightens around the railing, not expecting you to be there. “Where’s Daddy?” she mewls at you, bottom lip quivering against her words. 

“It’s okay. He went out to look some more, that’s all.” 

“I want Daddy,” she whines, breath hitching in between words. 

“He’ll be right back, sweetheart. I promise.” 

A sob wracks her chest, tears escaping as she scrunches her eyes. Sniffles cut through a mush of sounds, woven between them, she pleads, “When?”

“Oh, honey. Come here.” You hoist her up against your chest instinctually. It feels like the right thing to do, and it must be– her arms wind underneath yours like puzzle pieces. “Real soon,” you reassure. 

You hope so anyway. Half for Penelope’s sake and half for yours. You’re afraid to overstep, to parent her in a way Steve wouldn’t approve of. You feel the echoes of his constant self-doubt in your own mind. But you’ll try your best until he returns. 

Penelope’s not heavy, but it is the first time you’ve carried another human down a set of stairs. It’s a slow descent with lots of maneuvering and readjusting limbs so you can see the steps ahead but she doesn’t seem to mind. By the time you make it to the sectional, your arms burn. Still, you’d do it ten times over just so she doesn’t have to walk herself.  

She sweeps her runny nose across your sleeve and her knee digs uncomfortably into your ribcage but you can’t find it in yourself to mind. She feels safe enough with you to do so. It’s a compliment more than anything. And the weight of her head against you is a type of soothing you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. 

Your fingertips trace the shape of her shoulder blades through her nightgown. “Did you have a bad dream?” you whisper. 

She draws similar lazy patterns on your arm, pausing to hum yes. 

You hum back. “‘M sorry, Pen. Wanna talk about it? Might help.”

She shakes her head, the slightest movement against your collar. 

“Okay, I got you. Don’t have to worry,” you whisper and pat her head. “I won’t let any more bad dreams get in here.” 

Steve’s gone long enough to fuel your nerves and keep your mind buzzing, though your eyes beg for the sweet release of sleep. Penelope’s not helping, like a warm, weighted blanket on your chest. She’s barely awake herself when he arrives, but you’re surprised she’s awake at all. You aren’t sure what time it is but it’s definitely late. 

Two clicks from the front door’s lock and a Steve-shaped shadow slides inside. He’s being particularly quiet, like when tries to sneak up on you at the rec center. Like a ninja, he always says. 

Penelope’s head shoots up to peer over the couch. “Daddy?”

Steve stops in his tracks, but his head snaps in your direction. When his eyes confirm his ears he starts toward the couch, waiting until he can sit to coo, “Hey, baby. Hey.” A hand scoops a piece of hair behind her ear. “What are you doing up sleepyhead?” 

Penelope splinters off of your chest but remains situated on your thighs. She offers several half-lidded blinks to Steve. “You didn’t find her?” 

He melts like her eyes are made of sunbeams, reaching up to thumb sleep from under her lashes. “No, baby. Someone thought they did but it wasn’t her. I went to make sure.” 

“Oh,” she says, not sad, just tired. Penelope slowly leans over to him like a bridge, wrapping her arms around his neck as he tows her into his lap. 

He looks at you then. A long look. An expression you're having a hard time untangling. His eyes flutter back down when Penelope yawns. “Have to go to bed, okay?” he whispers into her crown, planting a kiss while he’s there. 

“I wanna sleep in your room.”

“That’s fine but I’m not laying down yet. You still have to go to sleep.” 

She nods against his chin. 

“I’ll carry you up. Can you say goodnight?” 

Penelope turns so you can see one side of her face, the other glued to Steve’s sweater. 

“Goodnight,” you wave and smile softly. 

She only shudders out a sigh but manners aren’t on Steve’s mind, especially when he knows you wouldn’t care about that. His knees crack as he stands, hiking her up higher before he heads upstairs. 

You yank a blanket from the arm of the couch, missing the warmth Penelope lent you. It’s a risky move when you’re already fighting to keep your eyes open. 

But Steve’s back before you have time to fall asleep. He’s trampling down the steps with a confidence that Penelope’s out for good this time. And he flops onto the couch with the same heaviness, sighing like you’ve never heard. Pure frustration. It’s understandable. But odd off his lips. 

“You okay?” you ask, the same syrupy sweetness you’d used with Penelope.  

He turns to face you and he looks awfully sad. The rainwater clinging to the ends of his hair doesn’t help. But he nods anyway because he’s Steve. “It was a stupid raccoon.” 

“You’re kidding? They thought it was a cat?” 

“I should’ve known,” he scrubs his face. “Practically senile that lady.” 

“You’ll find her, Steve.” 

He takes a deep breath and swallows. “I don’t know anymore. I’m really starting to think worst-case scenarios.” 

You press your lips into a firm line. It’s a possibility you don’t want to consider. “Why don’t I go look a little longer? I’m off–”

“No, please,” he leans over to cradle the shell of your knee. “You’ve helped all night. I mean this in the nicest way possible, you look exhausted.”

“Way to treat a guest, Harrington,” you smirk, peeling his pointer finger off your leg to hook it under your own. 

He squeezes your finger like a trigger, shifting focus between your hands and face. “Go home, rest, please.” 

“You sure?”

“Hundred percent. Rain’s let up so the drive shouldn’t be too bad.” 

“Promise you’ll get some rest too?” 

He smiles despite the pang in his chest and the ache behind his eyes. You're the first to show him this kind of care in years. “I will. I promise.” He releases your finger, binding your pinky with his instead. 

There’s something unreal about the way you smile back at him. Like you’ve entranced him with a spell. Steve believes in a lot of things– superpowers, demogorgans, parallel dimensions– but this is the first time he’s ever believed in pinky promise magic. 

He shakes his head, “Come on.” 

You take his hand, groaning in sync as he helps you up. 

In the foyer, Steve unhooks the coat he’d lent you earlier. “Here.” And before you can contend, he adds, “Keep it. It’s an extra. I don’t need it.” 

You let him guide your arms into the sleeves. And the same deliriousness possesses you to spring in for a hug after. “It’ll be okay, Steve,” you murmur, lips skimming the embroidered design across his chest. 

He deflates for half a second before reciprocating. “I know,” he says. “Thank you.” 

You wait until he softens to pull away and open the door. 

The wind whips and howls blowing a wave of mist onto the other end of the porch. Steve scans the yard, then the road, both slick with rain. He asks himself if it’s a good enough reason to ask you to stay. But he decides it isn’t, not yet, at least. 

“Call me when you get home?” 

A wild smile splits your lips. “Okay,” you blink stupidly, too tired to care. 

“Careful!” he shouts as you run to your car. Steve leans against the doorframe, loitering until your headlights flash his house and your car rolls out of the driveway. 

It’s only sprinkling but streetlights are scarce near Steve’s place so you turn your high beams on, highlighting lawns on either side of the road. You drive slowly, inspecting one yard, then the one opposite, hopeful that Cinderella’s still out there. 

There’s a stop sign at the end of Steve’s street. A landmark you know to make a left at. But you decide to go right. I wanted to take the scenic route, you’ll say if Steve asks. You drive that road and the one beside it and another beside that. 

And it’s only a few turns away when you spot something sort of cat-shaped laid at the end of a driveway. 

“Please do not be a raccoon,” you mumble, squinting as you inch the car closer. The longer you look the more it makes sense– two ears, a wavy tail, it’s definitely a cat. “No way.” 

You put the car in park across from the house and study it. It bats its tail against the concrete, staring lazily back at your car. There’s just no way, not after all that looking. You find her after what, ten minutes of driving? It just can’t be her. 

You push your door open gingerly, slipping onto the asphalt one foot at a time. The cat perks up, ears twitching with each crunch under your shoes. You slink over slowly, crouching into an uncomfortable crab walk when she stands. Brown coat, no collar, just as she’s been described to you. But it’s hard to say. You’ve only seen one picture of her and it was out of focus. There’s no way to really know it’s her. 

Honking a few streets away slices the silence and your focus in one go. You flinch back a step which spooks the cat. She scampers up the driveway, weaving underneath a car to the other end of the yard. 

You stick as low to the ground as you can while skipping after her. You’d guess you look ridiculous, but at least Steve isn’t here to see. The car blocks the view and you lose her by the time you reach the other side. But there’s a swirl of shrubbery, good for hiding probably. You blindly grapple for branches, blinking rapidly, slowly adjusting to the growing darkness the farther you move from your car’s headlights.

And then the porch light flickers on, spotlighting you digging through a random person’s bushes.  

“Shit.” You freeze, hand choking a wreath of leaves, embarrassment flaring hot and red through your entire body. A minute passes, then two. Everything’s still. No cat, no angry homeowners, no police cars. You decide it’s safe. Must’ve been an automatic light. You hope, anyway. 

Upon further inspection, the bushes are empty, and from what you can see the porch is too. There are a few trees but it’s difficult to make out any cats through the dark web of branches. A sudden gust of wind shakes a handful of leaves loose. Your eyes track them across the yard as they tumble back toward the driveway. And there’s the damn cat, sitting on the roof of the car like it was there the whole time. 

“You better not set that alarm off, dude,” you grumble. 

She narrows her eyes and growls as you draw closer. Cinderella is irritable– this makes sense. Or it’s a totally random feral cat who is about to claw your eyes out. 

You’re within touching distance when you realize you have no plan. She very likely could claw your eyes out or give you rabies or something else awful. But you're in it now. You’re gonna get Penelope her cat back. So you shrug Steve’s coat off cautiously, eyes never leaving the cats. It’s raining again, you realize as it starts pelting your neck, trickling like ice down your shirt. But that’s the least of your worries right now. 

“Nice kitty,” you whisper, unfolding the jacket. 

She hisses as you lean in but before she can pounce or swipe you throw the jacket over her and scoop her off her feet. She goes stiff and growls low and throaty. 

You speed walk to your car, toeing the cracked door open and maneuvering carefully into your seat. The jacket peels open as you shut the door. She sees an opportunity and takes it, nosing her way through the hole and under your elbow. There’s a shine of teeth as she bats your face, dragging a sharp set of claws against your cheek. 

“No, no– shit! I swear if you don’t,” you argue, cramming her arms back in the fabric one at a time, tucking and tightening until she’s secure. 

She huffs through her nose, glaring menacingly at you from her swaddle. 

“Cinderella– if you’re even Cinderella– which you better be! You’re being a real jerk right now.”

She growls in response. Steve wasn’t lying about her attitude. 

You shift the car into gear one-handed and forgo a seatbelt. It’s a short ride and you’ve maxed out your risk-taking meter for the night. While it really is a short drive, it goes dreadfully slow. You’re cold and wet and you feel like you are driving with a bomb strapped to your chest. 

Getting out of the car is just as easy, as in not easy at all, as getting in. But you make it to Steve’s porch, surging the cat further up your chest so there are no last-minute getaways. You tap gently on the door with your toe, hoping not to disturb Penelope. 

The instant the door opens, you squeeze by Steve and release the cat onto the floor. She scampers ahead a few feet before stopping to turn around. “Tell me this is the right cat and I didn’t just kidnap some other kid’s pet.” 

He shoves the door closed. “Oh my God! Where the hell did you find her?” 

You exhale with one big slump of your shoulders, all the worry bleeding away. “Like, five minutes down the road. Just hanging out in someone’s driveway.” 

Steve gawks, crouching and coaxing her closer with an open palm. 

She considers his invitation before striding into his touch. 

He strokes her from head to tail and back. “I can’t believe you. I was about to make funeral arrangements.” 

Cinderella chirps happily. 

Steve twists to look up at you. For a second you think he might cry. Or kiss you. 

He promptly stands and cups your jaw and your stomach tumbles because he might actually kiss you. But he aims your cheek against the light instead and whispers, “You’re bleeding.” 

“Oh,” you tap around your cheek blindly, “It’s just a scratch.” 

“Here. Come here.”

You follow him to the bathroom where he pulls a towel from the closet and drapes it around your shoulders like a shawl. 

“You’re wet,” he says like you don’t already know. 

You tug the fraying ends taut across your chest and watch him dig through the medicine cabinet. “If only someone let me borrow their coat.” 

“If only,” he snickers, dumping the contents of the first aid kit in the sink. “I’m sorry Cinderella beat you up. She really has no manners.” He strips the plastic cover off a Barbie-themed bandaid and lines it up with your scratch, pressing, and smoothing it over your skin gingerly. 

“How hideous do I look? Scale of one to ten.” 

He shakes his head, smiling at you like an idiot. You make him smile like it’s your only job. And it sends his heart flying every time. He feels out of control around you. He hates feeling that way but somehow you make it easy. 

“You could never be hideous.” Steve chuckles, still in disbelief. “You're amazing.”

Any cold lingering on your face evaporates. “Don’t go soft on me, Harrington,” you tease. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline buzz of chasing Cinderella or the high of successfully catching her, but you feel like you could do anything. Like you could say anything to him. Your eyes trickle down to his lips. He’s close enough to kiss. Every nerve in your body dares you to do it. You don’t think he’d reject you. Maybe he’d even meet you halfway. 

A high-pitched scream severs the moment. 

Steve jerks away, alarmed and then quickly amused. “Penelope,” he grins. 

And right on cue, Penelope whizzes by the open door, squeals ricocheting down the hall. She chases Cinderella, who does not look happy to be chased, but Steve allows it. 

“Daddy! Cinderella’s back! Look!” She clips her shoulder on the stair post before disappearing into the kitchen 

He turns to you, beaming. He hopes you understand how amazing you are. He’d happily tell you again and again. 

Penelope races out, heaving through a smile with the jar of treats. She sprays the entire contents of it across the floor. Steve can’t even be mad. In fact, it’s the happiest he’s been all week. 

She lies down on her back, eyes skipping between you and Steve. “How did she get here?” 

“I saw her on my way home. She was just a few streets away.” 

“Wow. She’s really good at hide and seek,” Penelope decides. 

Cinderella prances over, using Penelope’s belly as a personal vault. Penelope splays her hand out, patting and petting to her heart's content as Cinderella munches on the treats. 

Steve squats, cupping a handful of them back into the jar. 

“No, Daddy! It’s her prize.”

“Her prize will make her sick if she eats it all.”

“Okay. I guess.” She giggles as Cinderella pushes a treat with her paw. 

Steve squeezes her knee where it wiggles, raising his eyebrows, “What do you say?”

Penelope turns to you with a wicked grin. She practically screams, “Thank you!”

“You're very welcome.”

Penelope pushes herself up and cocks her head. “Will you stay and play with us?” 

It’s entirely innocent and equally adorable. You appreciate Steve for being the bad guy. 

“Nuh-uh. You’re supposed to be in bed,” he reminds her. 

She whines and shoots him a mean look. But it doesn’t last. Cinderella is back. That’s all she really cares about right now. 

“You can play with Cinderella in the morning.” His eyes flicker between the two like they’re made of gold. “Maybe she’ll even sleep in your room.” 

Penelope’s eyes and mouth widen into three little O’s. “Really!” 

“Yes. She can stay inside from now on. But! You have to train her, be a good cat mom to her.” 

“I will, I will,” she nods so relentlessly her head might pop off. “I promise I’ll be the bestest cat mom ever in the whole entire world!” 

Steve chuckles, gaze dancing over to you. He looks at you like you’re made of gold too. That’s an intense realization. 

“I should head home,” you say. 

Steve nods, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. 

“Bye, Penelope! Bye, Cinderella!” 

Penelope shackles Cinderella’s arm and forces her into a rigid wave. “Bye-bye!” 

Steve follows you out to the front porch, snapping the door shut when Cinderella trots after him. 

“Good luck keeping her inside.”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head, hand dropping from the door handle. “I’m sure she’ll escape by morning.” 

Your gaze sweeps across the lawn. It’s only drizzling now, almost unnoticeably through the overcast veil of moonlight. 

“Oh, here,” you tug one end of the towel until it slides off your neck. 

Steve accepts it tentatively, “Maybe you should keep it. Case she gets out again.” 

“Yeah, guess I’d need something to catch her with, huh?”

His teeth seem to glow in the moonlight when he smiles. He slings the towel back over your head and smooths it across your shoulders. “I know I’ve said this like a million times today,” he trails off, rubbing the fabric up and down your arms. “But I’m gonna say it again.” He looks up, dreadfully serious. Your eyes lock like magnets, like he’s specially polarized yours to stay tethered to his. “First of all, thank you for everything, seriously.”

“It’s no problem, Steve, really.” 

“I know, I just,” his attention drifts away, tension seeping in through the silence. “I think you’re like the coolest person ever.” 

You shake your head and shift your weight from one foot to the other, desperately trying to shake out the scary feeling in your gut.

A warm hand clasps yours. “I mean it. You’re so amazing and are just a super genuine person and– and I care a lot about you.” 

Your pulse hammers so hard you wonder if he can hear it. The icy bite of rain clinging to your clothes turns hot. Hot enough to boil every drop of it off your skin. 

“I dunno, it’s just really hard to make friends as a single parent. You’ve been so kind. And I really appreciate that.” 

Your heart aches. Your eyes sting. That awful feeling triples. Friends, how could you forget? 

He drops your hand, knotting his own fingers together instead. Watching you, waiting for a response. 

You smile, brittle but convincing enough that he smiles back. “Well, that’s really sweet. I’m happy to help. And, for the record, I think you’re super cool too.” You punch his shoulder playfully. Because that’s what friends do. 

“Phew, that’s a relief. Was starting to think you were getting sick of us.”

You smile genuinely then. You don’t think it’s possible to ever get sick of them. “Ehh, I’m still warming up to Cinderella but Penelope’s my favorite, no offense.” 

“No, she’s pretty cool.” He nods, pausing to think. “You can come over tomorrow– if you aren’t busy. If you want to. We’ll probably go buy some cat stuff. I dunno, it’s cool if you can’t.”

“I’d love to, Steve.” 

He laughs in soft little layers. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

“See you then.”

“See ya.”

You spin on your heel, scurrying down the porch steps faster than you probably should. Forget the rain, Steve’s what you're running from. His laugh and his dopey smile and his overly kind words. You’re too young to die of a heart attack, but surely your heart won’t last much more of this. 

When you tug the handle of your car door, he yells, “Don’t forget to call me!” 

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling and flash him a thumbs-up before getting in. He’s such an idiot. Probably waking his neighbors up yelling like that. It’s probably unhealthy, the amount of emotions you’ve just experienced in the span of a few minutes. 

But already all you can think about is tomorrow. It seems like lightyears away, but you’d wait lightyears for Steve– even for just friends Steve– silly as it sounds.

[simpxxstan]

Nobody Else (part 1)

pairing: chaebol!wonwoo x chaebol!fem.reader

genre: enemies with benefits to lovers, smut (minors do not interact please), mild angst

summary: the girl who was proud about making her own destiny, the boy she swore to never interact with. sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, even yourself. because who would've seen any of this coming?

chapter word count: 13k

warnings: honestly, way too much smut. cockwarming, oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), usage of sex toys, orgasm denial, gagging, overstimulation, dom-sub dynamics, public sex (i don't even know if it's feasible, please suspend your beliefs about reality while reading aah), unprotected sex (please do not do this irl), breast play, spanking, use of spit during sex, usage of petnames (darling, babe, sweetheart for female), usage of word slut (for female), usage of sir and daddy (for male), sir kink, daddy kink, office sex, use of profanities, lots of bickering. let me know if i missed something out!

a/n: and we're back. (or are we?) honestly, i write when i get the time. and i don't know when i'll get my schedule to clear up again </3 hopefully within a few months my life will be back on track.

hope you enjoy this!!! posting this in two parts because it's way too long otherwise. do leave your thoughts, i swear reading them makes me so happy. open to hearing criticism too so pls my inbox is right there for you to rant. have a nice day!

You’ve known Jeon Wonwoo since the age of eleven, but you’d never thought you’d end up like this. Being in the same social circles as you and your family, the young Jeon heir had never really been your friend. However, that did not mean you didn’t meet him. In fact, you met him quite often. He went to the same school as you, he was always there at the parties you went to, and everyone around you kept talking about him. No matter what the season or the age, everyone was infatuated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

Objectively speaking, no. 

Subjectively speaking, not at all. 

You could never understand why one would find a man with no beauties to his personality, nothing to his merit except a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and those never-changing black clothes, attractive. Apart from that, he never exchanged a friendly conversation with you. Never a moment of warmth. And you reciprocated the feeling absolutely. You had no desire to seek his favour. He simply never left the periphery of your life, and it annoyed you. But not enough to bother you. You’d grown used to the sight of the tall boy, who never spoke to anyone except his tight-knit group of absolute losers. And he should have remained in your periphery, never in your focus. You wanted nothing to do with the cold, arrogant nerd. 

So naturally, you’d never, in your wildest imaginations, thought that you’d be here, sucking his dick off under his desk while he engaged himself in a meeting on his desktop. You had been in that position for hours, your mouth lolling over the wetness surrounding his penis, both from your saliva and the slow trickle of his pre-cum. While he has switched from meeting to meeting, both with corporates in Korea and internationally, his suit impeccable and the glasses sitting neatly on his nose, you’d cockwarmed him. That would’ve still been fine, had you not enjoyed it so thoroughly that it had become a routine for you both over the months. 

After a solid two hours (and a few more minutes), he’d allowed himself to push back the chair a bit, pull his pants down further, spread his legs wide enough to meet the annoying temptation that had been bugging him for so long, and thread his hands into your hair, indicating you to step out of the haze you’d fallen into and get on with the job. And oh boy, you’d obeyed. At this point, it was a reflex for you. Feeling the way his hands caved your jaws and neck, you leaned into his touch, all while keeping your eyes on the little twitches he made on his face. Perhaps it was his need to be dominant, or perhaps it was just his arrogance, but he never slipped during sex. Even when you were giving him the most mind-blowing blowjob, like right now, using techniques you’d picked up over time, slipping your tongue under his cock to feel his veins throb around your tongue, gently nipping the foreskin to make the red tip burn harder, and taking him into your throat completely without a moment of a gag reflex. He’d never show you how much he liked it, never praised you, never revealed that he wanted it as much as you did. 

It was all a part of the act, you knew that. 

It was designed to make you more eager to perform well, more eager to earn his praise, more eager to put your all into this. 

Jeon Wonwoo, with his signature cold stares and the arrogant tilt of his smirk, would break you every time, and you’d come back for it, again and again, addicted mindlessly, like a drug. 

Eventually, his cum would flow down your throat, and you’d feel his body relax against yours, as he let you lay your head on his thighs for a few moments to recuperate. 

But never enough. 

“Up, sweetheart. I thought you had a party to attend.”

He helps you stand up, smirking at the pool of your cum on the floor where you’d been sitting, with the bullet vibrator parked deep into your pussy, which had given you endless orgasms and sent you into heaven, all while you’d felt the weight of Wonwoo’s warmth on your tongue. 

His words bring you back to reality, as you limp towards the washroom to clean yourself, slowly breaking your daze. “I do. When are you going to change?”

“I don’t want to. I’ll look good even if I don’t doll up.” With a snicker he goes back to his desktop, and you roll your eyes at the implication of his words.

“I still don’t understand why you’d ask them to deliver the dress here.”

“It is pretty late. Imagine if I’d have to go back home, change, and then leave for the venue. Too much hassle. I would have to leave an hour back. Your place is much closer to the venue.”

“And so you chose to make my bedroom your vanity room?

From Wonwoo’s vantage point in the study, he has a direct view into the master bedroom, where you’re settling yourself into a fresh pair of lingerie and the jumpsuit, which had been designed exclusively for you, for this occasion. The jumpsuit was perfect, made to look professional and yet classy, just as the event demanded, and in midnight blue, your favourite shade. You smiled while wearing it, your secretary had truly learnt your style well and ordered the perfect outfit for you. 

“I’ll be out in ten.” You can feel his eyes on your figure, even from the distance.

You’re too engrossed in fixing the zip on your back to notice Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his eyes fixated on you. 

“Do you need help?”

You give him a look. There’s that semi-permanent smirk lingering on his face, he knows he’s pushing your buttons. Outside of sex, you would never ask for help. In fact, you wouldn’t ask Wonwoo for anything. What could he do for you that you couldn’t do yourself? 

He doesn’t say anything else, he quietly steps in and takes grip of the zip. After pulling it up, he doesn’t say a word, carefully watching you wear your scanty makeup. It could be a little creepy, but you surprisingly don’t mind. Or perhaps you just don’t care. 

“Ah fuck. I forgot to bring the lip gloss.”

“But you just wore lipstick?”

“No,” you turn around and outside of Wonwoo’s periphery. Slipping your feet into your heels and putting on the earrings that had also been sent by your secretary, you told him, “The lip-plumping one. It makes my lips look nice. Well, nicer. They’re already quite pretty, as I’ve been told.” You hear Wonwoo scoff behind you, and you turn around to face him. 

“Well, how do I look?”

His hands are in his pockets, his shirt buttons are halfway opened and his hair is messy, but he still looks better than you do after all this effort. 

“They’ll love you.”

You smile. That’s more than enough feedback from Jeon Wonwoo. He doesn’t have to praise you outside sex if he can’t do it while fucking.

“They always do.”

_

And they do. The photographers, the journalists, the social elites, the ministers, their wives, their mistresses, the chaebols, their heirs, and their bastards. Everyone loves you. How could they not? You’re perfect in every way possible. At twenty six, you’re at the height of your life- young, charming and intelligent, everybody wants you. Ever since you took your father’s already prospering business to new heights four years ago, straight out of grad school, by introducing Korea to the world of AI like they’d never seen before. The industry had not just been disrupted by your introduction of AI to the field of healthcare and diagnosis, but also awed by the sheer magnanimity of your creations. You hadn’t spent years perfecting your ideas in vain. 

Everyone wants a little bit of your time, a little word with you, slipping in a plea and a pickup line in the same tone, and you love the attention they throw at you. Honestly, this is where you were born to be. The spotlight is where you deserve to belong. 

But eventually, the crowd dissipates, leaving you walking towards the bar looking for a martini, arm looped into the arm of your sister. “Y/N-ah, I tell you, let’s go to Jeju this weekend! The weather is perfect now- not too hot, not too cold. The forecast also recommends visiting now!” She tugs at your arm playfully, and you smile fondly. She knows your answer, but she never stops trying. “And what about your husband?” “I need a break from him, please. He’s getting on my nerves!” “Darling, it’s your hormones.” She slaps your wrist. “No! Stop saying that. Kyungmin says the exact same thing, in the exact same tone! It’s so annoying. Stop ganging up against me! Anyway it’s not my fault I’m pregnant. The least he can do is take care of me. If he can’t take care of me now, how is he going to be trained to become a father? Huh? How will he take care of our daught-” “You don’t even know that.” “I do. I have a feeling.” “You can just say you want a girl, you know. There’s nothing called ‘a feeling’.” “Damn it. Just because you have a trash sixth sense doesn’t mean you can dismiss mine, my intuition never goes wrong!” 

And you’ve reached the bar, and the bartender serves you your drinks- just a virgin mojito for your sister though. “The canapes are great.” “Hmm… But I’m craving oranges! That’s why we should go to Jeju, yah!” “Unnie, you’ve gotta stop. Don’t excite yourself more than you need to. Do you want orange juice?” “No, eww. Not this artificial flavour.” “If you really want to go to Jeju, take Kyungmin Oppa and go. Don’t ask for me- I’ll never be able to keep up with your tantrums.” “Hmm. That is true. Now that you mention him, I suddenly miss him. For all my complaints, I still love him though-” You giggle at the sudden sappy tone of your sister, tuning out parts of her endless chatter, while your eyes search for someone in the crowds. 

Jeon Wonwoo stands out, so he’s easy to find. 

He’s wearing the same suit he’d worn earlier, not changed like he had told you. He looks tired and yet, good. Before you realise it, he’s looking back at you, and walking towards where the two of you are standing. 

“Oh! Wonwoo-yah! How have you been?” Your sister asks, ever friendly. She’s the only one in the family who doesn’t show that the Jeon and Y/L/N families are rivals in business and hence, avoid speaking to each other. That norm wasn’t broken by you. To be fair, even the nights you spent together had very little conversation. No orgasm-induced dopamine could break through the wall of your egos to encourage you to be friendly with each other. Hell, outside of the bedroom, Wonwoo isn’t even attractive enough to catch your eye. 

“Hmm, I’m good, Noona. I see your baby is growing fast. How many weeks left?” His tone is courteous, formal, and sweet. Makes you want to laugh at how different he sounds from the usual voice you hear him speak in. 

“About eleven weeks to go. This trimester has been killing me, I swear. I’ve told Kyungmin I don’t want any more kids. Ever. I don’t think I can go through this again, and I haven’t even gotten to the pain of delivery yet. I don’t even know if I can go back to skating after this.”

You scoff. “As if. First get over your never-ending honeymoon period. Then talk about not having any more kids.”

“I support Y/N here. The company will need an heir, and I don’t see anyone else providing any.” 

You sigh. There he goes. You roll your eyes at him, “An heir doesn’t have to be through blood relation. Merit exists. But then how can I explain this to someone whose existence is owed to nepotism.” 

“Rich of you to say so.”

You take a step closer to Wonwoo, too riled up by the calm way he’s speaking. “I’ve built my world from the ground. From level zero. I haven’t just sat on a throne that was presented to me.” 

“Forever the brat, huh? Running your mouth even in public, begging me to shut it?” You notice that Wonwoo has also come closer to you, and you can smell the cologne off him. He’s a solid four inches taller than you, even when you’re wearing heels. But you stare right back into his eyes, yours angry and his cold and superior, as usual. You wonder for the n-th time if his blood even runs warm. You’re tempted to retort back, disgusted by the below-the-belt remark, going off-topic, but your sister’s gently pulling your arm, reminding you that you’re in public. “Back off. Don’t make a scene, guys. Let’s not ruin the evening?” She puts on her best smile to calm you down, and you step away, seething in vain. Wonwoo’s smirk never leaves his face as you two bow and walk away. The way he’s looking at you reminds you of other memories. 

You suddenly wonder if your sister had heard the comment or not. Considering her though, probably not. Thank god it was her and not someone else. 

_

The rest of the party flows seamlessly. You’re spiralling slightly in your head though- overthinking can’t be avoided. The way Wonwoo was successful in riling you up has shocked you, to say the least. There have been a thousand such instances, but you don’t remember losing your temper to this extent in any of the situations. But somehow, Wonwoo talking about you not being interested to have children vexed you so much? It just didn’t add up. 

It’s the first time you’re doubting your current situation. You’d been absolutely convinced that settlement between the two of you was more to your benefit than his. It wasn’t like you had a dearth of men wanting to fuck you. It was quite the opposite. But a few scandals and rumours had taught you that keeping your private life discreet was the optimal choice. Especially if you were a woman and people simply assumed you’d sucked someone’s dick to get ahead in life. 

But the arrangement with Wonwoo was so perfect. He wanted discretion, so did you. He didn’t want to get involved with a random hookup who could get pregnant, you didn’t want a random hookup to get you pregnant. He wanted someone to match his wavelength, and you needed a vent for your stress. Now that you consider the drastic improvement in your energy and efforts, in retrospection, becoming Jeon Wonwoo’s submissive had been the best decision of your life. 

_

It had begun quite suddenly. At your sister’s engagement party. Everyone was delighted with the new couple, especially you. Your sister had never shown any desire to join the company, satisfied with following her passion of ice skating. And now she was getting married to her boyfriend of five years, the love of her life, and everyone was left fondly jealous of the pure happiness on her face, even you.

Perhaps it was because of this jealousy that you’d decided to flirt with Wonwoo at the after-party. Against your better judgement, you’d drifted towards him by the end of the night, until your knees were touching on the barstools, and he was leaning back looking over your figure again and again. I was wondering which spot would be ideal for me to bite first- your collarbones, your cleavage, your thighs or your belly button, he would tell you later. God knows why you’d suddenly decided to find him attractive after fifteen years of knowing each other, but that was it. You’d ended up in a hotel bed that night, fucked until tears ran down your cheeks, begging him to go harder and faster whenever he slowed down to look at the mascara dripping down your face, leaving hickeys all over the soft skin of your breasts, not letting you rest of a second of the night, going at it till dawn. 

“Wonwoo… I can’t…” you’d begged, your words muffled through your panties stuffed into your own mouth, the overstimulation hitting you hard as you squirmed against his tongue fucking his cum back into your pussy. “You can, sweetheart, give me another one… hmm? Do you want to be a good girl?” 

And you had let loose. Given yourself up to him, to make or break you, as he wanted, and then put you together one by one as the sun rose up in the sky as you’d drifted to sleep. The next afternoon, you’d woken up feeling like a new person, and decided it was the best night of your life. The man in question was nowhere to be seen, but you didn’t care. The bliss ran too deep. 

Sadly, not deep enough. The overthinking kicked in a few hours later, and you cussed yourself for becoming so easy for an undeserving man like Wonwoo. Just because he’d made you cum and given you a good time didn’t mean you’d go against your rational thoughts. In a way, he was no better than your best dildo. Except you liked your dildo. You simply did not like Jeon Wonwoo. The arrogant brat had been the type of man you’d avoided all of your life. You hadn’t seen him work hard in school, and now that he had inherited his father’s company, you didn’t see him work any harder either. Sure, Jeon Estates was doing better than ever, but that was only because the economy was booming and the housing market was doing well. He had done nothing extra. Unlike you, who had built your world yourself. You’d never taken your father’s prosperity as complacency, and strived to make a name for yourself. And now people knew of Y/L/N Corporation as synonymous to both your father’s name and your name. 

And you had, like a silly stupid girl, gone and slept with this very man. 

And you had liked it. 

That was the worst bit. An accidental hookup would have been fine. But no, you wanted to sleep with him every night, if it meant he’d treat you to the same feast you’d blissed out on last night. There was a certain happiness in giving up to him, letting go of the constant worries that burdened you down, and allowing him to take control, but god knows how you ended up trusting him so much in bed.

Anyway, you reconciled with yourself, it’s just a one-time thing. It’s not like it’s going to happen again. 

You were wrong. Jeon Wonwoo had picked you up that evening and taken you directly to his house. 

“What did you want to talk about that you couldn’t do in your car?”

“The chauffeur was there.” 

“It’s not a big deal, Jeon. You can just say that you regret last night, cause honestly, same. Don’t want to dwell on it.” You were in a rush to leave, because you didn’t want to think about the memories in this same house the night ago. 

“Are you sure?”

His question had taken you aback, as he watched you with his hawk eyes, licking his lips.

“Y/N, I … couldn’t tell you in my car that I didn’t regret it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

You’re speechless, waiting for him to continue, as he took another step forward. 

“Wonwoo, I… you know this is a bad idea.”

“I do,” he chuckles darkly. “You look like a bad idea, as I’ve known for years now. But when I see you wearing that hideous turtleneck to hide the hickeys and that tiny skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination, I keep remembering the way you submitted to me last night. For all your big talk and your attitude, you obey pretty easily, huh?”

You stand up, indignant. “Wonwoo, you can’t use that against me. Listen I know we’re not friends-”

“Be my submissive. I want, no fuck, I need you. You’re perfect.” He’s standing an inch away from you, bending his neck gently to look into your eyes. His mask slips for a second. A million emotions flit through your brain, and you’re deliriously begging for your intelligence to kick in, but there’s something about the subtly layered desperation in Wonwoo’s voice that makes you curious. 

“What are your terms?”

_

You look at Wonwoo across the dining table. He looks as put-together as ever, not a hair out of place, as he converses with the middle aged-men sitting next to him while eating dinner. He quickly notes your glance and looks back, and you turn your eyes away before he catches the blush along your cheeks. 

No, there’s nothing wrong with the arrangement. It works perfectly in your favour. As long as nobody knows. 

_

You’re wrapping up a meeting with the board members of the company, when you get a call on your phone. It’s Wonwoo. Excusing yourself from the meeting, you pick up the call while walking back to your office.

“Hello?”

“Are you going to the Paris Conclave?”

The invitation for the event had arrived just that evening, the first time they were inviting your company. It had made you gush with excitement, happy that you’d been able to take your company to this prestigious conclave. Moreover, this would be the first time you’d be visiting Paris, one of the few dream destinations of your life. Due to a packed professional schedule, you had hardly been able to travel for the past few years, and the thought of going to Paris made you naturally happy.

“Yes, of course. Getting fomo? I can get a croissant back home for you.”

“I can get my own. See you there.”

He cuts the call. 

What was that? He’s going to the conclave as well? That’s impossible. Jeon Estates had never been invited before this-

“Jisung-ah.” You call for your secretary, who appears at your side quickly. “Has the Jeon Estates been invited to the conclave?” 

“Ma’am, I- why, yes. I hadn’t checked the list for their name.” His voice drops as he speaks, mirroring the disappointment rising in you too. So, it wasn’t only you who had been invited for the first time. 

Fucking Jeon Wonwoo. Even had to call you to rub it in, the nerve. 

“Well, we’ll just have to outshine them there. I’m sure we shall. Please organise a meeting with the team leaders and managers today so that we can get the presentations perfected.”

Your secretary bows to you and leaves you alone in your office. 

_

Paris comes sooner than you had thought, and you’re bursting with excitement. Nervousness too, a little bit. But your confidence isn’t so easy to rattle. You’ve picked out your choicest outfits for the trip, hellbent on making it memorable. You’ve even kept a few days extra in hand to allow you free time to travel the city. 

You had asked your sister if she’d wanted to come along, but she had said that her doctor hadn’t deemed it safe for her to travel by airplane now. “I’m so jealous! But there’s nothing to be done.” “Go with your husband and your baby afterwards.” You’d kissed her forehead when bidding the final goodbyes before leaving for Paris.

There was just one little worry worming through your brain. Not even a worry, just an irk. Jeon Wonwoo would also be there. You’d have to compete again for the spotlight. As if the jerk deserved to be there. 

“Ma’am, do you want to go through your speech once more?” Jisung asked you from the seat next to you. You smiled, the younger man was definitely nervous by the look on his face. “Why, are you scared I’ll forget? You know I take vitamins every day to strengthen my memory.” “I do, but-” “Don’t worry. Don’t let anxiety deter you from forming the memories of the fun times you’ll be enjoying there!”

Fun. 

As if. Jisung knew well enough that you rarely had time for fun, and consequently, neither did he. He saw you overwork yourself every day, staying at the office till late, obsessed with perfection, ensuring no loose ends were visible. Even if you tried your best to send him home when his work time ended, he wanted to stay back out of compassion for you. He was truly the best secretary you could’ve asked for. He was godsent- he’d learnt your habits and your thinking process within days, and soon he produced documents and answers before you asked for them, pre-empting your thoughts. After working with you for three years, he was good enough to be your clone- that’s why you sent him to many events and meetings as your representative if you couldn’t make it. You knew he’d handle it as well as you would, and report all the key details to you at the end of the day. 

“Yes, Ma’am. I hope it all passes well. We’ve all worked hard.”

“And hard work always pays off, you know that Jisung-ah. Now, sleep quickly so that we’re not tired due to jet lag once we land there.”

_

They’ve assigned Wonwoo a seat next to you at the conference table. As if seeing his face here wasn’t bad enough. 

“Will you never leave me alone?” 

He scoffs, “Me? You’ve been at my tail since you were a kid.”

“Oh shut up. Inside school, outside school, at parties, at funerals, at my graduation, at my sister’s wedding, you’re always fucking there. And now you’re here, to steal the spotlight. Not that you can anyway. Don’t try too hard Jeon, you’ll just look pathetic.”

“It’s funny how vain you are. You think I have any desire to steal your spotlight? Go ahead, be the talk of the party, by all means.”

“And I will! I don’t need your permission for it.”

“Hmm-”

The rest of his words get tuned out as the convenor of the conference begins their speech. You turn your eyes towards them, but you can feel Wonwoo’s eyes burning on you. 

“What did you say?” You whisper to him. 

“Never mind. Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Go out?” You turn your head towards him, leaning in, incredulous. 

“For dinner.” 

You almost burst out laughing. “And pray, why would I go with you?”

He scrunches his nose and pushes up his glasses. “You’re going to miss out on seeing the Eiffel Tower?”

“No. In fact, I have plans on going today myself. But you didn’t tell me why I’d-”

“Come with me.” He turns his face away from you, his expression cold and unreadable. 

“Hell nah. We don’t know each other, okay? Just because we’re both newcomers here does not mean we have to maintain solidarity or any of that shit.”

“You’ll regret it, sweetie.”

“I regret nothing.”

“We’ll see.”

_

“Jisung-ah! You were scared for nothing. That presentation was flawless.”

“Yes Ma’am. I know our team always works hard, but the nerves never stop,” the young man looks much fresher after the conference wraps up for the day, his tie undone slightly. You can easily understand how his mood changes reflect in his facial expressions and attitude after the long hours you spend with each other on a daily basis. 

“Are you still up for going to the Eiffel Tower tonight? I’m planning on skipping the post-conference dinner. But if you want to stay, I won’t force you to come with me.” 

“No Ma’am, I was thinking…” he hesitates, but you raise your eyebrows to urge him to continue. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit the Eiffel Tower again, so I do want to go with you … but after that I’d like to go to one of the clubs in the nightlife zones? I’ve heard from friends that the Paris nightlife is crazy.”

“Ooh!” You pat him on the back, “Yes please Jisung, finally you’ve started to act your age. Go, be young and wild, I’ll cheer for you!”

“You won’t come along?”

“Oh no. I’m way too old for that. Plus I never was into the club scene. And for real, you should go out and enjoy without me sometimes. People will start thinking I’m your girlfriend.”

Jisung opens his mouth to say something, but ends up just smiling shyly. “Okay Ma’am. Then should we leave for the Eiffel at 7 pm?”

“Yes. Pick me up from my suite then.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

_

“Sorry Ma’am, the Eiffel Tower has been booked out for the evening. It’s been a really sudden booking, and we’re sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s just been booked out completely by a private party and no external visitors are allowed.”

You’re wearing your best white silk Gucci dress, the one you spent your entire salary on as soon as it was released at last year’s Fashion week, and a stunning Cartier necklace, ready to spend the best evening of your life atop the Eiffel Tower, savouring life at its finest… but no. Some jerk just had to book it for this evening. 

You slide up to the lady at the front desk, whose bored expression does nothing to calm your nerves down. Jisung has tried his level best to convince her, but it’s failed. So you try the one thing you know always works. 

“Ruth-” you see her name from her name tag pinned on her chest. “I can outbid the private party.” 

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I didn’t get you.”

You laugh, a careful measured laugh, to hide your irritation at having to say it again. “I said, I can pay you more than whatever the private party’s booked it at. I just want ten minutes. Isn’t it a win-win situation for all of us? Ten minutes for me, and your private client can enjoy it for the rest of the night.”

Ruth smiles, pitifully. Wretched woman, she’s clearly not affected by your offer. This is what seeing too many rich people in a day does to a person, it immunes them to bribe, you think. Well, it’s her loss. 

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but we really cannot accept your offer. It’s against our rules-” 

“Let me speak to your manager, Ruth. Trust me, when they hear my name, they’ll let me in,” you smile again, attempting to remain amicable instead of bursting out into the wildest Korean slang.

Ruth smiles again, “You are, currently, speaking to the Manager here, Ma’am. We simply cannot allow any external visitors tonight. Can we book a slot for you tomorrow? If you’d like to visit again, in the morning or later.”

Jisung tries to interject, but he sounds resigned. He seems intimidated by Ruth, and frankly speaking, you get it. He’s just twenty four and spends over thirteen hours in a day with you, so he’s not used to snarky women. Well, apart from you, and you’re never snarky to him.

“Ruth, my dear. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I’m here at the Paris Conclave.” You say your name solemnly, expecting it to have the same effect it has in Korea, but alas, the woman remains untouched as ever. “I’m dreadfully sorry Ma’am- wait, did you say Y/N Y/L/N?” Your smile becomes wider. Oh so it does have the intended effect. “So you finally will let me in, huh? You do know who I am.” 

Suddenly Ruth’s demeanour changes and she’s smiling pleasantly. “Oh Ma’am, the private client has specially informed us to allow you in. Only you.” “I’m sorry, what? Why would they suddenly ask for me-” “Mr. Jeon told us that you would be here. I’m so sorry for the miscommunication, Ms. Y/L/N-”

“Mr. Jeon?!” You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you bitch. Aloud you say, “Mr. Wonwoo Jeon?” “Yes Ma’am. He’s booked the entire place for the evening. He has been waiting for you too,” Ruth smiles graciously, doing nothing to relieve your confusion. “There has been a mistake. I don’t think he meant me. We’ll leave now-” “Ma’am, I’m sure there’s no confusion now. Mr. Jeon asked us to bring you up as soon as you arrived. We’re sorry to keep you standing here on your date night.” “Date night? This is ridiculous. Wonwoo and I are not-” Jisung whispers into your ears right at moment, noticing your bloodshot wide eyes, “Ma’am, I think there’s no point fighting with them on this,” he says in Korean. “This lady seems adamant, and you shouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to visit the Eiffel Tower when it’s lit up so prettily. Even if it is with Mr. Jeon,” you wince at his suggestion, and he smiles apologetically. He’s right, you realise. 

“Okay, but Jisung comes with me.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” Oh I’ve had enough of your sorries. “No one except you are to be allowed up.” 

“Wow. First you say no external visitors. Now suddenly I’m allowed and Jisung is not-”

“Ms. Y/L/N, these are simply instructions from my client.” 

Jisung bites his lip and says, “Well I guess it’s not written in my fate then. Ma’am, don’t miss out on my account. Please enjoy. I’ll just go downtown and waste the night away. I’ll see you tomorrow then? Please make sure to eat dinner!” You’re seconds away from whining and pulling another tantrum, but Jisung whispers fighting to you in his soft indulgent tone that he uses on you whenever you’re being a brat and he needs to take care of you. And then he’s gone, and you have no option but to face Ruth. That bloody woman. “Welcome to the Eiffel Tower, Ma’am. Please accompany me as we take you to the top.”

_

At the top, Jeon Wonwoo stands with a glass of champagne in his left hand and his mobile phone in his right. 

“If you’re going to work on your phone and not enjoy the view, why the fuck did you book this place out?”

You walk towards the man standing in the open air viewing area, and he smiles at you. The annoyingly handsome smile, where his eyes crinkle up, and his perfectly white teeth are revealed in a rare display. 

“You came. I knew you’d come.”

“How so?” A server appears from nowhere and offers you champagne too, which you accept. You’ll soon switch to whisky though, to calm your nerves down. 

“You’re easily predictable. You act like any other average tourist, although you pretend to be such a princess.” 

“Everyone comes to visit Eiffel Tower on their first day in Paris, Wonwoo, there’s nothing weird about this-”

“Exactly. Average. Me? I personally prefer to see it from the window of my hotel, so that I can see it in its glory without experiencing this slight dizziness and bling of the night view.”

“You’re stupid. That’s why you have such stupid preferences. This night view? Priceless.” 

“Let me inform you, darling, it cost me a hell lot to book this. So not priceless.”

You laugh, looking at Wonwoo, who’s leaning against the railing facing you, and then back at the gorgeous night view. The Champs Elysees looks glorious with the lights. You can sense Wonwoo leaning in closer. His cologne and perfume mix to create a dark, musky smell that’s new. You’ve never smelled this on him before. “Why did you book it? That’s what I've been asking since forever.” 

“I want to fuck you against this railing.” 

You choke on the champagne, before catching your breath and turning back to face him. 

“What?”

“You heard me the first time.” He maintains eye contact, but in that cold, nonchalant way of his, like he didn’t just propose the most scandalous thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Aren’t there cameras?”

“Will pay for them to be turned off.”

“That’s probably illegal.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay enough. Plus, I’ve already located the blind spots.”

You take a deep breath. As ashamed as you are to admit this, it does turn you on. A lot. If Wonwoo would touch you under your dress, he’d find evidence of the same. Sex like this- in public, definitely the most outrageous thing you’ve done. But Wonwoo suggesting it? The fact that he booked this place out on a probability that you’d come and a hope that you’d agree to it? The more you think about it, the hotter your body feels. You can feel your nipples straining against your dress in the cold air, and your face turning red with imagination. 

“If you don’t want it, we can just eat dinner and leave.” Wonwoo’s eyes have become impossibly  gentler but also darker, like he’s seconds away from losing his control. His sight betrays his words as he keeps looking at your lips. Thank god I applied the lip plumper tonight, you think. But then his eyes go to your breasts, like the pervert he is, and he smirks at the sight of the two nubs pressing hard against the soft silk. 

You shake your head.

“Say it.”

“I want it too.”

“Atta girl,” his smirk widens, before he leans in to capture your lips. It’s a rough kiss, nothing romantic like one would expect atop the Eiffel Tower, but it sets the right mood for the night. You realise that all servers have disappeared, and you’re perfectly alone, as his lips move down towards your neck, leaving beautiful hickeys along the way. “It was torture and heaven waiting for you. Knowing you’d come, but fearing you wouldn’t.” His hands take away your champagne glasses and place them on a table nearby, before bending you backwards on the railing, making your head zoom more with pleasure. What if I fall off? What if someone catches us like this? What if he takes a picture of me like this in front of the view, with my tits out and my lipstick ruined?

“No bra, huh? You’re so sexy in this dress, I want to fuck you in it. You mind that?” You’re panting as he keeps kissing you in between his words, tongue dominating yours right away. It’s like a switch flipped inside you. Just minutes ago, you were so against sharing the Eiffel Tower view with Wonwoo, and now you’re letting him fuck you here. It drives you crazy.

“Wonwoo just- I don’t care, I need you now.” He bites all over your shoulder, slipping down the straps to grope your breasts in the rough-handed manner you like, sure to leave bruises with the way he kneads them while leaving open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone.

“Just because we’re out in the open doesn’t mean you forget your bedroom manners.” He bites down on your nipple, surely missing his favourite clamps back home, and you squirm in his iron grip. 

“Sir please!” 

“That’s better, sweetheart. But what do you want?”

“C-Co-” he alternates his bites with little kitten licks, looking up at you. “Articulation, baby. Speak up.” “Want your cock, in my m- mouth, Sir!” He pulls away from you, leaving the cold air to tease your bruised nipples, and laughs. Fucking laughs, but it turns you on again. “If you insist.”

He takes off his belt and ties your hands behind your back, and then pushes your shoulder down and you fall to your knees, and he stands back, tall. “Oh, what a pretty sight,” he sighs, taking in the night sky view, and then looks down at you, but makes no move to open his pants. You assume you’ll have to take care of it yourself, so you attempt to open the zipper with your teeth. It’s not particularly difficult, but in the process you get some drool over Wonwoo’s cock over his pants. “Tch. Dirty girl, drooling everywhere,” he wipes away the drool from the edge of your lips, before you slot your mouth against his erection, now free from his underwear and pants which have slid down his legs. It’s not as hard as it gets during sex, but that’s what you’re here for. Nothing but a slut for him to use. Your ankles burn against your heels in this position, but it’s okay. You’re losing your mind as you swallow his sheath inch-by-inch, until you feel his skin against your nose, and you stay like that for a second, easing out your gag reflex. But before you can move, Wonwoo thrusts deep into your throat, eyes not leaving yours. It makes you roll your eyes, the pleasure of the surprise way more than the pain, and makes you crave for more. He slowly wraps his hands around your head, a strong broad support for you to rest in, and continues to ram his dick inside your mouth. Your body becomes limp as you slowly surrender to his actions, your mind blank, except a crazy wanton desire to please him and make him cum. You’re too sex-crazed right now to reason out why only Wonwoo elicits this reaction from you. 

But then his dick gets rock hard, and right when its weight becomes the best and warmest around your throat, wet with saliva and pre-cum, he pulls out. You can’t frame words instantly, but you whine. “Ah, Wo- I- pl- co- please…” He laughs cockily at your state, and you blush with shame at the way you’re acting. “Get up,” he walks away from you, leaving you to your own devices to stand up in those heels. 

It strikes you yet again, just how open this all is. Anyone can walk in. The security guard may be jerking off watching this on the security cameras, and you won’t lie, it’s hot as fuck. The thought of Wonwoo and your activities being porn for someone else- oh fuck. 

Wonwoo sits on a couch meant for visitors on the balcony. “Come baby,” he beckons, and you sit on his lap. His cock is still hard, leaking pre-cum, and you’re tempted to lick it off, but you won’t make a move until he tells you to. You can’t disobey him now- if he spanks you in punishment, you won’t be able to walk to the conference tomorrow.

“Spit on it.” And you do. Wonwoo likes your spit, for some reason, and you wordlessly obey. Then he pulls out something from his pocket, and you realise- “No Sir! Please, not the paddle today!” It’s a folded paddle, the pocket-friendly one you can buy at cheap sex stores. “I need to walk tomorrow, I can’t if you spank me-” “But you’ve been so naughty. Begging for my cock in a public place like the little slut you are. Not accepting my invitation to come up here and making me wait for so long. Turning my offer for dinner down at the conference this morning,” You try to protest, but he simply inserts his thumb into your mouth, and you instinctively start sucking on it. “Now be pretty, and let Sir show you your place.” While you’re still distractedly sucking the thumb, you don’t even realise when he’s lifted the back of your dress and the paddle hits the ass flesh exposed by your thong. “Count.” “One,” you whimper out, not wanting his thumb to slip out of your mouth. The spanks continue, alternating on ass. He can alternate between asses and keep the same pressure just by one hand, the other holding up your dress, his hands big enough to cover your entire ass cheek. The spanks burn more after the moment’s relief due to the cold air, and by the time you reach twenty, your knees have given up, and you’re drooling on Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

“Don’t make a mess. Sit up straight.” As you do so, he asks you, putting away the paddle and tucking your hair behind your ears. “Have you learnt how to behave? Or do you need another reminder?” You fervently shake your head, but he whispers in his insanely sexy tone, “Words.” It makes you shiver, and you respond, “Yes Sir. I’ll not misbehave, Sir.” He smirks, and leans back. “Now ride me like you mean your words, darling.” 

You don’t need another command. You sit down on his dick quickly, ready to take the burn without any prep, because you’re already leaking down your thighs. He grips your hips with one hand, steadying you, and cards his other hand through your hair. As you begin bouncing down on him, he shudders and releases low grunts, but nothing breaks his composure. He never once whispers Good Girl, as you cum once, but you still keep riding him to ensure he reaches his climax. Somewhere after your orgasm, he starts thrusting up from below to meet your efforts, and it brings him closer to his orgasm as he scrunches his nose and closes his eyes. When he does spurt inside you, he whispers softly enough that you almost miss it, “Fucking gorgeous.” 

That’s enough praise for the night, you think to yourself, as you fall limply against his chest, nearly passed out from the strain, his cock still spasming inside of you. He soothes your hair, and you fall asleep.

_

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Please wake up! We’re running late. Ma’am? Ms. Y/L/N?” You open your eyes blearily to see Jisung shaking you lightly. Slowly you come to your senses, and you can hear his voice louder, and see the desperation in his face clearly. 

Fuck. 

What have you done?

“How late am I?” 

“Not too bad, Ma’am,” Jisung scrunches his nose as he looks at the clock on your bedside table. “We have twenty minutes to go.” 

“Fuck!” You scramble out of bed, not even bothering to check if you’re clothed, and make your way to the washroom. There’s a pain growing in your head, and it’s only when you see yourself in the mirror that you realise that you’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts. What even happened last night? The last thing you remember, as you try to recollect while quickly brushing your teeth, washing your hair and hopping into the shower all at the same time, is that you had passed out on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Then the world had gone blank. Fucked into oblivion, truly. He must have brought you into your room. Oh fucking hell, he owed you at least that much.

By the time you wrapped your bathing suit around you and walked back into your bedroom, Jisung was gone, but your outfit and shoes were laid out on the bed and there was a note, I’ll pack some breakfast for you, Ma’am. Please come down directly to the conference hall. Thank god for Jisung, that was one prayer you said everyday. He’d been partying too last night, hadn’t he? And yet, he had responsibly made it on time and woken you up as well. You were getting too irresponsible, too lax. Your discipline was gone and you mentally bashed yourself for it. All because of that stupid Wonwoo.

After that, it doesn’t take much time for you to get dressed. Jisung must’ve noticed the hickeys on your neck, and brought you a jacket with lapels and a collar high enough to hide most of the marks. You quickly tied a scarf around your neck, making it look fashionable by adding colour to the otherwise beige monotone outfit, and praised yourself mentally for looking this good even without makeup. Dabbing on some lip balm in the elevator, you quickly reached the conference hall, finding yourself a minute late. Again, thank god for Jisung, the boy had reserved your seat, made excuses on your behalf and kept a croissant and coffee ready at your seat, so that everyone greeted you with kind smiles. 

Except Wonwoo, who had that unreadable expression again. 

Must be pathetic, living like him. What worth was a face like that if it couldn’t express anything?

_

Four days later, you land in Incheon amidst the wildest of storms the country has faced in the year. You won’t admit it, but you’re glad you travelled in your private jet, where you can close all windows down and wrap yourself up in a blanket burrito to drown out all signs of the storm. You wish storms didn’t exist, and you wish no one would have to see you in this weak state. Not Wonwoo for sure. 

After that first day in Paris, the two of you had barely interacted. Primarily, you were too ashamed to speak to him. How could you smile and talk normally to someone after getting railed by them on the Eiffel Tower, especially when that same someone was annoying as fuck in reality? Sure, eye contact had been made several times, over dinners, over the conference tables, when you’d been on the stage presenting, and when running into each other in the corridor. But words? You possibly couldn’t. It’d be too much for the fragile self-respect you’d been holding on to. 

You really want to avoid him once you’re back in Seoul as well. The workload seems to have tripled in the few days you were away, with endless tiny emergencies and approvals pending to be resolved. You’re again thankful for Jisung, but there’s only so much the poor boy can do. You make it a point to send him home soon after his scheduled timing every day, but you can’t say the same for yourself. 

It’s the fifth night of you eating ramen from a cup noodles pack and sipping on apple juice from a 1 litre tetra pack, that you finally give up on the abstention. It’s a hard decision, but somehow, your overworked brain and sleep-deprived body leads you to one craving, and one craving only. 

Thirty minutes later, Jeon Wonwoo arrives at your office. He’s been to your office only rarely, as you both prefer to meet up outside professional areas, but in the darkness of the empty office, he can easily recognise your brightly-lit room. He’s dressed in formals too, as if he’s just got off work himself, and you think he may be in the same boat as you. But definitely not as much as you- you’re a perfectionist who looks over everything yourself, Wonwoo doesn’t even come close for sure. 

“It’s one of those nights, huh?”

He gently opens the door and walks in. Everything about him seems to be delicate today: perhaps it’s because his shirt is damp from the rain he’s surely walked in, his hair is wet and falling over his eyes, and his tie is gone. His jacket is soon gone too, dropped off on the couch, and he takes off his shoes. They’re leaving slightly muddy footprints, and you wonder if Wonwoo even drove and came or just ran like a peasant. 

“How’s work treating you?”

“Stop wolfing down that ramen, it’s not healthy. Not as bad as you, as I see. I finished up hours ago,” his eyes don’t meet yours, and you know it’s a lie. It’s one of the signs of lying, as you’ve picked up over the years. Wonwoo rarely breaks eye contact while speaking, always honest, and his lie is really odd to you right now. Why would he lie to you about this?

“I was wondering, if…” you stand up from your desk, taking in the figure of the man sitting on your couch now, manspreading and head leaning back. He’s tired, why did he lie about getting off early?

“Come here, princess.” 

That’s all it takes, and you sit on his lap and wait for his lips to meet yours. He indulges you in your wish, and immediately the tension in your body eases out. Along with the stress of work, you’d been even more worried that he’d bring up your last night together, and you’d get too ashamed to remain turned on. But he doesn’t, and you’re glad. You let your lips be bitten by him, but then he soothes over the burns with his tongue. He tastes like candy, and you tell him the same. 

“Hmm, low sugar.” 

Then he picks you up and gently walks over to your desk, holding you in the same bridal pose without even a muscle flinching. With one hand, he clears the laptop sitting atop your desk to the coffee table, and swipes the rest of the clutter on the floor. It would’ve made you angry otherwise, but you’re already entering subzone with the way he’s handling you. Lips still locked on yours, holding you in that pose with just one hand as you hold on to his shoulders for dear life, it’s a crazy show of strength and you’re getting incredibly turned on by it. You let yourself go, giving it up to this person, who seems to be so reliable, so strong, so manly. 

As he lays you down on the desk, he takes off your trousers and underwear in one go, and sits down on the chair you usually sit on. 

“You’re so wet, so dirty. Did you touch yourself after texting me to come over?” Your pussy is at his eye level, and you’re looking down at him, his eyes menacing and beautiful at the same time. His question makes you squirm, as you reply, “Of course not.” Then there’s a slap across your cunt, and you whine. “Manners?” “Of course not, Sir.” “Liar,” he smirks, and dives headfirst into your cunt. 

It’s a treat he rarely gives you. Only when he’s very happy with you- like after you’ve taken thirty spanks, or you’ve eaten dinner with him while having a vibrator stuffed up your cunt, or you’ve let him wash you in the shower (for some reason, Wonwoo likes that a lot. He ties you up to these poles he’s attached in his bathroom, and plays with your body by applying as much oil and soap he wants, making sure not to touch your pussy for hours, denying every release to you even as it builds up just from the oversensitivity of having your nipples and ass played with). 

You wonder why he’s so happy. 

But you can’t care enough, now that his tongue is working so hard against your clit. The sensation makes you lose all rational thought, as you lean back against the desk, mind empty, and just moaning his name. You remember the first few times he’d fucked you with your mouth gagged, but then he’d told you he likes your sounds way too much, so you’d stopped controlling them too. He gets what he wants. After all, only he can fuck you so well. 

“Wonwoo, please-” He moves his head up, licking his lips which are glistening with your slick. “How do you address me baby?” “S-sorry! Sir, please I-” “Hmm?” He leans back in, humming against your clit. His tongue now moves to your hole, nose brushing against your clit. “Can I come? Like this? May I? Please?” When he moves away again for breath, he removes his hands from your thighs, and you see the red marks he’s left there just by how tight he was gripping them. It’s a wild sight, and your climax hits you right then, coming before he could answer. “So impatient, coming all over my face even when I’ve told you not to come without my permission.” But even his scolding sounds gentle tonight, softly chiding rather than his usual harsh coldness. In your post-orgasm clarity, you wonder again what’s gotten into him. 

He licks away your cum, and it makes you burn with overstimulation. “Uhhhhh, please-please Sir!” “Stay still.” His hands are back at your thighs, spreading them apart, and he seems hellbent on getting another orgasm from you. Your screams are louder this time, and you’re growing even more desperate to get something bigger to fill you up. You wrap your hands in his hair, and tug unconsciously while he keeps licking at your pussy. His entire face is hazy with your slick, thank god he’d taken off his glasses earlier, but he doesn’t care. He keeps diving in. 

“Sir, please, I’m going- uhhhh,” he pulls away instantly and smacks your cunt hard. “No coming until I allow you to. Let Sir have his treat.” “Please Sir I’ll be so good, I promise, I- please let me, just this once.” Another smack, and you’re screaming. Thank heavens the office is empty. 

“Do you not understand my words? Should I retrain you?”

“No! I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.” 

“Hmm, you better be,” and this time he doesn’t just lick your pussy, but also starts entering two fingers alongside his tongue, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. You’re whining yet again, losing your breath, but everytime you’re about to come, he pulls away. You can’t figure out how he realises, but soon two hours pass by, and you’re still being edged. Your legs are shaking, and you can’t think straight. You just want more of his fingers, you want his cock, inside your mouth, your cunt, hell, you just want to orgasm once. 

“Girl, stop moving. You’re so filthy, dripping like this. What would your boytoy think if he saw you like this? Should I call him to clean this mess on your desk?” He’s curling his finger inside you, and it’s really hard forming words when you’re seeing stars like this. 

“Sir, I-” “What’s his name? Jieun?” “Ji- Jisung. Aaah, please-” “Look at you begging. So pathetic. No wonder your secretary is so pathetic. He really likes you, you know?” Your eyes go wide, trying to register his words. “Why- why are you- how do you–” “Hush. I want to know, is he jerking off to you now? Thinking of how slutty you looked in those grey trousers, how perfect your ass looked? Bet you show off in front of him on purpose.” You’re squirming harder, not wanting to think about Jisung right now. “But- but daddy, I on- only want you!”

He laughs, then he leans in to whisper into your ear, “Daddy? That’s a first. Say it again.” 

“Daddy, please! I only want your cock.” 

“Really? So demanding, like a wife. But you’re just a slut. You’d do this to Jisung as well, won’t you?” “No! I swear- please. Daddy, just, it’s just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I swear!” You nod feverishly, the sensation building up inside you again.

“Okay baby girl. Come for me. Come for daddy. Then I’ll take you home and fuck you good. This desk is too small.” You don’t need to be told twice. You gush all over his hands and some of your come ends up on your desk and his pants too, but he only chuckles. Licking off the come on his hands, he smiles. “You taste like sugar, sweetheart.”

_

The sheets you wake up in smell overwhelmingly like Wonwoo. The man is nowhere to be seen, but the blankets next to you are shuffled and the pillow has a dent, and you remember being caved by his warmth at night when the storm had hit Seoul again and you’d woken up for a second before falling asleep to the steady rise and fall of the chest wrapped around you. 

You wake up slowly, adjusting your eyes to the sunlight. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in Wonwoo’s bedroom, but this is the first time you’ve slept over. Usually you leave, no matter how late it is. But it feels good. It feels oddly intimate. 

Your legs burn when you walk, but you try to look for your clothes. 

Your shirt is ripped again. 

You strut out of the room after wearing your panties and bra, which is barely holding on to one hook remaining, and find the man standing in the open kitchen, wearing a tank top and sweatpants. He’s drinking coffee, and a book is in his hands. 

“Wonwoo, you’ve torn my clothes again. How am I supposed to go home like this?”

He turns to face you, smiling and fixing his glasses, and standing up. He looks so good in the warmth of the sunlight falling on his golden skin. “You’re up.”

“Do you think I can keep buying new clothes?”

“Yes. Now, calm down. Do you-”

“Wonwoo!” 

“For god’s sake, I can’t take your shit this early in the morning. You want to fight, please do. Not now. It’s too early. You just always find something up your ass and have to pick on me for nothing, huh?”

His smile has faded, and the warmth in your body seeps away. About time, though. You don’t want to start feeling safe in Wonwoo’s private space. It’s too intimate- waking up in his bed, seeing him walk around in sweatpants, drinking coffee he’s making for you. It’s too much.

“This has to stop, Wonwoo.”

“Okay, fine! I’ll not rip your shirts. Take my card and buy something-”

“This arrangement has to stop.”

He turns away from the coffee machine for a second, and stares at you. You walk towards him, and he looks even better up close. His tank top shows off his arms, and they look soft yet really firm. You want to touch-

“Why? Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not-”

“Do you want to date someone? You can, you know. I don’t care-”

“Wonwoo-”

“Did I hurt you? Was I too much last night?” he steps closer to you, furrowing his eyebrows in evident confusion, and you suddenly can’t breathe. His expression is very much readable and it only reads as one emotion- concern.

“Wonwoo, please.” You take a step back, hugging yourself with your arms. 

“Does it hurt? I am sorry if it does-” 

“It’s not your fault. It’s a me thing, I swear.”

His eyes become clouded by even more confusion, and you quietly walk away and sit down on the kitchen counter. 

“This is becoming too much for me. I- I got into this arrangement thinking that it would be a good way to vent stress. But it’s toxic now- I can’t think of any other way to deal with stress except this. Don’t you notice how our meetings have become more frequent now, especially initiated from my end? In the last three months, I’ve initiated sex fifteen times, and you’ve only six times. You see? This has become my only solution now.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t look at you, but he keeps wincing at your words as if he’s being hit physically. Then he responds, when you’re done, “That does sound like  a you problem, like why-” 

You slide off the counter with a huff, muttering Fucking jerk under your breath, but he catches your wrist before you can walk further away. 

“Don’t touch me if you’re going to react like that. I fucking knew it, why did I even talk to you? I can just walk away, I didn’t even need to expose my weaknesses to you.” 

He yanks you closer using your wrist. “This isn’t a war, Y/N. I don’t get off on knowing about your weaknesses, for fuck’s sake. Can you stop being paranoid?”

You sigh. You know you’re always paranoid around him- funny, because he’s seen you in more compromising positions than anyone else. If he wanted to blackmail you, or hurt you, by hitting your weaknesses, he would, you realise. Is that why you’ve learnt to feel so safe around him? 

“I’m sorry I reacted like that, Y/N. Talk to me, let’s work this out together. Let’s set up a system to slow our meetings down if you like?” 

You bite your lip, and look up at him. “How?” 

“Umm, how about you start to find other sources for it? Like hanging out with friends? Developing hobbies?” 

You huff again, twisting your hand out of his grip. “Wonwoo, if I had other sources, would I not use them?” 

“Darl-”

“Don’t call me that! We’re not having sex right now.”

“Y/N. Take your time to find other sources, then. If I’m your only means of relieving stress, it is extremely toxic. You’ll become dependent on me, and-” his pupils shake, looking away from you, “you’ll find it tough to date and all. Been there. Done that. That’s why I can tell you this.”

You’re about to reply something, when your phone rings out in a shrill tone. Surprisingly, Wonwoo’s phone rings out at the same time too. 

You jog into the bedroom to find your phone and pick it up. It’s your sister. 

“Y/N-ie! You’re not at home?”

“No. Why? Are you coming over?” 

“No, I just made Kyungmin drive us to your place to see your place is empty. Where are you?”

“Never mind where I am. Why did you come over?” 

“Mum and Dad want us to have lunch with the Jeons,” you can hear her giggle. But you’re stunned. “With the Jeons? Now? Today? For what joy? Are we buying their company?” She giggles again, leaving you more frustrated. “You’ll find out. I’ll send you an address then, come over directly!” And she promptly ends the call, leaving you blank and confused. Your phone pings- there’s the address of a restaurant, and a message asking you to be there within an hour. You realise only now how late you’ve woken up, and you’re glad it’s a Sunday.

“Why am I eating lunch with your parents?” Wonwoo walks into the bedroom, that confused look on his face again. “I could literally ask you the same damn thing. What’s going on?” “Does it look like I’ve got a single clue, babe?” He smirks at your cluelessness, and walks into his ensuite bathroom, leaving you speechless. Did he just call me babe? You wonder, but then your mind flits back to the issue at hand. 

“Wonwoo!” You scream at him from outside the bathroom. You’re sure he can hear you, so you don’t wait for a reply. “Yah! What am I supposed to wear? You’ve torn my clothes, you fucker!” Your stress levels are rising again. You’re going to have to go back home to wear something appropriate. You realise that you haven’t even brought your car. You’ll have to ask Wonwoo to drive you back. But fuck, what if your sister is still at your place?  Then she’ll see you both coming together, and undoubtedly she’ll prod and poke you. Then you won’t be able to have the upper hand at lunch when Wonwoo signs his company over to you. But there’s no other option as well. Well, there is- you can always stop at a boutique or a shop to buy something and wear it on the go. But that’d mean you’d have to go out in this hideously ripped blouse of yours. Oh!

“Wonwoo! You dumbass! I hate you! What have you done now? Why are we going for this lunch? For god’s sake.”

“Stop screaming, woman.” The door suddenly opens, and a half-naked Wonwoo steps out, engulfed in the steam from what was definitely a very hot shower. You have to stop yourself from moaning out at the sight. It reminds you of the three times you’ve showered together, and you can’t help but think back to the vivid memories of those sessions. 

“How can I stop screaming? I don’t even know what’s going on. You knew about this, didn’t you? Why are you so calm?” Wonwoo takes another step towards you, and he runs his hands along your arms. You shiver under his touch, realising you’re still wearing just your underwear. “Calm down. This isn’t a big deal, you’ve dealt with more serious issues. It’s just lunch.” “But it’s lunch with your family. I don’t even know why.” He presses a hand along your cheek, and you’re feeling even more conscious and nervous. Why? This is really unusual, because Wonwoo is right. You’ve been in worse emergencies. Why is this getting on your nerves? Probably because your periods are due this week. These are just your hormones. 

“Just enjoy the food. You’re anyway good at ignoring me in public places, and you can do the same to my family too.” 

You bite your lip, and shake your head. “I need fresh clothes.” 

“Yeah okay. Get into the shower and clean yourself up. I’ll ask my secretary to send something over.” “What? How-” “I think she’s the same dimensions as you.” “Oh.” You step away from him, swallowing whatever words you had to say. “I’ll go into the shower then.”

_

Thirty-five minutes and a very nice warm shower later, you’re standing in the bedroom and there’s a very pretty black dress on the bed. There’s also a new pair of lingerie next to it, complete with red roses sewn into black lace. Wow, that’s what Wonwoo asked his secretary to buy, huh. He definitely knows her dimensions very well. And the clothes fit, almost perfectly as if tailor-made. The dress is of unknown brand but the feel of the satin on your skin feels nice enough for you to forget about its origin. 

“Done?” Wonwoo steps into the room. “Jeez, can you knock? Scared me.” You’re applying Wonwoo’s sunscreen (frankly shocked to see him owning it, but then, his skin is pretty nice). You’ve also applied the same perfume as his, and combed your hair in a million different ways, to make up for the lack of make-up or your usual products. 

“Knock when I’ve seen you naked in this very room a hundred times? No thanks. Let’s go, we’re late.” 

“Hmm,” you slip your feet into your shoes and pick up your bag. “I’m ready.” So is Wonwoo, you notice, who’s dressed in a grey sweater and jeans. The softness of his clothes contrast the sharpness of his features, and it… looks nice. 

It takes you two twenty minutes to reach the restaurant, the ride passed in silence as you catch up on work mails from your phone. 

“I’ll go first, and you come ten minutes later, okay?” “Yeah. And Y/N, don’t tell them you were with me, okay?” “Of course not. I’m not a dumb nut like you.” And you shut the door of the car with unnecessary force as you walk out of the car. You swear you can hear Wonwoo curse behind you, but you give no fucks. 

“Oh! Y/N-ie! Welcome!” You walk straight into the arms of your mother, who’s dressed in a gaudy dress that does not suit her figure. “Eomma! How many times have I asked you not to wear these dresses?” “Oh shush! I bought this last weekend. Don’t tell me it looks bad, I’m in a good mood now.” You grimace and walk towards the table where your sister, her husband, and your father are waiting for you, smiling from ear to ear. Mr and Mrs Jeon, and Wonwoo’s younger brother are sitting on the other side of the table, also smiling from ear to ear. The excessive smiles are disturbing you, you’ve positively never seen Mrs. Jeon smile that wide.

“Oh, you look so good! Did you lose weight, Y/N-ie?” Mrs Jeon beckons you to sit next to her, and she takes your hand in hers. You force a smile on your face, still clueless about what’s going on. You can only hope they start talking about it when Wonwoo comes. 

Speaking of the devil, he does come way earlier than you asked him too. You’re suddenly nervous, as the families start smiling again. “Aigoo, our handsome boy is here. Sit here, sit here.” Your sister welcomes him and he sits wedged between her and his mother.

“Eomma, what’s going on?” he asks.

“Aah, straight to the point. Forget about that, tell us, did you both come together?” You spill out the drink from your mouth, almost choking. “Us? Together? Hahaha. No, of course not! Why would you think that Mrs Jeon? Hahaha.” “Hmm…” your sister exchanges looks with your mother and Mrs Jeon, before finally giving you that stupidly bright smile again. “Is there something you both want to tell us? We’ll give you a chance before-” Wonwoo interrupts, “Appa, what’s this nonsense? Just tell us without this suspense.”

Mr Jeon, who’d quietly been busy on his phone for so long, looks up and stares a little blankly. His wife nudges him, and then he seems to remember. “Oh, so, Wonwoo. You know you both can tell us what you want.” Your father pipes in, “Yes, same goes for you, Y/N.” Wonwoo and you exchange confused looks before you speak up, “Okay, but really. What’s this suspense for?”

“We know you’re dating.” Your sister blurts out, and there’s a sudden silence at the table. 

You think your eyes may burst out from the shock, and the way in which your palms instantly become sweaty is a dead giveaway of your nervousness. “What?! Unnie, are you out of your mind? What the fuck?” 

“Language, Y/n-ah.” Your mother says, “You think we don’t know what you both are doing, huh?” And then she giggles. The damn audacity.

“I think there’s some grave misunderstanding, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N and I are… certainly, not dating.” Wonwoo’s mother grasps his hand across the table, and says, “Oh my son. My dutiful son. You don’t have to pretend about this. Just because Jeon Estates is rivals with Y/N’s company, doesn’t mean you both have to be secretive about dating!” There’s a little cough from both fathers, and Kyungmin and Wonbin, Wonwoo’s brother, burst out laughing. 

“Eomma, we’re not hiding anything. It’s a fact, we aren’t-”

“Explain these then. Booking out Eiffel Tower for a dinner date, huh?”

“Eomma, how do you know? Are you spying on me?”

“No! Of course not! We just looked at your credit card bill, accidentally. Then I spoke to Bora, your secretary, and she confirmed that you’d been spending a lot of time with Y/N. Not only that, there’s more-”

“Yes, indeed. Y/N-ie, why didn’t you ever tell us?”

You gasp, feeling lightheaded. “Did Jisung…? That trai-”

“Not Jisung. Jisung wouldn’t open his mouth. So I spoke to your chauffeur. He tells me he regularly picks you up from Wonwoo’s place?”

That’s it. This is it. It doesn’t get worse than this. This is your end. Oh, earth, swallow me up.

“Darling,” Mrs Jeon rubs your back, “Please don’t feel so shy. We know that our husbands haven’t left a great friendship for you two heirs. But you need not worry about all this rivalry.”

Your sister joins, “Yes. I’ve convinced Appa, and our lovely Aunt Jiwoo has convinced Mr Jeon too. Oh you both are so silly, hiding a precious thing like this from us.”

Wonwoo and you glare at each other. You realise there’s no point in explaining things to these people sitting in front of you. If they’ve reached the point where your sister is calling Wonwoo’s mother as aunt, then they must have discussed this extensively before calling you two to this lunch. An ambush, that’s what this is, you think in despair. 

“So what we’re saying is, instead of keeping it hidden like this, why don’t the two of you get married? Wonwoo-ah? You’re turning thirty next year, aren’t you? I want to see my grandchildren too,” Mrs Jeon says, and everything falls in place. This is blackmail. Your mother’s been asking you to get married ever since you took over the company, claiming that having a man at your side would help your life be perfect and free of any troubles, and even forcing you on some arranged dates. Wonwoo must be going through the same kind of thing, with him being three years older to you also. It fixes the nail in the coffin, and you stand up from your seat.

“That’s not happening. Mrs Jeon, Mr Jeon, Wonbin-ah, I’m sorry if this disappoints you, and the same goes for my family too. Wonwoo and I are grown adults. What we do is none of your business.”

“But if you are dating, what’s the issue with getting married? And from what I hear, it’s not even a recent fling. All this has been going on for a year now!” Your mother cries out loudly. Although you’re sitting in a secluded corner, the restaurant isn’t quite empty. 

“We’re not… dating. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“Well, then are you guys enemies having movie sleepovers?” your sister adds, and it’s too annoying. “And why did you come over in Wonwoo’s car?” How the fuck? But then you realise, nothing is beyond these women. They may be keeping tabs on your and his car GPS for all you know. 

Wonwoo stands up, looming over your figure. “That’s quite enough. Like Y/N said, what we do is not your business. Thank you for your concern, and enjoy your meal. Eomma, since you’ve taken access to my credit card already, might as well use it to treat yourselves with this meal.” He steps out of the chair, and walks over to where you’re standing. He swiftly grabs your wrist, and pulls you away, “Let’s go. This is a waste of time.” And just like that, the two of you walk away.  

_

Six days later, a wedding invite stands ready in front of you, held out in Jisung’s pale hands. “Does it look good, Ma’am? I’ll send it for printing then.” 

You sigh, and nod your yes.

_

part 2 is now out!

[gigi-loveless]

summary ~ sub!abby x dom!reader timeee! thank you to @ghgygd for the request 🤍

warnings ~ filthy as absolute fuck, strapping (abby receiving) maybeeeee dacryphilia if you squint hard

authors note ~ i need to go rub SEVERAL out after writing this good god….anyways reqs are open angels!!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

*ping!*

angel 🪽 ~ alright pretty girl, when i get home i need you naked, on your knees by the bed.

angel 🪽 ~ oh, and pull out the strap, vibrator, and lube.

angel 🪽 ~ be home in 20, love you abs 🤍

abby's muscular thighs shook with excitement. you'd been out for what had felt like an agonizingly long time, like you had gone off to war and wouldn't be back for years. in reality, you'd been gone for a couple hours to take a work meeting in the next city over, but to your preciously down bad girlfriend, it felt like eons.

obeying your instruction, her inner thighs already sticky and damp with desire, she heads up to your shared room. the blonde girl plucks the toy and it's companions from your bedside drawer, placing them neatly in a line on your comforter.

checking her phone and flipping it onto the bed, abby notices she has some time to take a quick shower before your arrival. just to freshen up….of course.

and that’s how you found abby, keeled over in the thick steam, fingers plugging her gooey hole.

“out.” you demand, your girlfriend flinching at the surprising sound of you. she quickly turns off the water, stepping out of the fog, landing inches from your lips.

“hey angel! how w-“

“go lay down. ass up.”

pushing her lower lip out subconsciously, she obeys, quickly drying off her dripping, freckled skin, and landing face first into the pillows.

“now, abigail.”

oh fuck.

she shudders at the sound of her name, knowing you only use it when she’s in deep shit.

“you know i don’t have many rules, but what’s the most important one i have?” you question her, quietly shuffling off your clothes and securing your black harness around your waist, the lavender 9 inch silicone springing to life.

“i-i….can’t touch myself without permission.” she murmurs, bracing herself for the eventual impact of your hands on her plush ass.

“that’s right honey. now, because i’m feeling generous…..and i had such a bad day, im still gonna fuck you, okay? but….”

“can you show me what you were doing in the shower?” you coo, reveling in abby’s blonde head bobbling incessantly. sauntering over to the tail end of the bed, abbys thighs spread perfectly. the scene was fucking incredible, you only wish you could’ve captured that moment forever on video; abby fingering herself knuckle deep with three of her stocky digits. abby grew wetter as she noticed you attempting to mask your amused expression under taunting disappointment. as she grew closer, you notice her thighs trembling.

“enough.”

abby throws her head back at the demand, slipping her fingers out as you catch her palm, guiding her into your mouth. swirling her digits clean, you release her with a soft popping sound.

“good girl….doesnt even look like i’ll need the lube, hm?” you chuckle to yourself, inspecting her glistening cunt.

“look at you, so pretty even after punishments…” you tease, arms on either side of abby, as you reach down and ghost your warm, wet mouth over a pebbled nipple. she whines in response, bucking up her hips in despair.

“p-please….please….”

“shh, shh…..” you seal your lips to hers, unraveling her perfectly plaited braid, giving you the opportunity to tug lightly at the nape of her scalp. “so beautiful angel….” she mewls in response, your figure snaking ever so slowly down her abdomen. greedy hands quickly find their way into your hair, before you smack her away gently.

“nuh uh. you touch me and i’ll stop.” you demand, staring deep into her oceanic eyes as you spit bitterly on her clit, before sucking her in. and suddenly, tasting her, your eyes blow out, your head empty, fuzzy even; only abby’s angelic whines able to ground you in reality.

“m-m’ gna’ cum!” she yelps, her fingers fisting the sheets, desperate to touch your pretty, dampened face.

“aww, already?” responding quickly, you suck harshly on the throbbing, swollen bud, her back arching into your mouth, chanting your name like a goddamn prayer as she releases.

panting, the girl regains her composure, as you smooth down her hair for a moment. she goes to find solace in the crook of your neck, before you move away, chuckling.

“what? you thought i put this strap on for nothing?” her eyes go wide, recalling the silicone teasing her hole what felt like days ago. whining, she spreads her legs, welcoming you once more.

“nope, ass up.” you tut, lightly tapping the flesh of her thigh as her hair cascades over her flushed face, into the pillows yet again. “awe, my girl need some help?” hands finding their way into her hair, pulling it into a messy, makeshift ponytail. you tug the tendrils towards you, forcing abby away from the comfort of the pillows beneath her.

steadily inhaling, you bottom out into her in one stroke, to your….disappointment. pecking her back, you instruct her to stay where she was, while you rummage around until you found your unique, 11 inch dick, matching the color of your other straps for aesthetic, obviously. attaching it to your harness and slipping your bullet vibrator in between your clit and the fabric, you reassume your position. abby moans feeling the girth of your new appendage, her head nearly hitting the safety of the pillows before you yank her scalp back once again.

“s-s’….too big…” she cries out.

“if it’s ‘too big’, then why are you still pushing your hips up on me, trying to take more?” you reply, reveling in your girlfriends sticky cunt swallowing your dick.

“such a slut….missed this pretty pussy so much today….just wanna breed her so bad.”

abby wails in response, gummy walls pulsing around your dick as she fucks herself up against you while you thrust, sinful smacking of skin filling the space.

“y-yeah?” you pant, “you want me to breed you abs? d-don’t- hgnh- worry, gonna fill you up like you deserve.” the buzzing of the vibrator was driving you damn near insane along with your girlfriend plastered out on the bed looking like a painting, sweat glimmering on her tanned freckles.

“g-gna’ cum in this pussy….” groaning, abby clenches around you, while you pick up the pace to an unforgiving tempo.

“ah….ah….ah!” she exhales with every pounding thrust, the image driving you over the edge. it seems like abby is joining you, with a chorus of your name.

as the hazy white around your high fades, you find abby’s all too familiar figure, pressing sweet, tender kisses to her neck. she grumbles back to life, swiping her sweat from her eyebrows with her forearm.

“so….hard day at work?” she chuckles, pulling you into her arms, fingers weaving through your frizzed out hair.

“the worst.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[luveline]

hi jade!! if ur still up for kbd, can we see an instance where mom feels insecure about her parenting like she feels like she's doing something wrong or being a bad mom (she's not) and Steve just helps her through it? thank<3

KBD —Steve can make you feel better just by being himself. mom!reader, 1.4k

Wren wriggles like a worm on the floor. You’ve spread her baby mat out over the rug, rainbow hearts and stars and smiley faces all around her. 

“Mom, what did you say? What’s tummy time?” Beth asks. “I can’t ’member what you said.” 

Wren whines. Her face is smushed into the floor again. 

“Tummy time is to help her develop her muscles,” you say. “It’s supposed to help her hold her head up by herself. Not working yet…” 

You slide your hand between Wren’s face and the floor. 

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” you say. 

“Try her on your chest,” Steve says, Dove in his arms as he walks through the kitchen doorway into the living room. “She’s much happier when I lay her on my chest before her nap. I lay real flat on the couch.” 

You scoop Wren up under her armpits. Her hair is getting much longer now, the same wavy texture as her father’s, though as she’s grown older her hair has thickened. You’re sure she’s gonna have full curls when she’s older, but for now, you hold her to your chest and brush a hand through those waves thoughtfully. It’s much darker than Steve’s, as are her eyes.

She gurgles as you carry her to the couch. When you lay down, Beth crawls to your side to ask if she can sit on your feet. 

“What are you upto now?” you ask Steve, laying Wren out on your chest. You realise that’s not gonna work and pull her down so her face and neck are flat on your stomach instead. 

“We just washed our hands,” Steve says, letting Dove down. “She made a little mess, that’s all. Need something?” 

“Come n’ sit down, baby,” you murmur, beckoning him in. 

Steve doesn’t need telling twice. He sits in the armchair by your head and feels around for the TV remote. Things go quiet, Dove with her Barbie’s to the right of the room where all the toys live, Beth squeezing your ankle, and Steve clicking through channels until he finds the family movie channel. You tease Wren’s cheek where she rests, but she won’t lift her head. You’re scared she’ll smother herself. 

“Honey, what am I doing wrong?” you ask. 

“Doing what?” 

“Tummy time? She never wants to lift her head.” You frown. “S’like she doesn’t wanna see me.” 

“Maybe you’re just comfy.” 

You sigh and lift Wren again. When she sees you, she smiles. “Ba?” she says. 

“Hiya, baba,” you say softly, “what’s wrong? You don’t wanna play with mama?” 

“Ba,” she says again, dribble curling down her chin as her hand grabs for your face. You let her down against your chest, unperturbed when she grabs your ear. 

“No tummy time, then.” 

“That’s fine, she was on her tummy for a long time earlier,” Steve says, “she’s probably just tired out.” 

“It hurts my neck to hold it up all the time,” Beth says. 

You scrub your eye. Are you hurting her? You hadn’t realised she was tired, but how could you not know that? You’re her mom. 

You’re tired, too. You murmur a sorry to Beth and take your legs from under her. You curl in, pill bug style, baby curled in with you. “Sorry,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. 

“Ba,” she says again, her spit on your cheek. 

You’ve had one of those shitty mom days. You burnt the last bagels in the toaster so Beth had to have toast, which she doesn’t even really like. You tore Avery’s Princess Polly dress trying to clean the sleeve. Dove cried because you didn’t listen to her story, Wren won’t do tummy time, and Steve wouldn’t have done any of those things. He’s amazing, and you’re just… you. He makes being a dad look so easy, he was basically born to do it, and you love your kids but you suck. Today sucks. 

Wren babbles all over you. “Ma-ba ma,” she says, then, “grrrrr.” 

“You growling at me, baby?” 

She lets out a bunch of gr’s and wr’s. You rub her back, tickle it until she giggles. Even the sound of her bumpy baby laughter doesn’t improve your mood. 

Steve goes to the kitchen in silence. He opens the freezer a couple of times, and then he’s calling for the girls to come and have some ice cream and chocolate fudge. Avery tumbles down the stairs from her room. She could take the hallway to the kitchen, but she stumbles into the living room instead. “Hi, mommy,” she says, smiling widely, “are you tired?” 

“A lot,” you confess. 

“Can a kiss make you feel better?” 

You turn your cheek and poke it. “Please. Just one,” —she darts forward to kiss you soundly— “go have your ice cream, baby, quick, before Dove eats it.” 

Steve dodges her. He has a bowl when he returns. He says your name so nicely you don’t think twice about taking it. An ice cream sundae melts inside, three scoops of thick ice cream adorned with cut fruit and a chocolate fudge heart. 

“It looked better five minutes ago. I did yours first.” 

“Where’s yours?” you ask. 

“I thought I’d share yours,” he says. “No?” 

You grin. “Nope.” 

“Alright. Can I sit with you, at least?” 

You straighten up. Wren stays in one arm, your bowl rests on your leg. You lift the other to take your spoon, while Steve sits next to you, not a millimetre of space between your two bodies. 

He doesn’t ask for the baby, which is actually nice. Usually eating with a child in tow is irksome, but you feel a little more capable without his asking. And besides, Steve’s fully trained. You could drop any baby into his lap at any hour and he’d take them without complaint. 

He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, but you know you could tell him. Can tell he’s waiting for a confession, or ready to let it go. 

You don’t want to talk about it. Admitting your failings is too embarrassing, sometimes, and he’s biased, so he’ll tell you anything to make it go away if he needs to. Instead, you sit, you eat your ice cream, and you rest your face against his shoulder, listening to the girls scratch their bowls in the kitchen. 

“You can go to bed early, if you need to,” he says gently. 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“How about a shower? A walk?” He lifts his head to press his nose against you. “Just let me know what you want.” 

“I’m okay, really.” 

“Okay,” he says, both of you aware that you’re not fully okay, and that he doesn’t believe it. “Can I have some of those strawberries?” 

You scoop up some strawberries and lift the spoon, but notice movement from the corner of your eye that makes you laugh in surprise. Wren is opening her mouth, waiting for a bite. She’s just on the cusp of being old enough for soft foods, but she’s never expressed any interest, until now. 

“Oh, do you want to try?” you ask, laughing. “I’m sorry, baby, this is much too sugary for your first bite.” You lean down to kiss her head. “Sorry,” you murmur into her hair, “we’ll have to find you something tomorrow.” 

Steve smiles so hard you can hear it. “Wow, soft foods already!” he says to her, rubbing the tip of his finger up and down her chest. “Our big girl, huh? Are you mama’s big girl? Daddy’s big girl?” 

“Ma,” she agrees, before her lips part again for a taste. 

Steve looks into your face proudly, eyes darting between you both. He looks at you like you’ve just hung the moon, when you didn’t do much of anything. 

“What should we make her?” he asks. 

“I don’t know, what do you think she’ll like?” 

“What do you think?” 

You abandon your spoon to soothe one of her curls away from her forehead. “I don’t know… she looks like an applesauce girl, doesn’t she? Or maybe some sweet potato.” 

Steve wraps his arm around your shoulders. “We’ll have sweet potato mash for dinner, then, and she can have the first bite. Good idea, angel.” 

You turn into his hold, letting him nose at your ear. 

[two-white-butterflies]

by the sea | legolas of greenwood

Description: You have a reputation for being reckless. What happens when you do something that finally makes Legolas snap?

Pairing: soldier!reader/legolas

A/N: I fought all my demons to write the fight scene. This was requested.

It was a perfect day; the sun was warm and the winds blew cold.

It was a day of adventure!

"I thought that days like these were lost to the darkness." You laid on the warm green grass, feeling the litter kisses on your exposed skin. "I missed the summer," you moaned - closing your eyes for a second.

You open your eyes, and his piercing blue ones meet yours.

"When we were elflings, we used to run around these same gardens with our naneths chasing after us." Legolas chuckles, reminiscing your childhood days.

In your shared youth, every day used to be summer - always filled with warmth and happiness, never imagining for a moment that days like that could be stolen away.

"I wish we could return to those days before the darkness." Your voice suddenly turned mellow. You try to hide this feeling, but it always returns - the darkness shivers our bones, and you know that he feels it too, in fact stronger than you do.

"Those days will return, mellon." He shuffles closer, until your bodies were merely inches away - both of you ignoring the stares from the passersby, no doubt, finding it strange that their prince was laying on the ground beside one of the King's guards.

He gives a deeper smile, and you scoot even closer.

You know what that smile means, he's about to say something clever. "They say that when you believe that something belongs to you, the entire world conspires for you to have it by your side." He whispers, flicking a strand of your hair away from your face.

"- there are a million things that I've been longing for, but the world has not given me anything - not once." Your eyes narrowed, and he laughs, aware that you were toying with him. "If you want it with all of your heart then it shall be given." He answers.

"Are you saying that I do not want anything with all of my heart?"

"Need I repeat myself?"

"Everyday, I pray to Eru Illuvatar that the darkness is vanquished."

"Maybe, it is in the works, mellon." He breathes, letting go of the banter. Mayhaps, he was praying for the exact same thing. "- enough of that talk. Are you prepared for our patrols next week?"

You are one of the greatest warriors in the King's army, the elves endearingly called you 'the Green Knight' for despite your command with the sword, you had a single flaw - your recklessness, your greenness, your innocence.

In the caprice of your youth - you currently believe that there is nothing in this world that can defeat you.

You are wrong.

"I can't believe that your father passed me over for Tauriel. I've been pining for that position and he knows it! There is nothing in this world that I want more that being Captain of the Guards." You exasperated.

Tauriel herself was shocked that she was chosen as Captain, matter of fact, she entered your chambers shortly after the ceremony saying that it should've been you. "- I love her and I celebrate her accomplishment, but my heart feels like it is ripped in half." You say.

"It is alright to feel that way, mellon. Mayhaps Ada saw a quality in her that he is yet to find inside of you." Legolas comforts, and you nod - cracking a smile. "Well there are a lot of things that Tauriel is better at," you concede defeat.

"- like shooting arrows." he teased, referring to something that happened a few years ago. "- and cleaning up after she trains." you add, and both of you share a laugh.

"I guess there are some things that I am yet to learn, but I wanted that post with all of my heart, and you told me that if I wanted something with all of my heart..."

"- then you shall get it. You will get it." he finishes the sentence.

You were about to answer but a screeching noise interrupts you. "Spiders," you note already used to that noise. You still remember your first encounter with the spiders - they were so big and violent, and you refused to harm them at first, thinking that they were part of Illuvatar's orchestra, but they weren't. Not anymore.

They were corrupted with darkness, and that darkness slowly took over the forest, leaving nothing but dust and death.

Your grip on your sword tightens, hearing more of that screeching. There were at least twenty of them judging from the sound. "Should we head back?" Legolas inquires, aware that your position in the guards is higher than his own. "I don't think that we have enough time," you whispered and he lifts your body - until you were sitting on a tree branch.

"There are fifteen to twenty of them. You should head back, while I fend them off." You surmised, it wouldn't be easy fighting this many spiders - you could break an arm but you wouldn't die, right?

It was impossible to die.

"If you are commanding me to abandon you, I won't do that." He insists, his eyes turning dark - his lips turns into a thin line. "There's only two of us Legolas. If not me, then who?" your eyes narrowed.

"You go home!" His voice raises slightly. You are taken aback by his sudden shift in tone - he was usually soft spoken with you. "I am the Captain of this patrol." Your eyebrows merged together. "- it is your duty to obey my orders." You glared, seeing the spiders begin to search for the source of the noise.

"I am your prince." He uses that card, and you roll your eyes.

"It does not matter in this operation, Legolas. Please just do what I command and we'll be rid of this problem." You pleaded, but the determined stare in his eyes does not shake off. "No." he says.

He reminds you of a child.

You ignore his disagreement and allow yourself to fall on the damp forest floor, the sound attracts the spiders and they begin marching in your direction.

All twenty of them smelling of mold and dirt. It was a nightmare, but a nightmare that you've fought with a thousand times.

You stand up, swinging at the spiders with ease.

Legolas falls down beside you, rising to his full height. "I will report your disobedience to the King himself." You threatened, annoyed at his disregard for his own safety. He does not respond to you.

He keeps silent. He fights the spiders.

When you turned to look at the next spider - it begins to lunge at you. Taking you aback with its sheer strength. "Legolas!" You yell his name, and that stare takes you by surprise. It is the same way that the King used to look at the Queen when she did something reckless.

It was a stare that you've bared witness to a million times, and now you were the recipient of it.

He cuts through the spider's stomach with ease, and the other spiders began to flee for their safety. He turns his back to you, picking up the dagger that he left on the forest floor. "Legolas," you begin taking sharp breaths - shaking off the panic that you felt.

He ignores you, again.

It has been eight hours since Legolas last spoke to you. "I don't understand why he evades me like a plague," you tilted your head - taking a sip of the wine that the King generously laid out.

"He does that when he's..." He pauses, thinking of a word that could properly explain his son's behavior. "Displeasured." He finishes.

You cross your arms in a huff.

"I've done nothing to cause him displeasure. As a matter of fact I should be the one who avoids his presence, he disobeyed my orders, my king. You would do the same thing if you were in my shoes." Your eyebrows merged together. The King responds with a chuckle.

"I cannot offer you an explaination for my son's actions. He is a being of his own. I cannot read his mind, child." He reminds.

Your frown only deepens.

What if...?

"What if he hates me forever?" You suddenly voiced out. You glance at the King and he looks unconvinced. "What ever fight you had, you must sort it out on your own. For what it is worth - I don't think that he hates you." He finished, placing a file on the table.

Directions of your next patrol.

"Take care." He swiftly reminds with a smile.

"Legolas if you are going to continue to evade me like a plague then a resolution for our problems will not come." You chased after him, but he continues walking - with his arms crossed in a huff. "I think that it is unprofessional for you to remain cross with me." You add.

He turns around to face you, a frown on his face.

"You could've died!" He raises his voice again.

Realization dawns.

"I am alive, Legolas,"

"I know that you are a great warrior, but you are reckless." He grits his teeth, anger flooding his senses once more. "It should not matter to you. I am the master of my fate, and also the captain of that patrol. You shouldn't have disobeyed me that day." You still insist.

You gaze up at him.

The sight of him with a frown on his face, him glaring at you. It breaks your heart. "Don't look at me like that," your voice breaks.

Legolas was your truest friend, there are times where you imagine yourself married to him - but that doesn't matter. Those feelings don't matter right now, because you could lose your friend! All because of what? His unwillingness to obey your orders?

"If I wasn't there, who knows what could've happened upon you?" He scowls, "- that spider could've ripped you apart. I would've lost you." he whispers the last sentence but you were able to hear. "- all of that before telling you the truth." His face suddenly softens.

"What truth?" You ask cautiously.

"I love you, meleth - and the thought of you possibly losing your life to the spiders we've dreamt of vanquishing has made me realize that I cannot live without you." He confesses, he opens his mouth again.

But you silence him with a kiss.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery IX

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Ingrid does your hair

The first time Ingrid meets you, the only thing she can look at is your hair.

You're absolutely tiny, dressed comfortably in a pair of overalls and fancy Adidas shoes. You actually look pretty cool for such a little kid but it's the hair that has Ingrid wincing.

It's wild.

It poofs out a lion's mane and Ingrid can just spy the singular hairband desperately trying to keep it all at bay.

You have a lot of curls and a lot of frizz. It's a wonder that Mapi's even managed to scrape it all back into a ponytail.

Ingrid's hair isn't like yours. In fact, Ingrid hasn't really met anyone with hair like yours before.

Your nickname is well suited to you as you bound over to Mapi to talk, hair bouncing with every little step.

You truly have a mane of your own.

Ingrid finds herself staring at it many times over the next few weeks. She just can't help it.

There's just something about your hair that Ingrid can't just get out of her head.

She works out what exactly it is the first time she sleeps the night at Mapi's place.

It's a day off when she wakes up again so the plan is the three of you are all going out shopping together.

It's a normal day even if she's slept over at her girlfriend's so Ingrid dresses quickly and steps out into the living room.

She can hear the crying before she even walks out.

Mapi's sitting on the sofa with you on the floor in front of her.

You're in tears, howling and sobbing as Mapi runs a brush through your hair.

She looks to be nearly in tears too.

"I know," She says," I know. I'm sorry, Cub. I'm so sorry but you know you need your hair brushed."

"Ma-Mami! Mami, no!" You sob as Mapi attempts to force the brush through your curls.

Ingrid's eyes widen in shock.

She hadn't ever considered Mapi brushed your hair dry.

It doesn't look to be working well either, not with how distressed both you and Mapi appear to be.

Your hair has always been dry for as long as Ingrid's known you but now she wonders if it's like that naturally or something else.

It's a bit bad to be snooping but Ingrid can't help herself as she slips into the bathroom to have a look.

You're still sobbing by the time she comes back and Mapi's broken down in tears too.

Ingrid sits, gently stopping Mapi's brushing with a soft hand.

You wiggle away quickly, shuffling all the way to the other side of the room by your toys.

"Mapi?"

"It's fine." Mapi furiously swipes the tears from her eyes. "We're fine. Just having a bit of trouble with her hair."

"Is it usually like this?"

"We get through it."

Mapi's putting on a brave face but Ingrid can tell it's all fake. She's in tears. You're in tears.

You're both treating this like it's normal.

"New plan," She says," Leave her hair as it is. We're going to get her some things."

"For her hair? Ingrid, I have-"

"Mapi, I can tell you're trying hard but none of that stuff in your bathroom is suited to her hair."

"My Mama said-"

"Does your mum have straight hair?"

"Yes."

"Trust me, Mapi. Curly hair needs more looking after. Come on. Get her dressed and I'll show you."

Mapi wasn't quite convinced at first but upon seeing just how large the range of curly haired products was, she firmly shut up unless it was to translate Ingrid's words to the store attendant.

Together, they manage to fill the basket with things Mapi's never even seen before and suddenly she's sitting in her own living room again watching Ingrid wrangle you back into position on the floor.

Hair brushing is your least favourite time of the day combined with saying goodbye to Bagheera and being put down for bed.

Eventually though, with the promise of baking later on in the day, you sit nicely for Ingrid with some documentary about cats playing on the tv.

"Okay."

Ingrid pulls out a bottle of spray.

"Don't brush her hair if it's dry." Ingrid sprays liberally until your hair is suitably wet and is no longer big and bushy. "So we've got a wide-toothed comb which I think we should use for more everyday kind of brushing but we're going to use this-" She holds up the new detangling brush "-To get all the knots out."

Mapi watches attentively as Ingrid separates a chunk of your hair and starts at the bottom rather than the top.

It's a bit weird to you as Ingrid glides the brush through your hair. She doesn't tug or pull like usually happens so it's a bit strange for you.

Hair brushing has always been a very bad experience for you and Mami. There's usually a lot of tears and screaming and crying but it's still a lot better than when Abuela did your hair once.

She complained a lot when it happened and said mean things like your hair was 'untameable' and 'horrible to brush'. You think she meant it in a joking way because she and Abuelo were laughing and teasing each other but you can still remember the way she said that she might tell your Mami to 'cut it all off and start again'.

You know she was joking around and she wasn't actually going to tell Mami that but she still said it and you still remembered it.

She said that if you were any older than she would sit you in front of her and just straighten it all.

You love your mane though, even though it hurts to brush and it's bushy and big.

Mami loves your mane too, she's told you so lots of times. She says it's very beautiful and makes you look fierce like a real life lion.

You think Ingrid must love your hair too because she's being so gentle and so nice with it. Her hands are soft and the brush doesn't pull or snag much.

You like the feeling of her brushing your hair and your eyes droop a little.

It's almost as nice as getting back scratches.

Mapi sits in awe behind you as Ingrid massages some moisturising product into your now tamed hair.

"We could probably just put her hair up in braids to help protect it when she's going about her day," Ingrid says," It'll keep it nice and neat and no knots until we get home."

"You're good at this," Mapi says. She's still slightly in shock at how well Ingrid's doing with this all.

"I..." Ingrid's face turns red. "I did a lot of research. Her hair is so nice. I want her to love it."

Mapi laughs a little, looking down at where you're fast asleep, leaning back against Ingrid's legs.

"If you keep sending her to sleep every time you brush it then I'm sure she will."