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3amfanfiction · 3 days ago

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Simon Finds A Toy pt 3

Summary: Ghost takes you out on another one of his murder trips. Why does he think you're going to run away this time? What does he have planned? Part 3 of Simon Finds a Toy.

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wc: 2.9k

content warnings/tags: slight gore, stockholm syndrome. banner by @/cafekitsune

Inspired by this ask from nonnie. I went a little different than requested but I hope you still like it!

"What's that?" you questioned, looking at the thick bracelet with trepidation. Simon didn't say anything as he stepped closer, dropping to a knee to pull up your pant leg. When you tried to pull your foot back he gripped your ankle tighter.

"Settle, pet."

Wrapping it around your limb, he latched it closed with a snick before sliding a finger between the band and your skin, checking it's tightness. Pleased with what he saw he stood, towering over you once more.

"There's no getting that off, not without the key," he looked down at you with a steady expression, "it'll tell me exactly where you are so don't think you can go wandering off."

A tracking device? Why did he feel the need to put a tracker on you? Hadn't you proven by now that you have no intention of running off? This didn't make any sense. You'd even gone into town with him before. Multiple times and never thought about running away.

Well—maybe thought about it, but not seriously.

Looking into the frightened face of a young man, you suddenly understood the reason for the ankle monitor.

When Simon had pulled down his mask in the truck after stubbing out his last cigarette, you assumed this would be like the times before. He would direct you to where he wanted you to stand, normally outside the back or side door, and then he'd go on his way.

What you weren't expecting was for him to lead you inside the factory and disappear right as you turned a corner, bumping into a group of self-proclaimed ghost hunters. The screaming between you and the other four was earsplitting.

That had been hours ago, back when everyone was still alive and hadn't spent the night being hunted by Ghost. You almost wanted to make a joke about it. About how they were looking for ghosts and they found one, why weren't they happier? But that would be in poor taste. Especially considering the guy in front of you was the last one alive out of his group.

He hadn't cottoned onto the fact that you weren't nearly as banged up as the rest of them had been. Probably because you were liberally coated in blood. It was smeared all along the side of your face, into your hair and down one side of your body. Courtesy of Ghost slamming you into a puddle of the second victim's blood.

When you'd landed on top of the still warm body you had strangled your scream by the skin of your teeth, scrambling off of her quickly to press against the wall, watching the way her eyes seemed to slowly cloud as the time when on, face slack above the blood that was still spreading. She'd had her throat cut and her stomach opened. Looking at her viscera had your own organs squirming in discomfort but with deep breaths you settled.

You'd stumbled across two more bodies, both murdered horribly in unique ways. Was Ghost having fun with this? Was he playing with them like you'd play with food? Killing them cruelly for his own amusement?

The blood had mostly dried in the time you'd been moving through the hallways, unsure if you were looking for Ghost or for the two remaining group members. Your choice was taken from you when you had to duck under the pipe that was swung towards your head from around the corner. You scrambled out of range only to see the youngest of the group, a man named Ren, peak out from around the corner, still holding onto the bar and looking terrified.

"Oh god, I thought you were him," he gasped in a quavery voice, dropping the far end of the pipe onto the ground with a bang. When you didn't say anything he continued worriedly, "You're okay, right? I didn't get you?"

"No, I'm fin—"

"You're bleeding," he interrupted, finally noticing the blood, his face went gray at the sight.

"It's not mine. It was— there was this girl. With a red shirt—?"

Watching as the realization of who's blood was covering you hit him about broke your heart. In that moment you wanted to leave. You wanted to take his hand and sneak past Ghost, get outside and run. You could do it, you knew you could. You knew how he thought, you'd be able to avoid him. This guy in front of you didn't have to die.

You shifted forward a step, mind spinning, already making plans when you felt your pant leg catch on your ankle monitor. Oh. That's right.

He'd planned for this. For any wavering feelings you might have during this little—what? This little experiment? It felt like an experiment, like he was testing you to see what you'd do in increasingly stressful situations. What an asshole.

That seriously limited your options but you weren't ready to give up quite yet. You wouldn't be able to go with him but maybe you could still get him out. You could distract Ghost while Ren snuck out the side. Maybe that would work.

Decision made you hurried to his side, grabbing his free hand to tug him along with you urgently, "We have to go. If we stay here he's going to find us."

Stumbling down the hall, you both hurried quickly through the dark, keeping a watch for any looming shadows. When you reached a crossroads in the mess of connecting passageways you paused, panting slightly, and turned to look at Ren.

"There's a door down that way," you huffed, pointing to the left, "It's a side door so you should be able to sneak out. I'll go the other way and distract him, give you more time to run."

"What? Are you insane, why wouldn't you leave too?"

As you stood there and argued you were acutely aware of the time slipping past. Ren wouldn't listen when you told him that without a distraction neither of you were getting out of there, that you needed to play decoy so he could run.

"Either you come with me or I'm not going," he finally announced, crossing his arms with a mulish look. At this point you were at a loss. You'd already wasted too much time when you hadn't had any extra to spare.

In your rushing panic you made a mistake.

"I know him, he's not going to hurt me. But you can still get out."

Ren froze. It didn't look like he was breathing, he was so still. As soon as the words left you mouth you wished you could stop them. Now you had to watch as his face filled with disgust and betrayal alike.

"What do you mean you know him? You're with that monster?"

"Well, I—"

He took a step back, face an expression of anger and cut you off, "Why are you two doing this? What did we ever do to you?"

"No, it's not like that—"You raised a hand, watching him flinch backwards before planting his feet once more.

"Is this a trap? Did you lead me here to kill me?" He looked around, panic starting to fill him as he swung the pipe through the air as if Ghost was going to materialize out of the dark at any second.

"Ren, if you'd just—"

You ducked under the swing of the pipe, wincing as it clanged against the wall loudly, announcing your presence to everyone. You held your hands up in entreaty, watching the reason slowly drain from his eyes.

You were considering how you were going to get out of there when Ghost appeared behind him like his namesake, stepping out of the shadows as if he had always been there. Looks like Ren had had the right idea with that pipe. Too bad he had changed his focus to you.

You muffled your sigh of relief as soon as you realized it was you making the sound.

It was the work of moments for Ghost to immobilize him, playing dirty and digging his fingers into the stab wound low on Ren's side to make him double over and heave at the pain. You watched it all happen, not doing anything to help either party. The conclusion obvious before the fight even started.

You looked at where Ren was pinned firmly in place, wrapped up in the larger man's arms, unable to do more than thrash helplessly as Ghost stood there looking bored. When he glared at you through tears you had to avoid his gaze.

"Well?" Ghost asked, tone almost bored considering the circumstances. As if this was just another day for him. "Are you ready to try?"

Your blank look up at his mask did nothing but make him chuckle meanly, cruel beneath the bony face plate as he held the squirming, crying man.

"I don't understand what you're asking," you ventured hesitantly, unsure.

"Come now sweetheart, don't play stupid. I made sure to show you a couple of different cuts you could use on the meat, did any of them pique your interest?"

That was the reason for the strange ways the first three had died? He was showing off for you? Giving you examples?

Your throat clicked as you swallowed dryly, putting the warm feeling of someone thinking about you and giving you a gift off the the side to be examined never if you had your way.

You were still avoiding Rens accusatory gaze so what's one more thing to ignore.

"Well, sweetheart? We don't have all night."

What was he actually asking? Was there a trick somewhere in there for you? Something that if you were clever enough would get you out of this situation? He had never been that kind before but maybe this was the first.

No. Ghost would twist the knife as he pulled it out, just to make sure you felt it.

Ren's gaze was angry and afraid over the seal of Ghost's hand covering his mouth as you stood there in bewilderment, trying to find a way out of this mess. His eyes blamed you for all his misfortune because it was safer than blaming Ghost.

You stopped looking at his eyes all together.

At this point you had to see him as a non-entity. He was going to die. There wasn't a way out of that, Ghost had him in his grip and he wouldn't be leaving this factory. The morning light was going to find his body no matter what.

So what were you really choosing?

If his death was a forgone conclusion then you must be deciding on how he would die. If it would be by Ghost or yourself.

On one hand you wanted nothing to do with this. You didn't want to kill this man who was crying even as he was glaring. His eyes were puffy and there was snot running down to puddle on Ghost's glove. He looked distressingly human.

He was a man who had just lost three friends and was about to die himself. The one who wouldn't leave you there alone, who insisted that you come with. He was shaking in Ghost's hold and you wanted to plug your ears, close your eyes and wait for this to all be over.

You could see yourself in him—the shaking fox in the maw of a dog.

On the other hand, why were you still policing yourself?

No matter your actions, the outcome would be the same. You and Ghost would be walking out of here and leaving four bodies cooling on the concrete.

He was going to die either way and Ghost would certainly be mean about it. With how he had 'shown off' with the others you were positive he would do worse with Ren. Not only because you were watching but also because that would mean you'd declined his offer. Returned his gift.

So wasn't the more humane thing to do to avoid Ren's suffering? Ensuring a clean death so he could die with some sort of dignity intact, whatever dignity there could be in death?

If you had the choice you know you would choose . . . well.

At this point you would choose Ghost if you were to be killed. He had crawled his way under your skin, wrapped around bone and muscle alike and wove himself between each nerve. He was in your lungs, blood and brain and you wouldn't be able to excise him without removing a part of yourself too.

You hated him for it in some ways. As infected as you were, was there any hope in saving yourself? Or were you fighting against a riptide, doing nothing but tiring yourself out, passing time before you were swallowed by the sea?

Were you still censuring yourself, even in your mind? You knew, deep down, that you didn't care about this man and you didn't care how he lived or died when it really came down to it.

Mentally, if you took a step to the left, you wouldn't see him as anything more than a speed bump to be gone over. You didn't know him, didn't care about him. He was no better than a stranger on the street.

And who was going to judge you? Ghost, whose hands already dripped with blood, so saturated that they would never dry? He would be as delightfully pleased with choice, even if his face wouldn't show it. Ren was the only other one here and he wouldn't be for very long.

You thought back to the fox, little heart pittering in it's chest as it died slowly. Dog's teeth flecked with blood as he watched you. Which were you? Which did you want to be?

Looking between Ghost and Ren you realized there was only one choice you could make.

///

The ride back to the cabin was spent with you silent and shaking. You weren't able to get inside fast enough—away from Simon fast enough.

You threw your bag forcefully onto the kitchen table, continuing to rush past it and ignoring Simon shutting the front door behind you.

"What's all this then?" he asked with a frown, watching as your bag wobbled at the edge of the table before finally settling. He set his down much more calmly, as if to show you how to do it.

You hated him. You hated him.

You watched it all play out in your minds eye. How you would get revenge. You would walk up to him, pull the knife from his belt and slide it between his ribs. He wouldn't be expecting it from you, not anymore. You could do it. The world would be a better place if you did.

You could see how the blood would bubble with each breath. Thick and red. How the scent of copper would flood the room, leaving a film in your mouth that you would taste behind your teeth for ages. How the warmth would coat your skin before slowly cooling and becoming tacky.

You realized where your thoughts were focusing, proof again of how he had infected your brain. You were never going to get away from him, were you? Even if you left, if you never saw him again, he would still be there. Still floating in the back of your mind, waiting for a time to step forward.

Why? Why why why why?

"Why did you do this to me?" you finally screamed at him, tears of anger and helplessness running down your cheeks. Why had he made you like this? This thing that you weren't sure was completely human anymore. The rot setting in too far.

"And what did I do to you?" he sounded condescending, as if he was humoring your temper tantrum, riding it out until you were reasonable once more. "Took you away from your boring life, from early hours and late nights at your job? Took you away from being alone every night, laying in bed and playing on your phone? Go ahead, tell me what I did to you."

"You made me like you!"

"And that's so bad is it? Tell me, what part does Your Majesty take offense to?" You wanted to dig your fingers into his eyes as he mocked you.

"You made me kill him!"

"I didn't make you do anything sweetheart. I gave you the opportunity. You're the one who grabbed it with both hands."

He was lying. He was lying. The only reason you killed Ren was stop Ghost from doing it. From playing with him like he always did. You were trying to keep him from hurting. You wanted it to be painless.

"That's not what happened and you know it."

"Go ahead then, tell me. If you didn't do it then who did? Who slid that knife across his throat until he choked on his own blood? There wasn't a goddamn tear in your eye when you opened him from ear to ear." Simon stalked forward to lean close, filling your vision as he put his face right into yours.

"You liked it."

Slap

He didn't move, not as your hand made contact with his face or as it was pulled away. A quick blink was all the response you got before he grinned meanly, "Awfully violent, aren't you, pet?"

"You made me into a monster like you."

He looked at you with cold eyes, an expressionless face his mask. Your heart dropped with his parting words. You'd always known in the back of you mind, hadn't you?

"Can't make something that's not already there."

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#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon finds a toy #cw stockholm syndrome #slight gore

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scarletwinterxx · 2 days ago

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the grumpy cat's secret soft side - chwe hansol imagine

hiiii ~ tbh i liveeee for the black cat turn into golden retriever type of guy🥺😭😅 this one is soooo cute, i hope you like it🤍 i’m trying to make up for being gone in the past weeks hence why the back to back posts.

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’re hanging out with your friends at a café, and, as usual, Vernon is sitting at a corner table, a frown fixed on his face. His arms are crossed, his eyes barely leaving the book he's reading, and his presence is just… intense. You know the drill—no one dares to approach him unless absolutely necessary.

Your friends chatter away, but their eyes keep flicking toward Vernon, trying to gauge the seriousness of his aura. You can practically hear them whispering:

"Does he even smile? He looks like he's plotting something dark."

"I bet he has some secret double life where he's a villain or something."

You roll your eyes, amused by the misconception. Sure, Vernon has this reputation of being the "grumpy cat". The guy who scowls at anyone who dares to speak to him but you know the real Vernon. The one who’s soft, playful, and okay, maybe a little too clingy when you're alone.

You sip your coffee, trying not to laugh at the thought of what they would say if they knew. They think Vernon is all sharp edges and cool indifference, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s a total golden retriever.

Later, the café empties out, and it’s just you and Vernon. You lean against the table, watching him flick through his book, clearly trying to seem like he's deep in thought.

"You know, you should really smile once in a while. People are starting to think you're some kind of cold-hearted villain."

He grunts in response, his eyes not leaving the pages "I don’t need to impress anyone. Why pretend to be something I’m not?"

You can feel the smile tugging at your lips. If only they knew how dramatically different he was when no one else was around. Just the other night, he’d insisted on cooking you dinner and then gotten mad at the TV when you laughed at a cooking show he didn’t even like.

And the way his voice softens when he talks to you? Don’t even get you started.

"Mhm, sure. Just make sure no one sees you with your 'scary' persona, or they'll think you’re a supervillain." you tease him, a playful smile on your face

Vernon finally looks up at you, raising an eyebrow.

"You do realize you're the only one who gets to see me not acting like a 'villain,' right?"

You grin, taking a casual sip from your drink.

"Yeah, lucky me."

Fast forward to a few days later. You're out with Vernon and a few friends, walking through the park when you trip over a crack in the pavement. It's not that big of a fall, but you scrape your knee, and it stings just a little.

No one notices at first—except Vernon. His eyes snap to you, and you can see the panic flicker across his face.

Before you can even fully recover from the stumble, he’s already by your side, crouching down with an expression that can only be described as dramatic concern.

"Oh my god, are you okay?! Did you hurt yourself?"

You blink, slightly surprised at how intense he’s reacting. He’s usually so calm in public, but now his eyes are wide, his hand hovering near your knee like he’s afraid even the slightest touch might cause more harm.

"It’s just a scrape, Vernon. I’m fine." you stutter, still surprised by his actions

He shakes his head vigorously, ignoring your reassurances, his face completely serious.

"No. You’re not. You're bleeding, and... you’re my responsibility!"

You blink at him wide eyed, "It’s really just a small scratch. It's not like—"

"Small?!" He looks at the tiniest red mark like it’s an open wound that could be fatal. His voice grows louder. "You’re going to need a bandage! I’ll—I'll carry you home!"

You can’t help but laugh at how over the top he’s being. The guy who looks like he’s plotting world domination in front of others is now losing it over a scraped knee. But he doesn’t seem to find it funny at all.

"Do not laugh! You’re injured, and this is serious business." he scolds you, already helping you up still chuckling, as he holds out his arms like he’s ready to scoop you up at any moment.

"I don’t need you to carry me, Vernon. I can walk." you assure him

"I insist."

He’s so dramatic about it that it almost seems like he’s going to faint from the sheer concern he’s radiating.

"Is he seriously offering to carry you?" Dino asks, watching the whole scene

“What the hell is happening?" Seungkwan mumbles

You hear your friends muttering from the sidelines, their voices full of surprise, and you can’t help but smirk. This is the first time they’ve seen Vernon act this way, and they’re all shook by it.

"Vernon, seriously. I’m fine!"

But he’s already kneeling in front of you, looking up at you with wide, concerned eyes, ready to scoop you up into his arms like you're the most fragile thing in the world.

"Nope. I’m not risking it. Let’s go home. You need rest, and I need to make sure you’re not going to pass out or something."

You can’t hold back your laughter anymore."You're impossible."

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

You finally let him win, letting him gently lift you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, completely ignoring the curious stares from everyone else around. And despite how embarrassing this all is, you can’t deny it. You love how much Vernon cares about you. The "grumpy cat" persona is a total act.

You lean your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

"You know, I’ve never seen this side of you before."

"Good. Keep it that way. I’m only like this for you, got it?" voice full of seriousness

"Got it."

And in that moment, you realize, as much as Vernon tries to hide it from the world, he’s completely smitten with you—and you wouldn't have it any other way.

#fic #story #fanfic #svt #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen vernon #hansol chwe #vernon #chwe vernon #seventeen fluff #svt au #seventeen au #svt x readers #svt x reader #vernon imagine #vernon fluff

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ariesize · 1 day ago

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emmrich x rook: and i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands)

A/N: I definitely did not write an 8k word fic about Rook going crazy insane over Emmrich's hands. You definitely can't read it on ao3 here or below the cut.

TW for smoking, drinking, blood.

It’s not something she notices when they first meet. She’s a little busy stopping the end of the world and her priorities are in other places at the moment. It takes a little while, a few weeks after he is officially a member of the team and settled in. After Weisshaupt and Minrathous and all of the other horrors they've experienced recently.

It happens during a game of Wicked Grace, of all things.

Rook isn't playing but is happy to sit, enjoying being surrounded by a few members of her team Varric’s team - you're just a placeholder baby. Harding brought the cards, Lucanis picked the wine, and Davrin and Emmrich were all too happy to join in on the game Harding proposed.

It's a good thing Rook didn't take a hand of cards for herself, as her concentration has wandered to one subject in particular. One person, completely oblivious to where Rook’s thoughts have ventured over the course of the evening. All he’s doing is holding a few cards, passing them back and forth and it's not special in any way - truly a perfectly ordinary moment during a perfectly ordinary evening. She barely even knows him, but all Rook can look at, all she can think about, are Emmrich’s hands.

All of him is pleasant to look at. He looks good, presents himself in a confident way that she noticed immediately upon their first meeting in the Necropolis, but what's taken her aback are his hands. The rings adorning his long thin fingers glisten just so in the candle light, the delicate way he holds the cards and the way he picks up his wine glass, the bangles on his wrists that make the most pleasing sounds. Rook is entranced. Hypnotized. She has never wanted anything more than she wants those hands on her, in her, anywhere near her as often as she can have them.

And he has no idea, is none the wiser to the turn of Rook’s thoughts. She knows this is completely inappropriate; he would absolutely never want to fraternize with a girl young enough to be his student would he? She tries to snap out of it, tries to pay attention to the game in front of her but her eyes keep catching the glint of his rings, keep noticing the way he fiddles with which card to place down, how he organizes them just so with fingers skimming the top until they land on the perfect card. She wants to know how those rings would feel caressing her face, her body. Would they be cold? Would they leave marks if he pressed down with a little force on her throat or hips? Would they sting if he slapped her across her ass? Would he keep them on even when-

She snaps out of it, drinks the rest of her wine, abruptly stands up and excuses herself while quickly mentioning that she needs to clean her knives, enjoy the rest of your game, goodnight everyone. Turns heel and all but sprints out of the dining room. It's rude, she knows, and will explain herself properly tomorrow if asked. I just can't have them getting rusted or dull - old crow habits, you know. It's a flimsy excuse but still perfectly reasonable if anyone were to pry.

When she's safe behind the closed door of the meditation chamber, she does not continue to think about her teammate. She does not sit on the green velvet chaise lounge and think about his hands on her, his voice so rich and smooth and gentlemanly. He's always ready with a compliment and oh, how she loves it when he tells her nicely done, Rook! Would he have such compliments ready if she got on her knees, ready to do as he said?

Rook tells herself she can do this once, get it out of her system, look him in the eyes tomorrow and claim she's never touched herself to thoughts of him. How improper. Where is her sense of decorum!

But tonight she uses her own hand and pretends it's his. She digs out the two rings she has in her pack, little trinkets she’s picked up here and there, places them on her fingers and grips her throat just so and there, just faintly are two little indentations. Tonight she can pretend there's more and the hand who gave them to her isn’t the one between her legs but the one that is currently across the courtyard and far away from where she wants it to be.

Tomorrow she’ll set her head straight. Tonight she comes with his name on her lips and knows immediately she's absolutely fucked.

Rook’s lounging on the couch in the library, comfortable as the day is long. There was no reason to leave today so she's taking time to relax - the fact that she protested for a long time when this was suggested by Varric even though her body was screaming for a break notwithstanding. She's not planning, she's not preparing, she's not strategizing like she knows she should be. Instead, she's laying on the couch, an apple in one hand and a knife in the other. She's cutting pieces and eating them, snapping the slices with audible crunch while her attention is on the scene in front of her.

Standing at the bookshelf are Lucanis and Emmrich. She’s fully staring at them, watching them pick books off the shelves and return others to their spots all nice and neat. What they're searching for, she hasn't a clue, and truly couldn't care less because that's not at all relevant to her train of thought.

No, she's staring at Emmrich’s hands again. Moving across spines, flipping through pages, tracing lines on the page and softly reading them out to Lucanis. Rook cuts the apple, puts the slice in her mouth, closes her lips but doesn't bite. No, that would be far too rational and her brain is not functioning at the moment. She gently pokes and prods it with her tongue, swirls around it a few times and pulls it out with a gentle pop, a small trail of saliva still connecting her to the fruit.

The men in front of her are none the wiser, still speaking in hushed tones about demons and spirits and gods. They have no idea that Rook is daydreaming not of an apple slice, but a certain necromancer’s finger in its place. She gently bites the apple, pulls the slice away from her mouth, thinking that instead maybe this is what it would be like to pull one of his rings off his fingers. He might hold his hand out, ready for her to spit it back into his palm. She would do that with each ring if he asked her to.

She'd do anything for his hands to be on her, his attention turned away from the book and his gentle voice, a little deeper and a little darker perhaps, could be teaching her instead of Lucanis.

She's completely lost in thought that when she goes to cut another slice from the fruit she misses completely. The knife, thankfully a slightly dull one from the kitchen and not one of her blades, goes directly across her palm and not right through it like it could have. Blood seeps out the cut, not deep enough to warrant any real worry but enough for Rook to gasp in pain loud enough to rouse the interest of her two friends.

“Rook? Everything alright?” Lucanis asks, seemingly noticing her for the first time since she sat down over half an hour earlier. He and Emmrich walk over to her, see her bloody palm, and leap into action.

“It's alright, please there's no need to worry. I just cut myself by accident. It's not even that deep,” Rook protests. She stands up, begins walking away to go clean and wrap her hand, when Emmrich steps in front of her.

“Mind if I lend a hand?” he asks, and oh how Rook would have begged to hear those words in any other context but this. He gently takes her hand and examines her palm, says “Come upstairs with me, if you want. I can clean and wrap it for you,”.

“No, it's alright, thank you, I don't want to interrupt-” she starts, fumbling her words as she looks at her hand in his. More blood is rushing out, threatening to drip down her arm and onto the floor, but she doesn't care. She needs to get out of this situation before she embarrasses herself even further.

“Rook, please, I wouldn't have offered it if I didn't want to help. It'll only take a moment.” Emmrich says, and well, she might as well let this cut be worth something. She grumbles in agreement, allowing him to pull her along up to his rooms.

On the stairs, she glances down at Lucanis. He’s regarding the two of them with squinted eyes and a smirk on his face, that bastard.

“Crows know better than to cut their hands while slicing apples, Rook.” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“If you tell Viago about this I'm sending you back to jail.” Rook deadpans.

At the top of the stairs she follows Emmrich into his study. He points at his desk and tells Rook to take a seat, it'll only take him a moment to gather supplies. She sits on top of it, not sure if that's what he meant but not wanting to be trapped behind the piece of furniture either. Oh how she's thought of this scenario many times since the Wicked Grace night. In none of them was she bleeding, however, but she's still slightly shocked to have even gotten to this point.

She makes a note to pull herself together when he emerges into view, sleeves rolled up and carrying a tray with bandages, cloths, and what she assumes is some form of antiseptic. His rings and bracelets, she notices, are still on.

“I apologize, but this might sting a little,” Emmrich says as he takes a piece of cloth and motions for her to place her hand in his. He gently starts wiping away the blood from her palm, careful not to put any pressure on the cut. It’s a little messy, more blood seeping from her palm with every swipe of the cloth. He’s gentle and diligent and so concentrated that she can't help it if her heart rate goes up. Being the object of his attention is too much. Her face is flushed, she’s shaking a little, and worst of all she can feel the heat between her legs building all too vibrantly.

All because he’s touching her, and her blood is on his hands. There's a few smudges on his fingers, barely any at all really, as he holds her hand with her palm facing upwards. Rook didn’t know she had a thing for blood until this moment, but she’s so flustered by this sight that she wishes the cut was deeper, more bloody, covering his hands while he patches her back up. He’s so gentle but still maintains perfect control over her, flipping her hand around and moving it this way and that. Emmrich could tell her to pick up a book and start reading it outloud right now and she would listen, do exactly as he said.

“Please be more careful next time you decide to eat an apple. We wouldn't want our fearless leader to chop off a finger,” he says, his tone light and humorous and miles away from where her own thoughts have wandered.

Rook smiles, laughs a little, says she promises to save the injuries for the battlefield. He presses a different cloth, this one soaked in antiseptic, to her hand. He was right - it does sting a little, but her blood is still on his fingers and she wants to offer to clean them for him, bring them up to her mouth and indulge in her fantasy from earlier.

The hand holding hers moves up her wrist just a tad, but it's enough to clue him into her current state. He presses down gently, furrows his brows a little. “Rook, your heart is racing. Are you sure you're feeling alright?” he asks.

No, she wants to say, I am feeling quite troubled and am in need of your assistance. It wouldn't take much to bring his hands up to her face, mouth, throat, or down to her chest, her hips, between her legs. He's staring at her with concern written clear as day across his face and not realizing the position they are in. She’s fully sat on his desk while he stands in front of her close enough that when they look at each other she has to tilt her head up a little. He's not quite between her legs but a little repositioning and that could be fixed. It's the perfect set up. It's all of her fantasies mixed into one.

“I'm just still a little distracted these days,” the rational part of her brain that is luckily still connected to her mouth supplies. “It's been a difficult few weeks. I haven’t been sleeping that well,” she adds, hopefully convincing him that that's truly the only thing in her mind.

He hums in agreement, now slowly and methodically wrapping up her hand. The blood is seeping through the bandage but only just so. Not enough to make a mess. Not enough to, say, get on any other surfaces, any other present parties who have no idea what they’re doing to her. Rook sighs, closes her eyes a little, wills away these thoughts in favor of trying to have a normal conversation and not thinking about getting bent over this desk and fucked into next week.

Her eyes snap open and she prays that she didn't say that out loud.

“Well, I’m no healer, but if you have trouble sleeping you are more than welcome to stop in for a chat and a nightcap,” Emmrich says while letting go of her hand and cleaning up the bloody rags. She isn’t surprised by the invitation. She knows he enjoys a few vices in life, he knows his wines and she’s smelled the smoke from a pipe he keeps stashed away on more than one occasion.

“That's incredibly kind. Thank you, Emmrich.” she said, still looking up at him through her lashes. She knows exactly what she's doing when she bats her eyes, once, twice, lets her mouth rest into an easy smile and tries to look as innocent as possible. The eye contact they’re making is full of tension. He looks down at her lips, only for a moment but it's enough for Rook to notice.

A-ha, she thinks, I got you.

He looks back up at her, his mouth slightly agape in what can only be the realization of their predicament hitting him all at once. He’s again holding her bandaged hand between them, their eye contact unbreaking and it would be so easy to move her legs, spread them slightly so he’s properly standing between them. She could nudge him forward with her foot and wrap her legs around him, so simple then for him to take her face in his hands and kiss her until her brain is quiet. The desk behind her is clear of anything breakable and all she would have to do is lay back and-

Emmrich clears his throat, breaks their eye contact first, steps away from a position that seems to be closer to her than he was a moment ago. Was he as wrapped up in the moment as she was? Drifting into her space, compelled by the same force that’s been driving her mad for weeks on end?

“Well!” he says, a little loudly and a little too forcefully, “Lucanis and I were in the middle of some terribly interesting research and I should be getting back-”

“Of course!” she interrupts, “I’d hate to take up any more of your time!” Rook states, sliding off of his desk and walking over to the door. She pauses, her hand gently pushing the door open. “Thank you again, Emmrich. I just might take you up on that nightcap soon.”

She leaves, doesn’t look back, but doesn’t hear him move to go downstairs either. She claims that as a win. One small step in the right direction.

Rook has upped her flirting significantly since she cut her hand. He has to have noticed, there can’t be any way he hasn’t. There have been some moments, none of them confirming or denying anything other than the fact that he likes to be around her as much as she likes to be around him.

Moments in his study, in the kitchen, in passing in hallways or on their long treks across the various areas of Thedas where their help is needed. He comes with her almost everywhere now. She's not sure when that started but now it's an unspoken rule that if she's heading off towards danger, Emmrich is by her side. If anyone has noticed they have kept it to themselves, bless them.

This night is one of those where she is reminded just how much she cherishes her crew. They’ve all gathered for family dinner as Taash has started calling it. Dinner has since ended, Lucanis and Neve are in the kitchen under the guise of cleaning up but really just wanted an excuse to talk away from prying eyes and ears. The wine is flowing freely and quickly, smiles are on everyone's faces, conversations are loud and everything is perfect.

Rook is sitting with Bellara and Davrin, the three elves swapping silly stories from their previous lives. Davrin is telling a story from his childhood that has Rook and Bellara in absolute stitches. Davrin seems more calm and cool than other Warden’s she's met before. He’s serious when he needs to be, don’t get her wrong, but he knows how to unwind and how to spin a tale so interesting that you can’t help but give him your undivided attention.

Rook goes to take a sip of her wine and notices the glass is empty. She looks around for the current open bottle and spots it next to Emmrich. At that moment he catches her looking from her glass to the bottle and raises his eyebrows in a silent question, gesturing to the bottle and then to her. Rook nods and smiles, holds her glass towards him slightly to show him the poor, empty state of it. He smiles and gets up, grabs the bottle and wanders over to the group, first topping off Bellara’s glass and filling up Rook’s.

“Oh! Thank you Professor!” Bellara says with a smile that could light up even the darkest, dankest cavern in the Hossberg Wetlands. If anyone was the physical embodiment of the sun and all things nice, it was Bellara. Her happiness was infectious as always, and heightened by the alcohol, Rook found herself to be terribly happy as well.

Rook never addressed Emmrich by his title. Of course she recognized his profession outside of this team was a prestigious one, but she wasn’t his student or colleague so it never felt right to say it. Not to say she hadn’t thought about it. She’s definitely let her mind wander to a world where she’s sitting in the audience at one of Professor Volkarin’s lectures. She’s seen him get heated in debates with Lucanis and Bellara before and knows how passionate he can be when talking about the subjects he’s devoted his life to. She knows that focus would only come across even more intensely in a classroom setting.

And so what if she gets a little turned on by that? He would be her authority figure in this situation. Maybe she could have studied under him, been his star pupil, the student he was most proud of. He would be ready to go with compliments, and she would get to watch him cast all day. The way he moves his hands while performing a ritual is exactly that, a performance. He takes on the role not of Professor or Necromancer but Conductor, his hands instructing a music unheard and unseen by Rook.

So, what if she sees a way to use this to her advantage.

Emmrich is already correcting Bellara, asking her to please drop the title in a setting like this, amongst friends and not in the halls of the Necropolis, when Rook pipes up from next to her,

“Yeah, thank you Professor,” she says. Her cheeks are red from the wine, her lips slightly parted as she raises the glass and takes a sip. She doesn’t let the moment linger any longer and turns her attention back to her companions, but she hears his sharp intake of breath next to her.

He recovers smoothly, leaving the bottle with them and returning to his previous spot. Rook glances at Emmrich out of the corner of her eye and sees him grabbing his glass and bidding his companions farewell for the evening. Harding and Taash quickly follow, and Rook knows now is her best shot.

After a few minutes she too picks up her still full glass, apologizes for interrupting the story but she simply can’t sit up straight any longer and needs to go to her room before she passes out in the dining room. She leaves before anyone can respond and call out the fact that minutes ago she was wide awake and conversing just fine.

Rook’s not exactly sober, but she’s sober enough to consider the possibility that he doesn't want her like that, sees her only as a friend, is repulsed by her even. She thinks it through, and by the time she's approaching the library she's made up her mind and decides there's no turning back now. She heads up the right staircase in the library and knocks at Emmrich’s door, and hears him yell a “Come in!” from the other side. Rook slips in and gently closes the door behind her. Emmrich is at his desk, striking a match and lighting up the contents of the pipe hanging from his mouth.

“I had a feeling that might be you at the door. Please, come in!” he says, smoke billowing from his mouth and nose. It’s unreasonably attractive, seeing him like this. It’s a perfectly normal activity and yet he makes it look so elegant that Rook can’t help but find herself staring openly at him.

“Thought I’d drop in for that nightcap and conversation you promised me a while back,” she says, trying to make her voice as smooth and steady as possible. They've had countless late night conversations and drinks together since he gave her permission to seek him out on sleepless nights but she's hoping this reminder evokes the memory of their almost almost kiss. She approaches his desk and leans her hip up against it, taking a sip of her drink.

This is definitely one of the more relaxed states she's seen him in. His vest is off, his glove is missing, his shirt unbuttoned (only the top one, but she’s never seen it unbuttoned at all before) and lacking the usual skull collar pins, but his hands and arms are still covered in his gold jewelry.

He takes another drag from his pipe, says “Well there’s no better time than the present. Is there something on your mind?” on his exhale, not blowing the smoke directly at Rook but letting it waft around them, creating a haze in the room.

“Not particularly,” she says, carefully enunciating each syllable. She thinks for a moment and then backtracks, tapping thoughtfully against her temple like an idea just came to her. “Actually, there might be one thing,” she says, letting the pause sit between them like the smoke in the room.

“You see, Professor,” she says his title just to see if he would react. And he does, his eyes widening and his face going a little red, coughing slightly as he exhales more smoke.

“Rook-” he starts, she tries to interrupt him but he talks over her, adding “Rook please, I have to insist that you do not call me that.” he says, the mood shifting from flirty to serious in an instant. Rook’s smile fades and she moves to stand up, already spewing apologies that she’s taken this too far, she’ll drop it instantly, let him get back to his evening when he reaches out and lays a hand on her leg to keep her still.

Instead of kicking her out like she expects, he stands up and circles the desk, coming around to face her. It’s a familiar moment, exactly the one she wanted to recreate, just now with less blood and more heat and all Rook can do is look up at him, take a sip of wine and set her glass down next to her. Emmrich's pipe is burning away, seemingly forgotten about in favor of this moment between them. He’s not quite leaning into her space, but his height compared to her causes her to lean back against the desk, bracing herself with her hands behind her.

“I apologize if I’ve gotten this all wrong, and I’ll stop calling you…that. I promise it won’t happen again,” Rook is saying, her eyes following his hands as he moves the one from her thigh and presses them together in front of him as he often does. Breathing deeply, her fears start singing full force in her head. She swears what they’ve been doing is flirting, and she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable by her advances, especially using his title and their age difference as fuel.

She’s worrying, clearly it must be plain as day on her face, because what happens next is something straight from her imagination. Pinch her, she might be dreaming.

She’s about to apologize even further when she feels his finger under her chin, shutting her up more effectively than anything else ever has. He tilts her chin up just slightly, and she knows she looks like a mess right now. Rook feels her cheeks burning and knows her eyes are wide and glassy.

“I’m not asking you to stop it because I don’t want you to leave me alone, and not even because I don’t like it,” he elaborates. “I only mention it because I’m finding that I do like it, maybe a little too much.”

Rook is at a loss for words. She’s completely shocked, elated but caught way completely off guard.

“I have never had such a…relationship with a student before and I don’t intend on crossing those lines now. However, I have noticed the increasingly flirtatious way you act around me and I can’t pretend I'm not equally as affected by your presence any longer.” Emmrich says, his finger moving from under her chin, gently caressing her face as it travels up to her cheek. The rest of his hand rests against the side of her jaw, his fingertips just brushing her cheekbone. His thumb swipes gently over her lip, and Rook has to stop the moan threatening to escape her throat with all of her might.

“There is quite a distance in the years between us, my dear, so please tell me if I’ve overstepped and taken this too far.” he says, his voice soft and low and she doesn’t feel real right now, doesn’t know if this is just the most realistic dream she’s ever had and she’ll wake up hot and flustered and aching with her need for him.

To answer him she does exactly what she’s wanted to since that day she watched him play cards. She tilts her head down ever so slightly, opens her mouth and takes his thumb in her mouth. Looking up at him she gently sucks before releasing it, effectively rendering him absolutely stunned. Eyes blown wide, mouth hanging open, and she knows the walls between them are officially dust.

“No, I don’t think you’ve misread the situation at all.” she says, her own hand coming up to grab at the one he has against her cheek. She takes it and brings it in front of her, and loses all sense of self control. Never breaking eye contact with him, she takes his pointer finger and licks a stripe up it, her tongue catching on the ring at the base (cold, she notes, just like she hoped).

And that's the end of any distance between them. The end of the what if’s and the maybe, maybe not’s she cycles through daily. He gets his hand into her long, wavy hair, the other falls to her hip and he's pulling her head back, exposing her neck and trailing the gentlest series of kisses up to her jaw. He nips at the skin there, just a hint of teeth and tongue and Rook’s mouth is completely open now, the smallest exhale turning into a full on whine at the feeling of his lips against her skin.

“Please,” is all she can manage and she's absolutely begging now, turning her head to chase his mouth with her own. His face is right there, a millimeter of distance between them. Emmrich laughs, not because this is funny but like he too can't believe what’s happening, before finally pressing their lips together.

Rook wants to shout from the rooftops. She wants to set off fireworks and pop champagne and celebrate. She's finally got him exactly where she wants.

Instead she adjusts her position so that she's fully sitting atop his desk. Her legs are spread wide and he's standing between them, their bodies pressed together like they can't stand even being an inch apart any longer.

And the kiss is better than she ever could have imagined. He tastes faintly of wine, more so of smoke and something clean and sweet and oh how she's never going get enough of that. His hand at her hip is gripping her tightly, fingers roaming closer to her backside and she can feel the metal of his rings so clearly and it's so much better than she ever imagined.

Rook pulls away to get a breath of air and he's there immediately again, kissing her like he's a man starved and she's the sweetest thing he's tasted in so long. He pulls away and she's chasing him just as intensely, just as hungry as he is. It's filthy, all tongue and teeth and she needs him everywhere. His hands, his mouth, she'd make a million blood sacrifices just to stay in this place. On his desk with his hands holding her down with just enough force to keep her steady.

He's everywhere now, in her space, his tongue in her mouth and his hands, his hands!, finally grabbing at her in almost all of the places she's yearned for him to be. They're on her hips, her waist, slowly moving up and over her breasts and pausing briefly on her throat. He's studying her, mapping out her figure with the scholarly dedication he saves for the greater mysteries of the fade and the undead.

She’s never wanted anyone as badly as she wants him. This wonderful man whose path she never would have crossed were it not for their fight against the gods. How funny it is to find something so precious, perfect and passionate at what could very well be the end of their lives. Well, if I'm going to die anytime soon it might as well be after I learn what pleasure truly feels like, she thinks as his hands continue roaming her body. Nobody has ever made her feel like this nor has she felt such intense desire for any of her previous partners.

She moves to undo the buttons on her shirt, thanking the Maker she had the foresight to leave off the belt she usually wears for the evening, ready to grant him more access to her skin. He accepts this eagerly, pushing the shirt down her shoulders and taking a step back to look her over.

And look her over is exactly what he does. Emmrich takes his time, letting his eyes trail over her like she is his most prized possession, a piece of art he'd been looking for all his life. She knows she must look slightly crazed and disheveled, her breaths coming fast and hard as she tries to regain her composure. Her blonde hair is pushed behind her pointed ears, swept off her shoulders to give him a view of as much skin as she can with her pants and bandeau still on.

And it must all hit him at once, the reality of the path they’re headed down, because suddenly his expression is sober, not shocked but curious as if he doesn't know how this could have possibly happened.

“Maker’s breath,” Emmrich whispers, turning away from her with one hand on his hip and the other rubbing the back of his neck. She is starting to get worried now, maybe this was too good to be true, maybe he changed his mind and doesn't want her after all.

“Emmrich?” Rook calls out, fear and worry taking over. “Is everything alright?”

He spins back around to face her, stands with one arm crossed over his chest and the other propped against it, his hand at his mouth with a deeply serious expression on his face. Every trace of want is gone from his features, and if it weren't for the red in his cheeks and a single strand of hair out of place no one would ever have known that only a minute ago he was kissing her silly and stupid.

He breathes once, twice, opens and closes his mouth as he searches for the right words. All he ends up saying, however, is simple, cutting right to her nerves and her fears.

“Why?” he asks. Rook’s heart drops, all color draining from her face.

“I'm sorry?” she asks. She's stunned. She thought he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but clearly that couldn't be any less true. He's looking at her like she's a lost child, a girl who doesn't know what she's doing.

“Rook,” he starts, with such a softness in his voice and finally reaching out to touch her again. He steps in closer, not as close as they were earlier but close enough to cup his hand around her cheek. She leans into the touch, wanting to press her lips to his palm but holding back the urge.

“Rook, please forgive me. I don't mean any insult - you’re absolutely marvelous, but I have to know. Why me? The gap between our years is almost as much as your own age. You wouldn't feel more comfortable with one of the others?” he's saying, and of course Rook should have expected this.

“I don't want any of the others. I want you.” is all she can say in return, her hand coming up to press softly against his which still rests against her cheek. “I don't care that you’re older than me. In fact, it's kind of a turn on.” she says, a smile slowly returning to her face. “I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't want you, Emmrich.”

She takes their intertwined hands and starts slowly moving them down her throat, down her chest until they reach her tits. She grabs his other hand and brings it to her hip, tugging him slightly closer in the process.

“You don't even understand how much I want you, how I've daydreamed of your hands on me since we met.” she says softly, grabbing onto the lapels of his shirt and pulling him closer. “How badly I want to please you.” Rook says, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt halfway, exposing more skin than she's ever seen on him before. “How badly I want you to please me.”

And finally, finally, his mouth is on hers again. It's gentler this time, not so rushed and urgent. He sets a slow but deeply satisfying pace, takes his time to rebuild the passion from earlier. She wants to go fast, wants his hands to stop roaming everywhere but towards her pants buttons, how badly she wants to show him just how ready and wanting she is.

Emmrich must sense where her thoughts are because he's pulling away from their kiss, but this time he's grabbing her hands and tugging her along across his study to the bed he has tucked away in a corner behind the spiral staircase.

Rook sheds her shoes and pants fairly quickly while walking across the room. As soon as he's back within arms reach she starts tugging his shirt untucked and unbuttoning the rest. She’s standing there in just her smallclothes now but there's something about the way he’s looking at her, looking so affected by her want for him that makes her feel stark naked. She pushes up onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him back in for another searing kiss. He bites her bottom lip, so gently and softly but Rook wishes it was harder, wishes he would draw blood and kiss it away. She tucks that fantasy in a drawer in her mind, saving it for later - perhaps another time she can bring it up but now, today, is just about beginnings.

He takes a few steps backwards and sits on the edge of his bed and she's all too eager to join him, sitting down on his lap with her knees on either side of his thighs. His hands are on her waist, almost covering her entire midsection, and she slowly, slowly starts rocking her hips back and forth and the gasp he lets out is the most treasured sound she’s ever heard. She can already feel that he is enjoying this as much as she is, but she’s rewarded even further by his praise.

Emmrich tells her that she’s exquisite, and doing such a good job, and it just about sends her over the edge there and then. His praise in their everyday interactions always flustered her but here, now, with his lips brushing her ear and his hands on her naked skin it’s otherworldly. He can tell she’s getting too restless, too antsy for this to move forward quickly so she can release this tension building inside of her, and does what Rook always hoped he would. He takes the lead, takes control, instructs her on exactly what to do.

“Darling there is no need to rush tonight,” he says. “Just relax, I promise I’m not going anywhere,” and how she melts, how she sighs and drapes herself over him like her body has turned to liquid. He’s rock hard under her and she’s wetter than she's ever been in her life and he still hasn’t moved his hands down further, rather opting to stroke up and down her sides, occasionally coming up to brush her face, her chest, or gripping hard onto her thighs. It’s driving her absolutely mad, and the more friction she seeks the harder the pressure with which he holds down her thighs becomes. It's hard enough to bruise now, and Maker how she hopes he leaves her covered in marks that only they know exist. She’s in ecstasy, in agony, in everything in between and is seeking a deeper sensation with great fervor.

Emmrich’s kisses begin venturing down, moving from her lips down her throat and eventually to her chest. His hands move up to slowly unclasp her bandeau and expose her tits. He leans back just slightly, taking in her appearance slowly, savoring each new patch of skin, each scar because she truly is littered with them. Being a crow is not an easy life for multiple reasons but vanity gets dismissed almost immediately when wounds heal poorly, quickly, and the reminders of what once was stays in thin white lines.

“Gorgeous, absolutely perfect,” he whispers like he physically can’t stop the words from leaving his mouth. Rook’s had enough - she’s writhing in his lap like a pathetic lovestruck fool and needs him to do something now. As much as she’d rather this sped up to the main event, she’s glad he’s so insistent on taking their time, reminding her she’s something to savor and not a quick fuck to pass the time.

She takes his hand, slowly moving it down from her waist to between her legs, only a thin strip of fabric separating her from his hand now. He raises his eyebrows at this, kisses her once, and finally lets his hands wander past her underwear, tugging them down and practically ripping them off of her. She shimmies out of them, kicks them to the floor and she’s finally, gloriously naked atop him and he's still almost fully clothed but the disheveled state of him is just as obscene.

Emmrich brings his hands between them and starts to remove his rings but Rook intercepts, asks, “Please, can you keep them on a while longer,” and he smiles, laughs softly and says “Any particular reason why?”

Her skin is burning, her face must be redder than the wine she was drinking only an hour before. “It’s just,” she starts, sighing and grabbing his decorated hand and kissing his palm, running his fingers across her lips. “Your hands, your rings, they’ve caught my attention once or twice,” is all she can provide before her embarrassment overtakes her arousal.

“Oh do tell,” he says, enjoying this indulgence into her private fantasies. She can’t face him and say this so she does the next best thing, buries her face in his neck as he strokes her back, gently persuading her into telling him what’s on her mind.

“I just…you have incredibly attractive hands,” she explains. “I may or may not have…frequently…fantasized about them,” she adds, her face absolutely burning with embarrassment.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Rook. If you tell me what exactly my hands are doing in these fantasies, I’d be more than happy to turn them to reality,” he says against her ear, kissing the tip of it and slowly running his finger along the edge of the other one.

And the dam is broken, her brain has short circuited and everything is flowing freely. “Touching me, choking me, fingering me,” she blurts out, “Holding onto me tight enough to leave marks. Sometimes letting me remove your rings with my teeth.”

“You spend that much time thinking about my hands?” Emmrich questions, not in a demeaning or accusatory way, but with lust and wonder and pure want drenching his words.

“I told you. You have no idea how badly I want this, how badly I want you,” Rook says.

“Well, who am I to deny you of such an innocent request,” he says, letting his hands wander back down her body, rings still firmly in place. He lets one hand grip her hip, the other continuing to move south until finally reaching its destination, finally making small circles around her clit, so confident in his knowledge of her despite this being the first time he’s touched her. It’s like all those times she’s touched herself and imagined it's him, his deft fingers not even second guessing where to go because he just knows exactly what to do.

The moment his fingers find that already throbbing bundle of nerves she’s absolutely done. Head tipped back, moans and sighs freely escaping her throat, it takes everything in her not to come on the spot. She holds on as long as possible, letting his fingers work their magic. Slowly he thrusts two digits inside of her, saying, “You’re being so good for me, taking my fingers so nicely,” and it's too much, not enough, she needs all of him immediately.

And to think only a short time ago she had no idea what tonight held in store for her, had no idea what his hands felt like inside of her, what his voice sounded like as he talked her over the edge.

It doesn’t take long to get there. Rook was already soaked through her smallclothes when Emmrich kissed her for the first time. One of his hands is in her hair, the other expertly coaxing her towards her release, his praise ringing through her ears. His rings are cold against her entrance, his lips are on her neck saying her name, telling her she’s amazing, and finally the waves of pleasure are crashing over her brain, her hips stuttering on his hand as his fingers trace circles around her clit and move back and forth within her.

This time, when she comes with his name on her lips, he’s actually around to hear it, to kiss it out of her and tell her how wonderful she is, how perfect she feels, how good she did.

She spends one moment, two, breathing and regaining control over her senses. He’s still hard beneath her and she immediately feels bad for neglecting him, for making this evening all about her. Her hands move to his waistband, trying to undo the buttons and pleasure him just as he did her, but his hands stop her from moving any further.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Rook. As far as I’m concerned this night is about you,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over hers as she’s still catching her breath from earlier.

“I need you, all of you,” she whines, the heat building up inside of her again at breakneck speed. She’s been thinking about this encounter for so long that she’s not going to let it be over that fast.

“Then I am more than happy to oblige, my dear.”

If the rest of the crew wasn’t wrapped up with their own affairs or actively trying to save the world, maybe they would have noticed the little glances between Rook and Emmrich. They don't see the stolen kisses in an empty kitchen, his hand gently resting on her thigh after family dinner when they're all still gathered around the table, grateful for a slow evening with each other.

They don’t seem to notice Rook entering and exiting Emmrich’s study at odd hours in various states of dress and undress. They don’t see her pressed up against his bookshelves, or on her knees with his hands in her hair. They absolutely don't hear her moans and cries of joy, don't hear his steady voice talking her through her orgasms or the sweet nothings he whispers into her skin in the early hours of the morning.

They definitely don't notice the time he bent her over the couch in the library, both of them slightly thrilled with the knowledge that anyone could walk in and see them. He had to keep his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet (which only wrecked her further).

If they see the little bruises on the base of her neck, her collarbones, her arms that look suspiciously ring shaped and are only a finger's width apart, they don’t ask questions.

It’s Neve who figures it out first, unsurprisingly. She and Rook are walking back to the eluvian after a meeting at the Cobbled Swan when she asks,

“So, care to share what’s been going on with you and Emmrich?” She’s got a knowing look in her eyes and a friendly, teasing tone in her voice.

“There's not much to say,” Rook says, knowing she looks incredibly guilty at the moment. She can feel her cheeks and ears heating up. She shrugs and continues, “He just…is so knowledgeable. About the fade, I mean. And I’ve been learning a lot from his instruction.” she continues futilely. Neve can see right through her if that smirk is anything to go by.

“Oh I'm sure,” Neve says, smiling and elbowing Rook softly on the arm, detouring their route while Rook is distracted. They arrive at Neve’s favorite fried fish stand and as they get in line she adds, “You’re telling me everything while we eat. Spare no details; I want the full story.” And Rook is laughing, butterflies are fluttering in her stomach and she feels like a schoolgirl giggling about her crush. She obliges and tells Neve everything, secretly excited that they've been noticed, all too happy to gossip with her friend about this aspect of her life.

Later, when they've returned to the lighthouse, Rook makes no excuses and heads directly up to Emmrich’s room, sparing a mirthful glance at Neve who shakes her head and laughs. She's giddy to tell him the ruse is up, that Tevinter’s finest detective has figured them out. He's seated at his desk when she opens his door, reading over his correspondences from colleagues at the Necropolis and the latest updates from Myrna and Vorgoth.

“Give me twenty more minutes to finish up and respond to these and I’m all yours,” Emmrich says as Rook walks over to his desk. “Maybe thirty, but no longer than that.” he adds as she walks behind his chair and wraps her arms around his neck, gently placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m back from Minrathous. And that Neve has figured us out.” she says, savoring the way he immediately loses concentration on the materials in front of him.

“Come again?” he asks, brows furrowed and mouth open in that delightful, flustered look he used to get when she first started flirting with him.

“Turns out we haven't been as sneaky as I thought,” she says, moving to lean back and rest against his desk. Her arms are crossed over her chest but her voice is light, the smile she's had since her lunch outing is still plastered on her face.

“It was bound to happen eventually with all of us living in such close proximity to one another,” he responds, much more carefree and accepting of the situation than his initial reaction was. “As much as I enjoyed this being our little secret I can’t find it within myself to care too much about the others knowing,” he adds.

“Well, that’s all I wanted to share. I’ll leave you to it then,” Rook says as she pushes off his desk and makes for the door. She pauses when she feels Emmrich’s hand reaching out and grabbing hers, stopping her in her tracks. She turns back to face him, her eyebrows raising as he reels her back to him.

“I thought you needed twenty or thirty minutes to finish up what you were working on,” she teases, her voice dropping to an imitation of his from earlier. She jokes, but is all too ready to go along with whatever plan he’s concocting for the rest of their afternoon.

“Well,” he says as he leans back in his chair and she settles down on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and arms circling around his neck. “I’m sure Myrna and Vorgoth will be fine if I take a little longer than usual to get back to them.”

“Whatever you say love,” Rook sighs as his lips meet her neck, his hands already gripping onto her hips. The world will keep turning outside of this little bubble they’ve created, the questions from their companions will start immediately once Neve confirms everyone's suspicions.

They’ll start to really notice the glances, the touches, the private conversations in crowded rooms. But for now it's just them, alone, and Rook finds she doesn’t mind one bit. She’d follow him anywhere, do anything he asked, just to have these moments of peace at his side.

#datv #dragon age the veilguard #rook x emmrich #emmrook #dragon age fanfiction #hand kink girlies this one is for you #i'll stop naming fics after taylor swift lyrics when she stops writing good lyrics #elf crow female rook too btw

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lostsyren · 3 days ago

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༊·˚ Find me on TikTok: @syr3nedits

Can we talk about Sofia’s perspective in the relationship? She gets with his guy, who’s this charming, sweet man, but she can tell he’s hiding something. It is like he is wearing a different face around his friends to when he acts alone with her. And this boy has grisly rumours tied to his name and his legacy, but she doesn’t believe them because she’s fallen in love with him. He’s whisked her away into this kook fantasy, but he shies away from commitment. She’s his “friend” not girlfriend despite nearly two years of being together. But she gives him the benefit of the doubt time after time. But when he says she’s just a hookup, a pogue he wouldn’t live with, she thinks enough is enough and enacts her revenge. But even then she makes sure she’s not hurting him too bad and believes Hollis’ words that the deal is lucrative. A day after, she’s already feeling the guilt and tries to fix her mistake, but the damage is already done. And when Rafe begins to talk about a future together with her, she’s left confused– didn’t he say he didn’t want to live with her? So now she’s under this immense guilt, and tries her best to find out what Hollis is up to. She needs to fix her mistake. She also needs to fess up to Rafe. So she plucks up the courage, about to confess, when he gets down on one knee to propose. She’s shocked– marriage? He really does love her the way she loves him. But still she needs to come clean. But that’s when he says he doesn’t care what she did, he wants to be with her unconditionally, and a weight is lifted off her shoulders. He’s told her to quit her job and move in– and she does. She loves him and he loves her. But then her fiancé, her future husband to be, calls her, his voice uncharacteristically callous. Groff told him about her involvement, her mistakes have come back to haunt her. She’s frozen, scared how Rafe will react. But then instead of talking with her, begging her to explain– he just ends it. “Pack your shit and get out of my house.” He’s never spoken like that to her before, so casually cruel. Then he ends the phone call, not letting her speak once, leaving her jobless, heartbroken and guilt-ridden. And the worst thing is, she thinks it’s deserved.

#outer banks #rafe and sofia #rafe x sofia #sofia outer banks #rafe cameron #sofia obx #drew starkey #fiona palomo #rafe cameron thoughts #sofia outer banks thoughts #rafe and sofia edit #sofia outer banks edit #outer banks edit #outer banks season 4 spoilers #outer banks 4 #༊*·˚syren

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whosscruffylooking · 22 hours ago

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steve harrington x fem! reader Open Arms Masterlist word count: 6.3k ~1984~

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Later that evening, Steve finds himself pacing the length of his living room, running a hand through his hair for what feels like the hundredth time. The silence of the house is unbearable, filled with his swirling thoughts and unanswered questions. He doesn’t know what to do, and the frustration of it all is starting to feel like too much.

Finally, he grabs his keys and heads out the door. He doesn’t have a plan, but somehow, his feet lead him to Dustin’s house. If there’s anyone who might have an answer—or at least say something that could make sense of this mess—it’s the kid who seems to know way too much about life for his age.

When Dustin opens the door, he’s holding a partially dismantled walkie-talkie and wearing a look of mild confusion. “Steve? What are you doing here? And…why didn’t you drive your car?”

“I need to talk to you,” Steve blurts out, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He sinks into the nearest chair, his head dropping into his hands. “It’s about Y/N.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and he immediately shuts the door, tossing the walkie onto a nearby table. “Oh man, this is gonna be good. Spill.”

Steve hesitates, unsure how to even start. “I don’t know what to do. Last night, things… things got intense, and I thought we had this moment, you know? Like, we finally said what we’ve been too scared to say for years. But now she’s pulling back, and I don’t know if I should—” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I should keep pushing or just… leave it alone.”

Dustin crosses his arms, tilting his head as he considers Steve’s words. “Okay, first of all, what exactly did you say? Because if you half-assed it, that’s on you.”

Steve groans, leaning back against the chair. “I didn’t half-ass it. I told her she’s my whole world. That I couldn’t survive if something happened to her. I meant every word.”

“Okay, cool. So you laid it all out there,” Dustin says, nodding approvingly. “And now she’s avoiding you?”

“Pretty much.”

Dustin shrugs. “She’s probably just freaking out. I mean, think about it, Steve. Last night was crazy. People don’t just process stuff like that overnight. Plus, she’s probably wondering if you meant it or if it was, like, adrenaline talking.”

“I did mean it,” Steve says quickly, his voice firm.

“I know that, and you know that, but does she?” Dustin points out, raising an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to prove it.”

“How?”

Dustin smirks. “By being the guy she already knows you are. You’ve been in love with her for years, right? So don’t stop now. Show her you meant what you said. Don’t let her run away just because she’s scared.”

Steve leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he takes in Dustin’s words. “And what if I push too hard and just end up making it worse?”

“Steve,” Dustin says, his tone surprisingly serious. “The only way you’re gonna make it worse is if you give up. She’s worth it, right?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. She’s worth it.”

“Then stop overthinking it and just… be there for her. Give her time, but don’t let her forget you meant every word.”

Steve nods slowly, Dustin’s advice sinking in. Maybe the kid’s right. Maybe it’s not about pushing or pulling back—it’s about being steady, being there, and letting her see that his feelings aren’t going anywhere.

“Don’t let her forget I meant every word,” Steve takes a mental note. “Thanks kid.”

“Anytime, big guy,” Dustin replies, grinning. “But, uh, maybe next time, bring snacks. We’ve got brainstorming to do and we’re doing it on an empty stomach.”

The kid pulls out a notebook and begins scribbling ideas into it.

Steve leans back in Dustin’s chair, arms crossed as his mind drifts, until he blurts out, “I wrote her a note once.”

Dustin freezes mid-sentence. “A note?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Back in ninth grade. It was, like, this stupid thing where I wrote down all the stuff I… liked about her.”

Dustin’s pen drops onto the desk, and he swivels around in his chair to face Steve, his expression somewhere between shock and delight. “Hold up. You wrote an actual love note, and you’ve just been sitting on this information? What did it say?”

“I don’t remember,” Steve lies, avoiding Dustin’s eyes.

“Bull,” Dustin says, narrowing his gaze. “You remember every word, don’t you?”

Steve sighs, defeated. “Okay, fine. I remember some of it. But it doesn’t matter because I never gave it to her.”

“You still have it?” Dustin asks, leaning forward like he’s about to discover buried treasure.

“I think so,” Steve mutters. “It’s probably in some box in my closet or something.”

Dustin practically leaps out of his chair. “We’re going to your house. Right now.”

“No way,” Steve says, shaking his head.

“Steve,” Dustin says, crossing his arms and giving him a look that’s far too confident for a 13-year-old. “This note could be the key to unlocking her heart. You’re always telling me to take risks and go after what I want, so why don’t you take your own advice for once?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, but only if you agree to stop badgering me about it.”

Dustin smirks. “And?”

“And,” Steve adds, “I’ll help you prepare for the winter formal.”

“Sold!” Dustin says, already grabbing his coat.

They rummage through Steve’s closet for nearly half an hour, tossing aside old yearbooks, basketball trophies, and forgotten sneakers, until Dustin shouts, “Found it!”

He holds up a folded piece of paper, yellowed slightly with age, and waves it triumphantly.

Steve snatches it from him, his face already burning. “Give me that.”

“Absolutely not,” Dustin says, dodging out of reach. “This is a historical document. It belongs in a museum!”

“Dustin, I swear—”

“Relax,” Dustin says, finally unfolding the note. He scans the page, his smirk slowly fading as he reads. “Dude,” he says quietly, glancing up at Steve. “This is… actually kind of sweet. ‘The way you always sticks up for people, even when you’re intimidated.’”

Steve shrugs, avoiding Dustin’s gaze. “Yeah, well…”

“‘Or how you always get mad when I cheat at Monopoly,’” Dustin’s voice softens. “That’s… wow, man.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

Dustin keeps reading. “‘The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking too hard.’”

“Okay, now you’re just embarrassing me,” Steve mutters, trying to grab the note again.

But then Dustin freezes, his eyes widening as he reads a particular line. A slow grin spreads across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Steve asks, suddenly nervous.

“‘The dream I had about you in that red bathing suit….” his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What dream, Harrington?”

Steve’s face turns beet red. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Was it romantic? Or… did you have to wake up in the middle of the night to take a shower after?” Dustin teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Dustin, I swear, if you—”

“Does she know about this dream?!”

Steve grabs the note and crumples it in his fist. “Forget you ever read that.”

But Dustin is already cackling, doubling over with laughter. “Oh, this is too good. You had a secret ninth-grade fantasy about her, and now you’re still pining after her? Man, you’re pathetic!”

Steve groans, running a hand down his face. “Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because I’m your only hope,” Dustin says, still laughing as he throws an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go use this note to win her over. Minus the dream part, obviously. Unless you want to make things really interesting.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head but unable to keep the small smile off his face. “I’m so going to regret this.”

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Steve grips the steering wheel a little tighter, his knuckles turning white as Dustin leans over from the passenger seat with that insufferable grin plastered on his face.

“You realize the more you avoid it, the worse it sounds, right? Like, was this dream so scandalous it could ruin your life?”

Steve groans, rolling his eyes as he pulls up to a stoplight. “No, it wasn’t scandalous. It was… Look, it’s none of your business.”

Dustin leans closer, his grin widening, “Was it one of those superhero moments where she saved you from drowning?” He pauses dramatically, tapping his chin. “Actually, no—let me guess. You were the one saving her…chest compressions, mouth to mouth.”

Steve nearly chokes on his own breath, his hand slamming against the wheel. “Dustin, I swear—”

“Oh my God,” Dustin cuts him off, gasping in mock realization. “Was it one of those dreams? Like, she’s there in slow motion, water dripping off her, and you’re there rubbing tanning oil all over her body?”

“Cut it out, Henderson!” Steve snaps, his ears burning.

Dustin smirks, leaning back in his seat. “Man, you’re so red right now. It must’ve been some dream.”

“You seriously need a hobby.”

“This is my hobby,” Dustin says proudly. “Now, tell me about the dream, or I’ll tell her there’s a dream.”

“You wouldn’t,” Steve says, eyes narrowing as the light turns green. He presses the gas a little harder than necessary.

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Dustin replies, grinning ear to ear. “She’d love to know how much you’ve been thinking about her—dream Steve and all.”

“Fine!” Steve shouts, throwing one hand in the air. “It wasn’t even that bad! It was just… we were at the pool at my house, and she was… laughing, okay? It wasn’t some weird thing. It was just her, and she was happy, and it stuck with me. End of story.”

Dustin blinks at him, unimpressed. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Steve says firmly.

Dustin leans back, letting the silence hang for a moment. “You’re the lamest romantic I’ve ever met.”

Steve sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

“But I’m still going to tell her about it.”

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The next afternoon, you sit cross-legged on your bed, staring at your phone and chewing on your bottom lip. Inviting Nancy Wheeler over wasn’t exactly something you’d planned on doing in this lifetime. You’d always been friendly enough, sure, but hanging out one-on-one? Never happened. Still, if there’s anyone who might understand what you’re going through, it’s her.

When Nancy arrives, she hesitates in the doorway, tilting her head curiously. “Hey,” she says, giving you a small, cautious smile. “This is… unexpected.”

“I know,” you admit, stepping aside to let her in. “It’s weird, right? Me, asking you over. But I—well, I need some advice. About Steve.”

Her brows shoot up, and she gives a small laugh of surprise. “Steve?”

You nod quickly, leading her to your room. “Yeah, and before you say anything, I know it’s probably strange. I mean, he’s my best friend, so I should probably know how to handle this myself, but…” You flop onto the bed with a groan, running a hand through your hair. “I just—I feel like I need a different perspective. And you probably know him better than anyone else—aside from me, of course.”

Nancy sits at the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap as she listens. “Okay,” she says slowly, her tone thoughtful. “What’s going on?”

You exhale sharply, tugging at the hem of your sweater. “The other night, during all the chaos, Steve said some things. Big things. About… how he feels about me.”

Nancy blinks, her expression unreadable as she processes your words. “What kind of things?”

“Like… intense things. Like, ‘You’re my whole world,’ kind of things.” You let out a nervous laugh. “And now I don’t know what to do with it. What if it was just the adrenaline talking? What if he doesn’t really mean it?”

Nancy leans back slightly, tilting her head. “Why would you think he didn’t mean it?”

You shrug helplessly. “Because… it’s Steve. He’s been in love with you before. He’s dated other girls. What if I’m just… another phase? Or worse, what if this ruins everything between us?”

Nancy softens, a small smile forming on her lips. “Steve doesn’t really do phases. Sure, he’s dated other people, but he’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”

You blink, her words catching you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that even when we were together, it was obvious how much you meant to him. He talks about you like you hung the stars, Y/N. And I know you’ve been there for him in ways I never could be.” Nancy pauses, then adds gently, “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you. What do you want to happen?”

You hesitate, your cheeks warming as memories of that night with Steve flash through your mind. You almost tell her—that one time, late at night, when things between you and Steve had finally boiled over. When you’d crossed a line that had been hovering between you for years. But instead of making things clearer, it had only complicated everything. And you’d been the one to say it: We should just stay friends.

You stop yourself before the words can escape and opt for something safer. “One time, we… broached the topic of maybe having feelings for each other. But I was the one who shut it down. I was scared of losing him, and I told him it’d be better if we stayed friends.”

Nancy nods slowly, her gaze thoughtful. “And do you still feel that way?”

Your throat tightens, and you struggle to find the words. “I just… I’ve always loved Steve. Not just as my best friend, but more than that. But I never thought he’d see me that way, you know? And now that he’s said this, I don’t know if I can let myself believe it.”

Nancy offers a small smile, her voice steady. “If Steve said it, he meant it. He doesn’t just throw those words around, especially not with you. But I get why you’re scared. It’s a big leap, and there’s a lot at stake. I guess the question is—do you trust him enough to take that leap?”

You sit in silence for a moment, her words sinking in. Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “I want to trust him. I just don’t want to lose him.”

Nancy stands up, grabbing her bag. “I don’t think you’re going to lose him. But you’re never going to know unless you talk to him. Steve’s stubborn, but he’s also patient. He’ll wait until you’re ready.”

You follow her to the door, her words echoing in your mind. “Thanks, Nancy,” you say quietly. “I needed that.”

She offers you a knowing smile. “Anytime. And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not just his best friend. You’re his person. Don’t forget that.”

Nancy’s words settle into the air, and a pang of guilt twists in your chest. You sit back on your bed, nervously picking at the frayed threads of your sweater.

“Nancy,” you start, your voice quieter than before. “Can I ask you something? And you can be honest, okay?”

She tilts her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Of course.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Did I… ever make things harder for you and Steve? When you two were together?”

Nancy looks surprised for a moment, but she recovers quickly, shaking her head. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, guilt gnawing at you. “It’s just… he was my best friend, you know? And I guess I always worried that maybe—maybe I got in the way. Like, maybe my relationship with him made things weird or caused tension between you two. Every other girl broke up with him and blamed me.”

Nancy’s expression softens, and she sits down beside you on the bed. “Y/N, listen to me. Whatever issues Steve and I had, they weren’t because of you. It’s on Steve and I. It’s on me. And, honestly… I’ve felt bad about it for a long time.”

You glance at her, your brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Nancy exhales deeply, brushing a hand through her hair as she glances at you, her expression tinged with guilt. “I guess I should just say it,” she starts hesitantly. “Everything that happened at Murray’s last week… it wasn’t exactly planned. But it also wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment thing, either.”

You blink, confused for a moment before realization dawns. “You mean… when you were with Jonathan?”

Nancy nods, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah. I feel awful about it, especially because—well, Steve and I weren’t officially broken up yet. We were in this weird place, like we both knew things were falling apart, but we hadn’t said it out loud. And then…” She pauses, guilt flickering in her eyes. “I said some things I can’t take back.”

You hesitate, “Steve…kind of hinted that you did.”

She sighs, dropping her gaze. “I told him I didn’t love him. Not really. And I was drunk, so I just blurted it out. And after that, I… I slept with Jonathan when we were at Murray’s.”

Her voice is heavy with regret, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. She looks at you again, her eyes searching yours. “I hate that I hurt Steve like that, but honestly? After everything with Barb and Will last year, I waited. For a whole month, I waited for Jonathan to make a move, to say something, to give me some kind of sign. But he didn’t. And when he didn’t… I went back to Steve.”

You frown slightly, the pieces of their complicated history falling into place. “So, you and Steve…”

Nancy nods. “We weren’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it felt safe. Familiar. Like maybe if I tried hard enough, I could make it work. But deep down, I think I always knew it wasn’t going to last.”

Her words leave you quiet, a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest. “Do you think he… knows how you felt?”

“I think he does now,” she admits softly. “After everything that happened last week, I think we both finally faced the truth. We weren’t holding onto each other because we were in love. We were holding on because it was easier than letting go.”

Her honesty feels like a weight lifted, and yet it also leaves you with a strange pang of guilt. “Nancy, I never meant to… I don’t know, make things harder for you two.”

She shakes her head quickly. “You didn’t. Trust me, Y/N, you were never the problem. If anything, I think you were part of what kept Steve grounded when everything else was falling apart.”

You open your mouth to argue, but she cuts you off, her tone firm. “Listen. Whatever happened between Steve and me, it was on us. You’ve always been his best friend. And honestly? You were what he needed—what he always needed. Don’t feel guilty about that.”

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Nancy pulls into the driveway of her house just as she spots Steve’s unmistakable car parked at the curb. She furrows her brow, stepping out of her car as Steve gets out of his.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, crossing her arms.

Steve jerks a thumb toward the passenger side of his car, where Dustin is already halfway out, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Dropping off the little twerp,” he says, his tone teasing.

“Hey!” Dustin protests, shooting a glare at Steve before turning to Nancy. “Don’t let him fool you—he’s practically begging for my advice every time we hang out now.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Get inside, Henderson.”

Dustin smirks but doesn’t argue, heading toward the front door. As he disappears inside, Nancy tilts her head at Steve, her curiosity piqued.

“So,” she says, leaning casually against her car, “what’s really going on?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “What makes you think anything’s going on?”

Nancy raises an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Because I just came from Y/N’s house.”

Steve stiffens, his expression guarded. “Yeah? And?”

“And,” Nancy says slowly, “she’s… confused. But in a good way. If that makes sense.”

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “Confused. Right. That’s one way to put it.”

Nancy frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s the one pulling away,” Steve says, frustration creeping into his voice. “And it’s not the first time, either. Every time things get close—too close—she just… runs. Like I don’t mean enough for her to stay.”

Nancy crosses her arms, her expression softening. “Steve, that’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he snaps, before immediately sighing and running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just… I don’t get it. I put myself out there, and she shuts down. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Nancy steps closer, her tone firm but gentle. “You’re supposed to remember that Y/N’s been through a lot. She’s not pulling away because you don’t mean enough—she’s pulling away because you mean too much, and it terrifies her. You know that.”

Steve leans back against his car, his jaw tightening. “I’m tired of being the one who’s always chasing, Nancy.”

“I get that,” she says softly. “But you’re not exactly easy for her, either. You think it’s been simple for her to figure out where she fits into your life? Especially with… everything that’s happened?”

Steve looks at her, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable.

Nancy sighs, her voice softening. “Steve, she cares about you. So much. But she’s scared—of hurting you, of getting hurt, of all of it. You’re both trying to protect each other in the most backward ways possible.”

Steve looks down at the pavement, her words sinking in.

“You know her better than anyone,” Nancy continues. “If you really care about her—and I know you do—you’ll be patient. She needs that from you right now, even if she doesn’t know how to say it.”

Steve nods slowly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “And if she keeps running?”

Nancy smirks faintly. “Then you stop chasing her like some knight in shining armor and just be her friend. Show her you’re not going anywhere. That’s what she really needs.”

Steve exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “You really think I have a shot?”

Nancy nods firmly. “I do. But you’re going to have to stop letting your ego get in the way and start listening to her.”

Steve offers a small smile. “Thanks, Wheeler. You’re not half-bad at this advice thing.”

Nancy chuckles, stepping back toward her car. “Don’t let it go to your head, Harrington. Now, go figure it out.”

Steve watches her head inside before climbing back into his car, her words still echoing in his mind. For the first time in a while, he feels like maybe he has a chance.

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Steve stands on the porch, his hand hesitating over the doorbell, unsure if he’s doing the right thing. Every nerve in his body is telling him to turn around, to give you the space you’ve been demanding, but something in him refuses to walk away. Not this time.

He knocks. A soft, quiet sound that somehow feels louder than it should be. He waits, but when the door finally creaks open, he’s not sure what he’s expecting. There you are, your eyes red, face blotchy, but it’s the exhaustion in your expression that hits him hardest. Like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world, and he hasn’t been there to help you with it.

You stare at him for a long beat, silent. Then, your eyes flicker away, and you step aside, almost reluctantly, like you want to pull away but can’t quite make yourself do it.

Steve steps into the dim hallway, pausing for a moment before looking at you again, his voice shaky as he finally speaks. “We’re good,” he says, the words feeling foreign on his tongue now. He calls to mind what he told you the other night, the words that had earned him a response from you that felt so much more promising than this silence between you now.

You look away, a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head. He swallows hard, the rawness of what he’s saying clawing at him. “Look, we don’t have to talk about it, okay?” he mutters, stepping closer, but careful not to push you. “I just need to be with you tonight. Like we used to. Listening to Queen, being there for each other. We’ve been through so much the past few days, so much we haven’t even—”

He cuts himself off, his voice trailing off in the heavy silence that fills the space between you. He wants to say more, wants to explain how terrified he is that he’s losing you, how much he’s been aching in this silence, but the words catch in his chest, too painful to speak aloud.

Your gaze softens for just a second, but it’s fleeting, and when you look at him again, there’s a distance that wasn’t there before. The ache in Steve’s chest grows sharper, but he doesn’t move. He’s here now. He’s not leaving.

With a sigh, you slowly nod, and it’s the smallest of gestures, but it feels like a concession, like you’re letting him in even though you’re not sure you should.

Steve steps past you, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He doesn’t know how this will play out, or what the next day will bring. But tonight, for a few hours, he wants to hold onto the part of you he still knows. Maybe tomorrow he’ll figure out what to do with the mess that’s left between you. But for now, he just wants to be there.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You lay on the bed, your eyes tracing the familiar cracks in the ceiling as silent tears slip down your face. The weight of everything—the words, the feelings, the confusion—presses down on you in a way you can’t escape. You’re torn between wanting to stay close to Steve, to believe that there’s something real between you, and the fear that maybe all of this is just a result of the chaos surrounding you.

Steve lays next to you, the soft hum of the record player filling the room, but the silence between you is thick and suffocating. Neither of you speaks. Both of you are lost in your thoughts, drowning in the unspoken tension that’s become impossible to ignore.

After a long, painful silence, you reach out, your hand trembling as you pick up a crumpled-up note from the bed beside you. It’s a familiar weight, one that you’d hidden for years, and now it feels like the only thing you can offer him. You hand Steve the crumpled letter. Your fingers linger for a second before letting go, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Read it when you get home, okay?”

Steve hesitates, glancing between the letter and you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, eyes fixed on the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. “Just… not here. Please.”

He doesn’t push, sensing the fragility of the moment. Instead, he tucks the letter carefully into his jacket pocket and lays back beside you, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. For the rest of the night, neither of you speaks, the silence both comforting and charged.

When it’s time for him to leave, Steve rises quietly, his steps deliberate and slow. He pauses at the door, glancing back at you one last time, curled up under the covers, your face turned away. He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper—the note he found with Dustin.

Without a word, he places it on your dresser, hidden just enough for you to find it later, and slips out of the room.

As the door clicks shut, you close your eyes, the heaviness of the night settling over you. Little do you know, the words Steve left behind are waiting to change everything.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Steve steps into his darkened house, the familiar silence pressing in around him. Tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter, he pulls the crumpled letter from his pocket and unfolds it carefully, smoothing the creases as if the words might slip away if he isn’t gentle enough.

The handwriting is unmistakably yours—slightly slanted, the ink smudged in places. His chest tightens before he even reads the first word, the weight of what this letter might hold hitting him like a freight train.

Dear Steve,

I’m not sure I should even be writing this. Maybe I won’t even give it to you. Do you remember in the fifth grade when you asked me to marry you? I told you boys were gross and I’d never marry one. Later that night, you climbed the tree outside my window for the first time and knocked on the glass to propose again. You said your mom had told you about Romeo and Juliet, and how Romeo climbed up to her window because he loved her. You promised you’d never stop climbing my window until I said yes because you loved me.

As his eyes scan the page, memories flash through his mind like a reel of film. A small smile tugs at his lips, bittersweet and nostalgic. He does remember. He remembers the way you rolled your eyes at him, how he’s never stopped climbing that tree outside your window and he never will.

A year later, when we were twelve, some kids in our class started talking about kissing, and everyone thought it was gross. So we tried it. We both liked it. A lot. I think that’s because we liked each other.

His breath catches. He’s suddenly back in that moment—young, nervous, and exhilarated. He remembers the way your laughter had bubbled up after, the way you had looked at him like he was the only person in the world.

Here’s where the problem is, Steve—I don’t think I ever stopped liking you.

Steve swallows hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the paper as his heart pounds in his chest. He reads the words again, slower this time, as if savoring them will make them feel less surreal.

I didn’t fully realize it at first. Sure, I’ve had crushes on other boys, but none of them made me feel the way you do. You’re the one I actually enjoy spending time with. When Mom and Dad fight, she always tells me that if I ever get married, I need to marry someone who’s my friend first. She says the key to a happy relationship is falling in love with your best friend. (I still think marriage is kind of gross, and boys are too. You’re just the least gross, I guess.) And, well… you’re my best friend.

Sometimes I think about being an adult with you—no school, just us. We could listen to music and watch movies all day long. We could kiss whenever we wanted to. (I’ve wanted to kiss you again for a while now, but you’ve been kissing Julie from science class, and I don’t want it to feel like I’m kissing her by kissing you.) Honestly, I’d love to just laugh with you for the rest of my life.

A soft, shaky laugh escapes him, but it’s lined with something deeper—regret, maybe, or longing. He presses a hand to his face, trying to process the flood of emotions washing over him.

The letter feels like a window into a version of you he never fully understood, a version that had been hiding in plain sight all along. You had felt this way for so long, and he had been so blind to it, too caught up in his own confusion and fears to notice.

You’re always telling me how much I annoy you because I can never pick a favorite anything. But the truth is, I do have a favorite—and it’s you.

You’re my favorite person. My favorite way to spend a late night at Lover’s Lake. My favorite pair of eyes to get lost in when we’re hiding under the covers, trying not to get caught after you’ve snuck in. My favorite arms to wrap around me. My favorite voice.

You’re all my favorites.

Okay, I’m grossing myself out now, so I’m going to stop writing. But I guess… I hope I fall in love with you. And maybe one day you’ll feel the same. I think I’d like that a lot.

Y/N

As he reads the final lines—You’re my favorite person… You’re all of my favorites—he feels something inside him crack open.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible in the empty room.

He sets the letter down on the counter, staring at it as if it might disappear. A lump rises in his throat, and he swipes at his eyes quickly, irritated at himself for being this emotional.

But he can’t help it. The words you wrote, the vulnerability you had poured into them—it’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear and everything he’s terrified of.

Grabbing the letter, he folds it carefully and tucks it back into his pocket, a newfound determination lighting his eyes.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You stand in front of the mirror, smoothing out your dress for the winter ball. It feels strange dressing up for an event that’s not even about you—but the kids deserve this, and chaperoning is part of the deal. The fact that Steve might be there too only adds to the weight pressing on your chest.

As you reach for your jewelry box on the dresser, your hand grazes something unfamiliar. You glance down to find a folded piece of notebook paper, tucked just out of sight beneath your hairbrush.

Curious, you pick it up, noticing the boyish scrawl of handwriting on the front. You immediately recognize it. Steve’s.

Your heart stutters. You sit on the edge of your bed, fingers trembling slightly as you unfold the note. The edges are frayed, and the ink is faint in places, as if it’s been folded and tucked away for years.

You start to read:

Y/N,

I don’t know why I’m writing this, but if I don’t, I think I might lose my mind. I can’t say this to you out loud, and maybe I’ll never give this to you, but at least it’s out of my head.

You’re my favorite person. You’re the one I think about when I’m having a bad day, the one who makes me laugh so hard I forget about everything else.

But it’s not just that. It’s so much more. So, I put in here a list I’ve made of all the reasons why you’re my favorite person.

The way you always sticks up for people, even when you’re intimidated. It’s the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking too hard. Or how you always get mad when I cheat at Monopoly, even though you know I’ll never stop doing it. It’s how everything feels easier when you’re around, like nothing can touch me. Don’t even get me started about the dream I had about you in that red bathing suit. You know the one…Yeah. I’m definitely never letting you read this.

Anyways, I think I like you, Y/N. Scratch that—I know I do. I like you in a way that feels way too big for me to handle. But I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you because what if it messes everything up? You’re my best friend, and I’d rather keep you in my life like this than risk losing you completely.

So, yeah. I like you. A lot. And if you ever find this somehow, just know that even if I never say it, it’s how I’ve always felt.

Steve

You lower the note slowly, your vision blurred by the tears pooling in your eyes. The boy Steve was back then—earnest, vulnerable, and so full of quiet, unspoken affection—is written all over these words. And now, looking back, you can see him in the man he is today.

He’s always felt this way.

Your chest tightens as the truth settles over you, undeniable and steady, like the weight of the letter in your hand. This wasn’t adrenaline, or chaos, or the heat of the moment making him say what he did at the Byers’ house. It’s always been there—this love he’s carried for you, just like the note. It was there the day you told him it was best to just stay friends. It was there on every night he’d sneak under your covers or you under his. And it was there in every knowing look from your friends, every teasing question about where you’d both disappeared to when no one else could find you.

Carefully, you fold it back up, your hands trembling as you slip it into your jewelry box like a secret you’re not ready to let go of but need to protect. You glance at the clock, realizing you’re running out of time, but the thought barely registers.

Taking a shaky breath, you brush away the stray tears threatening to streak your makeup. And for the first time in days, there’s no confusion, no doubt. Only the exhilarating, terrifying truth: Steve’s feelings weren’t born in a single moment—they’ve been there for years. Just like yours.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n

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coconut530 · 1 year ago

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LEARN WHEN TO QUIT MAN

(the last pic of Pluto was me watching him try to keep this going)

#Nevermore #Nevermore Webtoon #Webtoon #Wow what an ep #First scene was just Monty getting OWNED which after the hell Duke went through he deserves to do to him #The second panel I thought Duke broke his neck then he broke his LEG #Get roasted idiot #How does it feel being on your knees for once #Duke asking him for one reason (for the love of god in French! Like the EAP story and also like 77!) to kill him #And then he allllllmmmmmoooosssstttt does it #Then *BAM* LENORE #I WAS SO BRACED FOR SPECTRE FIGHT then Duke just went invisible #Glad you could make it Duke!!! She’s so proud of him I just know it #Pluke moment! MAZE TRIO REUNION YEAHHHHH #Monty you look so not good just call it quits buddy #He’s like genuinely shooketh which is unusual like Prospero but Monty’s so shooketh bc like he’s used to having control and it’s being #taken away from him atm which he is REALLY not used to #Pluto’s face 😂 it’s hilarious #I mean Monty is not a great person but the way Flynn drew him in this ep is spectacular #Side profilessssssssss and yes it is a bluff #LIKE LOOK AT HOW CRAZED HE LOOKS IT’S SO COOL #OH NO ADA FEARSCAPE EPISODE NEXT WEEK OH NOOOOOOOOOOO

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chastiefoul · 19 days ago

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nanami kento is known to have a habit of crossing his legs when he sits. when he's reading, or just idly thinking. it's just something he does unconsciously, often time he doesn't even realize it himself.

yet this quickly changes after he got together with you.

now, everytime you come into the same room as him, the man quickly shifted his legs back to a regular position; you know, just in case you want to sit on lap.

fine, he wants you to sit atop of it.

this is all because he had the mistake─one he'll gladly do over and over, of experiencing it once.

the feeling of your body pressed so close against him while you ramble on about absolutely nothing, which he listens to intently with a smile on his face; his hand running along your hair ever so softly while he hums once or twice as response to your animated chatter.

and then you rested your head on his shoulder after getting a bit tired, your strands tickling his neck in the best way possible. his hands moved smoothly to your sides, rubbing up and down. all soothed and relaxed, nanami loves the sight of you being so comfortable near him.

you probably couldn't get closer to him more than this could you? he thought, as he held you tighter nonetheless. he felt content, whole.

so yeah, in short, nanami wants you to sit on his laps.

and with how fast he does it too there's no way you don't notice the subtle change of how he sits lately. yet you don't have the heart to point how obvious he was being, so most of the times you just indulged him, no questions asked. although it's not like it wasn't enjoyable for you, it was the opposite.

not to mention the smile he wears everytime you do it... it's enough to make your knees go weak. a smile you'd go to war for, a smile that's worth doing anything he's asking for.

it seems like nanami isn't the only one who has a new habit, then.

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento

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screampied · 3 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 CHECKED THE RACK ?!

☆ sum. bóob obsessed jjk men who just can keep their hands off of you, their sweet sweet wife. toji, choso, gojo, geto, nanami.

warnings 𝜗𝜚 . fem! reader, wife reader, feral handsy men, bóob fondling, unprotected, cowgirl, dry humping, praise, dirty talk, lactátion fantasizes, brief face-fucking, bréeding mentions, implied multiple rounds, overstim, petnames.

☆ SATORU GOJO.

“god, really missed my girls,” satoru huffs, sucking in a single sharp breath as he buries his face right between your breasts.

you gasp, feeling him lick a single long stripe down the sloping valley of your chest before he roves his tongue to teasingly lap near your perked nipple. he takes a single whiff, and he’s enticed. satoru was always a clingy man. you had his cock stilled inside of your cunt the entire time you laid back against the cushioned mattress. despite it being so early in the morning, he couldn’t help but want more, want you.

pristine white tresses of hair rub up against your chest as he nuzzles further into you. “mhm, seems like they missed me too, mwah,” he kisses your left breast, feeling you cutely writhe. satoru’s still reclined back against the king-sized bed before he shoots you a sleazy grin. “tell me somethin’,” he whispers, and his hands suddenly grab onto your unsteady hips. you moan—feeling him start to leisurely rock you quicker into him. the bulbous curve of his shaft makes your legs merely collapse inward. “you touched yourself today, sweets? while i was work, hm?”

“n- no,” a soft whisper sprints out of your lips as you watch his hands tenderly guide your hips back and forth. you’re drenching his cock with your sweet syrupy sap, clamping down mercilessly within each sloppy thrust. so good, you bit down at the bottom of your lip before your tits start to bounce again. satoru glances straight toward them and he almost moans himself. the way they slap back against your chest. pap pap pap, he feels himself get harder the more he stares at your loud tits hitting against you, his cock sporadically and shamelessly twitching inside of you.

“no?” he repeats, and he noticed how your eyes dart away for a split second as you speak in a hushed voice. as his fat shaft continues to deeply barrel inside of your puffed cunt, he hums, cupping one of your springy soft breasts. “ ‘course ya did, you sent me those soapy pics of you in the bath on my break,” shit. you completely forgot, and you now start to whine as you’re just bouncing on his cock. your head fills up with nothing but clouded empty thoughts—not a single thought in your mind but the longing anticipation of satoru pumping you full of yet another thick load.

ruthlessly, the skin of your own starts to smack back onto your chest over and over as you thoroughly dig the centers of your knees into his thighs. “silly girl,” the white haired man playfully taps against your forehead, giving it a soft dumbing knock. ‘m making that my wallpaper by the way. fuckin’ sexy.”

as you’re whimpering the same repeated cacophonies of his name, you gasp, feeling his palm softly swat against your tits. “fuck, satoru!” you clench down on your jaw and your hips continue to sway. it was a tender delicate spank against your breasts, but he grunts once he feels your pussy squeeze against him the second he does it. you liked it. your body, he knew it—he knew every part of it, and he found it cute how you always responded to his lewd antics. “hngh, ‘m not gonna last, ‘s still sensitive, ‘toru.”

“you’re a kinky ‘lil thing, huh,” he lips curve into sly simper once he hears your cute hiss. you’re growing dumber and dumber the more your ass pounds against him and the brief sting makes him groan. his fat thick base sits right underneath you and you feel how full it is, so swollen. your mouth starts to salivate at the realization of just how deep he’s inside—merrily massaging your gummy clingy walls. satoru loved more than anything to give you a good filling after a long day of work. it was his treat to you, and he couldn’t resist when you were just so sweet. “ooh. like that?” he purrs, and you moan once he then gives your nipples a squeeze with two stubby fingers. fuck, your legs were shaking and he felt it—your body was a ticking time bomb. “yeah, yeah you do. pussy’s a sloppy dead giveaway, angel.”

“sato—ugh,” you moan, and he goes back to sucking on your tits. even whilst buried between your chest, he’s so pretty. satoru’s got the biggest cheekiest grin plastered on his lips as he’s got nothing but your boobs in his mouth. you’re still riding him but once his tongue slurps against your sensitive nipple - it’s over. your brain short circuits and your hands grab onto his hair hard. he’s drooling all down your chest and yet he doesn’t care about being messy. his tongue traces everywhere down your skin until he’s just tenderly sucking at any spot his lips can reach. “fuck, fuck, m- more please.”

“my wife’s got such a pretty body,” he groans, his lips ‘popping’ loudly once he removes your boob from his lips. glossy strands tear away from the slim cracks of his mouth before he rubs a thumb over your throbbing nipple. “y’know what though,” and his voice lowers. you gulp, still having his dick idle inside of your sopping cunt before he leans up close to your ear, pressing a hand down on your tummy. “you’d be an even prettier mommy. think ‘m ready ‘ta see that tummy round ‘n plump again, sweets.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURUO

“ah, ah babygirl. hold still, need ‘ta give the twins some extra lovin’ too,” a raspy voice whispers against the back of your ear.

you moan, slumping back against your husband’s chest. he still had his work clothes on and he’s just came back from home. it’s late evening, dusk preparing to set and yet—the first thing he made sure to do was to touch his pretty wife everywhere.

his bare scarred hands softly grab against both of your breasts, making them playfully bounce in his palms. “no bra too? such a good girl.”

“t- toji,” you whimper, almost forgetting that his cock was still buried deep inside of you. hes not even moving, you’re not even moving and yet you feel his thick heavy cock plummet through your goopy insides. he’s always been a clingy man, you knew that, and if it wasn’t your ass toji fushiguro was utterly obsessed with, it was your tits.

you were wearing nothing but a silky ivory colored nightgown. he peeped at how your perky nipples would rub and poke out against the showy soft fabric and he hums in sly amusement.

your hips were slow, painfully slow.

you were barely moving, but his cock was very much keeping your gummy insides occupied. his touch was fiery hot and you collapse back against his chest before feeling his lips kiss down your neck. “fuck, i still have to m- make dinner.”

“no need, hon,” he huskily snickers, and you let off another moan once he gives both of your breasts a firm squeeze. he’s obsessed, the rotund prints of his thumbs couldn’t resist to swipe and swerve all across your sensitive nipples just to feel you squirm and writhe on his cock.

oh, you could never stay still and it was his favorite thing about you. you cutely shiver from his touch, leaning into his grasp before hearing your own cunt squelch.

it’s screaming out a pretty sloshing ‘pop’ sound that echoes through the thin peeling dry walls and a wry smile compresses against toji’s lips. “already got my dinner right fuckin’ here,” and you moan once one of his hands creep down toward the curvature of your ass, giving it a soft spank. “ah, never said you could stop ridin’ me, pretty mama. work those hips more f’me. chop chop.”

“ngh, toji i’m gonna cu— oh!” you shriek, and as your jerking hips start to pick up again, slamming meaner and quicker against his lap, you gush right out. you end up cumming far earlier than you anticipated, all thanks to his rude blushing tip repeatedly kissing and mashing up against your most sweetest spots. you’ve never felt more dumb. you’re at a lost for words, stupidly dumbfounded. you’re moaning out inaudible whimpers as you hear your slick mess slosh down right between your pried open thighs. toji grunts, feeling your honeyed mess spray and cream all down his twitching lengthy shaft. his cock’s still plugged into your greedy pussy as your legs now grow limp. toji’s got his hands glued back on your tits and he playfully gives them a few bounces. “f- fuck.”

“did ya just cum from me playin’ with yer tits, baby?” he coos, a wolffish grin spreading against his lips.

so hot, your legs continue to spasm before squeezing shut, keeping his dick inside. you could barely even swallow without moaning out little whimpers of his name as your tongue’s just casually lolled out of your mouth.

“aw,” he tsks, giving your nipples that poke through your blouse a kittenish pinch. you’re weakly grinding against his lap whilst he’s whispering sweet nothings to you from behind. you’ve never felt more sensitive—and ripples surge all through your body as you ride out your orgasm, hearing toji’s breath get more rasp against the shell of your ear. “there there babygirl, ‘s okay. relax,” he whispers in a gruff tone as one of his hands slide down your body. you twitch from his callused fingers slithering down your chest. “such a messy cutie, should play with y’er tits more often if ya get like this, heh.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

“thought about you today at work,” nanami purrs, a husky baritone smoothing underneath his tone. your drooling wet pussy was so so closed to milking him yet again, and he’s just in awe at how you ride him good—bouncing on his fat cock with droopy half-open eyes. he’s exhausted, he’s been up and about his feet all day everyday, same old same old nine to five job but he was missing you. and now that he had you, he was clingy. nanami kento was clingy, so clingy to the point where you had to pry his hands off. he’s got you riding him in his creaking wooden rocking chair whilst he’s got a flustered grin curling against his slick glossed lips. “thought about you ‘n these pretty girls too.”

right as he said that though, he’s got two big hands squeezing against your tits, cupping them each in such a delicate manner. you gasp, continuing to rock back and forth against his halfway pulled down silk slacks before you moan. “fuck, ‘ken,” and his touch was so tender. his fingertips trace everywhere—every crevice and corner of your body. you still had your bra clasped on and he can’t help but openly gawk.

your wobbly hips continue to swivel all around him as your ass rigorously throws itself on his lap, smack smack smacking away. it feels sharp, your unpredictable movements that were once in sync with his grew more and more unsteady and it makes the aging rocking chair behave more and more rickety. it’s pathetically crying from the pounds of hefty weight crushing against it. “mhm,” you mewl through gritted teeth and your hands softly grab onto his wide wrists. a thumb of yours ghosts against the band of his rolex and he shoots you a needy grin. “kento, you never answered my question.”

“hm? oh,” there’s a playful glint in his eye, and you moan again once his head goes right between your springy tits. he’s showering every exposed area with a multitude of wet chaste kisses, making sure your skin knows who’s making it feel good - him. “oh, my day was fine sweetheart,” and a drawing hot breath gets stuck in the back of your throat, feeling his sly tongue slowly and playfully lap down the valley of your breasts. “mhm, so fine,” and his voice drops lower and lower. your hips start to slow down with seconds and he’s just toying with you. nanami’s hands now slither further down to toward your quavery hips. “my day’s even better now that i’m spendin’ it with my pretty wifey.”

and you let off a sweetened three second moan once he starts to latch his glistening lips against your swollen neglected nipples. shaggy blond strands of hair tickle against the upper part of your chest as he starts to suck, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to roam. “ah, i remember when milk used to come from here, my love,” he grunts, shifting between each tit — he’s tender, making sure to take his time whilst his hardened cock’s still hidden inside of your puffy cunt. nanami’s cupping each hand over your breasts before his gentle fawn eyes meet yours. the tip of his tongue swirls around your achy nipple before he groans right into your chest. “thinkin’ about that makes me wanna put another baby in you, sweetheart. f- fuck, all swollen ‘n plump. you’d like that?”

“y- yes,” you moan, and your hips start to frantically pick up again. the angered plump crownhead of nanami’s cock extends through each pivotal thrust and you feel it. the curving hook of his cock repeatedly thrashes up inside of you and you’ve never felt more full. he’s just so deep, you bite back a moan or two before your breathing starts to catch up with you. he’s tapping against a spongy texture and it makes your thighs squeeze together in sudden rapture. “want another baby, please. give me another..another baby,” your words start to chop as your hips become sloppy. your pussy’s got his entire cock slobbering down from the veiny sides with your sap and he grunts at the sloshing slickness.

“give you?” nanami softly rasps, and he raises a blond eyebrow at your needy demand. “oh, baby. that’s not how we ask. c’mon, be a big girl ‘n ask me the right way, sweet thing,” and he grazes a thumb over your pouting lip, kissing it gingerly. “talk to me nice, my love.”

as his cock roughly punctuates inside of you within each exaggerated thrust, you toss your arms over him, whimpering loudly. “please, please can i have another baby, ‘ken. breed me, make me full. want it so bad, want you.” and he leans in to kiss you. it’s passionate, his lips dance against yours whilst his tongue slides into your mouth, demanding access. you moan, feeling his solid weight continue to anchor into yours. slamming, he’s got your hips working to the bone and it makes him groan. nanami’s hand go back toward your tits and he gives them a nice good feel, smiling against your lips once he feels the full doughy mounds bounce and jolt in his hand.

“better be a g-good girl ‘n take it then,” he huffs, stammering over his own words. nanami leans in, going back to sucking against your tits. they slap and move move all against his face due to your rocky hips and a faint grin tugs on both sides of his lips. your hips grind further into him at full speed—full throttle and you moan once one of his hands gives your ass a squeeze which turns into a quick spank. “mhm, that’s it. ride me, honey. milk me, got so much ‘ta give you,” and your skin melts into him the faster you move. skin against skin and it smacks rough, ricocheting against both pounds of flesh and you whimper at the brief twinges of pleasure. each smack against flesh makes your ears ring and it’s only seconds before he’s cumming.

it’s a lot, a thick load of velvety ropes that deeply pours into your aching cunt. it’s so much to where it’s unapologetically dribbling down your thighs in creamy stringy clumps. it can’t fit inside of your cunt—he groans at the realization, cupping your right tit before going back to sucking against it whilst staring you straight in the eyes. “fuck, i- i need a minute,” and he’s gradually feeling his body succumb to defeat as his burly muscles tense underneath his business attire. with your tit still popped in his mouth, nanami shoots you a wry pussy drunk smile before lathering his tongue around your tender nipple. after a few seconds, he takes it out of his mouth before falling back. his and clench underneath his business shirt and he playfully smacks your ass, another hand dramatically fanning himself. “whew.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

“a- are you sure?” choso mumbles with a pout, and he’s panting heavily at the sight that’s right before him. you’re on your knees for him whilst your two hands cup under both of your tits. doing so—you show off your pretty nails he paid for about a week ago. you make direct eye contact with his leaking cock. his tip was a pearly pink, swollen with tears of pre-cum spewing from the sides. he’s got a hand wrapped around his length before he exhales. “i just—put it in between..?”

“mhm,” you softly coo, occasionally glancing at the black curly specks of hair that glue near his base. his happy trail, you stare at it for a while, watching his chiseled abs achingly flex before you puff out your bottom lip. “c’mon, baby. nice ‘n slow. ‘s okay. just pretend you’re fuckin’ me.”

an elongated breath gets caught in his throat at your lewd words. just pretend he’s fucking you. choso’s sable dark pupils dilate as he gives his throbbing cock a few single pumps. he’s slow, a thumb of his swipes against a pulsating vein that’s prodding on his skin before he slowly positions his dick between your plump tits. “f- fuck,” he murmurs, watching as two of your hands squeeze your breasts together. so soft, he watches you with cute widened eyes as his achy cock rests in between both of your mounds. choso’s so hard too, it’s almost painful at how much he’s throbbing but it feels too good to shy away. “baby, can you use your mouth too?”

“yeah, ‘cho,” you hum sweetly, and he hears the tease in your tone. it was probably a dumb question and he already felt a hot wave of embarrassment spray over his body. his breath continues to hitch as he sees you—gradually starting to bounce your breasts up and down with his twitching shaft caught between the slick valley. your dewy glossed eyes never leave his, and every few seconds you’d grab his shaft, using a hand to pull it up to your lips for a quick suck. choso whimpers, desperately craving for more. he’s never did such an activity like this before. a boob job, apparently humans call it that. he’s not a stranger when it comes to intimacy but this, he could get used to having his cock between your pretty tender tits. “mhm,” you purse your lips, briefly wrapping them around his sweltering hot tip. he’s close, you could tell he wasn’t gonna last long and the bouncing of his thigh gave it away.

“ugh, w- when you use your tongue, i—” he cuts off, a keen gasp ripping out from his vocal chords. you drag his leaky pulsating tip to smear around your nipples before popping it right back into your mouth. choso takes a mental image of this entire scenario, storing it in the back of his mind. but he just couldn’t take it anymore. “fuck it.”

you let off a sheepish giggle before it’s your turn to gasp once choso’s hand suddenly grabs the back of your head. you look up at him and he moans, pushing your head all the way down until his tip greets against the roof of your mouth. the edges of your nails pierce into his thighs as you’re now being face fucked, ruthlessly.

your head bobbles up and down continuously as your tits bounce in sync and you’re slobbering all down his cock. lustrous cobwebs of saliva start to string away from your lips and it’s so pretty. he’s trying to luxuriate in the feeling of your warm mouth keeping his cock warm.

so so good, he’s rolling his eyes in pleasure but that’s when you then feel his dick twitch inside your mouth and on your flat tongue once he spots you starting to drool. oh, and that was all it took for him to grow weak. glimmering sheeny strands of saliva cascade past your lips and further down the crack of your chest. it brings a brighter shine to your breasts and he’s never felt more turned on. “fuck, y- you’re so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he babbles, black arched brows contorting together in awe. choso’s tugging at your roots - pulling hard. you’re getting his entire dick wet with the help of your mouth—slurping inch after inch until his mushroom tip’s continuously kissing against the back of your throat. “ohfuckohfuckohfuck.”

as he’s blabbering out the same repeated cries, your eyes briefly widen once he’s shooting gooey ribbons of cum right into your mouth. the bittersweet taste never fails to make you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. choso’s dick resumes to weakly pump down your throat as his milky hot cum sprays on the center of your pink tongue. twirling your tongue around his tip whilst your hands still play with your pretty breasts, you meet his gaze once he’s shaking—releasing his rough grip against the back of your head. “shit, was i too mean? ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry baby-”

and his voice slowly trails off once you pull his cock out of your mouth, hearing the loud ‘pop’ sound from your lips before you lick the side of your mouth. “i’m okay, ‘cho,” you coo, feeling yourself throb a bit at choso being rough for a change—it was just the image of him shoving you down his cock, watching you play with your tits, gripping hard on your strands all while whining. “you liked that, baby?”

“a lot, actually,” he grows sheepish. but even after the fact, choso can’t help but smear his achy tip against your swollen lips, before softly smacking it against it against your rolled out tongue. you looked a mess - his mess. strands of saliva land on his tip once he brings it toward your lips, watching you give it s quick kiss. but as he glances at your twitching cum-glossed lips, he desperately to kiss you and snatch a taste for himself but he knew he had to wait. choso starts to pant, wrapping all five fingers around his veiny length before stuffing it back between your tits. “one more,” and he lets off a soft moan once you spit on his cock, slimy transclucent drool glissading down the valley of your chest and onto his rosy tip. “you’re so n- nasty, heh. do that again, princess.”

☆ SUGURU GETO

“stay still,” he whispers, and you glance down at geto who’s resting his chin right between your breasts.

they’re all bare and exposed, his favorite view. he’s missed you all day and he couldn’t wait to pounce on his pretty wife. “my, look at these. jus’ waiting for me,” and he cups both of them, giving them bother tender kisses. fat silky covers go over the both of you and just seconds ago, geto was pounding into you raw until your pussy was literally overflowing with velvety ropes of cum. “untouched, i presume?”

“y- yes, sugu,” you breathe, feeling a bit tender from his delicate touch. he grunts, shifting a bit under the plump covers. his cock rests flat against the dull grey sheets before he starts to rut against your leg. a hand of yours finds its way to run through his strands, digging near his tender scalp. “didn’t touch myself all day. waited for you.”

a small hum leaves from him before he brings his crooked lips up toward your right breast. groaning, geto leand in to suck against it—he’s feral, sloppy rutting hips slowly grind against your thigh that’s propped up underneath him as his tongue flicks up and around your nipple. “ah, sugu,” your eyes squeeze shut for a moment as your fingers intertwine with his thin raven locks. his eyes were closed and he was so into it, his tongue circles around your nipple before he slurps—popping sounds shrieking out from his slim reddened lips. “fuck, don’t stop. . please,” and your words only made him grunt more. he didn’t even realize he was humping all up against your leg but he didn’t care.

this place—buried right between your tits, absolute heaven to him. .

he’s so sloppy too, he’s got strands of slippery saliva dripping past his perfect parted lips as he’s snaking his head down the crack of your chest. “oops,” he whispers, dark hooded eyes observing the mess he’s creating. your breasts were all swollen, the centers of your mounds were so shiny all because of his saliva. your nipples were poorly tender and glistening with drool. “sorry, sweetie. couldn��t help myself. had ‘ta get a taste of my favorite girls,” and his words get a bit muffled once he stuffs his face back in between your tits. you giggle but it quickly turns into a sultry long moan once he starts to greedily suck against the other neglected breast. “mhm,” and he groans loudly, the tip of his cock brushing up against your thigh. geto’s wearing sweats but even still, you could feel it. his dick rubbing off against the grey fabric, ticking all against your leg. he’s brick hard and with your tits stuffed in his mouth, it only made him ten times worse.

“fuh— fuck,” he snarls, and his half on boxers continue to snag against your skin. geto’s brows come together before he ends up cumming - it’s so abrupt, his eyes roll back and you can almost hear a whimper leave from his throat. “goddamn,” he huffs, and as his chest heaves in and out, he stares up at you with the most feral expression. his mouth’s open and no words come out anymore for a while—just breathy hot pants and faint whimpers. geto couldn’t have felt anymore embarrassed. damp grey splotches soak and create a patch near the center of his boxers as his hips grow substantially weak. geto’s shuddering, and you pull him close as his head’s buried between your tits. “you drive me c- crazy, y’know,” he moans, and he’s still feeling the sharp after effects. his cock was now soft and flaccid, bulging inside of his cerulean blue boxers that hide underneath his sweats before he pouts on your chest. “got me h- humpin’ your leg ‘n moaning for you, fuck.”

“it’s okay, suguru,” you whisper, silvery fingers still kneading through his hair. his face softens at your reassurance. his eyes meet toward your lips before you give his forehead a kiss. “good boy.”

“s- shut up,” he scoffs, both sides of his cheeks angrily flushing the second those two horrid words slither out of your lips. the audacity, geto’s still laid on top of you as if he’s practically glued against your body. he’s so hot against your skin that both pounds of flesh practically melt against each other. but, geto can’t help but pout more against your chest as he looks up at you, his pride’s nowhere to be found as he’s now happily nuzzling his face into your tits. “say it again, sweetheart,” and he sounds annoyed but he’s actually pleading for more—not only did you make him insanely sensitive but you also made suguru geto whimper. “tch. call me that again. see what happens. f- fuck.”

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leyiorr · 6 days ago

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you and satoru decide pretty quickly that you want your daughter’s ears pierced.

she’s a gorgeous baby; bright blue eyes and soft white hair just like her father. her nose and lips are your genetic touch, and satoru insists that it’s your features that make her look so adorable.

you’d asked your husband what he thought about getting her ears pierced so young, and obviously he thought it was a great idea - his two favourite girls should match earrings.

and so, once she’s old enough, the two of you bring her to a store to get her ears done.

satoru has her sat on his lap, entertaining her as you spoke with the piercer about the placing and colour of the earrings. he talks to her like he can understand her baby babble; no one understands his daughter better than he does.

eventually, the time comes, and the piercer lines up the piercing gun with your daughter’s ear after marking the spot with temporary ink. she’s giggling gleefully, trying to grab hold of the piercer’s hair.

satou’s anxiety is on high, he doesn’t want his daughter to flinch and cause an injury that no one wants. the peircer seems nice enough though, and her friendly smile coupled with your hand on his shoulder and his baby’s laughter settles his nerves marginally.

but he speaks too soon.

the minute the metal pierces her skin, your daughter instantly breaks into tears, twisting her small body toward her daddy as she lets out dramatic screeches of pain. satoru’s heart sinks immediately, large hands gently trying to soothe his daughter - her tiny ones fist his shirt like a lifeline.

she cries and cries like she’s dying, and satoru feels his soul bleed.

“daddy’s sorry, baby,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “it’ll go away soon. i wish i could help you, sweets.”

but she’s having none of it, crying harder when he tries to put her back into position. he feels his own eyes sting; his heart aches from being unable to take away his precious daughter’s pain.

his eyes snap up to your face, hoping you’ll have some insight on how to help her. you’re smiling fondly, softly pinching her cheeks in effort to distract her from the pain.

“don’t be dramatic,” you scold sweetly, dropping into a crouch to press sloppy kisses to her chubby cheeks.

she hiccups, letting her father’s shirt go in favour of trying to grab your nose instead. her cries turn into wet giggles within a few seconds and satoru feels relief fill his veins.

you look up at him with a raised eyebrow, “i mean you, mister.”

it takes him a full second to realize that there are tears rolling down his face, and he quickly wipes his eyes in embarrassment. he hears the piercer giggle; may the ground open up and swallow him whole.

“you’re such a baby,” you say, but your heart felt so full - your husband just cried at his daughter getting her ears pierced? you were never going to let him live that down.

satoru doesn’t say anything, obediently allowing you to tilt his head back to meet you in a kiss. through the salty taste of his tears and your fingers holding his throat he doesn’t even notice when the piercer approaches again, quietly lining up with the other dot.

she looks to you for consent, and you give a subtle nod as you continue to distract your husband with kisses. he breaks it in surprise when he feels your daughter flinch, though this time there’s no wails.

he looks down. her face is scrunched up in effort not to cry, cheeks puffed up as she looks up at her father proudly as if to say: look, daddy, i didn’t cry that time!

he feels his eyes fill up again. his head drops to rest on his daughter, kissing her all over her face and eliciting a series of giggles.

“that’s my girl,” he boasts proudly, grinning wide while bouncing her on his knee, “i knew you could do it!”

he hears you laugh from the counter, “you cried the most, satoru.”

he scoffs, picking the baby up and nuzzling his face against hers, “i don’t know how you didn’t! her cries broke my heart!”

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bi-writes · 7 months ago

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thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

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ashasdiary · 4 months ago

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Vitamins

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Synopsis: Husband!Nanami being super domestic, encouraging you to take vitamins, and taking care of you in all ways.

CW: pet names, going to the doctors, established relationship, smut — dirty talking, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, brief edging, breeding kink if you squint, pregnancy (MDNI) WC: 4.6k A/N: I’m not religious but I need him biblically.

“You’re not anaemic, but your iron levels were shown to be at 4, where we would like to see them at 6, so they’re low,” the doctor informs you.

You nod in acceptance and Nanami, sat beside you, leans in as he listens intently, elbows on his knees and hands joined together. He’d been the one who recommended you get your blood tested, so of course he was here to support.

“I’ll be prescribing you some iron tablets for that and hopefully we can see some results after a couple of months. Further, it was found that you were deficient in vitamin A, B12, and D. Your vitamin K levels looked to be normal, however,” the doctor goes on and you nod again.

“That’s good, honey. You were concerned about bruises and wound recovery but your vitamin K is fine. Right, doctor?” Nanami gazes at you before looking back to the doctor. You blush a little at the mention of bruises, a flashback of a couple nights ago popping up in your head.

His big hands, roaming your body, coming to rest on your hips and squeezing them tightly as he pulled you onto his cock desperately.

The doctor’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts immediately.

“Correct, vitamin K deficiency does increase risk of bleeding and bruising but the levels were healthy so nothing of concern there. I would recommend taking supplements for the time being for your vitamin A, B12 and D as well as your prescribed iron tablets. Overall, everything else was at healthy levels.”

You nod once again, “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to stay on top of that.”

Nanami leans back and slides his arm around your shoulders before you both stand, taking the report and prescription note and leave the doctor’s office, bidding her goodbye.

You slip your hand into your husband’s as you walk through the hallway towards the exit. “I have something else you can stay on top of,” he whispers and bumps his hips with yours.

“Kento!” You whisper at him and lightly smack his firm bicep.

He lets out a chuckle at your reaction, getting so flustered so easily, “On a serious note, I’m glad that we know now how everything’s going with your vitamin intake. It’s definitely peace of mind,” he says as he guides you outside and towards the pharmacy next door.

“It is. I wouldn’t have really thought to pursue it myself but I’m grateful you suggested it,” you interlace your fingers through his as you feel gratitude for having him in your life. He’s so caring and also such an adult. Though you laugh about his seriousness sometimes, you’re also grateful that he’s so mindful of things like vitamin intake.

He ushers you to step inside the pharmacy first — as he always does, ever the gentleman — and you lead the way to the vitamin aisle. Stopping at one section of the many shelves, you peruse the array of vitamins before you, and Nanami is quick to pick one of each that you needed, up. “These have the highest milligrams, so they’ll be the most effective.”

“You’re right,” you nod, and you spot a little pill box, segmented for each day of the week. “Would it make me a total grandma if I got one of these?” You ask your husband, looking to him attentively.

“Not at all. They can certainly help with keeping a routine of…” a little smirk curls at the corner of his lips, lowering his voice to a hush, “staying on top of things.”

You try not to smile but you can’t help it so you pout instead to hide it, “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” You ask rhetorically and he laughs softly. You both grab the appropriate vitamin bottles and carry them to the counter where you also pick up your prescription iron tablets.

When you get home, you both wash up and change into your comfy home clothes and get started on making lunch together. You sauté some onions as the base of the soup you were making while he chops up some fresh herbs for a tasty couscous salad. “Can you pass me the chilli flakes, my love?”

He grabs the little spice container and steps over, holding it out for you. You try to take it but he holds onto it and dips his head to kiss your knuckles. It’s a small act but one that makes your heart flutter and your lips curl into a smile.

Once lunch is had and you’re cleaning up together, he finishes washing up while you put away the leftovers, dancing to the soft music you had playing.

“I could do with a nap right now,” you yawn, feeling full from lunch.

He lets out a small laugh, “You definitely need to take those vitamins, darling.“

“I know, I know, doctor’s orders. I will. But I also want to have a little siesta,” you tell him while he dries off his hands, “come nap with me for like 20 minutes. You know how effective it is for our bodies to have a nap midday?”

“I’m well aware, yes,” he smiles and lets you drag him into the bedroom where you crawl into the bed and hold up the comforter. You climb in together and you burrow yourself against him, pushing your leg between his, eyes fluttering shut.

He rubs your back gently as he settles down himself, fingers starting to trace lazy patterns across your back. “I love you so much, Ken,” you murmur, eyes still closed, “you’re so good to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I love you more, honey. You deserve the world, so I’m going to do my best to give it to you,” his soft voice and kind words makes your bottom lip tremble a bit.

“You do. I want to give you the world too,” you whisper.

“You are my world,” he affirms.

“Ugh, stop trying to out-romance me,” you whine quietly and you both laugh softly.

Sleep overcomes you and you have what was probably one of the top 5 best naps of your life. You wake up to find the sun setting slowly, creating a beautiful orange hue through the room. You stretch like a cat and roll over, finding Nanami sat up and reading a book about Malaysia.

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hi, Mr. Redbull,” you quip and he chuckles. You tap the book, “You want to go back again?”

“Yes, at some point, I would love that,” he nods and smiles to himself as he reminisces about your honeymoon together there, from which you’d returned 6 months ago. It was incredible there, a truly dreamy place which couldn’t be described as you’d have to see it in person to grasp the beauty.

“We’ll definitely visit again someday,” you promise and he hums in agreement.

“Maybe next time, we’ll have children to take there. I bet they’d love the beach,” he says casually, setting the book aside.

You’d talked about children plenty of times — the suggestion to get blood tests being a preparation for taking that step — but it was the softness of his suggestion, of taking your hypothetical children to one of his favourite places on the planet…it warmed your heart.

“Definitely. When we have children, we will absolutely take them to Malaysia.”

Later that evening, you find Nanami stood at the kitchen counter, carefully putting the vitamins into your new pill box.

You walk over and lean your elbows onto the counter as you watch him.

Once he’s satisfied that you have one of each vitamin in each segment, he closes it up. A thought clouds your mind and you bite your lip. “Baby, I think I need some more vitamin D,” you tell him with a serious face.

His brows furrow a little as he looks to you, “I put one vitamin D in each day, honey, that should be more than enough.”

You shake your head. “No, I definitely need more vitamin D,” you sigh exasperatedly and he watches you carefully.

“Sweetheart, you really don’t need more than one a day,” he explains gently. You almost break character to laugh but you manage to keep a straight face.

“But what if I want it multiple times a day?” You ask him, eyes glinting with mischief.

He catches on at this and his face relaxes, eyes becoming hooded, pulling you closer to him. “I see. You do know the risks of taking so much vitamin D, don’t you?”

“Of course. I’ll turn into the sun,” you muse and he lets out a laugh, lips ghosting over yours.

“You will certainly be glowing like the sun once I put a baby in you,” he murmurs and you feel a shiver go through your body, straight to your core.

“Ken…” you sigh softly, hands trailing up his big arms and grasping his triceps as he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You hum against him as he crowds you against the counter, one hand planted on it and the other coming up to cup your jaw while his lips are locked with yours.

His thumb gently caresses your cheek, letting out a soft moan against you as you press your tongue against the seam of his lips and push your hips into his. “Hm…turn around, honey.”

Oh.

You feel your clit throb at the lowness of his voice, his direct order, and how your wetness pools at your core. You break the kiss and he immediately grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head, revealing your bare breasts. He connects your lips briefly again, not being able to help himself from cupping your breast in his hand and teasing your nipple. Reluctantly, he breaks away and guides your hips to turn you around.

With you bent over the counter, he steps up behind you, his lips trailing over your cheek, down your jaw, and over your shoulder while his hands roam your body, thumbs hooking inside the waistband of your pants and underwear and slowly dragging them down, down, down.

You feel the air hitting your bare ass and thighs as he pushes your clothing off, letting the bunched fabric fall down the rest of the way from your knees.

He continues to kiss his way over your back, hands massaging your hips and up your sides to cup both your breasts. The feeling of his hot breath fanning over your skin, and his lips tenderly pressing kisses down your back makes your insides tingle with electricity. “My pretty wife,” he hums as he kisses your lower back and crouches down on the floor behind you, sliding his hands down your sides and hips, over your outer thighs and finally coming to rest on your ass.

He grasps the flesh with a grunt, the sound making you clench. You can’t help but let out soft mewls at the feeling of his large, strong hands groping your ass, his hot lips blazing a trail of fire all the way down. You push your hips back against his hands and he hums appreciatively, spreading your ass and groaning deeply at the sight of the wetness waiting for him.

“S’this all for me, sweetheart?” He sighs, deciding not to waste another moment and plants his lips onto your lower ones. You let out a gasp at the suddenness of it, being thrown into the deep end, but this — his beautiful, skilled mouth on you — was absolutely not something you’d protest against.

“O-Oh! Y…mmm…yes, all for you, Ken,” you mewl as you hold onto the counter, feeling his hot tongue lap at your puffy folds. He drags his tongue up and down, gathering your juices and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue.

He fucking loves this. Loves having his face buried against you, eating you out from behind.

You find your hips rocking slowly on their own accord, back to meet his sinful tongue, when he sucks on your clit and pulls a lewd moan from you. “A-ah, mmh…” the sound of which makes his cock throb with need.

The man is a multitasker, you know this. While he’s busy pushing his tongue into your entrance, making you grip the counter tighter, you hear him fumbling with opening his pants. You turn your head to look back and are met with the delicious sight of him fisting his thick cock. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, honey,” he sighs before he’s pushing his tongue into you again. Your head falls forward as the pleasure takes over your body. He’s tongue fucking you like his life depends on it, groaning against you while he’s fucking his fist at the same time.

He buries his face against you with a low groan, squeezing his dick, darting his tongue in and out of you before he drags it up over your clit and licks a thick stripe along the cut of you.

Your legs quake a little at how he’s tending to your body so attentively, but you manage to keep yourself steady. He slides his free hand around you, his fingers locating your clit with expert precision within milliseconds. This action turns you on even more, the arousal rushing through your body and your pussy gushing with wetness because of how well he could map your body.

He notes the extra wetness on his tongue and he lets out a low hum of approval, slowly circling your throbbing clit with the pads of his fingers. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” He croons against you, taking his fingers away to wrap his lips on your clit and suck attentively. Your gasp and your back arches, one hand automatically going back to thread into his hair.

“Hhhh…mmph…” you keen, your ability to form proper sentences compromised from your husband’s ministrations on your body.

“Use your words for me, honey,” he smirks against you as he continues to devour you, lapping, sucking, fucking, and enjoying the delicious taste of you, inching you closer to the edge.

“Ken…” you whine, “I’m— I’m gonna cum...” You tug on his hair, mussing it up, pushing your hips against him desperately. He becomes sloppier then, and you pant, feeling the mess trickling down your inner thighs.

He fucks his tongue into you a few more times, and then suddenly the waves of pleasure wash over your body, overwhelming your senses. Your inner walls clench, wetness leaking from you, as you let out dirty moans of Kento’s name.

He jerks himself off at the sound of you, the feeling of you cumming, but he stops before he can reach his peak. His moans reverberate through you, the vibrations of them only adding to your pleasure; you lean over the counter, catching your breath as he laps your juices up eagerly, not sparing a drop.

When he’s cleaned you up with his tongue, he kisses his way back up your body, hands roaming over your shorter frame, coming to rest on the softness of your breasts. It’s like he can’t touch you enough, like he wants to touch you everywhere, all at once. You stand back up and lean into him, head falling onto his shoulder so you can kiss him. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your neglected ones sparks the fire in you once again, the butterflies in your tummy stirring to life.

He slowly turns you to face him while you share deep, long kisses. You grip the hem of his t-shirt and pull it up over his head, his arms lifting to accommodate the swift movement. Your arms slide around his waist and you cling to him as he holds you. “You’d better give me that vitamin D now,” you tell him with a warning tone.

He releases a soft chuckle, breaking away from you to stretch over the counter and grab your pill box, “They’re right here, hon.”

You flick his nipple in response and he feigns being hurt before both of you laugh. Your joined laughter quietens down however when you wrap your hand around his thick, leaking cock, and pump him slowly while you gaze into his eyes.

He’d been with you for years, married for half of one, but he knew that he’d never, ever, get tired of that salacious look that you gave him when you wanted him.

He wets his lips as he returns your longing gaze, and he lets out a quiet, “Fuck, sweetheart…” while you thumb his slit and tease the sensitive underside of his tip.

Your hand falls away when he crouches down a few inches and lifts you easily, placing you on the kitchen counter. You watch as his cock bobs up and down from this swift movement. Instantly, your legs fall open and you use the heels of your feet to pull him towards you; the need to have him inside you was becoming unbearable.

You felt the emptiness within you, the deep, carnal desire to have him fill you and stretch you out.

He crushes his lips against yours again, sighing, “You keep looking at me like that, baby, and I’ll cum too soon.”

You whimper against his lips, feeling him nudging the fat head of his cock along your folds, teasing your swollen bud before trailing down to your quivering entrance that was desperate to be filled.

His tongue tangles with yours, your hands gripping onto his broad shoulders as he presses his tip into you and slowly pushes his hips forward.

You bite on his lip, breath catching when he pushes past the ring of resistance. He doesn’t go far before he’s drawing his hips back and then thrusting into you again shallowly. A whine escapes you while he’s working you open on his delicious cock, taking his time to make sure you’re adjusted to his girth.

He rolls his hips steadily, dipping his head and wrapping his lips around the taut peak of your nipple, sucking eagerly. At this, your cunt greedily sucks him in more and he moans to your skin, fucking into you more, and then he slides all the way home, bottoming out inside your snug walls. Your face twists in pleasure, eyes rolling back in your head. He stays there for a moment, his pubic bone flush against yours.

“So damn perfect,” he murmurs, and your walls flutter around him in response. This earns a deep groan from him and he draws his hips back and starts to fuck into you harder.

You brows knit together and you inhale sharply as you feel the heavy drag of him inside you, how he pulls out so that only the fat head of him stays inside, and how he thrusts back into you completely, feeding you every inch of his delicious cock.

Your legs are locked around his hips but with each deep thrust from him, your mind becomes hazy and your legs loosen up a little. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he noses your neck and keeps a steady pace, the wet thump, thump, thump of his hips hitting yours filling the kitchen.

Your mouth falls open and your body becomes a little lax, your breaths coming out shakily as you focus on the pleasure coursing through your body while he impales you on his cock repeatedly. “Feels s-so…so good, baby…making me feel s-so good,” your voice comes out breathy and high pitched, to which his dick twitches while he’s fucking into you.

He’s thorough in his approach while you hold onto his neck for balance, and he’s stimulating every part of your beautiful body: lips locked, tongues tangled, fingers rolling your hard nipple between them, his other fingers teasing circles on your throbbing clit, and his cock stretching you out so delightfully that you can only let out pornographic moans.

You’re both panting against each other’s lips as he picks up the pace and thrusts into you faster, with abandon. He rests his forehead against yours, cheeks flushed. “God— I fucking love you… n’ I love fucking you…” his low voice, his words, they go straight to your cunt.

He takes his hands from your nipple and clit, sliding one arm under your waist as he bows over you more, the other hand gripping your hip in a bruising hold. “Ken…” you moan, “you’re gonna m…make me bruise…”

It’s not so much a protest but more a statement. “Damn right I am…you n’ I both know you love when I mark you up,” he husks, his lips connecting to your neck and sucking a dark mark onto your pulse point, bucking his hips into yours harder, eager to make you cum on his cock.

Your tits bounce from the force of his thrusts, a sight which he goes crazy for. He’s getting closer to the edge, his mind hazy from how your pussy is greedily sucking him in, enveloping him in your tight warmth every time he slides home.

You mewl, holding onto his shoulder as he ravages your cunt, letting out shaky breaths while you bring your gaze down to watch the sensuous way his cock would sink into your wet cunt over and over again. You both love watching because it adds to the pleasure, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge from it.

“Ken…” you moan, bringing your gaze to his at the same time he looks up to meet yours. He almost cums from that so far gone, cockdrunk look in your eyes, but he manages to keep it at bay for a little longer.

“Look so damn beautiful taking me like this, sweetheart,” he croons, “give it to me, baby. Cum for me.” A few more pounds of his hips and you’re pushed over the edge, like your body was waiting for his instruction.

You cry out when your orgasm hits you, walls pulsing so tightly around him that he slows down to feel every clench properly. Your legs quake, and you lock them higher up his hips as your body convulses from the strength of your orgasm.

Wetness coats his lower abdomen— he lives for getting messy with you like so— and he fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own release while he guides you through yours.

He grabs one of your legs and pushes it up, using it as leverage to fuck into your heat faster. “Cum in me, Ken…wanna make a baby with you,” you sigh, eyes hooded as he pounds into you.

He felt like an animal in that moment but your breathy voice, your words, the tight grip of your cunt on him suddenly all overwhelms his senses and he falls into the throes of bliss with a loud groan, crashing his lips to yours as he releases his hot ropes inside you, painting your walls white.

You cling to each other, sharing open mouthed, dirty kisses. Your plush walls milk him dry, and he stays inside you, your juices and his cum seeping out around him as you both catch your breaths.

“Wanna make a baby, huh…” he pecks your lips a few more times before gazing down at you properly.

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod, kissing him again.

“Hm…we better get more practice in, then.”

You squeal when he picks you up all of a sudden, still inside you, and carries you into your bathroom, quickly turning on the water in the shower and stepping inside with you.

“Wh— Kent—oh!” You moan the second syllable of his name as he presses you up against the wall and starts to fuck into you again.

There was something so dirty, so sinful about how he was fucking his cum into you, how insatiable he was from the mere mention of getting you pregnant.

It’s like a switch had been flipped; you gasp when he takes your legs and pushes them up, pinning you by dangling your legs over the hinge of his arms and holding you in that bent position against the wall with his strong arms.

The water runs over both of your sweaty bodies, the small enclosure of the shower only accentuating his low grunts and the loud smacks of your hips colliding. He is truly animalistic, rutting his hips into yours, pounding into your cunt desperately, because nothing made him harder, nothing made him more feral for you than the idea of making a family with you.

You hadn’t had much time to come down from the high of your first orgasm — neither had he — so it’s not long again before another orgasm is creeping up on the both of you.

“I’m close, Ken, mm…” you clutch onto his broad frame, bringing your lips to his in a needy kiss.

“Me too, honey,” he pants against your lips, “cum with me.”

The base of his cock grazes your clit and his balls slap against your ass with each punishing thrust into you, and you let out a cry from the sudden intensity of the orgasm that overcomes you.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Kento’s voice is strained as he keeps fucking into you but his hips stutter because your pussy is gripping him so tightly he can’t even think straight.

Tears sting at your eyes because you’ve cum so hard, and when he sees this, he feels himself start to cum again. This time, he slows down, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he buries his face into your neck and releases his hot load into your waiting cunt.

“Honey…” he breathes out, and you run your nails gently over his muscled back, kissing his temple. “I love you so much,” he mumbles tiredly, spent, but knowing he couldn’t put you down yet because you wouldn’t be able to stand.

You cup his face in your hands as you sigh contently, and bring his face to yours to kiss him once again, “I love you more, you animal.”

He lets out a quiet laugh to your lips, “Can you blame me?”

It’s about 6 weeks later that you find yourself sat on the toilet, peeing on a couple of tests. There had been a noticeable change in your body, you felt with certainty that something was different. That and, of course, your period being late.

You finish peeing and clean up after putting the tests on the counter. You dry your hands and inhale a deep breath while you wait, peeking but not expecting anything because the time hadn’t finished yet.

But there it was. Two lines in BOLD, on the cheap one, and an affirmative ‘Pregnant’ on the other. You blink at the confirmation and let out a laugh; you’d heard about this before, how tests can show up quicker than expected if the pregnancy hormone is extremely high. He had knocked you up, alright.

You’re elated. His dream, your dream, of having a family, it was becoming reality. You slip out of the bathroom and into the living room, where he was reading.

“I think I need to get some other vitamins, my love,” you tell him as you sit next to him and slide your arms around his neck, kissing his shoulder over his shirt.

He brings his gaze to you. “But the doctor said that your levels for everything else were healthy, sweetheart…?”

He sees the way that your eyes sparkle and he relaxes a little. “Well…I think we need to revisit the doctor. I’m going to need some folic acid.”

He blinks at you; it clicks immediately. The joy that spreads across his expression is undeniable, “Honey…you’re…you’re pregnant?”

Read the sequel, Pumpkin, here <3

Divider by cafekitsune

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