#I know it’s not that but it sounds like that and it’s Awful

[ravenwolf1132]

Your answer was immediate and without hesitation "Of course, my Lady."

The Goddess looks simultaneously shocked and relieved, "even after all I have done, you still choose to follow me? I may no longer be the benevolent Goddess you remember."

"Why do you say that, my Lady?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"I have fought and killed," she confesses, guilt and sorrow pouring from her aura, "I have sacrificed many lives while I was away, both friend and foe, I have seen horrors that would otherwise drive a lesser being insane. I fear that I have become like the monsters I had sworn to protect others from."

You scoff, "if that were true, you know I would have stopped believing in you a long time ago."

The Goddess looks at you, confused.

"You have always been a fighter as long as I've known you. How you would get pushed around and knocked down but you never gave up. You alway kept going, doing what was right, protecting those you cherished. You would get right back up, covered in bruises and cuts and dirt, and go right back into the fray for round two or three or however many times it took to get the job done."

You let that statement hang in the air, solidifying the faith you have in your Goddess. She looks at you with slight awe in her eyes. You ask her;

"Tell me, did you ever give up during your crusade? Give up on coming home? Making sure the job was finished?"

"There were many times I wavered," she answered, you didn't doubt her, she never gave you any reason to not believe her before. "I wondered to myself whether it was all worth the bloodshed. But even though there were many times I came close to throwing in the towel, I... I knew I had to keep going, if only so I could one day return home."

"Then that's all I needed to hear," you said with a smile. Reaching forwards, you grasp her scarred hands. Hands that had always been worn and callused. "I've known you since we were kids, Hope. You were always kind, but you were never a delicate person. Benevolent, yes, and you always will be as long as I can help it, but not soft. Benevolence and Strength can coexist, you know."

Hope laughs softly. To others, it would be an inspiring and miraculous sound. But to you, you're brought back to the days where you two were content to play games in the neighboring fields, laughing and singing.

"How do you do continue to astound me with your loyalty?" She asks.

"Did you forget?" You playfully ask, "When this whole Goddess business started I promised to be right by your side, your first and last disciple, til the very end."

She grins, a smile you remember from so long ago, "why of course, how could I have forgotten, my daring Knight?"

"Can't say, it was quite the memorable ceremony, my Lady" you snarkily reply.

"Ok, quit it with the 'my Lady' shit," she laughs, giving you a love tap on the arm.

"Whatever do you mean, my Lady~?"

"Faith!" She scolds.

With a laugh and hand in hand, you begin your long trek home. Not as Deity and Disciple, but Childhood Friends.

---

So a little context. The Goddess was originally a human girl named Hope and her Disciple is her childhood friend named Faith. Hope ascended to Godhood as the embodiment of her name, the Goddess of Hope. Faith lives up to her name in which no matter what, she remains loyal to Hope. So long as she's loyal to her, she will continue to live an eternal life to remain by her side as a part of her promise.

You are the last disciple of a benevolent goddess. Years later she returns from a divine war that raged beyond the realm of men. Covered in weapons and spines, she reaches out with a hand marred by scars. "Will you still follow me?"

[julieloves074]

It's you (Min Ho x reader)

Summary: Min Ho and Y/n are reunited in the second semester at K.I.S.S with their sarcastic, bullying friendship, but the drama get a little out of hand at the Moon's cabin, will the sparks that fly settle or burn Y/n up?

Warnings: Kissing, poor relationship with parents, underage drinking

Words: 4.1K

(Not my GIF :))

Being back at K.I.S.S for our second semester was thrilling, even just stepping out the car brings back a rush of memories and hope for this term. Kitty says she’s going 2.0 this semester and focusing but I think we both know she’ll lying to herself, Q and I made a bet on how long she lasts.

“I’ll give her a week,” I told him wanting to give the girl at least some belief.

Q pulled a face that screamed you’re joking right? And said ‘I give her till the end of tomorrow’.

Yuri was kind enough to invite out whole group to a reunion dinner tonight at our favorite barbeque restaurant, all on her, whilst the rest of us was excited Kitty was still stressing in our joint room about getting out of our living situation. Thankfully some music was able to calm her down for a second.

That was until Min Ho’s favourite song came on, and she turned to me with her mouth and eyes wide open in some sort of realisation. “Are you and Min Ho actually going to your lives together this semester?”.

I threw one of pillow at her, “Hey!” she exclaimed turning to me with smudged mascara on her cheek.

“Not this again,” I say rolling my eyes.

“I’m just saying I’m rarely wrong,” her voice goes a few octaves higher.

I turn back to my mirror, “You know I can’t stand how highly he thinks of himself, plus even I did he’s a player Kitty, I don’t put myself in situations where I’m likely to get hurt,” I explain.

“Yeah whatever live a little!” she threw the pillow back at me, which quickly turned into a pillow fight and bunch of laughter, until a knock on the door informed us we had to leave if we didn’t want to be late.

 The four of us girls walked towards the busy town to the restaurant, and he’s the first person that I spot in the crowd amongst our friends. Yuri shouts out a hello and the group turns around. His eyes meet mine, the same sneaky glimmer sits in his eyes, mouth in its signature half smirk.

I can feel Kitty’s eyes on me, and she gives me a slight push, I move my feet quickly hoping that no one saw that. I turn around and give her a quick death glare.

“Hello, y/l/n” his voice is all too familiar, I turn to meet his eyes once again, his hands are in his jacket pocket, and I note down that I would not mind stealing it from him.

“Min Ho,” I say back keeping it cool.

“Christmas break does not feel like a long enough break from you,” he says with a smile.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” I say back in a monotone voice.

“Now you’re complementing me? What have you done to y/l/n?” he questions grabbing my jacket sleeving and waving it around in an inspection, I roll my eyes at him and he lets my arm fall, “I heard about the living situation,” he changes the subjective with a gesturing nod to the restaurant as all our friends were walking in.

I let out a sigh and push some of my hair out my face, “Yeah, it’s a weird one, Kitty is super freaked out,” I say.

“I don’t blame her, living with someone you like and their partner sounds like personal hell,” he says with a distaste in his voice.

“Very helpful observation from you Min Ho,” I say deadpanning.

He puts a hand to his chest, “You’re so welcome,”.

“Aw and to think I almost missed this sarcasm of yours,” I say back turning my gaze away from his to the busy street.

Min Ho’s eyes crinkle in the corners “You did miss me,” he said as I stepped towards the restaurant, but I stopped before I could take another.

He circled around to step in front of me again, my brows burrowed, and I let out a nervous chuckle, “what did you say?” I asked trying to play dumb. Of course I missed him, I’m not sure how exactly our friendship could be described but our little digs were something I looked forward to, I enjoyed the challenge, the satisfaction that came from leaving him without a comeback.

I waited as he lowered towards my ear, his long eyelashes lifting as he observed something behind me, “You smiled when I said that”, I could feel the absence of his breath as he pulled away.  He was walking through to the table as I let out a composing breath and followed.

Kitty saved me a seat beside her, she wiggled her brows at me when I sit down, Min Ho was talking to Q and Dae looking at the menu.

“So?” she asked eagerly turning directly towards me.

“What?” I ask laying my purse down and grabbing a menu.

The brunette pulled it right out of my hands, “You know exactly what you’re going to order,” she says which is true, I get the same thing every time, why change something that works? “The tensions still there?” her mouth is a grin.

“It’s not tension,” I tell her for the hundredth since we started at K.I.S.S “we just don’t like each other,” I say pulling the menu back out her hand. I loved that Kitty was basically a radio tower for spotting who likes who, but not when it came to me, I didn’t like Min Ho like that and he definitely doesn’t like me like that, he was all over Maddison last semester.

“Whatever you want to tell yourself, “She murmured standing up to talk to the guys, Min Ho looks over to me momentarily as Kitty approaches them but then gets back into the conversation.

<3 <3 <3

Being able to spend the weekend at Min Ho’s cabin was amazing but waking up this morning to being basically snowed in was not a pleasant surprise, skiing was a no go, and it’s not like there was anything else near us. Everyone spent the morning playing card games or reading or trying to find something to entertain themselves because the internet was out.

It was fine until it hit five in the afternoon and even the team competition games were not feeling as empowering. Most everyone was feeling restless, that was until Q came up with what everyone seemed to think was a good idea, apart from Min Ho and me but I couldn’t pick his side.

“Oh come on we’re stuck on the property anyway!” Q pleaded in a whiny tone holding his hands together in support Dae gave a put his hands on his face and gave a cute smile. Min Ho half rolled his eyes and looked at all the faces in the room.

Dropping his hands with a sigh he agreed, and the room erupted into cheers, “But if you guys break anything I swear-” he started but was cut off as the chatter started. Maddison suggested we should divide up tasks, set up a small buffet, get alcohol and get dressed up.

Everyone separated the tasks between them, but my eyes kept shifting towards Min Ho, he looked distant, he was never usually against a party. He said he’d sort the alcohol and walked out the room, I looked around at everyone dispersing again then followed him.

We were heading towards his dad’s office, where Q had secretly snuck Jin in last night, thankfully the guys made up with him earlier or this day could have been very awkward, though it did seem like he gave them a rather tough time when they were younger and what he did to Q was not forgiven.

“Are you okay?” I ask after closing the door behind us, he didn’t turn, if he knew I was following him it didn’t show.

“Yep, I’m thinking the alcohol can be his payment for ditching me once again,” he says nonchalantly taking a key out of a draw and unlocking a tall cabinet, there on the bottom shelf laid what must have been about 30 different bottles.

I step closer and lean against the wall watching him pick up the bottles, read the label, leave some out and those that didn’t appease him went back in.

“Min Ho,” I said, my voice more tender than I intended, the playfulness was gone, “Can you look at me for a second?” I asked, for a moment he stopped moving altogether, before letting his shoulder fall and rising up to stand in front of me.

His expression was of that as always, but his eyes redder like a tear could appear any moment, “I can’t exactly say I’m surprised,” he shrugged and watched me waiting. A sadness settled over the room. I took a step towards him and just opened my arms, momentarily he was stood still, then he leaned down and wrapped his hands around my middle as mine went to the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry Min Ho,” I said, he didn’t let go, “You deserve better than this,” I said and pulled him closer, running my hand over his nape. As we stood there it felt as though a piece of my own heart was breaking, I could feel my throat getting drier, I shut my eyes tight.

I’m not sure if we were stood there for a minute or five but when he pulled away slightly, we looked at each other and for the first time I felt as though I saw him, really saw all of him.

“Whilst you’re here any preference?” he breaks out of the bubble and goes back to the stash as if nothing happened; I pull myself back together and kneel down next to him to look at options we have.

When we brought everything up Q looked directly at me, Min Ho placed the bottles on the table and rushed towards his room. I placed the ones I carried, and Q came right over, taking off the little apron he found leaving Julianna and Dae in the kitchen.

“How is he?” Q asks, and I lift my gaze from the table, the concern in his eyes mirrored that in mine.

I let out a sigh and shrugged my shoulders before replying in a hushed tone so they couldn’t hear in the kitchen, “He’s Min Ho, you know how he is, won’t say a thing,” I conveyed. Q nods knowing this would have likely been the case.

“He’ll come around when he needs to talk, for now it’s important we’re just here for him,” he said I agreed. When Dae announced they were done in the kitchen the four of us headed to get ready. Yuri laid her arm around my shoulder in a side hug as we walked to the room.

Yuri and I were the last to get ready the others were mostly done, the girls were playing music in the room, putting finishing touches to their makeup. None of us brought anything extremely fancy, but just enough.

The atmosphere in the house was much uplifted as everyone started having drinks and nibbling on the snacks. When Min Ho walked in and I couldn’t look away, he wore black trousers and a white sweater, his mood was too seemingly improved, he sent a smile my way.

Everyone was talking and dancing on the makeshift dancefloor, the table was pulled to the side, the drinks we’re going down as quickly for me as some others. Q and Jin were the sober ones as they both said that athletes don’t drink so at least I wasn’t the only one, though I was getting to the warm side of tipsy.

Coming back from the bathroom I spotted Dae and Eunice making out in the doorframe of one of the rooms and couldn’t help but smile, I was glad he was able to find someone who made him happy after how things ended with Kitty, especially since he wasn’t really over her at the start of this semester.

“Let’s do truth or dare!” Maddison announced after another shot as I made back into the room, a mixture of responses was heard but the red head quickly shot them all down, “Don’t all be babies, this is prime time to get to know everyone’s secrets,” she exclaimed falling back onto one of the sofas.

Everyone gathered around taking seats with their drinks.

“Okay I’ll start,” she said excitedly looking around at everyone as if they were her prey, “Okay, Julliana truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“What is your favourite thing about Yuri?”

Julianna smiled at the question, resting her glass against her lips as she thought, “There’s just so many,” she laughed, Yuri looking at her expectantly, “The fact that she’s so unapologetically herself,” she said, and Yuri pulled her close and pressed their lips together. My eyes shot directly to Kitty who was looking everyone but at the couple.

“Okay, okay my turn,” Yuri said turning back to the crowd, “Q, truth or dare?”

“I’ll do a truth,”

“Who’s the best kisser you’ve ever kissed?” Q blushes and looks at Jin, his eyes shyly meeting his.

“Jin,” a series of aws and ews came out from everyone.

“Okay so, my queen of Choas,” Q started but Kitty threw him an exaggerated look of shock, “In retirement of course,” he finished lifting his hands in defence, if only he knew what Kitty had done before we left for this trip, “truth or dare,”.

“Truth,” she replied.

“Do you miss living with us,” he asked, and Maddison let out a boo, not juicy enough for her, but Kitty gave him a thankful look.

“Eh I basically spend the same amount of time at your dorm, apart from the sleeping fact,” she laughed, and Q gave her a side hug.

“Okay for that boring question lets do a never have I have, so drink if you have” the red head announced and looked towards Eunice.

The other girl furrowed her brows and made eye contact with Dae, “Never have I ever had a not so innocent dream about someone in the room,” she said. I lifted my glass to my lips whilst watching who else did, pretty much everyone, including Min Ho, everyone broke into trying to guess who dreamt about who.

Jin perked up “Min Ho yours has to be that girl you kissed in that music video for your dad this summer, surely,” but Min Ho only brushed him off.

Kitty quickly ceased control of the room “Okay, y/n truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I say not wanting to pick either really.

Madisson huffed, “Come on you guys let’s stop being boring!”, everyone else seemed to agree with her, convenient that she didn’t complain about that earlier.

“Dare,” I say giving in, and look back at Kitty with that mischievous glint in her eyes and am fully regretting my decision to give into peer pressure.

She smiled and proclaimed, “I dare you to kiss the person you find most attractive in the room,”.

Everyone’s eyes shot to me and an excited murmur started, I’m unable to take my eyes off my best friend, I knew she probably wanted to do good, but this was actually my worst nightmare.

“Kitty come on,” I try but no one jumps up to my defence. I look to Yuri and Q for some help but they both look like they want to see this play out.

Then Madisson’s new roommate Stella got out of her seat, she was always so quiet so all eyes shoot to her, “If you won’t do it I will,” she said with a new surge of confidence. Everyone looked confused, she made her way across the room to the wall on which Min Ho was leaning against.

His eyes scanned her face and a sick feeling started rising in my stomach, we are just good friends, maybe it was the alcohol not mixing well in my stomach. It’s not until her lips are about to touch his that I get up and rush out the room, saying I needed some fresh air.

Kitty tried to come after me, telling me its going to be fine that Stella had no chance against me and what not, but I just turned around and something in me exploded “How about you focus on your own love life Kitty, you need to tell Julianna the about what happened,” I whisper shouted.

Kitty’s face crumbled and she looked so hurt.

“Tell me what?” Julianna’s voice questioned as she appeared in the hallway.

Kitty and I turned to see her looking our way and Yuri standing beside her, Julianna looked between the two and a realization seemed to have struck her. Kitty tried to say something, to explain and I just walked away feeling even worse.

All of us had out swimsuits under our clothes cause we we’re going to end the night in the hot tub, so I headed out there now. Sitting warm water trying to keep my tears in check I could avoid the feeling of dread that I left in the house, still a few slipping gently down my face.

“Y/n,” a voice approached but I didn’t turn to him, I couldn’t, I just embarrassed myself and left Kitty to fend for herself, “come on,” he said sitting down on the side of the tub.

“I’m a terrible person,” I say simply, my whole body slumping into the hot water of the hot tub, being submerged made me feel numb.

“Can you come out so we can talk?”

“Nope, I’m going to sit in here until the water sucks me up whole and I disappear,” I admit and join my hands nervously under the water.

He sighted slightly and I could see him shuffling in the corner of my eye.

“If you won’t come out I’ll come in,”

“You really don’t have to,” I argue but he doesn’t listen, he steps in and settles in the water next to me.

“You’re not a terrible person,” he says and I turn to look at him momentarily.

“I got Kitty into shit with Julianna, I’m arguing with my parents over the most stupid thing, and I just keep ruining things for myself because I keep getting so anxious- I am like the worst,” I express looking out into the distance of the dark sky.

I feel him shuffle left to me, “come here,” he whispers and he pulls me into a hug, he’s warmer than the water, “The thing about Kitty was bound to come out at some point, and to be honest the longer it took the worse the outcome would have been,” he said brushing a hand down my hair.

I pull away slightly, “They broke up haven’t they?” I asked, his eyes softened, and he nodded, “and Kitty isn’t speaking to anyone?” I ask.

“Q went to sit with her, she won’t be angry at you forever, you guys will talk it out,” he reassured me.

I let out a half-defeated chuckle, “Who would have thought you could be somewhat wise,” I teased wiping a tear from under my eye.

“I am wise you’re just blind to genius,” he pulls one of his resting bitch faces and looks towards me with one brow raised and I actually let out a laugh.

“There she is,” he says and I can feel a smile spread across my lips, “So,” he says leaning on his arm to look at me, “who were you going to kiss?” he asked, his voice a whisper even though we were both alone out here.

I can feel the blush creep up the back of my neck and cheeks and hope that it’s too dark for him to see. The silene is peaceful and I could stay out here all night, with the mixture of fresh air and the hot water.

“Does it matter?” I ask turning towards him, I hadn’t realised how close he was sitting to me, I could feel my heartrate multiplying.

He smiles and shrugged, “I need more material for making fun of you,” he said but there was no harshness or mal intent behind it, an actual smile made its way onto my way and I shook my head, “Oh it was totally me,” and so the cockiness was back.

“Oh you wish,” I say with a challenge, the corner of his lips upturn, but my gaze falls down and my teeth sink into my bottom lip, “how was your kiss with Stella, I hear she’s been crushing on you,” I say with a sad echo of playfulness.

He shifted closer to me, “I didn’t kiss Stella,” he says, leaning his head against his fist, I watch his face waiting, “I told her there is only one person I want to kiss, and it’s not her,”.

His eyes flutter down to my lips, I can’t help but take in a breath and search his face.

“Who is it then?” I ask, so quietly you could almost miss it.

“It’s you, silly,” he says as if he were explaining it to a five-year-old.

The silence returned.

“Y/l/n”

I turned to face him again, his hand came up to move my hair behind my ear.

“Min Ho,” I say in tone that came out as a mix of a warning but also desire that was bubbling too close to the surface, we were crossing dangerous grounds here and there would be no going back.

His eyes went to my lips and mine to his. Then he was leaning in, I closed my eyes and let it happen. His lips against mine was much better than my imagine could ever do it justice, it was slow kiss, then another, and one more before he pulled away slightly and rested his forehead against mine.  

“I’ve been waiting a long while to do that,” he says and the strain in his tone brings out something in me. I put my arms around his hand and pull him onto another kiss, this one deeper, his arms found my waist and he pulls me closer and closer until I’m sitting on his lip.

“Better than you could have imaged, I know,” he says after he pulls away and laugh, moving my hand to splash him with water.

“I hate that Kitty was right. Again,” I say.

Min Ho runs a hand through his hair, “This is the only time I’m not mad that that girl is right,” he states.

Eventually we left the hot tub and made our way back inside, most people have dispersed to different rooms, the atmosphere definitely ruined. Kitty was sat crossed legged on the sofa staring at her phone as we walked in, Min Ho gave me a smile and pointed his head in her direction.

“Kitty,” I said nervously.

Her eyes shot directly to me, her eyes also red, she dropped her phone and rushed over to me pulling me into a hug, I squeezed her tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I shouldn’t have said anything- it wasn’t my place-” I started to say rapidly btu Kitty interrupted me

“I’m also sorry, I’ve been so caught up in all this drama I didn’t even know you were fighting with your parents, and it’s good it got out now, it would have been so much more hurtful for everyone the longer it was kept quiet.

“I love you girl,” I said, tears building up in my eyes.

She giggled “I love you more,” she said pulling away, “and now I want to hear every detail about what just happened in that hot tub!” she squealed pulling to me to the sofa and pointing out the window a clear view of the tub, I hid my face behind me hands, “Looks like Kitty the matchmaker was right again,” she said proudly.

It was a relief that Kitty was able to forgive me, we spoke a little about Min Ho aware that he could be lurking around anywhere, then we talked about my fall out with my parents, and I dropped them a text saying we should talk when they wake up. Before we knew it was well past one in the morning and we agreed it was time for bed.

I paused in front of Min Ho’s door questioning whether to knock and say goodnight or if that was too weird.

“You go girl!” Kitty whisper cheered walking towards the room we slept in last night.

I took a deep breath in preparation and knocked, “Come in,” the voice on the other side said and so the rest of the night was spent talking and cuddling, maybe this trip wasn’t a total disaster after all.                                                                                  

[justmeinadaze]

Reflection (Eddie X Y/N)

A/N: This idea came to mind after thinking about a conversation I had last night with a friend. (Yeah let's not talk about it.)

Enjoy <3

Warnings: Rockstar Eddie & Fem Y/N, daddy kink (cause im me), phone sex, LOTS of dirty talk, established relationship, fluff

Word Count: 1242

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”, you giggle as he grins at the sound.

“I always forget how much I miss your laugh till I haven’t heard it in almost three days.”, the rockstar sighs into the phone receiver. “I wish I could see your face.”

“I know, baby. Did they say when you guys would be headed home?”

“Naw. All I know is this week we’re doing another photo op and some event thing I know absolutely nothing about. I don’t fucking get why we ALL have to be there.”

“I mean its Corroded Coffin attending not just, you know, Jeff and some friends.” Eddie exhales again as his thumb gently caress the picture of you two he keeps in his wallet. “What are you thinking about, honey?”

“I’m thinkin’…about how much I miss you…and how nice it would be to fall asleep with you in my arms. I’m thinkin’…about when I took on our date to the Starcourt mall and how fucking beautiful you looked in that black dress with your red converse.”

“You loved ‘em. Look I don’t own nice shoes! Not at that time anyway.”, you laugh, getting more comfortable on your bed that seemed way too big when the metalhead wasn’t there. “We went to the photobooth outside the movie theater and took those goofy pictures.”

Eddie beamed as he took in each little square of the photos with you two smiling like dorks. The last few frames were his favorite especially the last one where your hands were cupping his cheeks as his forehead leaned against yours. After the flash went off, he kissed you, knowing in that moment that you were the girl he was going to marry one day. 

Tilting his head back against the headboard of the hotel bed, his eyes met his own reflection as he smirked at the mirrors above him. 

“You know being on the road has given me some interesting ideas for our bedroom.”

“Oh yeah? Deviant ideas or decorating ideas?”

“Both.”, he chuckles. “My hotel room here on the strip has mirrors above the bed.”

“Oh my god, Eddie.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. I can see you from every angle especially when you’re riding me.”

“Eddie…”, you slightly pant his name and his smile grows as he watches himself reach into his sweatpants and pull out his half hard cock. “I…don’t know how to…we’ve never…”

“I like when you get all shy and innocent.”, he teases making your face warm. Listening to him spit on the other end has your pussy clenching and you allow your own hand to roam as it slides under the waistband of your panties. “Just talk to me, baby. That’s all you have to do until I can come home and Daddy can take care of his pretty girl properly.”

When you giggle, he pictures you doing it; your face ducking down trying to hide from his eyeline.

“Come on, princess. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I always wear one of your shirts when you aren’t here. It smells like you, Daddy.”

“Aw, baby. I always have my pictures of us. I bring them everywhere with me so I can see your face. Do you, uh, are you wearing any panties or a bra?”

“No bra…just my panties. The little red ones you like.”

“With the rose on the band?” A mixture of a pant and a laugh escape his lips when you confirm. “Fuck, I love pulling those down with my teeth.”

Eddie hears you giggle but it sounds muffled, telling him you’re biting your bottom lip which drives him crazy at the sight. Even just imagining it has his cock stiffening more in his grasp and he utilizes the little beads of precum to lubricate himself more. 

“W-What are you wearing, Daddy?”

“My, uh—fuck—my black sweatpants and some boxers. I pushed them down enough so I can…you know.”

“No, baby, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”, you tease. 

“There’s my girl. My little sarcastic pain in my ass.”, he laughs as you do the same.

“You love me.”

“Always. Fuck…I’m pumping my dick with my fist. Are you touching yourself, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m—mmph—rubbing my clit…wishing it was your tongue.”

“Shit—good girl. C-Can you imagine if we had these mirrors, baby? Y-You could watch me suck and fuck you with my tongue while my fingers spread you open.”

“Fuck, Daddy.”

“God, Y/N, you’re making me so hard. Put a couple of your fingers inside that tight little pussy for Daddy, baby.”, Eddie mewls as he thrusts his hips subtly against his fist. 

He hears your whimpers on the other end and his eyes roll back.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart.”

“Feels…feels good, Daddy. I’m so wet. I-I’m picturing watching you on top of me…if we h-had those mirrors—fuck—seeing my legs wrapped around you as you fuck me into the mattress.”

“Just like that, Y/N. Mmph—keep going.”

“Oh my God… seeing your ass as you pound into me…O-Or when you put my leg over your shoulder…I can watch your big cock disappear inside of me…Daaaddy.”

You could hear the light smacking sound of his fist as he picked up his pace and his head flew back as his eyes squeezed shut listening to you struggle to catch your breath. 

“Beg me to cum, baby. Beg Daddy to cum.”

“P-Please, Daddy. I need you to cum for me.”

“W-Where do you want it, sweetheart.”

“Ah…in…inside my pussy, Daddy, please.”

“Oh, f-fuck.”

Eddie grunted as he curled into his body, his release erupting and hitting his hand as he pictured himself filling you up. At the sound, your heavy pants filled his ear, listening to you whine as the coil snapped. 

“Oh my God.”

“Y-You ok, beautiful?”

“Yeah…did, um, did I do good?”

“You did better than good, Y/N. Fuck, that was amazing. Who knew you had such a dirty mouth.”

You laughed at his joke as you listened to his voice strain knowing he was reaching for a towel to clean himself with.

“You know what another benefit of those mirrors would be?”

“What, baby?”

“Afterward, when I hold you, I can finally get a good look of your entire face especially when your head is on my chest.”

“Eddie.”, you coo his name and again, he chuckles as he places the picture of you two back in his wallet pausing at the little blue box he had placed near it after coming back to the hotel that afternoon. 

“I, um, I think I’m coming home a bit early.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

Nerves radiate through him as he balances the box on his fingers before flipping it open to display the modest little diamond engagement ring inside. 

“Naw, sweetheart, I won’t get in trouble and even if I do fuck them. You’re more important to me than anything else. Plus, I, uh, got you something I really want to give you.”

“Eddie, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know I didn’t HAVE to. I wanted to. I’ve actually been looking for this particular thing for a while.”

“Edward Munson, if it’s mirrors, I swear to God…”

Eddie cackles as he closed the box and set it back next to his wallet. 

“Pfft, after what I just heard, I’ll bet you ten bulks you’ll already have them installed before I get home.”

#############

Eddie Masterlist

[thatonegreyghost]

Jayce comes in late, and he looks awful.

Viktor is no stranger to these long nights. Once a month, he loses his beloved to a whirlwind gala, or an investor meeting, or the Council dragging him in and acosting him with demands. He sits in their darkened apartment, reading by lamplight, because their bed feels too empty and cold without his sweetheart. And every time, Jayce comes back haggard, stumbling from exhaustion and eyes fluttering as he wobbles towards Viktor. Every time, the Council drains him dry, and Viktor is left to pick up the pieces.

"Piltover's Golden Boy". What a fucking joke.

But now is not the time for anger. Now is the time to smile, to offer a soft, warm, whispered "welcome home", to treasure his darling in the way he deserves. Pride surges in Viktor's chest as his words return the light to Jayce's tired eyes, and a small but definite smile to his chapped lips.

"Hey." Jayce croaks, and Viktor's heart breaks to hear how they gave ground his spirit to dust. "I missed you."

"Mmm, sounds like it. Rough day?" Viktor sets aside his book, placing it carefully on his lap. Not yet an invitation to relax. For all he knows, Jayce wants to go to bed immediately.

"The Council is full of shit and I'm starting to think even they know that." Jayce grumbles. "If I have to hear one more time about the stupid Hexgates not being done on time, I'm going to burn the Councilhouse down to the ground."

"Wouldn't that be something?" Viktor half laughs. "Come. Sit with me."

He opens his arms, to welcome Jayce to his side, but Jayce hesitates. This is normal, and Viktor knows exactly what his desired wants. Ah, but he will wait for the question.

"Can I lay in your lap?" Jayce's voice quivers, and Viktor fights like hell to maintain his composure.

"Of course you can, sunspot. You don't need to ask." Viktir removes the book in his lap and flips up the blanket, allowing Jayce enough to crawl in.

Jayce hugs him, deep and warm and desperate, and it only takes a few seconds before Viktor feels the tears. Viktor holds his beloved, pulls him close and kisses his face, his nose, his forehead, his cheeks – anywhere he can reach is fair game. And he lets Jayce crumble apart, lets the perfect boy of Piltover die in his arms so he can dig out the scared, shaking man underneath.

"I love you." Viktor whispers. "I don't say it enough."

He says every chance he gets, but it still doesn't feel like enough. It will never feel like enough. Not for his Jayce.

"I love you too." Jayce moans. "Vik, I'm so tired."

"So sleep." Viktor replies, forcing his tone to be even-keeled. "I am here. I will watch you."

Jayce always needs permission to let his guard down. Viktor will always give him that. Must always give him that. Must spoil his Jayce, his beloved.

"Let me ease your worries." Viktor says to an already sleeping Jayce. "Nevermind the Council. All that matters is you. All I see is you."

Long council meetings.

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Could I request part two of "A Well Deserved Grudge" for the remaining OB guys?

Thank you for all you hard work Moss!

A Well Deserved Grudge Pt.2

You hate them after their overblot. Part one.

Characters: Leona, Azul, Idia, Grim

Content Info: Gn! Yuu. Yuu is fucking mean in this. A lot of angst. Azul and Idia self deprecated a lot. Mostly Yuu breaking down and snapping tbh. Grim Hate

Leona

“Wow look at who it is. The king himself. Tell me, what did I do to deserve the honor of being in his majesty's presence?”

Yuu locked eyes with Leona in the hospital mirror, no doubt out of bed against doctors orders. Their damaged face matched their voice that dripped the venom of sarcasm. They were smug, overwhelmingly smug with a slight smirk to match their upturned brows.

“Well…? I'm waiting.” There's no fear in their demeanor at all. There never has been. Even when there should be. Yuu was brave, he'll give them that. They had a right to be angry.

Leona closed his eyes, taking a breath, then opened them again. “I came here to apologize.” He kept it brief. The hatred in their eyes told him that them didn't want him here more than necessary. Not like he'd blame Yuu.

“Oh? But what for your Majesty?” By now Yuu turned around, and Leona could truly see the extent of the damage done to them. Cracks permeated their face, reaching from their cheek to across their nose along with the corners of their eyes. The small smirk on their dry lips twitched for a second and he could see a few more cracks on them that bled. It was like a porcelain doll knocked off its stand

“I mean…” They took a step forward, as if to circle him, maintaining eye contact the whole time. The thin hospital gown swayed with them as they continued. Odd squelches and snaps sounded with each step from damaged feet that shouldn't be stood on.

“You sure showed them, huh? Everyone will know how tough you are now when they hear the tale of how you… valiantly fought and won against a magicless human that dared to threaten your throne…” They continued to circle him for a bit before pausing.

Their smug expression dropped to a cruel glare, turning to fully face him. More pops and snaps sounded from them. Parts of their arms look warped, as if their flesh was made of plastic. Yet the cracks along their arms were nowhere near as clean as the ones on their face, crowded together in craters and showing raw flesh in between them.

There was no way to respond to this in a way that would smooth things over. There was no way to smooth things over. He debates between holding his tongue or speaking, brilliant mind now failing him. He knows for sure that Yuu deserves to curse him out and that they probably need it for their mental health.

“I am here to ensure that you're fully cared for. I arranged for some of the top doctors to visit you and ensure your recovery outside of the hospital as well.” There is no fully recovering from this. They both know it.

Yuu's expression becomes more neutral, then they seem almost impressed. “Wow. How utterly magnanimous of you, your majesty. Why I'm practically kneeling at your feet and singing your praises… At least I would but uh, ah I can't seem to fully bend my knees, hmmm?” Their leering only seemed to get more and more intense.

“Thank you for your kindness, your majesty. I finally learned my place now. I will never forget our first meeting where you threatened to take a tooth from me after a most egregious offense I committed to you. How awful of me to not be able to see everything at once while adjusting to a new environment. I apologize for my shortsightedness. This was a most appropriate response…” Their hospital gown stretched out with their arms, showing off their injuries

A mock pout they wore turned sour. They bitterly looked to the side, theatrics starting to fail. “Well, you did indeed take a few…” Yuu pulled the corner of their mouth, causing more cracks to form along the corners. He could see the raw, irritated gums that once held their molars.

“I'm glad you got what you wanted. Do you feel powerful now? Clap for yourself, I mean really, you do deserve it, I'll also give a round of applause as well…” Their damaged hand made a few slow, sarcastic slaps together that sounded like sandpaper.

“I do wonder… What would the news look like if they heard about this? ‘Beloved Prince Protects NRC From Human!’ or ‘NRC Now Safe From Magicless Maniac!’”

Their eyes searched his, staring deep into his soul. He couldn't tell what they found within them, but it was clear they saw something. “Oh relax, I won't tell. I don't have autonomy here remember? I don't exist, so why would they listen? Not that anyone would have believed me anyways...” The Prefect looked to the side, trailing off.

“...Okay I'm done with this, just get the hell out of here. You won, okay? I'm a weak little herbivore. I don't want to see you ever again. Just leave me alone.” They were disgusted as they backed away from him, watching him the whole time. Leona saw how Yuu carefully shifted their weight, trying not to wince from the pain felt by moving.

He didn't say anything. Yuu didn't want him to speak. They sat down on the bed and stared at him until he turned to leave. It was when he closed the door he heard sobs.

Azul

He was shaking. Shaking as he stood in front of the door of the doctor's office. No matter how much he tried to steel his mind, he couldn't relax. He felt sick. His hand quivered. He didn't have the strength to open the door.

He had to eventually…

A deep breath, and he pushed it open, holding back the urge to throw up from anxiety. From the hospital bed, he didn't fail to notice how Yuu’s expression dropped the second he opened the door.

“Oh. It's you.” The Prefect tried to sit up, just to let out a gag and choke for a second, laying back down. How many ribs did he break when he grabbed them? How much did it hurt?

“Great to see you again.” They snarked, wrinkling their nose in repulsion before relaxing their face again. “So? What's up? Here to visit a friend?”

Azul was silent, watching as Yuu stared straight up at the motivational posters on the ceiling as they wheezed with every breath, not wanting to look at him. They were clearly expecting a response. Now where was it?

“I- erm. Prefect– I mean Yuu—”

“Prefect is perfect.” Yuu spat.

“Ah yes… Prefect…” Azul found his footing. “I am…” He had a script for this. He had a script for this…

“I'm sorry–” he tried not to cry. He tried not to be that stupid crybaby, but he was. He's just a pathetic, stupid, ugly crybaby no matter how hard he pretends not to be. Stupid stupid fat fat stupid.

“Oh my god I don't want to hear your pathetic blubbering. If you're gonna do that, get the hell out of here. I don't want to deal with this shit.” Yuu was exasperated, damn near shaking.

“Choking on sobs while I'm choking just to breathe, are you fucking serious?” He was snotty trying hard to fight against the tears, they were right, they were right—

“Let's ‘make a deal’: take whatever you want, just get the hell out of my life, Azul. Don't talk to me, don't even look at me. Take Ramshackle, I don't care, not like I can go up the stairs to my room now anyways. You don’t even need to handle any medical shit I have. You won.” Yuu was crying now too, shaking in their bed.

“Got it? Just fucking go. And be sure to share my sentiments with Jade and Floyd as well. Spell it out for them: I hate them. I hate all of you. You're all so pathetic, you're not even worthy of being considered shit on this earth. I don't want you here.”

That was all Azul needed to leave. They hate him. You hate him. He feels sick. Filthy. He deserves it. He deserves it. He's just a pathetic little octobaby. It's all he will be.

Idia

Idia was beyond anxious. He was petrified to leave his room and see what he had done. Idia knew he couldn't hide forever. He had to confront Yuu and own up to everything he did eventually. He doesn't want to do this. Why can't he just hide away.

Just breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale… Exhale…

Phew… here he goes—

The second he stepped up to that door he could hear it. Faint sobbing. Idia’s feet were cold once again as he stood there.

Should he wait? Should he just go in?

C'mon c'mon c'mon— What does he do here?!

… He can't do this. He can't. He's just going back to his room and will send a bunch of stuff their way with a lengthy, well-thought out written apology…

It won't work. He knows it won't.

Dammit! His parents and Ortho won't let him avoid this forever…

Another breath. He opens the door. He feels he's going to vomit.

Yuu jumps a bit startled. They blink as if to see if this is real, then stare at him with contempt. “... What do you want?” Their leer has Idia damn near shaking. It was even more unnerving with the darkened veins across their face.

“I- I erm– I came to um… ahem. O-Our doctors at STYX will continue to work with you and monitor your condition. We… We're sure with just a few tests we can get you back in p-perfect condition.” His eyes scanned the various burns and deep cuts along their body, most of which were covered in bandages.

“... Are you serious?” Yuu’ voice dropped dangerously low.

“U-um… Yes?”

“No, I mean are you fucking serious?” Yuu snarls at Idia, teeth gritted and eyes wide. “You seriously think I want to be around you sons of bitches any longer after everything that happened?! After you destroyed my dorm?! Took my friends?! Af… After you did this to me?!”

Yuu breathes heavily in and out. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

“E-eep!” Idia yelped, trying to make himself seem small. He wants to go to his room he wants to go— They're crying now, they're crying!!!–

"Unless it's a way home I'm not interested! I thought…” a sniffle, followed by a bitter laugh, “I thought the ‘whole ending up in a different world’ thing was supposed to be fun! Was supposed to be cool! I was… I was supposed to go out and explore and make friends and learn all kinds of magical things about how this whole world works and all that it has been for me is hell!”

They're sobbing into their hands. “I'm no one! I have to do all of this on my own and I have no identity, no nothing! I always have to fix everyone else's messes! I have to learn everything with no help! I'm always left behind, I don't have anyone, I can't… I can't do this anymore…”

They look at Idia, puffy eyes filled with so much anger. “Why couldn't you have just kill me? Why? It would have been the one good thing you've ever done. Now I have to continue living like this! Doing this stupid job! Having to check on everyone— and no doubt when I'm able to walk again Crowley is going to make me check on you!”

Idia was whimpering, backing towards the door he came in from. He knew this was a bad idea. He should have just stayed in his room…

“I hate you! I hate everyone! Nobody here cares about me, no one here ever checks on me, I have to babysit all the time, I never get to rest! I can't rely on anyone– and I have no one.” Idia was shaking, and just like a shark to a drop of blood, Yuu smelt his fear was was going in for the kill.

They're leaning in as far as they can, holding the side of the hospital bed. “What are you cowering over? What, do I scare you that bad? Shouldn't I be the one afraid of you?!”

Yuu is now glaring, the fire inside them turning icy. “You are so pathetic, Idia. I hate you. Hate. You. Just go.”

He was relieved to finally get out of there. Now he can shut himself away and take care of anything he has to from a distance, behind a screen. Away from everyone.

Grim

Something was off.

Yuu wasn't themselves. They haven't been themselves since the whole STYX situation. The second they made it back to campus they didn't seem to be as tearful or relieved as everyone was. They were stiff in the group embrace. It was exhaustion. It had to be. The adrenaline had worn off and they could finally relax.

It didn't explain how Yuu continued to be so distant for the next week. They would always round him up and force him to at least try to study so he could be a great mage, how Yuu would get on his case about every single little thing. His chores, the food budget, their jobs.

It was bliss. Yuu was less strict and he could finally do whatever he wanted. No more holding him back, no more lectures, he was free. Surely the prefect as his henchman learned their place. But then it started to worry him.

Yuu didn't pay attention to him. They no longer helped him with anything. They didn't respond to any of his usual quips. They left whenever he started to instigate something. Yuu just… didn't back him up anymore.

Ace and Deuce noticed it too but when they asked Yuu about it, Yuu just shrugged it off. Seriously, what gives?! He shouldn't be treated like this!

It all came out in homeroom. As one student, he and his henchman were partners per usual. Yuu was careful. They handled everything with precision and care per usual— Proper safety precautions, careful measurements (their arm seemed to shake a bit more, that hasn't happened in the past), perfect stirs.

And, per usual, Grim barely did anything. Aside from messing everything up.

Crash!

Everyone stared at the broken vial on the floor, with Grim right above it. There was tension as Crewel turned to see the damage, looking to see who to punish before his head turned to Grim. “I-It was Yuu! They did it!!” He pointed his stubby paws at them not noticing how their eye seemed to twitch when he did so.

“Don't lie Grim, Yuu didn't do it, you're just blaming them.” a random student came to their defense, leaving Grim high and dry.

“I see. Well then. Grim will have detention after class, and as his caretaker, you will have to join him, Yuu. You need to learn to keep your partner on a tighter leash.”

Yuu seemed to deflate just a bit. “... Understood.” Then they turned away from him as usual. Not even a lecture.

“Geez Yuu, why didn't you pay attention to me? It wouldn't have fallen over if you'd have done your job.”

It looked like Crewel was about to step in to lecture him. But Yuu’s voice cut in front of his, voice cold. “Because I expected you to be able to do basic tasks without coddling after all this time… Besides, you aren't worth it.”

“Wh- What do you mean Yuu?”

“I hate you.” You could hear a pin drop in that room from how loud the silence was. Grim just stared. “Hah?” He then glared at them. “Don't joke like that its not that serious.”

Yuu just shrugged. “Hey! At least answer me!!”

“I meant it, Grim.”

“This isn't funny Yuu.”

“I am not joking.”The Prefect crossed their arms and stared down at him, gaze cold.

“Recently I had an epiphany, a realization more like.” Yuu was speaking in a clinical tone. In this moment they were a researcher sharing their findings in a factual manner.

“I can't remember a clear moment where you have done anything meaningful for me since we first met a year ago. It has just been cleaning up your messes and catering to your selfish whims one after the other. I think what finally made me realize, was this.”

Yuu pulled down the sleeve to their uniform to show off the deep cuts Grim left in them after his freakout. They were jagged and deep and would no doubt leave an ugly scar. Whispers broke out from the crowd, murmurs about the dire beast circulated.

“I struggle to close my hand quite often now,” To demonstrate, they tried to flex their hand. Their fingers didn't extend all the way. Their face contorted into pain as they winced, hand shaking Grim swallowed, guilt washing over him as he tried to look smaller. “It's not like I can get occupational therapy so easily here, so I have to live with this for now.”

They now leaned down to him. Grim's widened and Yuus face seemed to grow more and more snarky, more cruel. “None of this would have happened if you just listened. How many times have I warned you not to consume those waste gems?” Yuu then leaned away, hand under their chin as they continue.

“Anyways, I then thought some more about all the effort I put in just for it not to be reciprocated. This relationship we have is quite one sided. It's more like 90:10 on a good day… and since then, I started to hate you, and everything about you…”

“I am a brilliant mind, you realize that? It's just an objective fact. I can't believe it took me this long to realize just how pathetic you are. After all, I have picked up an otherworldly language and culture and became near the top of my classes with the effort I have put in. I have a better understanding of magic as a magicless student than you.”

The crowd just watched as Yuu paced a bit, sorting out all of their thoughts for all to see. It was different seeing them like this, bit the students seemed to eat it up, taking their side.

“You don't contribute anything to those around you. You don't even contribute anything meaningful to a basic conversation aside from complaining about how tired and hungry you are. You cannot even sit down and review simplified notes I made specially for you.” Grim was shrinking with each word spoken, it felt as though he was being stabbed a thousand times over. It was a betrayal that he should have expected of he had any self awareness.

“You're selfish. You always take from others and don't have any endearing traits to make up for it. I have gone days without meals because you couldn't fathom that I need to eat too. You fail to recognize others as people and use them as scapegoats. The only reason you're passing your classes is because I get straight As... Thank you for turning them into Cs by the way.”

They didn’t seem to care how he felt. They didn't feel bad. How could they? “Surely by now you should be able to take care of yourself, oh great mage? You always told me how overbearing I was. Thankfully, I have good news.” He had a feeling it wouldn't be good news…

“Crowley finally got around to making our grades separate from now on, so you can't rely on me anymore. Which is why I have been collecting and saving all of my graded assignments.” Oh no. That was bad news. It was good for Yuu, yes, but now he's screwed. I mean he doesn't deserve this right? It's not his fault this school is so hard! How is he supposed to pass now?!

“You're welcome. You got what you wanted. You're your own mage from now on. No need for a lowly human to drag you down.” This lowly human was the only reason he got this far.

"I'm sure I could find other students in my classes that will help me with any magic barriers— you are barely able to do it anyways. It doesn't matter if you get held back to me anymore, I can graduate without you. I no longer have to rely on you to exist here, so I can finally say it: I hate you.”

The class seemed shocked, asking each other if Grim really was that awful. Grim was blubbering, panicking. A firm smack of a ruler hitting the inside of a hand interrupted it all. “That's enough, Yuu! Bad dog!” Crewel tapped the ruler in his palm again.

“My apologies professor, I am done. I do hope my potion is up to your standards, seems like Grim hasn't started on his.” They set a delicate bottle on his desk, awaiting review.

He was panicked now. Wait. Fuck. He hasn't been helping. It was Yuus potion! The direbeast merely looked over to Yuu who cleaned up their workstation, not even sparing a glance to him until the very end. They looked over once more at Grim through their goggles.

“I do hope you remember your detention. In any case I am done here, I am going to go help other groups professor.” Just like that, they left him, Grim could only watch as the group they joined adopted them instantly, asking them if they were alright and offering their magic if they needed it. It was no suprise most student liked them. They were always kind. The only looks he got back were from other students that seemed to judge him.

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid - Part 2

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4705

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: Thank you so much for the response to part 1! And thank you to everyone who was so patient and understanding for this part taking a while to write. I hope you all like it.

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Wanda seems to be in a better mood lately, Natasha notices, probably because the two of you rekindled whatever complicated romance you had going on. And as sad and lonely as it had made Natasha feel, at least Wanda was being less rude to her, and that would always be a win in her book.

The grocery trips and errands she sends Natasha on are less demanding, although Natasha’s unsure if she’s becoming more comfortable or Wanda’s gotten less picky. Wanda still requests Natasha’s help for her weekly meetings, and Natasha cannot understand why someone who is unemployed goes so out of her way to find the most mundane, meaningless things to participate in. But it keeps Natasha paid and busy, and she still gets to see you a few times a week.

“What are you doing this weekend, Natasha?” Wanda asks while the two of them are in the kitchen. Wanda is on her laptop while Natasha stands at the counter, cutting vegetables for dinner.

“Um…” Natasha knows better than to tell Wanda the truth, which is that she’ll be sitting alone in her apartment for the next two days and eating ice cream on her couch. “Some friends invited me to go shopping with them at the mall,” she lies. She doesn’t have friends and she certainly doesn’t have the budget to shop at a mall after all the debt she still owes.

“I’ll be gone all weekend with some girlfriends,” Wanda says, not even acknowledging Natasha’s plans, which makes her wonder why she had even bothered to ask in the first place. “I’m not into wine tasting much, but the girls go nuts for it. I’m just going for the spa at the resort, between you and me.”

Natasha has no idea what to do with this information. But she’s spared from answering when the garage door rumbles open.

Wanda slams her laptop shut. “Oh, Y/N is home early.” She gets up to greet you. Natasha can hear your voices carry through the hall.

“You’re early tonight,” Wanda says. “I was just telling Natasha about my weekend plans to Vermont with the girls–”

“Your weekend plans?” you interrupt. “Since when did you have plans to go to Vermont?” Natasha has never heard you sound genuinely angry before. She stops cutting the carrots to focus on eavesdropping.

“Carol wanted to go for her birthday!” your wife says.

“Wanda,” you say, your voice lowering. “Our anniversary is this weekend. I booked us a stay at the Ritz and got us tickets to see Wicked–”

“Well, just ask for a refund!” Wanda hisses. Natasha is stunned that this is her first response to forgetting about her entire anniversary with you. “And we can celebrate when I get back–”

“‘Get back?’” you repeat. “That’s not the point, Wanda. Why don’t you ask for a refund for your trip–”

“I can’t do that to the girls,” Wanda says. “Carol’s been looking forward to this for months!”

You mumble something that Natasha can’t hear. She feels awful for you. Clearly, you had spent a lot of money and time planning a nice outing, and your wife didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she tried to put the blame on you for intruding on her plans. Natasha felt herself shaking with rage for you. You deserved so much better.

The two of you trudge into the kitchen and Natasha hastily goes back to cutting the carrots. Wanda is hanging onto your arm, tiptoeing to whisper into your ear but you shake her off and walk through the kitchen to the staircase. Natasha knows that Wanda is glaring at the back of her head, probably upset that she had overheard, but for once she doesn’t say anything and disappears after you.

The mood is particularly subdued when Natasha serves up roasted salmon with a colorful vegetable medley and mashed potatoes. 

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say as she hands you a loaded plate. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything when Natasha gives her a plate.

While the two of you eat in awkward silence, Natasha cleans up the kitchen, her final task of the day. She grabs her purse and heads towards the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.

It’s you.

“Can I walk you out to your car?” you ask. “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but I don’t want you walking out in the dark by yourself.”

Natasha is so flattered by your offer she doesn’t stop to consider how Wanda might feel about this.

“Sure, I really appreciate that. Thank you.” She leads the way out of your house.

“Sorry you always have to park around the corner,” you add, maintaining a respectful distance from her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Wanda the whole neighborhood knows you work for us. But she’s…” you trail off, clearly not wanting to speak ill of your wife.

“I’m sorry she forgot your anniversary,” Natasha blurts out. 

You seem startled that Natasha had been eavesdropping, but quickly recover. “Well, it’s…it’s not the first time she’s done it,” you admit in a soft voice. “I don’t know why I bother trying to do anything special anymore. It’s just another day to her. And it seems like she’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“She’s missing out,” Natasha says, surprised by her own confidence. “You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who will appreciate the efforts you go to celebrate important milestones like that.” She stops before she can offer herself up.

“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” 

The two of you stop at Natasha’s beat-up Nissan. 

“Thanks for walking me to my car–” she starts.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you ask suddenly, in a rushed whisper as if Wanda is around the corner listening. “If you’re not, would you like to see Wicked with me at the Gershwin Theater? I told Wanda I could probably get a credit with the Ritz, but I don’t want to deal with the hassle of exchanging the tickets, too. You can come over Saturday night and I’ll drive us?”

Natasha is so shocked by your proposal she doesn’t even have the words to agree at first. Growing up, she had loved watching musical movies until the VHS tapes wore out, but she had never had the opportunity to see a live performance. Even now as an adult, she still didn’t have the time nor the budget to see a show. To hear you ask that you wanted her to join you, when you had bought the tickets for you and your wife to enjoy on your anniversary she had forgotten, sounded almost too good to be true.

But if Wanda found out you had taken Natasha instead of her…Natasha shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was stepping over the line of professionalism. Natasha wanted to keep her job (and her head), and as much as the opportunity was a dream come true for her, she didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness or weakness.

“Um, I’m supposed to go shopping at the mall with some friends on Saturday,” Natasha says, cringing at the patheticness of her life. “But really–thank you for inviting me. I’m sure you have friends you’d rather take over your maid.”

“I don’t have any friends,” you say, so deadpan that Natasha almost laughs but quickly turns it into a cough when she realizes you’re being serious. While you seemed more reserved than your wife, Natasha refused to believe you didn’t have a strong social network. You were in charge of your own company and clearly doing well if you lived in this neighborhood and could afford a personal housemaid like her.

“Good evening!” The two of you startle when a cheery voice comes out of nowhere.

“Hello, Mr. Vision,” Natasha says, spotting the eccentric man first as he walks by at a rapid pace.

“Late night walk, Vis?” you call out, and he nods with a wave, pumping his arms faster and milling away. The only thing Natasha knew about Vision was that he lived by himself at the end of the street. He had no wife or kids that she knew of, not even a job as he was constantly seen walking around the neighborhood at odd hours. But he never approached Natasha or made her feel uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for most of the people living here, so she was happy to ignore him.

When Vision moves out of sight, you say, “Well, if your plans happen to change…” You fumble in your pockets awkwardly, pulling out a bent business card and handing it to Natasha. “My cell number is on there. Text me before Saturday if you’re still interested.”  

“Okay.” Natasha doesn’t want to get your hopes (or hers) up, but she still isn’t convinced this is a good idea. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Natasha.”

She loves the way her name sounds coming out of your mouth.

***********************************************************************

Natasha is still unsure she made the right decision to turn down your offer to see Wicked. She even called her only friend, Clint, to ask if she should’ve said yes.

“Well, you’re just seeing a show together. Think of it like a work bonus or something. Bosses give their employees nice stuff like that all the time,” Clint says as Natasha picks at a box of takeout in front of the television. Cooking at home was not her favorite chore after doing it all day for her clients.

“Yes, but it’s just the two of us,” Natasha stresses. “Y/N got the tickets to celebrate an anniversary and Wanda already hates me as it is–”

“Nah, she doesn’t hate you,” Clint says.

“You haven’t met her! You don’t see the way she treats me.”

“Exactly. Maybe this is Y/N’s way of apologizing for her behavior,” Clint says.

“I don’t know…” It was already Friday night. Natasha didn’t have much time now to change her mind if she was going to.

“Be nice to yourself, Nat. Let someone do something for you,” Clint goes on. “You work so hard for these people all the time. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to see a live performance.” Natasha feels tears well up in her eyes. She wishes Clint was here in person so she could give him a hug. “Nothing bad will happen. Just tell Y/N you want to go before someone else takes your spot.”

Natasha takes a steely breath. Clint is right. It wasn’t a date. It just was her nice boss treating her out to a Broadway show. Never mind the fact that you had intended to take your wife initially. Wanda would never have to know, right?

“Okay. Thanks, Clint.”

“Enjoy!”

As soon as she hangs up, Natasha goes into her texts. She already created a contact for you the night you gave her your business card. Her anxiety is through the roof as she types out a message to you, then deletes it and starts over. She gets more and more frustrated trying to find the right words, before she finally throws in the towel and clicks “Send.”

Less than a minute later, you respond.

Happiness explodes inside of Natasha. She can hardly believe her luck. Not only does she get to see her first Broadway show, but she gets to see it with you, and have dinner on top of it. She darts over to her closet, looking for the nicest dress she owns.

Wanda be damned. Natasha was going to have a great night with you. 

***********************************************************************

“Table for two, please.”

“Did you have a reservation?” the blonde woman at the podium asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry, but we’re all booked out for the evening,” she apologizes. 

Natasha stands behind you meekly. She can’t even pronounce the name of the restaurant and doesn’t know what kind of food they serve, but it’s probably far beyond anything she could ever afford. She’s wearing a dark green dress that almost reaches her ankles and is conservative in protecting her assets, and spent over an hour doing her makeup, and she wonders if strangers will look at the two of you and assume you’re a couple. She wouldn’t go out of her way to correct them.   

“That’s okay. This was a last-minute plan for us,” you explain. “If Tony is working tonight, can you please tell him Y/N stopped by to say hello?”

“Wait, you know Mr. Stark?” the woman pales. “Don’t go anywhere. You said your name is Y/N?”

You smile and nod. The woman steps down from her podium and dashes into the back. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” Natasha boldly teases. 

You turn and wink at her. 

“Tony and I went to college together,” you explain, although this implies you shared a friendship of some kind. “And clearly, his business is doing better than mine–”

The woman quickly returns with a short bearded man wearing a gray suit with red-tinted glasses that match his tie. 

“Y/N!” Tony shouts, embracing you in a dramatic hug. “You should’ve told me you were coming tonight! I could’ve put together a private booth in the back–”

“It was last-minute,” you say. “This is Natasha, by the way. She’s a friend.” Natasha is thrilled at the way you associate her with you.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Tony.” He takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. He doesn’t seem surprised you haven’t brought Wanda along instead. “I take it you haven’t been here before, Miss Natasha? You won’t need a menu, I’ll have the chef bring out the best dishes we have tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you say. 

“Follow me! You can have a table in our east wing. Where’s Wanda?” Tony says rapid-fire, turning around and leading them deeper into the restaurant. You step out of the way and motion to let Natasha go first, and she feels your hand graze her back as she walks past you. 

“She’s out with her girlfriends for the weekend,” you answer from behind Natasha. 

“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” you respond, your voice suddenly tense.

The restaurant is packed, every visible table filled with customers, until they turn around a corner to a quiet, completely empty area.

“Pick any table. I’ll have a waiter come out with some drinks shortly,” Tony says.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Natasha echoes, unsure if she likes this special treatment. You pick a table near the corner and pull her chair out for her. As soon as the two of you are seated, a waiter in a vested suit appears with a few bottles of wine, making suggestions and pouring samples into the glasses. Natasha doesn’t have enough knowledge to understand what he’s saying or differentiate the tastes, but she enjoys the experience. It feels strange to have someone serve her, when she’s normally the one waiting on people’s every demand. 

The two of you share several appetizers together. Natasha feels like she’s floating in a dream. You have been nothing but generous and respectful to her, but every time your left hand reaches across the table for the caviar, the wedding ring on your finger taunts her. 

The dinner itself is a four-course affair, including a rich chocolate cake that Natasha devours faster than she can fully enjoy. When the bill arrives (which Tony has already chopped in half), Natasha still asks if she can chip in (despite knowing full well she doesn’t have the money to cover even her portion), but you push her card away and give the waiter your black card.

The theater is three blocks from Tony’s restaurant, so you leave your car in valet parking and ask Natasha if she’s okay walking. She had not planned ahead very well, so she only has a thin cardigan to cover her shoulders. You notice her shivering and offer her your heavy black jacket that completely engulfs her frame. Your scent completely surrounds her now and Natasha swears she won’t wash this dress ever again.

The line into the theater moves quickly and Natasha follows you all the way down to the front, where your seats are perfectly center to the stage. She crawls over a few people, feeling a little smug about getting some of the best seats in the house. You had truly spoiled her tonight and she was never going to forget this. 

She leans over to whisper to you before the show begins. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ve already had so much fun and the dinner was amazing.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for joining me, and thank you for all the hard work you do for my family,” you say and Natasha beams. “Me and Wanda really appreciate it.” Natasha deflates a little at the mention of your wife, but she pushes her out of her mind to focus on her time with you. 

As they wait, Natasha props her arm up on the armrest between you two so she can hold the playbill at a comfortable angle to read. Suddenly, your arm drops heavily on hers and she looks at you in confusion. You’re reading your own playbill and don’t seem to notice that your massive arm is practically crushing hers.

“Um, Y/N?” she prompts, clearing her throat.

“Hmm? Oh!” You quickly move your arm off hers. “I’m so sorry, I thought that was Wanda’s arm,” you explain with a nervous chuckle. Natasha laughs too, although she isn’t sure if she should be happy or worried that she reminds you of your wife. She’d be happy to take Wanda’s place any day, though. 

The musical is amazing, impressive beyond anything Natasha had ever expected. She cries when Elphaba defies gravity, and after the whirlwind of the second act, she is among the first to give a standing ovation. She’s floating on cloud nine as she walks with you out of the theater back to the car.

The drive back to your home is quick at the late hour. Just as you're about to pull into the driveway, you slam hard on the brakes, jolting everyone forward. Vision power walks past the beams of your headlights, only breaking the pump of his arms to wave in thanks.

“What is he doing out so late?” you ask, and Natasha is relieved to know she’s not the only one who thinks his habits are a bit odd.

“No idea,” she mumbles, watching you pull onto the driveway and stop.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” Natasha says, still giddy with excitement.“This was the best night of my life. I’ve always wanted to see a Broadway show, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d get the chance, even after I moved here–”

“You’re very welcome,” you interrupt, seeming almost shy with the praise.

“I’m sorry Wanda wasn’t able to join you for your own anniversary,” she adds, although she’s not sure why.

You shrug. “Nothing we can do about it now. Besides, I’m glad you were able to join me and had such a fun night. I don’t think this would have been nearly as fun by myself.”

There is a pause and Natasha has to force herself to stop looking at your lips. If she had no self-restraint, it wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean over the center console and kiss you.

“Have a good night, Natasha. Drive home safely,” you say as the two of you get out of the car.

“Thank you again!” Natasha doesn’t even listen to music on her way home, riding out the high of what was easily one of the most memorable nights of her life in over a decade.

***********************************************************************

A few weeks later, Natasha is working a double shift: the first one at Steve’s house, and the second at yours. You’re away at work, as usual, but she knows you’ll be home before she leaves for the day, and she never takes any glimpse of you for granted. Wanda is also back to being demanding and cranky, and Natasha has no idea if you told her about the night the two of you had together. She had felt the silent instruction from you not to blab about her taking Wanda’s place and was happy to keep the memories to herself.

She’s in the front hall, mopping while quietly humming “Defying Gravity” to herself, when Wanda clacks by in high-heels.

“Natasha!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to start in the kitchen? If I slip out here because the floor is wet–”

“So sorry!” Natasha apologizes, hoping that she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’ll put a fan on.” She rests her mop against the wall and darts off for the $300 Dyson fan in the closet. After pointing it towards the gleaming floor, she pushes her cart into the kitchen and continues mopping. She makes sure to open the window to air out the smell, and notices Steve across the street mowing his lawn. 

She stares at him, wondering if he can see her, and her question is quickly answered when Steve waves to her. She returns his wave with a smile, then goes back to her task before Wanda can complain she isn’t working hard enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him back away from his lawn mower and answer his phone; he disappears into his house hurriedly. 

“Natasha! Always make sure you open a window when you mop!” Wanda’s screech comes out of nowhere. “The chemicals you use give me a headache!”

“Oh, but the window is open–” Natasha tries to explain, but Wanda silences her with a wave of her hand.

“I’m on the phone!” she says, pointing to the cell phone held up to her ear. Natasha bites her lip, but holds her tongue. “Sorry, honey, what was that? No, I was talking to the maid,” she says. Natasha perks up despite the way Wanda titles her. You’re clearly on the other line, and maybe you’ll be home sooner than expected.

But Wanda disappears into a guest room (your house had so many of those), and Natasha can no longer hear her conversation. She dutifully continues to mop the floor, careful to fan the mop in a semi-circle pattern so as not to trap herself in a corner. She moves the chairs to the hallway one at a time, cursing their awkward shape that makes them difficult to carry and taking special care not to scrape the feet along the floor. 

Wanda’s shrill voice carries through the house again, this time covering a topic that makes Natasha’s cheeks heat up.

“Oh my God, yes, I’m still thinking about last night,” Wanda says. “When you had my legs behind my head–”

Natasha tries not to picture Wanda folded up like a pretzel while you plow into her. But she can imagine herself in a similar position (she’s not so confident in her own flexibility, but she’d make it work for you). Your hands could probably fit around her whole thighs as you push her legs apart wider, thrusting your hips in long strokes to fit your big dick into her. Natasha is embarrassed to admit that the last time she had masturbated, she had thought of you the whole time.

How much more you’d fill her compared to the flimsy toy she was using. How you would feel throbbing inside her, your body pressed hot and heavy against hers as you beg for her permission to finish. Imagining having you like that, with that kind of control, brought Natasha to the most amazing orgasm of her life. If only you had been there to share it with her. 

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go another round, but you proved me wrong,” Wanda continues, and Natasha picks up on how breathless she sounds. She wonders if she’s touching herself right now, with Natasha mopping in the kitchen. Somehow, that wouldn’t be shocking to her. “You were still so hard when I put you down my throat.”

A lightning bolt of arousal strikes Natasha’s core. She can’t focus on mopping anymore, staring blankly out the kitchen window, lost in the new filthy fantasy playing in her head, guided by Wanda’s narration. 

Natasha lies between your legs, her lips barely brushing your hips as she takes your cock down her throat. She prays her gag reflex doesn’t protest at the obstruction in her airway, but despite the slight discomfort, she wants to do this all day. Your pants and moans are like music in her ears, urging her on to suck harder and take you deeper.

“Please Nat,” your voice wavers. The muscle fibers in your thighs are visibly tensed and your back arches off the bed when Natasha pushes your hips down, trying to maintain some kind of control over you. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, with only one goal in mind. 

“It’s almost like I can still taste you.”

You poke at the back of her throat and Natasha can feel the hot throbbing of your cock in her mouth. She’s so eager to swallow anything you’ll give her, she’s almost embarrassed in her desperation, but when your hands cup the back of her head, pushing her down so she can fit the last inch down her throat, she knows the two of you are on equal planes of passion.

Your entire body flexes and the anticipation for Natasha is overwhelming. You finally inhale sharply as the first hot spurt lands on her tongue. 

“Being on your knees for me is a good look for you.”

Natasha tips her head back against the wall, her fingers tangling in your hair. One of her legs rests on your shoulder while the other is spread far apart so you can kneel between them, your mouth pressed against her heat. Your tongue swirls around her clit and Natasha fears she won’t be able to stay standing much longer. 

“Y/N,” she pants, clutching your head tighter and rocking her hips forward. “I need you.”

Your fingernails dig harder into her thigh to still her. You look up into her eyes and Natasha thinks she’s going to finish right there. “You have me, baby. I’m all yours.”

“But there’s really only one place you belong.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you grunt, almost sending Natasha headfirst into the headboard with every one of your thrusts. “I could stay inside you forever.”

Natasha hums at the praise. She’s holding on the bedsheets for life, spasming and clenching around you, trying to pull you in deeper. You fill her so perfectly, she’s convinced her body was made for yours. 

“Tell me I’m better than her,” Natasha gasps, fighting to delay her own release.

“Fuck Wanda,” you grunt, pulling back on Natasha’s hips at the same time you thrust forward, burying your entire length into her. “I love you, Natasha. You’re the only one I ever want to be with.”

A noisy car engine pulls Natasha out of her head. Her face feels flushed with arousal, and she knows what she’s doing the second she goes home. Your green car suddenly pulls into the driveway but stops. You get out and walk to the street, grabbing one of the trash bins and pulling it towards the house.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Wanda says in the background.

The realization crashes down on Natasha’s head like a cold shower. She watches you grab the second bin with both hands, carefully walking backwards with it.

You’re not on the phone and you’re standing 30 feet away from Natasha. If Wanda’s not on the phone with you, then who is she talking to?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Who do you think Wanda was talking to? 👀

To be continued...(hopefully)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[barnacles34]

Bells and Whistles (Professional Hazard pt.2)

Karina x Male Reader

18+

It's three days after that beautiful night. Still in Rome.

The voicemail plays in the quiet of her bedroom. First: silence. Then a sharp intake of breath that makes your pulse jump. 

Your thumb hovers over the phone as her voice breaks into those familiar wet sounds that have been haunting you all afternoon.

'If you play that one more time—'

'Shh. This is art.'

She's burrowed in her fortress of quilts, only eyes visible over the edge. A paperback lies abandoned by her hip.

'Delete it.' But her voice has gone soft around the edges.

'Not a chance.' You take your time with your shoes. Let her watch the deliberate movements. 'This is better than your debut song—and you know how much I love that song.’'

'You're awful.' The quilt slips as she shifts. 'I was desperate.'

'Were you?' You tap the phone, find that specific moment where her voice catches. 'Tell me about desperate.'

Her sock-covered foot sneaks out, hooks behind your knee. Tugs. 'Twenty minutes for milk. Who takes twenty minutes for milk?'

'Someone wearing very expensive, very tight jeans.'

'Someone being cruel.'

You catch her ankle mid-retreat. The quilt falls away, reveals cotton shorts still damp from earlier. Your thumb finds the arch of her foot, presses. She makes that sound again—the one from the voicemail.

'Cruel?' Your fingers trace higher. 'I'm not the one sending pornographic voicemails in the middle of the day.'

'I didn't—' She breaks off as your hand slides up her calf.

'No?' You hit play again. Her recorded gasp fills the room. 'What would you call this then?'

She bites her knuckle. You replace it with your thumb, let her teeth graze the pad.

'That noise you made,' you murmur. 'Right at the end. Makes me feel invincible.'

'Yeah?' Her tongue darts out, tastes salt.

'Like I could do anything. Find Atlantis. Solve world peace.' You brush her temple with your lips. 'Handle two of you.'

She snorts, shoves at your chest. 'You can barely handle one.'

'Want to test that theory?'

The laughter dies in her throat as your palm finds her inner thigh. Heat blooms under cotton.

'Stay.' Her fingers twist in your shirt like anchors. 'I'll send more. A dozen. Two dozen.'

'Greedy girl.'

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. 'Your fault.'

When you kiss her, she melts like she's been waiting all day.

Her tongue maps the ridges of your teeth, memorizing territory she already knows by heart.

‘Cheater,’ she gasps when you pinch the clasp of her bra.

‘Architect.’

Her shorts fall. The quilt tangles around her hips. She arches when your mouth finds her neck. Whimpers when your teeth follow.

‘Still deleting it.’ She breathes.

‘Try.’

You hit playback again. Her moan swells—raw, unfiltered—as your fingers slide into her.

‘Fuck.’ Her head thrashes. ‘That’s—’

‘—Proof.’ You curl your fingers. ‘You’re my religion.’

She chokes on a laugh. A sob. Her hips stutter. You drink the sounds from her lips. Let her nails carve half-moons into your shoulders.

Later, when she’s boneless and blinking up at you, she traces your collarbone.

‘Twelve voicemails,’ she yawns.

‘Thirteen.’

‘Why thirteen?’

You press her palm to your chest. Let her feel the gallop. ‘One for every time I died at this very second.’

She stills.

Her teeth flash. Dangerous. Devoted. ‘Gladly.’

Your fingers move lazy. Slow. Dragging out every twitch, every choked gasp. She arches into your hand, sweat gluing her bangs to her temples.

‘Still… deleting it.’ She pants, hips circling.

‘Try harder.’ You crook your fingers. Watch her back bow.

Her moan syncs with the recording still playing softly nearby—a stereo echo of need. You drink the sound. Memorize the way her throat flutters.

It’s pulsing, it’s so wet and hot. Sucking in your fingers like quicksand.

‘You’re mean.’ She whines.

‘Mean?’ Your thumb swipes. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

The voicemail crackles: “—can’t sleep, can’t think, just… please—”

You smirk. Kiss her inner thigh. Salt and jasmine. Her hips jerk.

‘No—wait—’ Her hand fists your hair. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t pull. Trembles.

You nuzzle the damp cotton. ‘Scared?’

‘Never.’

Her shorts peel away. You linger—inhale her, lips hovering. She whimpers.

You chuckle. ‘Even your pussy smells like jasmine.’

‘Please.’

The first lick is a tease. A glancing blow. She curses. The second? A vow.

You map her with your tongue—slow, reverent. Learn the rhythm that makes her thighs clamp your ears. The angle that steals her words. She’s wildfire in your mouth.

‘There—oh god, there—’

You double down. Fingers curl inside her. Thumb presses just so.

Her scream is raw. Beautiful. The quilt soaks. You don’t let up—suck gently as she shakes, drag your tongue through every pulse until she’s clawing the sheets.

Her juices quicken, a pungent musk of sex that’s just pure fucking sin—and you’re sucking it up like a thirsty dog.

Your tongue drags a slow circle around her clit—not touching it. Just tracing the swollen bud through her folds. She whines, thighs tensing.

‘Tease.’

‘Worshipper.’ you correct.

Her hips lift. You press her back down with a palm to her stomach. Feel the muscles flutter, feel the soft cream-like softness of her beautiful midriff.

First contact: a glancing lick. Just the tip of your tongue skating over her clit. She gasps. You catalog the sound—high, sharp, yours.

‘Again.’ She breathes.

You oblige. Slower this time. Let your tongue flatten, drag wet heat across her, bury your nose into her pelvis. Her fingers knot in the sheets.

‘Good?’

‘More.’

You hum. Vibration ripples through her. She jerks.

‘Easy,’ you murmur against her. ‘Let me learn you.’

Your thumbs part her folds. Expose her fully—glistening, flushed, pulse visible in the throb of her clit. You blow gently. Watch her clench, flesh constricting.

‘Cruel—’ A high moan escapes her.

‘Thorough.’

The first proper lick steals her voice. You start slow. Broad strokes from entrance to clit, savoring her tang. Her thighs quiver.

‘There,’ she hisses when your tongue flicks her clit. ‘God, there—’

You zero in. Flick. Flick. Steady rhythm. Her breath hitches.

‘Don’t stop—don’t—’

You switch tactics—suck gently. Her back arches.

‘Yes—like—ah—’

Her clit hardens under your tongue. You trace circles around it, avoiding direct contact. She sobs.

‘Please—’

You reward her: firm pressure, rapid flicks. Her hips stutter. You pin her down, red blooming around the hold you have over her stomach—relentless.

‘Close—I’m close—’

You slide two fingers inside. Curl. Her walls clamp.

‘Fuck—fuck—’

Her clit pulses under your tongue. You suck harder.

She shatters.

A broken scream. Hips grinding against your face. You ride her through it—tongue gentling, fingers stilling.

‘Too much—’

You kiss her inner thigh. Two more kisses along the outer lips. Taste salt. ‘Beautiful.’

She trembles. ‘Again.’

Her thighs tremble as she nudges you onto your back. The mattress dips under her weight. You reach to touch her face—always reaching—but she catches your wrist. Presses it to the pillow. 

Her grip isn’t firm. A request, not a demand.

‘Let me,’ she murmurs.

You nod.

Her lips start at your collarbone—a closed-mouth kiss that lingers. She exhales warm breath against the hollow of your throat. You swallow. She smiles against your skin.

Another kiss. Lower. The swell of your pectoral. The scar from that cat. Her tongue traces the jagged edge. You hiss.

The way her thick hair travels along your chest tickles. The soothing aroma of her shampoo almost paralyzing you.

Her teeth graze your nipple. Bite down just enough to make your hips jerk. The denim of your jeans rasps against her bare thighs.

‘Off,’ she says.

‘What’s the magic word?’

Her eyes flick up. Dark. Glossy with submission. ‘Please.’

You sit up to shuck your jeans. She pushes you back down. ‘Let me.’

Her fingers fumble with your belt. The leather slips. She growls—a sound you’ve only heard when she lost at Mario Kart the day before. You bite your cheek. Laughter threatens release.

‘Shut up.’

‘Didn’t say anything.’

The belt clatters to the floor. Your boxers follow. Cool air hits your cock. Her breath follows—warm, uneven.

‘Look at me,’ you say.

She does. Pupils blown. Lips parted. A string of saliva connects her tongue to her lower lip.

‘Beautiful,’ you murmur.

She flushes. Looks away.

Your thumb hooks her chin. ‘Eyes here, sweetheart.’

A whimper escapes her. She obeys.

The first lick is tentative. A kitten testing cream. Her tongue swipes the underside of your cock. Your abs clench in response.

‘Jimin—’

‘Shh.’

Her lips wrap the head. Suck gently. Your groan claws its way out. She moans in response—vibration traveling straight to your spine.

Fuck.

Her hand wraps your shaft. Strokes in time with her mouth. Too dry. Too rough. Perfection.

‘Condom?’ she mumbles around you, the slightest gap allowed for conversation.

‘Later.’

She hums. The sound liquefies your bones.

And she continues. Swollen lips wrapped around your length, tongue slightly pushing on the underside.

Her free hand drifts between her legs. You catch it.

‘Focus.’

‘Meanie.’

You guide her head back down. ‘Earn it.’

She takes you deeper. Smoldering eye contact as she inches closer to the hilt, whereupon her nose almost makes contact with your pelvic bone. Gags. Pulls off. Coughs.

Strings of thick spit follow her mouth as she wipes.

‘Okay?’

‘Perfect.’

She tries again. Slower. Breathing through her nose. Her throat opens. Takes you to the root this time. Tears spill.

You bite down on your lip.

Her nails dig into your thighs. Sting. Ground. 

She finds a rhythm—suck, release, swirl. Strings of spit travel down your length. Where her thumb massages your balls with the spit. Your vision blurs.

Amidst it all, she’s staring into you—daring you to force her down on your cock. Begging, even.

‘Close,’ you warn.

She pulls off. Strokes you fast. ‘Come.’

You arch. ‘Where?’

Her tongue darts out. Catches the first pearl of cum. ‘Everywhere.’

The orgasm rips through you. Strips you raw. You spill across her lips, her chin, the swell of her breasts. She licks her lips. Grins.

‘Good?’

‘Amazing.’

She crawls up your body. Fully swallowing the load, then pressing a light kiss on your cheek.

Her mouth lingers on your cheekbone—wet, warm. The kiss sticks when she pulls back. Milky streaks still glisten between her breasts. You thumb one. She shivers.

‘Messy,’ you murmur.

‘Yours.’

Her nipples graze your chest as she straddles you. Heat blooms where skin meets skin. You palm her ribs. Feel the rabbit-quick thrum beneath.

Her hips lift. Your cock nudges her entrance. Slick. Swollen. You hold still. Make her work for it.

‘Please.’ She breathes, sinking down.

Heat swallows you. Tight. Quivering. You bite your tongue. Blood blooms.

She moves like water—slow swirls, thighs trembling. Her breasts sway. You catch one. Lick the salt from its curve.

‘Look at me.’

She doesn’t. Eyes screwed shut. Hair plastered to her neck. Hot and heavy with arousal.

You pinch her nipple. Gentle. Cruel. ‘Look.’

She whimpers. Lashes lift. Pupils black as oil spills.

‘Good girl.’

She whimpers. Clenches. Your fingers dig into her hips.

‘Faster.’

‘Make me.’

You buck up. She gasps. Nails score your chest.

‘Cheat—’

Her rhythm fractures. Hips stuttering. You let her chase it—the sweet friction, the burn. Her moans pitch higher.

‘Close—I’m close—,’ she whimpers.

You still her hips. ‘Wait.’

She sobs. ‘Please—’

‘Say it.’

Your thumb finds her clit. Circles.

She breaks. ‘Yours. Always yours.’

You release her. Let her slam down. Take what she needs.

Her orgasm rips through both of you—convulsions, bitten-off cries. Her rhythmic roll of hips turns frenzied. You let her ride it. Milk every pulse. 

After all, you’re obsessed—crazy about her.

When she collapses, you roll her over. Press into the sweat-slick hollow of her back.

‘Again.’

She shakes her head. Weak.

You bite her shoulder. ‘Again.’

Her body opens. Always opens. You grip your cock along her swollen slit, the sticky wetness almost  drives you mad. Regardless, you fuck her slow this time. 

Deep. Dragging each thrust. Feeling how her pussy drags on your cock, slick wet sounds singing into your ears.

‘Feel it?’

She nods. Pillow muffling her whines.

Your hand slides under. Cups her breast. Squeezes.

You curl over her. Chest to heaving back. Lips to her ear.

​​Her lips linger at your ear—sticky with confession. You taste salt when she pulls away. The room smells of sex and the spilt vanilla candle she lit hours ago, wax pooling like liquid amber.

She softly guides your hand to her throat. Your thumb finds the pulse. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. A trapped bird.

"Harder," she whispers.

You tighten. Feel her swallow.

Her breasts press against your chest as she arches, nipples pebbling against your scars. The heat between her legs slicks your thigh.

"Inside.’

You flip her. Sheets snag her knees. She whines. You bite the sound from her lips.

Her hands fist the headboard. You press into her slow. Molten velvet. Her moan fractures.

‘Eyes.’

She obeys. Always obeys.

You move. Deliberate. Each thrust a psalm. Her breasts sway—heavy, flushed. You palm one. Squeeze. Milk-white skin blooms red.

‘More—’

‘Quiet.’

She bites her wrist. You replace it with your fingers.

‘Sing for me.’

Her cry splinters the air. You swallow it. Fuck her deeper.

The headboard knocks the wall. Syncopated. Her ankles lock at your waist. Pull. Beg.

‘Who?’ you demand.

‘Yours.’

‘Louder.’

‘Yours~!’

The word still ringing when you slam into her. No finesse. Piston hips. Her breasts slap your chest—heat and sweat and jasmine.

She chokes. Nails rake your back. ‘Too—’

‘Take it.’

Her legs lock. Ankles digging into your behind. You fuck her like proving a point. Jackhammer rhythm. Headboard cracks plaster.

Dust rains down as you drag her hips back, slam into her harder. No rhythm now—just ruin.

She chokes on a scream, face mashed into the quilt, ass raised like an offering.

Your grip bruises her waist, fingers denting flesh as you split her open again. Again. Again and again. 

You can feel your balls hit the wetness of her pussy, smacking wet sounds onto her slit.

‘Take it.’ You grind deeper, pelvis punishing her clit with each thrust. Her thighs quiver, slick with sweat and your earlier release. ‘Wanted me rough? Here.’

She sobs into the mattress, voice shredded. ‘T-too—’

‘You don’t get to.’ You fist her hair, yank her head back. Her spine bows, throat exposed. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

A nod. A whimper.

You snarl, slamming home. The wet slap of skin-on-skin drowns her cries. Her nails claw the sheets, nearly ripping threads. You lean over her, teeth scoring her shoulder. 

Her scream cracks as you pin her wrists, pound into her like you’re exorcising ghosts.

The bed groans. Her breasts sway, nipples raw from your mouth. She’s so tight, clenching around your cock like she’s trying to keep you trapped inside.

‘Gonna break you,’ you rasp, thumb digging into her asshole.

She shrieks, back arching. ‘P-please—’

‘Please what?’

‘Ruin me—’

You do. Hips pistoning, sweat stinging the bite marks on her neck. You don’t stop—can’t stop—driving into her convulsions until your vision whites out.

She sobs. High. Broken. ‘There there there~!’

Your thumb finds her clit. Grind. Her scream lodges in your teeth.

‘Come.’

‘Can’t—can’t—’

You bite her shoulder. ‘Come.’

She shatters. Walls milking. Clenching. Begging without words.

You drill deeper. Tip hitting that spongy ache. Her eyes roll back.

‘Gonna fill you,’ you snarl.

‘Please please—’

One last thrust. Hilt-deep.

You rupture.

Whiteout. Earthquake hips. Flood her until your knees buckle.

She collapses into the fault line you’ve carved. Whimpers when you pull out. Spend drips down her thigh.

Her finger swipes it—all that cumulative spend coupled along her swollen cunt. Lets the slurry couple along her tongue.

‘I love how you taste.’

‘God. You’re too fucking perfect.’ You drop down onto her. Cuddling.

Moonlight spills through the curtains. She's tucked against you, all soft edges now.

'You okay?' Your fingers ghost over her shoulder.

'Mm.' A pause. 'Was it too much?'

'Never.'

'But I was...' She shifts slightly. 'I got carried away.'

'Hey.' You tilt her chin up. 'That's what I love about you.'

'What? Being a mess?'

'Being real.'

She burrows closer. 'Still. Sorry if I—'

'Don't you dare apologize.'

'But—'

'Want some water?'

'If you move, I'll write a very detailed exposé about you.'

'About what? My green tea addiction?'

'Chapter One: The Man Who Chose Hydration Over Cuddles.'

'Riveting.'

'Mm. I'll even include citations.'

Your fingers trace idle patterns on her arm. 'What's Chapter Two?'

'Our future kids being haunted by your tea collection.'

'Kids, huh?'

'Tiny humans who'll only drink iced americanos.'

'In winter? That's grounds for custody battle.'

She pinches your side. 'They'll be perfect.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Little artists with their mom's smile and their dad's terrible sense of humor.'

'My humor is exquisite.'

'You'll teach them to be insufferable.'

'And you'll teach them to be beautiful.'

She props herself up. Hair mussed, eyes soft. 'Where should we live?'

'Somewhere quiet. With big windows.'

'And a garden?'

'For your flowers and my tea herbs.'

'Domestic.' She wrinkles her nose. 'I like it.'

You pull her closer. 'We'll need a library.'

'For bedtime stories?'

'And quiet mornings.'

'With a reading nook?'

'Big enough for three.'

'Four,' she corrects. 'Maybe five.'

'Ambitious.'

She kisses your jaw. 'Thought you could handle anything.'

'Try me.'

'Five kids. All girls. All with my stubbornness.'

'Terrifying.'

'But worth it.'

You thread fingers through her hair. 'Worth everything.'

'Even giving up your tea collection?'

'Now you're pushing it.'

She laughs, soft and real. 'I'll let you keep the fancy cups.'

'Generous.'

'I know.' She yawns. 'I'm a catch.'

'The biggest.'

Her fingers trail your chest. 'Hey.'

'Mm?'

'Think our kids will be tall?'

'With your genes? Doubtful.'

She bites your shoulder. 'I'm average height.'

'For a garden gnome.'

'For a normal person.’ She groans.

‘—Who has been crushed ever so slightly by a hydraulic press.’

‘Ugh.’ She falls back into the bed.

‘We need a shower.’

She huffs. ‘No, I need a shower.’

‘Hm?’

‘I know what you’re gonna do: act like it’s a shower then nail me for the next half-hour in there.’

‘Oh?’

‘Don’t oh me. My legs are still sore from the cumulative effects of the past 3 days’

'Fine.' You pull her closer. 'Five more minutes.'

'Five turns into fifty with you.'

'Can you blame me?'

She traces patterns on your chest. 'I have to be at the airport by six.'

'Skip it.'

'Right. I'll just tell my company I found something better to do.'

'Like?'

'Like getting ravished by a journalist with no self-control.'

'Sounds reasonable to me.'

Her laugh is soft. Sad. 'I can’t let go of this.'

'This?'

'You.' She props herself up. 'Your stupid jokes. Your hands. The way you look at me like I'm...'

Your fingers find her hair. 'How long?'

'A week. Maybe two.'

'I'll die.'

'Drama queen.'

'No, actually die. Waste away. They'll write articles: Local Writer Perishes From Karina Deficiency.'

She smacks your chest. 'Stop.'

'My last words will be "if only she'd stayed one more day."'

'I hate you.'

'You love me.'

'Yeah.' She kisses your jaw. 'That's the problem.'

She sits up suddenly. 'Wait. What if—'

'What if?'

'My apartment in Seoul has a separate entrance. Service elevator.' The words tumble out. 'Nobody uses it except staff. And I have this office, connected to my room—'

'Jimin.'

'—could set up a desk there. Get you one of those fancy writing chairs. And there's this cafe nearby, really private, the owner's super discrete—'

You prop yourself up. Watch her plan your smuggling with bright eyes.

'The security team changes rotation at 2AM.' She's drawing invisible blueprints on your chest. 'That's when we could—'

'Breathe, baby.'

'I'm serious.' Her fingers curl against your skin. 'I've thought about this. A lot. Like, embarrassingly a lot.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' She ducks her head. 'Have the whole thing mapped out in my head. When to sneak you in. Which staff to trust. Where to hide your toothbrush.'

'My toothbrush gets its own strategic planning?'

'Everything gets strategic planning.' She looks up. 'I'd make it work. I'd make it perfect.'

'Jimin.'

'I know it's crazy.' Her voice cracks. 'But I can't—the thought of not—'

You pull her down. Kiss her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth. 'Tell me more about this secret entrance.'

She breathes against your neck. 'Really?'

'Really. Though I should warn you—'

'What?'

'My toothbrush is high-maintenance. Needs its own security detail.'

She laughs, wet and relieved. 'I'm being pathetic.'

'You're being perfect.' Your thumb catches a tear. 'And I'm taking notes.'

'Yeah?'

'Mm yeah. Finally found my title: "How to Smuggle a Writer: A Professional Hazard."'

Jimin nuzzles into you further. Purring at this moment of peace.

2 Weeks Later

Dawn creeps through her expensive curtains. She's wrapped around you like a koala, skin on skin, taking up more space than her tiny frame should allow.

You try to slip away. Her arms tighten.

'No,' she mumbles against your chest.

'Tea.'

'Lies.'

'Green tea.'

'Worse lies.'

But she lets you go, rolling into the warm spot you leave behind. You pause at the door—she's barely covered by the sheet, hair a mess across your pillow. Perfect.

The kitchen gleams in morning light. That copper kettle she insisted on buying catches the sun—"Because proper tea needs proper tools," she'd declared, like your entire existence before her was barbaric.

She pads in almost-naked just as the water's heating, with your discarded shirt from yesterday.

'Cold?'

'Miss you already.'

'I'm right here.'

'Too far.' She hooks her chin over your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. 'What blend?'

'The one you say you hate.'

'Mm. The grassy one?'

'Getting better at this.'

She hums against your skin. Already reaching for her cup—the blue ceramic one that somehow migrated from the hotel to her apartment.

First sip. Her eyes close.

'Well?'

'It’s okay.' She takes another sip. 'Bland. I guess.'

She grins wide as you turn around. Getting closer to you, inhaling the smell of your fresh t-shirt. 

'Noted.' You kiss her temple. 'Want the rest of mine too?'

'Yes.' A sleepy smile. 'But only because I love you.'

'Of course.' Your greatest triumph: her, here, stealing your tea and your heart. 'Only because of that.'

'Want breakfast?' She's already moving to the fridge.

'You're cooking?'

'Don't sound so scared.' She pulls out eggs, something that looks suspiciously gourmet. 'I've been practicing. Besides, I’m tired of eating the coal you call food, and the bacteria colony I call food.'

'Since when?'

'Since I decided to be domestic.' She hip-checks you away from the counter. 'Go sit. Let me work.'

You watch her move around the kitchen. Something's different. A nervousness in her hands, a flutter in her movements.

'Stop staring.'

She’s revelling in it, how she gets you dumb-struck every time you get a glance of her.

Too cute.

'Can't help it.'

She sets a plate in front of you. Simple breakfast. Eggs. Toast. But arranged with careful precision. Something white peeking out from under the toast.

'Fancy.' You reach for your fork.

'Wait.' Her fingers twist in your shirt. 'Look under.'

'Under the toast?'

She nods. Not breathing.

You lift the bread. There's a small note. Written as small as her hands would allow. 

‘Pregnant.’

The world stops.

'Jimin.'

'I know it's fast.' The words rush out. 'I know we just—but I've been feeling strange and the test was just sitting there in my bathroom for days and I finally—this morning while you were sleeping—'

You pull her into your lap.

'Say something.'

'When?'

'2 weeks, maybe? Remember that night after the bar?'

You remember. Of course you remember. A beautiful night.

'Are you...' Her voice small. 'Are you happy?'

You kiss her. Taste salt. Someone's crying. Maybe both of you.

'Ecstatic.' Your hand finds her stomach. Still flat. But now. But soon. 'Terrified.'

'Yeah?' She laughs through tears.

'Yeah.' You kiss her again. 'Best breakfast ever.'

'Even better than your tea?'

Instead of answering, you kiss her again.

What's tea anyway?

Fin

A/N: Goodness! They make a great couple. Hope you enjoyed!

[demonic0angel]

Dead silent in the dragon au? I'm a sucker for them and I do like dragons

(Sure :D)

Part 4...?

Cassandra observed the lair of the Ghost King, a powerful dragon who was said to have an undiscoverable lair and a hoard full of mysterious treasures. In reality, while it had been hard to find, it was rather ordinary. She had seen bigger. Her own sire and guardian had a lair that was based entirely on an underground cave system and he had riches that had knights and lords from various kingdoms and countries coming to kill him every week.

The Ghost King’s lair was still impressive, just not what she had expected from the various rumors she heard. The lair was modestly sized and on the bigger side, and located inside of an abandoned human castle. The hoard itself was a collection of strange objects that she could not decipher.

Perhaps human object lovers like Jason, who collected books, and Damian, who had only just started to collect swords, would know.

Cassandra was a little confused by this collection, but the Ghost King’s scent was pleasing and some of the things he had were sparkly, so she wasn’t too ready to leave yet.

She perked up at the sound of growls and fire breathing. She flapped her little wings and climbed onto the ceiling with her claws. Quickly scurrying outside, she watched wide eyed as a beautiful white dragon was digging his teeth into a beefy yellow dragon. The white dragon was on the smaller side, leaner, but he had sharp fangs and claws and they were able to tear into the flesh of the other dragon easily.

The other dragon blew fire and wailed, but the white dragon pulled back to breathe out ice and trap it before digging back in, blood spurting and dripping from mortal wounds.

Cassandra watched in awe as the dragon flapped his wings for extra strength. Said wings were large and wide, colored white with black at the tips.

Most amazingly, they were feathered wings. The rest of the dragon’s body was scaled, but those feathered wings rose high and mighty, like clouds and mist.

The white dragon roared and then in one vicious move, bit down on the neck of the other dragon, reared his head back up, and then tossed it to the side, where the yellow dragon whimpered and then flew away with a flap. The white dragon bristled, snarling, before wiping away the blood on his snout.

Cassandra shivered at the raw strength of this dragon before she gave a low purr and crawled back inside, where she dropped from the ceiling and then began scenting the strange hoard. She was determined to meet this dragon for herself.

The Ghost King came back inside his lair, pausing as he registered her scent before he cautiously approached. When he saw her, he froze in place for a long time before he spoke.

“Hello. I am Danny, youngest son of the Nightingales.” He gave a bow, discreetly trying to rub off more of the blood on his pearly scales. His two pairs of eyes blinked at her, green and bright like emeralds.m

Cassandra gave a bow. “I am Cassandra, oldest daughter of the Waynes. What is your hoard made of?”

Danny, the Ghost King, crept towards her and said, “It’s my collection of astrology items. Human made things that let you see the stars.” He paused in front of her. “I love the stars. These things help me see and study them.”

Cassandra gave a turn, eying the hoard in a new light. “Fascinating. I’ve seen many hoards, yours are one of the most different.”

“… you like it?” He asked, tail wagging.

She nodded.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, tail wagging even more.

Cassandra paused. She had never been called beautiful by another dragon before. Her black scales looked muddy and they were freckled and scarred. She was not slender like other dragons, because she was a fighter, not a flier.

For a moment, she was extremely self conscious in front of this beautiful, white dragon who was King and powerful and interesting and gentle.

“I… I know that I am not the ideal mate, but I can protect our nest. I’m the best fighter in my family,” Cassandra said.

Danny leaned down and then nuzzled her. “You’re beautiful. No one has approached my lair or hoard before and stayed. Your scars are comets and your scales look like a starry night. I’m strong, but I hate fighting. With you, then maybe….”

Cassandra purred and rubbed against his chest, their scales making sparks together.

Danny returned the rumbling purr and then asked, “May I formally court you?”

She chirped happily. “You may.”

[v6quewrlds]

Can you plzzzz write something based off the new Alo ad song with Joe. Maybe y/n and Joe have been dating for awhile, their heading to his house when he decides to take the "long way home" just to admire her/he realizes he's in love/falling in love with her!

Btw I love your writes sososo much!!! Like have you ever thought about writing a book frfr? Kinda new here so not sure if you've ever talked about it but yeah <3

imagine taking the long way home with joe.

author's note⠀⁎⠀got so carried away writing this. i honestly don't think i have the attention span/commitment required to write a book lol. but this song is the cutest ty for requesting <3

Three short knocks on the mahogany of her front door echoed through the hallway. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest as she paused her frantic search for the last earring she'd lost amidst the chaos of packing. She rushed to the door, her pulse racing like it did every time the anticipation of seeing Joe caught her in its grasp. She took a deep breath, casting a quick glance at the mirror by the door before opening it with a soft smile and bright eyes.

"Hey," Joe greeted with a casual ease, a bouquet of white peonies in one hand and a bottle of her favorite wine in the other. His grin was as warm as ever, his blue eyes scanning the room, taking in the sight of her apartment in the throes of preparation for her short getaway.

She moved to the side, allowing him to enter. "Hey," she echoed, closing the door before turning to step into his arm for a brief hug and a chaste kiss. "You didn't have to bring these," she said, nodding at the flowers and the wine, taking them from him with a gentle show of awe.

"They're your favorites," he said simply, tucking his hands into his pockets with a shrug. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, a feeling she was getting quite used to around him. She took the bouquet to the kitchen to find a vase, her mind racing with the excitement of the days ahead.

The apartment was small but cozy, filled with the scents of her favorite candles and the faint sound of an old Drake song playing in the background. As she filled a vase with water, Joe wandered in, peering over her shoulder. "You almost ready to go?"

She nodded, setting the flowers down. "Just gotta take the trash out. I don't wanna leave with it just sitting here. I'll take it on our way out."

Joe offered to do it for her, a gesture that touched her more than he could know. She watched as he took the bag, telling her he'd be right back as he headed out the door. As he turned, she took the opportunity to sneak a peek at him. He was dressed casually, a blue crewneck and worn-in gray jeans that hugged his athletic frame. His hair was ruffled slightly, as if he'd run his hands through it, a nervous trait which she found utterly endearing.

While Joe was gone, she took one last look around her apartment, ensuring she hadn't forgotten anything. Her eyes fell on the fridge, a collection of photos held by magnets. The newest addition was a polaroid of them in the mirror. Her camera was covering half of her face as Joe appeared to be mid-sentence. She couldn't remember what he'd said, but she could see the laughter in his eyes, the joy she felt that day reflected back at her.

They had known each other for a year and had been dating for four months, but it felt like forever. She couldn't believe how fast she had fallen for Joe, having been one heartbreak away from swearing off men entirely. Yet here she was, about to spend her precious PTO in his arms, in his house, surrounded by his life.

When he returned from tossing the trash, he found her with her back to the door, her hand lingering over the fridge, the photo of them smiling back at her. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Ready?" he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

She turned in his embrace, leaning into him. "Yeah," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let me grab my things." She stepped away from the fridge, breaking the momentary reverie, and picked up her bag, her heart thumping against her chest as he held out a hand to take it from her.

As they left her apartment, Joe led her to his car parked at the curb. The car was a sleek black, gleaming under the streetlights, the seats plush leather as she slid into the passenger side. They'd had their fair share of fancy dinners and morning afters since they started dating, but there was something about staying at Joe's place - four days uninterrupted - that made this feel different.

On the way to Joe's, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was being unusually quiet. She tried to keep the conversation flowing, filling the silence with tales of her workplace dramas and the latest episode of the show they were watching together. Yet Joe's responses were shorter than usual, his eyes on the road as if it held secrets he hadn't yet uncovered. The only solace to her nervous mind was his warm hand on her thigh, a silent reassurance that he was still there with her, even if his thoughts seemed a mile away.

She turned her attention to the road, realizing they were taking a route she didn't recognize. "You're not taking me to some sketchy motel, are you?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Joe chuckled, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Nah, I just wanted to admire the scenery," he said, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her thigh. "If I wanted to kidnap you, I'd be a little more creative than using my own car."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Good point," she conceded. They drove on in the comfortable silence, the hum of the car engine the only sound between them. As they approached a red light, Joe took the opportunity to shift in his seat, turning to her with a seriousness that made her pause mid-sentence.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice trailing off as she met his gaze. There was something in Joe's eyes she hadn't seen before, a vulnerability that made her heart swell. He reached over and took her hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in a rhythmic pattern.

"I just wanna look at you," he hummed simply, his gaze roaming over her features like a photograph he was memorizing. She felt a sudden shyness bloom in her chest, the weight of his stare making her self-conscious. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out as more of a nervous giggle. "You're so beautiful."

Her face warmed at his words, and she playfully swatted his hand away. "Joe, the light's been red for ages. You're gonna miss it," she said, but there was no bite to her tone.

He didn't break eye contact, his expression earnest. "I know these lights," he said, a half smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "We'll be here a while." His right moved to cradle her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

Her eyes searched his, the playfulness in her gaze slowly giving way to something deeper. "Joe…" she breathed, not quite sure what to make of the sudden shift in their usual dynamic.

The light turned green, and her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. No honks yet. She couldn't hold back her laughter, breaking the tension. "Alright, you've had your moment, now drive," she playfully ordered, her voice a mix of affection and amusement.

Joe's smile grew, and he finally turned back to the road, his hand falling away from her face to its spot on her thigh. His foot eased off the brake, and they rolled through the now-green light. She watched as the scenery passed by, her thoughts racing with the unspoken words that had filled the car. The rest of the drive was spent in a gentle quietude, their fingers intertwined, the occasional glance shared between them speaking volumes.

When they arrived at Joe's house, it was a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of her apartment. Expensive and sprawling, it was a testament to his success, with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed a perfectly manicured lawn and a pool that reflected the moonlight. It stood alone on a hill, a good distance away from the other affluent homes in the immediate area.

He pulled into the garage and cut the engine, the silence enveloping them as the door rolled down behind them. She felt a peculiar mix of excitement and trepidation as Joe opened her door for her. She stepped out, her sneakers setting against the cold cement floor, her eyes scanning the room filled with various equipment and a few luxury cars. She couldn't help but feel a touch overwhelmed by the grandeur of his life, so different from her own.

"You taking it in?" Joe asked, his hand lingering on hers as he helped her out of the car.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "Yeah," she said with a nod, "just a little…wowed by all of this." She gestured to the garage, taking in the grandeur of his home.

"Still?" He teased with that deep chuckle of his. "You've been in here at least twice before."

"Every time feels like the first," she replied, a hint of awe still in her voice as her eyes fell back to his. She could feel her breath catch as Joe leaned in, his gaze never leaving hers, his thumb still brushing against the back of her hand. The air in the garage grew thick with anticipation, and she stepped closer, her free hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

"You okay?" She asked again gently, her fingers brushing through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. His eyes searched hers, a faraway look swirling in his baby blues, one she hadn't seen before.

"Yeah," he murmured, "Just…thinking." He stepped closer, his other hand finding the small of her back, pulling her into him until she was nestled against his chest. She could feel the steady thump of his heart against her own, his warm breath fluttering against her face as he exhaled as if searching for the right words.

"I love you." He said finally, the words coming out so softly she wasn't sure if she'd heard him right.

She froze, her eyes widening. She had felt it, of course. The way he looked at her, the way he held her, the little things he did. But she hadn't expected to hear it, not yet. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared up at him, her eyes searching his, looking for any sign of a joke or tease. But Joe's face was earnest, his eyes holding hers without a trace of humor.

She searched for the words she hadn't yet said out loud, the words that had been growing in her chest for weeks now. They felt heavy on her tongue, but she knew they were true. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. The moment stretched out as if time had paused just for them.

Joe's face broke into a smile, the tension in his shoulders melting away. He leaned down to kiss her, a gentle, lingering kiss that spoke of love and relief. She felt her heart swell, her hands coming up to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. They broke apart, both breathing heavily, exhaling together as if staring in a mirror.

"I've been waiting to tell you," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I didn't know if it was too soon, but I couldn't not say it."

She leaned into him, her hand still on his neck, her eyes searching his. "I've been wanting to say it," she said, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "I just didn't expect it to come out like this."

Joe chuckled, his eyes shining with affection. "Well, I figured I'd make it a memory worth keeping," he said, his thumb still stroking her cheek. The silence that followed was peaceful, the only sound their synchronized breaths and the distant hum of the garage door motor.

She felt a warmth spread through her, a warmth that seemed to banish the cold from the concrete around them. "It's definitely one I'll hold onto," she said, her voice low and earnest. She leaned into his embrace, feeling the strength in his arms, the beat of his heart. It was perfect.

[lucygraysboy]

“sounds absolutely awful. how do we cure it?” billy innocently inquires, as if the curing process didn’t involve him simply keeping his hands to himself. “so, why did you say that i was dumb in the first place? it hurt my feelings.” it takes all his willpower to refrain from grinning with amusement, but in the end it fails anyway. the corners of his lips twitching before he gives up and begins to laugh, hand reaching for lucy gray’s, trying to get her attention. “i’m just jokin’, little birdie.” does that count as a prank of his own? he briefly wonders. “i’ve got a few aces up my sleeve. i mean, not to brag, but i’ve pulled a few stunts before.” escaped jail, for example. but that’s not the kind of achievement he’s truly proud of. “lose? pft, i’d have to break a leg to lose this race.” or she’d have to trick him, or both. laughing as his cheek gets poked, he turns his head to the side and pretends to bite her finger. “the strongest bird in the county! look at these mighty arms, sundance! you ever seen muscles like these?” he gently takes one of lucy gray’s skinny arms into his hand and gives her bicep a squeeze. though, if he has to be honest, he genuinely does think she’s very strong for someone who probably doesn’t even weigh a hundred pounds. “you’re just sayin’ that ‘cause shamus is your best friend. i don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for passin’ out in her livin’ room. maybe i should bring her some dandelions to munch on? you know, as an i’m sorry gift?” he laughs, following suit and gathering his clothes. he’s buttoning up his shirt when he hears lucy gray’s sweet conversation with sundance, his heart swelling so impossibly. she’s such an angel. how could anyone not fall in love with her? “sundance, did you get some rest? was it a fun day, hm?” he joins in, pulling his suspenders over his shoulders before bending down to put on his boots. “you ready for that ride, songbird?” he wonders, thinking she’s chatting with the horse to muster some confidence.

"it's gotta be. pain throbbin' from someone's waist." lucy gray replies, laughing. "you're not dumb in the least. if someone can wind up all the way here in kansas from the places you've been, you clearly ain't dumb." but he is big, in a tall way. obviously he doesn't have a lot of meat on his bones. "what do you mean? you're a trickster, too?" playfully questioning, clearly he does have tricks when he escaped like he did. "i didn't say it like that, not the way you think. i'm not sure i wanna race you, if you're gonna go poutin' when you lose." the brunette playfully pokes his cheek, poking him in his shoulder a few times to get him to look again. "ewww!" making a face, holding her hands up to dodge the water hitting her. "i sure am." AGREEING to that even if he helped, tugging him until he's standing back up and then she lets go of his arms. "shamus would be mad at you, but she don't hate you." lucy gray claims optimistically, walking to tug her shirt back on and then legs step into her pink skirt. she gathers the picnic basket and takes it over to stand by the horse. "how've you been? findin' a lot of your favorite grass to chew?" making small talk with the beautiful horse while waiting for billy.

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 Positive • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- There are three things you know for certain right now:

You're pregnant.

The father currently has his hands all over some blonde at The Wreck.

According to Topper, you're Rafe Cameron's favorite topic during locker room talk.

warnings -- 18+-mdni, unplanned pregnancy, cursing, angst no happy ending, readers a pouge, fuckboy!rafe (?) toppers a dickhead frl, mention of abortions (once)

main masterlist(s) | taglist | wc: 2.2k

"Fuck." You stare at the positive pregnancy test between your trembling fingers.

"Fuck," you curse again, realizing you're alone in your apartment with this life-changing news.

Of course this would happen.

After months of sneaking around, of heated encounters and promises to keep things casual, one reckless night was all it took. One moment where passion overrode common sense, where neither of you cared about consequences.

A hushed "I want to feel you, all of you," slipped from Rafe's lips as he paused, the condom still on, but his desire for you raw, uninhibited, consuming him. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours, silently asking if you trusted him enough to let go..

How naive you'd been, thinking you could trust Rafe Cameron with something so intimate. The golden boy of the OBX, known for his volatile temper and reckless abandon. The type of man who treats both relationships and speed limits as mere suggestions.

And you'd fallen for those dark cerulean eyes and heated whispers like every other girl before you. Only difference was, you were now staring at the consequences of that trust, watching it turn into two pink lines that would complicate everything.

Your secret hookup.

The trust fund bad boy of the OBX. The same Rafe Cameron who's probably at some country club event right now, charming his way through a crowd of socialites, completely unaware that he's about to become a father.

You can already hear the whispers at the yacht club – the Camerons' golden boy and his latest pouge conquest.

As if sleeping with Rafe Cameron wasn't scandalous enough, now you're carrying the next heir to his family's empire.

"Have you seen Rafe?" you shout at Topper over the pulsing bass of The Wreck's speakers. Your hand instinctively rests on your still-flat stomach – a new nervous habit you've developed since seeing those two pink lines.

Topper takes a swig of his whiskey, looking entirely too amused--and drunk, "Lost track of your boyfriend already?"

"He's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah." He smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Just his favorite little Pogue to fuck behind closed doors, right? You know, he tells us everything in the locker room." He leaned closer, whiskey breath hot against your ear. "About how eager you are, how you beg for it. Though I gotta say, for someone from the cut, you've got quite the reputation among the trust fund crowd now."

Your cheeks burned with humiliation and anger. Of course Rafe would brag about all the girls he's had to his Kook friends. Of course you were just another story for their country club gossip.

"Go fuck yourself, Topper. Where's Rafe?"

"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. We all know you've got a thing for rich boys. Though usually we don't keep Pogues around this long – Rafe must really like something about you." His eyes raked over you suggestively. "Or some things."

The way he says it makes your skin crawl – it's pure Rafe Cameron coming out of Topper's mouth. That same calculated charm, that practiced way of making someone feel simultaneously special and worthless.

You wonder how many hours he spent watching Rafe work his magic at bars, memorizing the exact tone needed to make "sweetheart" sound like an insult. Rich boys and their fucked-up everything.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. "Hey, I'm just messing with you. No need to get your discount panties in a twist." He gestures toward the bar with his glass.

"Last I saw him, he was chatting up some blonde by the bar." Topper continued, "Though, something tells me you've got more on your mind than just another quick fuck in the coat closet."

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" you snap at him, hands clenching into fists.

Your head whips around, scanning the crowded bar area, but there's no sign of Rafe's familiar frame among the sea of drunk socialites.

"He's not there," you mutter, frustration building in your chest.

"What's wrong? Don't have your Kook King on a leash?" Topper calls after you as you push past him toward the exit. "Better hurry – you know how fast Rafe moves on to the next thing!"

You storm out of The Wreck, the humid night air doing nothing to cool your rising anger.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

Here you are, pregnant with his kid, and Rafe Cameron can't even stay in one place long enough to hear the news.

Slumping into your car, you grab your phone, fingers trembling as you pull up his contact. Three rings, voicemail. Again. Four rings, voicemail. Your frustration builds with each failed attempt.

hey, we need to talk

rafe, answer your fucking phone

where are you?

this is important

You watch the messages turn from "delivered" to "read" with no response. Of course he's seeing them. He's probably looking at his phone right now, some blonde draped over his shoulder, both of them laughing at your desperate attempts to reach him.

seriously rafe, this isn't about us. something happened

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You could just text it. Three simple words: I'm pregnant, asshole. But somehow, dropping that bomb over text feels wrong, even for whatever this is between you.

After the tenth unanswered call, you throw your phone onto the passenger seat, fighting back angry tears.

You should have known better than to expect anything different from Rafe Cameron, who treats Pogues like they're as disposable as his designer clothes.

To him, girls from the Cut are just temporary entertainment – something to play with until a more suitable option from his tax bracket comes along.

Your phone buzzes. For a moment, your heart leaps – but it's just another notification that he's read your messages.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you mutter, starting your car with more force than necessary. The engine roars to life, matching your mood.

You consider driving to his place – you know he'll end up there eventually, probably with tonight's blonde in tow. But the thought of waiting outside his house like some desperate ex makes bile rise in your throat.

Your phone buzzes again. This time it's a text:

busy rn. talk tomorrow?

A laugh escapes you, bitter and hollow. Busy. Of course he's busy. He's always busy when it doesn't involve getting into your pants. Your fingers fly across the keyboard before you can stop yourself:

hope she's worth it. btw, might want to start setting aside some trust fund money for child support

You hit send before you can think better of it, immediately regretting it. Your phone explodes with incoming calls – now he wants to talk. But you're already pulling out of the parking lot, vision blurry with unshed tears.

Let him panic for a while. Let him feel a fraction of the anxiety that's been eating at you since you saw those two pink lines.

Besides, if he can't be bothered to give you five minutes when you need him, he can wait until tomorrow to hear how he managed to knock up his favorite Pogue.

You wake up to the sound of coffee brewing – which is impossible because you live alone and definitely didn't set the timer last night. Stumbling out of your bedroom, you freeze in the doorway.

There's Rafe Cameron, looking unfairly good for someone who should be hungover, sitting on your beaten-up futon. His expensive clothes are a stark contrast to your shabby apartment furniture, but somehow he looks like he belongs there.

Between his fingers, he's holding the pregnancy test you'd forgotten to hide in your emotional spiral last night.

"Breaking and entering now?" Your voice comes out shakier than you'd like. "That's low, even for you."

He doesn't look up from the test, but you catch the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "It's not breaking in when I have a key." He finally meets your eyes, holding up the small silver key you'd given him three months ago after that night he'd brought you soup when you were sick. "You know, the one you said was 'just for emergencies'?"

The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. This thing between you had stopped being just hookups somewhere between the late-night conversations and the drawer of his clothes in your dresser. Between him knowing how you take your coffee and you knowing which side of the bed he prefers.

"That's not—" you start, but he cuts you off.

"Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to text it and disappear like you did last night?"

"Oh, like how you disappeared with that blonde? Or should we talk about how you disappear every time after you're done with me, just to go brag to Topper about your latest fuck?"

His face darkens. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Rafe. Your locker room talk is apparently quite entertaining. 'Eager.' 'Begging for it.' Ring any bells?" You wrap your arms around yourself, hating how your voice shakes. "Tell me, do all your Kook friends know how I sound in bed, or is that a special story just for Topper?"

"That's not—"

"Not what? Not what you meant? Not what happened? Because Topper seemed pretty clear about exactly what kind of reputation I have among your trust fund crowd now."

"You really think that's what this is?" He gestures between you. "That I could think of you as just another hookup?"

"Isn't it? I mean, god forbid the Kook King actually care about the Pogue he's fucking—"

"Jesus Christ," he runs his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration. "If this was just about sex, would I have a key? Would I know your coffee order or—"

"You can't use that as some kind of proof you care! Having a key doesn't mean shit when you're out there treating me like your dirty little secret!"

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with months of unspoken hurt. When Rafe finally speaks, his voice is low, controlled: "Is it mine?"

The question hits you like a slap. "Are you seriously—"

"Just answer the question." His eyes are intense, searching yours. "Is it mine?"

The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. He already knows the answer – can read it in the way you can't quite meet his eyes, in how your hand unconsciously drifts to your stomach.

That night without protection wasn't your first together, but it was the first time he'd looked at you like you were something more than just a good time.

Like maybe you could be everything. Now that look is back, mixed with something like fear as the reality of what you're not saying sinks in.

"Those tests—" he starts pacing, running his hands through his hair. "They're not always accurate, you know? Maybe you should take another one. Or three. Fuck, how do you even know for sure?" His voice takes on a desperate edge. "There are… options. I know a clinic in Chapel Hill. Discrete. I could make some calls—"

"You know what?" Your voice comes out quiet, defeated. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe this is exactly what I need to finally stop pretending this—" you gesture between you, "—could ever be anything real."

"I'm just saying we need to think about this logically—"

"No," you snap, your voice rising until it bounces off the walls of your tiny apartment. "You're trying to make this disappear, just like everything else that threatens your perfect Figure Eight lifestyle!"

You watch something crack in his expression, that carefully maintained Kook King facade finally showing a glimpse of real emotion. His hand reaches for you, then drops. "Don't—"

"I think you should go." You turn away, unable to look at him anymore. "Use that key one last time to lock up behind you."

You don't need to see his face to know he's struggling with what to say. The perfect Rafe Cameron, for once at a loss for words. It would be funny if it wasn't breaking your heart.

You don't turn around to watch him leave, but you hear the way he hesitates at the door. The silence stretches, filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say. Finally, the door clicks shut, and you're alone again.

Your hand drifts to your stomach, and you let out a bitter laugh. You can do this alone.

You'll move out of the OBX, maybe up to Wilmington where no one knows your name or that you're carrying a Cameron heir. You'll work extra shifts at the restaurant, save every penny.

Your kid won't need trust fund money or a father who treats relationships like they're disposable. Your child won't grow up feeling like some dirty secret.

Somewhere across town, Topper's probably already hearing about how the Pogue girl tried to trap Rafe Cameron with a baby. You can almost hear the yacht club whispers starting. But let them talk – you've survived worse than country club gossip.

(What no one would ever know: how your hands shook as you slid his key under his door later that night, or how he sat in his car outside your apartment for hours, staring at a small velvet box he'd been carrying in his pocket since before you ever said the word "pregnant."

Some love stories aren't meant to have happy endings, and some babies are meant to have just one parent who actually wants them.)

a/n -- thanks for reading, as always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore @madzig @thatdesigirl17 @drewstarkeysrightarm @seqhyvnz @romantasyreader2024 @luizaelias @rafe-cameronswife @emmavzlsblog @aileenunfiltered @swe3theart-succubus @511rkive @morrrrphin @xcinnamonmalfoyx @obxrafeandjj @rafegf-real @theeternaloptimistt

[logoleptic-since-06]

It's Two-Faced, It's Too Late

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, College AU, Athlete!Toji Fushiguro, Hacker!Reader, Stalking, Crack, Profanity, Suggestive, Not Proofread

MDNI

<- Prev Part 2 Next ->

Toji checks his phone to see the time is exactly 7 PM, so here he is standing in front of your dorm room’s entrance just as you asked him to. He rings the bell and waits. A few seconds pass and the door opens by itself, revealing a dark room only lit by purple LED lights.

“Toji Fushiguro,” he hears a voice call. His eyes follow the sound to find you sitting in front of your computer setup, your back facing him.

“Y/N?” he asks as he steps in hesitantly. Once he does, the door closes and locks behind him automatically.

What have you made your room into?

You kick the chair next to yours before saying, “Sit.” And for the first time in his life, Toji feels as though he is the one being intimidated. He sits on the chair and finally sees your face when he feels his heart do something it has never done before. 

It skips a beat.

Toji clears his throat. “Hi, I’m Toji.”

You look like you’re suppressing a mocking smile. “I’m aware.”

“Right, so–”

“Give me your phone.”

Right on business, huh? Just the way he prefers anyways. Then why does he feel a pang of disappointment? Ignoring the confusion bubbling in his head, he unlocks his phone and gives it to you.

“Has this stalker ever called you?”

“No, they just send me texts from different numbers.”

“When did it start?” you ask as you begin to connect his phone to your PC.

“About two weeks ago.”

“And how frequently do you get these texts?”

“At first, I used to get one every day, but after a week of that had passed, I’ve been getting multiple texts a day.”

“Show me the texts.”

He hesitates.

“What?”

“Well, the texts are just them telling me where I currently am and sending me screenshots of the tape.”

“I genuinely don’t care about seeing anything explicit, if you have the courage to film it, you can show it to me. I’m helping.”

He opens each text one by one and shows them to you; and in the last one, you see that Toji had finally asked what they demanded to which they talked about him having to resign from the basketball team.

“Is it okay if I transfer data from your phone to my PC so I can work on this?”

“Do anything, it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay then, just a second,” you say as you open a window on your computer that is completely unknown to Toji. He unintentionally stares at you in awe as you work on your craft like an expert. As he watches as you type in what he assumes are codes, he can’t help but feel impressed by your skills.

“So how come I’ve never seen you around campus before?” He breaks the silence.

Your eyes don’t divert from your screen when you answer. “Uhh, I attend most of my classes online, and I don’t really have that many friends that I hang out with.”

“Why do you attend your classes online if you’re already on campus?”

“Well, first of all, I have a job so time management can be a hassle. And most of my work is online anyways, I have everything on this PC that I can’t carry to my classes.”

“Right.”

You soon disconnect the cable from his phone and hand it back to him. “I will do a thorough check up on the data and reach out to you later, okay?”

“Sure, thanks, doll.”

“Fushiguro, I have access to your entire photo library along with your browser history. If you call me that one more time, I won’t just go through them but also leak every single one of your secrets.”

“You have my what? I thought by data you meant my phone bill history or some shit.”

“I had to take everything just in case.”

“Just in case of what, exactly?”

“Who knows?”

Wow, he is terrified of you. “So like, are you gonna go through my shit now?”

“I’ll go through whatever I need to go through in order to investigate. Nothing more, nothing less. Now leave.”

“But you–”

“Leave.”

“Fine, damn,” he snaps before stealing one last glance at your face and turning back.

Note: The writing feels very bland and that's definitely not because of my busy schedule (it totally is). Part 3 will be out tomorrow hopefully.

Tags: @linaaeatsfamilies @aseqan @corvid007 @sevensdigitalheaven @minkoq

[strang3lov3]

Fever Dream

Roman takes care of you while you’re sick, and you have intense fever dreams about fucking him.

Tags - stepdaddy!roman, smut, unprotected piv, fever dreams, cunnilingus, leg humping/thigh grinding, pussy job, outercourse, teasing, lowkey edging daddy. dirty talk. daddy kink. liiiitlest bit of dubcon, but everyone is into everything, i asked them myself. Fluff adjacent - daddy takes care of you while you’re sick, cleans up your mess. Typical Roman banter. Emetephobia warning - there’s descriptions of vomiting/nausea but it’s not terribly graphic (coming from a person who also has emetephobia) 4.6k words. A/N - hey hey! Been a while since we’ve seen daddy, huh? He missed you, babygirl. @beefrobeefcal and my dear L, thank you for betaing.

stepdaddy!roman masterlist

Something’s…off. 

You’ve been in bed for hours now, not sleeping. Just kind of…passing time. Watching the little red numbers of your digital clock blink, taunting you - it’s now 2:37 AM. The minutes drag like hours, and each second serves as a mocking reminder of just how awake you are. 

You scroll through your phone as you try to distract yourself from the awful, gnawing feeling in your gut, the way your body violently vacillates between hot and cold. If you focus too hard on how terrible you feel, you’ll spiral. Nothing seems to pull your attention away from it, though, and you find yourself trembling, humming rhythmically to soothe yourself. You just wanna sleep. 

Your mouth waters in that sickening, unmistakable way, a sharp twist of your gut has you sitting up straight - it takes you half a second for your brain to process what your body already knows is about to happen. 

You quickly fling your blanket off and sprint to the bathroom, but you don’t make it to the toilet in time. The first violent heave of the night overtakes you, and the sick splatters on the floor and down your front. It’s completely awful in every way, and you’re powerless to fight it. You’re just a slave to that horrible bodily function. You have just a moment to fumble with the lid of the toilet before it’s happening again, sweat dripping down the back of your neck. 

Roman’s been sleeping peacefully in his room, but the muffled sounds of your retching and gagging and sobbing wakes him up. He’s groggy and he’s confused, but his concern for you propels him to get out of bed. It’s his intrinsic sense about you, his unending worry. He paces quickly to your room and calls your name, making a beeline to your bathroom. 

“Hey - oh, fuck.”

Roman turns on the harsh, fluorescent light and the scene punches him in the gut. There you are, on your knees and clutching the toilet bowl as you puke, the acrid smell lingering in the air. You’re a mess, and so is the floor you lie on.

You turn your head just enough to see Roman standing in the doorway, his brow pinched in worry as he takes the sight in. “Get the fuck out, Roman,” you choke out through a raw throat, before it takes over again. 

“What?”

“I don’t want you to see - fuck–” The sentence dies halfway as your body betrays you once again, but Roman knows what you’re trying to say. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles, carefully tiptoeing around your mess to meet you at the toilet. He gathers your hair in one hand and holds it back as you empty your insides into the toilet, rubbing your back with the other hand. He can hear you sobbing, and it breaks his heart to know how much pain and discomfort you’re in. 

“I don’t–”

 “Shhh, you’re okay,” Roman whispers. “Just…let it happen. It’s almost over, sweetheart. You’re almost done.”

It’s almost over. His words not only comfort you, but they ring true, as well. The last of it happens, and then a little dry heaving. The hollow ache in your stomach. You flush the toilet and slam the lid shut before Roman can see your mess, then hover over the sink to rinse out your mouth and nose. When you’re done, you try to leave. 

“Hey - no. Don’t get up,” Roman tells you, grabbing you by the shoulders to gently ease you to the ground. He sits you on the plush bath mat and leans you against the wall, “Just stay right there.” 

“Roman,” you whimper, sniffling. God, you feel horrible, and you must look even worse. You’re covered in lingering sweat and tears as well as your own mess from earlier, and your head is heavy and achy. Nose and throat burning like they’ve been rubbed raw. You can’t help but to cry freely, feeling completely at the mercy of your own body. 

Roman doesn’t flinch. Instead, he turns on the bathroom fan and cracks the narrow window open, where the cool, nighttime breeze hits your flushed cheeks and soothes your hot skin. He turns around and opens the door of your bathroom closet, pulls out a couple of wash rags and some other things, you’re not sure what exactly. You’re not paying super close attention.

Roman dampens a rag before approaching you, crouching down to your level. He holds your chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he wipes your face gently, cleaning away the mess and your tears. “What the hell happened to you, huh?” he asks softly, sympathetically. “You’re a fuckin’ mess, kid.” 

“Just don’t feel so good,” you whisper, unable to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel so good, huh? Are you sick, or what?”

You shrug weakly, lips pouting as you ignore the question. “You should go,” you tell him urgently.

“Oh, I should, should I?” Roman snorts. “Well, that sucks, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.” 

You roll your eyes and smile a little, and it makes Roman smile, too. That’s a good sign. 

“Do I smell like vomit?”

“Oh, god, yeah. Horribly,” Roman deadpans, and his honesty makes you laugh. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, still chuckling. “I’m so gross.” 

Roman pushes a bit of hair out of your eyes, his touch so profoundly tender as he notes how warm your skin is, rubbing your cheek softly with his thumb. “Yeah, you are. Just kinda disgusting, honestly. Ew.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling a little. You pause, then take the rag from his hands and move toward the mess on the floor, but Roman stops you. “Ah, no. I’m taking care of this,” he says, outstretching his arm to keep you against the wall. “Just fuckin’ sit still, will you? Will you do that for me? Jeeeesus,” he exaggerates, laying his sarcasm on thick to ease your insecurity.

Too tired to argue, you raise your palms in surrender - just a slow, weak flick of your wrists. With a soft grunt, Roman stands up then. He goes back to the closet to grab a thermometer and sits back down in front of you, his knees cracking as he bends them.

“You sound old.” 

“Ha-ha. Shut up.” Roman turns the thermometer on and puts it between your lips, wriggling the tip under your tongue. He cups your cheek and you lean into his palm, feeling relief at the way it cools your skin. He rubs your temple and watches your eyes gently close - how utterly exhausted you are. 

Finally, the thermometer beeps. Roman pulls it out of your mouth and grimaces at the big number on the tiny screen. “Oof, yeah. You’re very sick,” he grimaces, then shows you the number. “Gotta get that fever down.”  

Roman turns around and slides the shower door out of the way, drops the drain-stopper and turns on the water. He tests the temperature with his palm, frowning while adjusting it to slightly warmer than lukewarm. As the bath fills, Roman comes close to you again. He carefully helps you out of your soiled clothes, moving your heavy limbs for you. You don’t protest his help. 

He ushers you into the tub, sits you down gently. You rest the back of your head against the cool, ceramic tiles, then turn to watch Roman. He moves around the bathroom with ease, gathering soiled clothes and rags into a hamper, pulling out different cleaning supplies from the closet. “Oh,” he says, then reaches for the trash can next to the toilet. He sets it right next to the tub, “You know. If you need to puke again, or whatever. Hurl into this baby.”  

It’s quiet as you listen to Roman clean the bathroom, save for the occasional squirting of a Clorox bottle and the running water at the sink. You watch him wipe up the mess, and he does so silently. No look of disgust on his face, which surprises you. No shitty jokes or snarky comments. Just Roman, quietly taking care of the task at hand.

“You’re like, surprisingly good at this.”

“Surprisingly good at what?”

“I don’t know. Dealing with all of…this, I guess,” you murmur, gesturing to the mess. “Like, doesn’t it gross you out?”

“Sure,” Roman replies, tossing the dirty rag into the hamper before grabbing a clean one. “I mean, puke’s puke. It’s gross. But I don’t know, it doesn’t really bother me.” 

“Puke doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s not fun, if that’s what you’re asking. But it’s just different when it’s someone you l–” Roman catches himself before he can finish the thought. “I mean, don’t know. It’s just…yeah. I don’t - don’t know what I’m saying. It’s fine,” he mumbles, shaking his head a little. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I’m fuckin’ - I’m fine. You are not. How are you feeling, anyway? Better, worse?” 

You shrug. “Cold,” you tell him. “I’m cold now.”

“Well, that’d be your fever,” Roman says matter-of-factly, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. You gaze at him with big, sad, tired eyes, a pout on your lips that tugs at Roman’s heart. You’re so small, so stripped, and he’s carefully holding you in the palms of his hands. It’s not lost on him, the rawness and vulnerability of this moment. The peacefulness. You’ve been sharing more and more of these moments with him, having more good days than bad together. Leaning on him, letting him in. It could always be like this, if you wanted. It’d be a good thing, he thinks. For both of you.

Roman drains the bath and helps you out of the tub, dries you gently with a soft, clean towel. You brush your teeth and rinse with mouthwash as he picks out pajamas for you - a large t-shirt and a pair of panties - then dresses you wordlessly and tucks you into bed. You’re gone in two minutes, and Roman bends down to kiss your forehead. “Night, kid.” 

You wake up in the later morning, still feeling off, but not like you’re on the verge of vomiting. Just…a different sort of wrong. You’re sad - Roman’s not in bed with you, but then, why would he be? He’s not - you know, not really supposed to be there. 

You left your phone on the nightstand. The battery’s low, and there’s a couple notifications. Forty-seven minutes ago Roman texted you to text him when you wake up, so you do. 

A few minutes later, Roman gently nudges your door open with his foot. “Morning, sunshine.” His arms are full of different things - a plate with some toast and a banana, a large bottle of Gatorade, a large bottle of water, Tylenol, that same thermometer from last night. He sits on the edge of your bed and places everything on the nightstand, and first takes your temperature. It’s lower than it was last night, but still too high. 

Roman opens the bottle of Tylenol and rattles out two pills, then hands them to you. You place them in your mouth and reach for the Gatorade, but struggle to twist off the orange cap. 

“Oh, come on. Really?” Roman arches a brow and chuckles, taking the bottle from you. “Need a big, strong man to take care of it, huh?” 

Roman twists the small bottle, but the cap fights him too, and his bravado crumples as he strains against it. Scrunching his face a little, gritting his teeth together. It makes you laugh quietly.

“We both do, I think,” you quip. The pills taste bitter in your mouth. 

Roman scoffs. “Okay, no. You got your sweat all over it with your fuckin’ clammy hands, sickie, so fuck off. It was rigged.” He covers the cap with the blanket, then successfully twists it off. “Voíla. Little sips,” he reminds you, handing you back the bottle. Roman keeps you sipping on the Gatorade, insisting that the last thing he needs is you being dehydrated on top of everything else. 

Your tummy growls loudly, eliciting a snort from Roman. He had figured you were hungry, so he came prepared with a light snack. “Here,” he says, handing you the plate with toast. Roman takes care to peel the banana for you, then puts it next to your toast. “Brat diet. Perfect for you.” 

“Brat?”

“Yeah, it’s for spoiled brats like you, sweetheart. No, it’s uh… fuck. Bananas, rice, something with an A…I don’t fuckin’ remember. Or care. And toast,” he adds. “See? Brat diet. It’s just light shit for your delicate little stomach to have when you’re sick.”

You eye the food suspiciously. “What if I don’t keep it down?”

“Gotta try, though, right? Just a couple bites. See how you feel.”

With Roman’s encouragement, you take a small bite of your plain toast, then another. It always feels…odd, just sort of uncomfortable to eat after being sick. But the food is helping, and you can feel how badly your body needed it. 

After eating, Roman has you drink some more water. He takes your plate back to the kitchen as you use the bathroom, wash your face and freshen up a little. Just making yourself feel human again. You get back into bed and Roman comes back, takes your temperature again, and gets into bed with you. He doesn’t have to ask to know that’s what you want.

The curtains are drawn, the light in the room is low, and it looks almost black and white. You lie on Roman’s chest, drawing little patterns into his t-shirt with your fingertips as you listen to the quiet TV. 

“You know something? I should have quarantined you,” Roman mumbles softly, kissing the top of your head a couple of times. 

“Hm?”

“Should have quarantined you. Locked you up, left you to fend for yourself. But I’m the sucker who’s taking care of you, and it’s just occurred to me that I’m gonna be sick after this.”

“Maybe,” you reply quietly. You nuzzle your face into his neck, the wiry hairs of his scruff scratching your skin. Roman tightens his arm around you as you close your eyes. 

“Not maybe. It’s inevitable. Give it a day or two and I’m gonna be puking and shitting everywhere and you’ll have to deal with it,” he says. Roman rubs your back and you feel yourself drifting off, his voice sounds distant. You feel so warm, so safe in his hold. “Little taste of what’s to come when I’m senile, huh?”

“I’m not gonna take care of you.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” you sigh. “Gonna put you in a nursing home. One of the abusive ones.”

“Oh, that’s perfect, actually. I’ll have a pretty young thing do my sponge baths. Lift her skirt with my cane,” he jokes, smiling at your humor. “Yeah, lookin’ forward to it, sweetheart.” 

 When you don’t reply, Roman looks down at you. Your eyes are gently shut, lips all plump and pursed as you breathe rhythmically, already gone. “Going back to sleep, kid?”

On autopilot, you hum, and it makes Roman chuckle. “I’ll be here.” 

 Sensations come one at a time, and touch is first - hips are pounding against your ass, and hands on your waist, fingertips bruising you. You feel foggy, but you feel good. The next one is sight - crumpled sheets and fabric close to your face, close enough that you can see all the fibers and threads. But it’s blurry, pulsing in and out of focus. When the hands on your waist slide around your torso - one splayed between your breasts, the other on your stomach - and pull you up and back, you feel the familiar warmth of his torso, hear the broken breaths and noises of pleasure that Roman makes, and you know it’s him.

If you close your eyes, it’s only the feeling of being fucked by Roman. He’s whispering filth in your ear, kissing your neck as he pounds into you. You wrap your hands around his and tilt your head back, relishing in the intensity of it all. His arms clutching you close to him, nearly forcing the breath out of your lungs. You could suffocate like this and so be it, you decide.

But if you open your eyes, you can see it, and you can see it so fucking bv clearly. Like you’re looking in a mirror, or a movie, maybe. You can watch your bodies move from a distance, see the way you writhe and bounce with the way he fucks you. It’s dark, nothing else to look at but you and Roman. You can zoom in too, see his face next to yours. His crooked, smug smirk that you love so much and his dark, lust-blown pupils. 

You’re not sure where or how it begins, but you blink and you’re on your back. Roman’s got you folded in half, relentlessly pounding into your cunt. His neatly trimmed pubic hair grinds into your clit, the friction so deliciously pleasurable. You rock your hips to match his thrusts, moaning his name. God, he’s so utterly, completely fucking gorgeous. The perfect line between his brows. The freckles dotting his nose, freckles that you could count if you wanted to. His dark lashes, reddened cheeks, wet lips.

Roman’s rock hard and a little miserable, but he’s pleasantly amused. There’s a damp spot on his leg from where you’ve soaked him, and he feels the damp warmth radiating from your cunt. You’re gripping his torso with a bruising pressure as you grind yourself against him, whimpering his name, broken by moans. He grips his cock tightly, pressing his thumb over the weeping slit as he watches you dream of him.

He’s filling you with his come then, cock pulsing, painting your insides. It feels so warm and delicious, that lovely sensation of his spend dripping between your thighs. You’re limp as Roman pushes your thighs apart and toward your chest, your swollen, worn pussy on display for him. 

And then he’s eating you, savoring the taste of your combined arousal. The mess you made together. You’re tugging on the graying strands of his hair, tugging on his t-shirt in reality. Grinding your clit against his knee, rocking against that perfect nose of his in your mind.

It’s all shaping up to be the most intense, mind numbingly powerful orgasm you’ve ever felt. It’s a slow build, with the pleasure increasing almost exponentially. 

It’s gone like that - and it’s as elusive in its end as it was in its beginning. You come to, and you’re a little sweaty. Roman’s still underneath you, he’d held you the entire time you slept. How many hours passed? You’re not even sure. It’s still dark in the room, could be mid-afternoon, early evening, you really don’t know. You shift a little, pausing when you feel the fucking pool of arousal between your thighs, dripping through your panties and onto Roman’s leg. 

“Hey, horndog. Had a good dream there?” Roman teases, voice a little gravelly and raspy.

It takes you a minute to gather yourself, and you don’t even bother replying to Roman’s taunting, with one thing only on your mind. You just grind against him, running your palm up and down his warm torso, sliding your hand beneath the elastic waistband of his pants. The head of his cock is sticky and wet, throbbing under your touch. “Need you,” you mumble. 

“Need me, huh? Strong word.”

“Yeah.” 

You tug his sweatpants down a little, attempting to free his cock from the confines of the fabric. Roman puts his hand over yours and squeezes, “Mmm,” he hums, pulling your hands away from his body. You’re so weak and so pliant, it’s too easy.

“Please, Roman. I need you to fuck me.” 

Roman looks at you and pouts mockingly at your expression. God, how needy you are. Biting your lip, pupils darting left and right as you silently beg him to make you come. Shamelessly grinding your pussy into his leg. He inhales deeply, then wears a small smile. Roman shakes his head and oh, how he shatters your heart. Your face crumples, and you look like you’re about to cry. “Nope,” he says softly, “I am not going to fuck you, sweetheart. Sorry.” 

“Why?” you ask, voice all sad and broken. 

“Because, you fuckin’ sex addict, you’re gonna get all like, motion sick or whatever and puke on my balls or something. That’s the last thing I need,” he says, rubbing his thumbs over your hands, riding every dip and raise of your knuckles. “It’s just not happening. My condolences.”

You whine loudly, so frustrated with Roman. He’ll jump at any opportunity to fuck you and what, now he won’t? He won’t take advantage of you being all sick and fuzzy-headed? That should be right up his alley, the fucking freak. 

“Hey, I’m a victim here, too,” Roman adds. “Look - look at this, look at what you did–” Roman pulls his cock out and grips the base of his shaft, squeezing as he slides his palm up his length. “You started moaning, ‘Roman this’ and ‘Roman that’ and look, I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock, thanks to you. And I can’t do shit about it,” he grumbles. “Yeah, instead, I have to be the adult here and hold your ass while you infect me with whatever fucking virus you’re riddled with.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Woah,” Roman laughs, a little taken aback. “Fuck me?”

“Fuck you,” you repeat.

“Alright, yeah. Fuck me. You wish,” he goads.

Roman smirks at you, prompting you to glare at him and god, if looks could fucking kill.

“Tell you what,” he says. “What’s the fuckin’....temperature of a human being again? Do you know?”

“It’s 98.6,” you answer. “I think. I’m pretty sure.”

“No, yeah. That sounds right,” Roman says. “So - when you’re back back down to 98.6, I’ll fuck your brains out. Okay? Deal?” Roman holds up a thumb, turns it up and down as he waits for your answer. 

You pull his hand down. “I fucking hate you sometimes,” you mumble, once again grinding on his thigh. 

“Yeah, let me have it,” Roman says, now resting his hand on your back again. He tugs up your shirt and slides his hand down the waistband of your underwear, squeezing the flesh of your ass as you roll your hips against him. “Get it all out of your system.” 

“I mean it,” you say. “I hate you.”

“Yeah? You hate it when Daddy doesn’t give you his cock?” Roman mocks. “Poor thing. You’re so neglected. Abused, even. What am I gonna do with you?”

You roll your eyes, then slowly lift up. Roman watches in amusement to see what you do next - could be anything. Maybe you’ll reach into your nightstand drawer for your vibrator, maybe you’ll keep grinding on his thigh. 

You slide off your panties and take off your shirt which, honestly, Roman thinks is good for you. It’ll help you cool off a little, bring that fever the rest of the way down. You straddle Roman and reach between your bodies for his cock, then line it up with your entrance, the blunt head prodding against your dripping hole. Roman wraps his hand around yours and pulls his cock away before you can sink down on it, and you land flat on his shaft. 

“Daddy,” you whine, dragging out the last syllable. “Please.” 

“Ooh, nice try. Really - good manners, very polite. It’s still not happening, sweetheart.”

You huff and try to wriggle his cock back against your pussy, but Roman won’t let you get very far. He sighs in pleasure as you stroke him, but he stands his ground when you try again to fuck him. 

“You suck.” 

“I know, honey.” 

You sit on Roman’s lap, quietly pouting as you contemplate your situation. Nothing’s stopping you from reaching into the drawer of your nightstand and breaking out that little vibrator. Using it right next to Roman, making him suffer and grapple with the fact that he isn’t the one to bring you pleasure. Or, you could use your own fingers. Whatever pisses him off the most. 

Roman’s dick twitches then, right against your dripping seam and oh, that could work. It’d be a real tease, too. If he wants to fight dirty, then so can you. “Fine,” you say, situating yourself a little better on his lap. His cock is achingly hard and resting against his tummy, you tug his shirt up around his ribs. You slot his length snugly between your lips, clit throbbing against his leaking head. 

You clutch his shirt as you begin rolling your hips, grinding your clit against his length. You love the way that touching him feels like home, how your palms fit against his shoulders. “Fuck,” you whisper, guiding yourself up and down. Your swollen, sensitive clit catching on his tip. You roll your hips in slow circles, sway them side to side. 

“Ohhh, clever,” Roman purrs, smirking at you. Fuck, his gorgeous smile. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sick, there’s still a chance that maybe he won’t catch your stomach bug too. “This is your cheat code, huh? Your little work around to still come on your daddy’s cock?”

“Kinda,” you moan. Roman wraps holds your hips as you fuck yourself against him, holding you tighter when you lean down. You bury your face in his neck, your chest and tummy pressed against his. His slender fingers trail over your spine as he feels you move, your arousal dripping down his cock and down his balls.

“Mmm…you’re naughty, sweetheart. Very, very naughty.” 

“Help me,” you whimper. “Help me come.” 

Roman laughs. “Nope. I’m not enabling this,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against your cheek. “This is aaaallllll you. You are on your own.”  

You whine in complaint, but Roman ignores that. He wonders if you notice how he is in fact helping you a little bit, thrusting his hips a little to match the way you rock yours, guiding you with his hands. His breath is hot against your skin, making it feel a little damp. 

You let out soft noises of pleasure, gripping tight the tensing muscles in Roman’s biceps and shoulders. You love the way his cock feels against you. Feeling the same veins you’ve traced with your tongue and your fingertips now with your cunt, clit pulsing against his gently throbbing length. 

Roman listens to your moans becoming louder, and how they suddenly go quiet. You must be close. “You gonna come?” he whispers, “You gonna come on Daddy? C’mon, baby girl.”

You glide yourself along his length for a couple more moments, rutting against him until you feel your orgasm begin to take over. You moan into his skin as you come, nipping at his neck as Roman coaxes along your release, rocking his hips when you no longer can. You gush on his cock as you come, and there’s no overstimulation, nothing more than him letting you come down from it gently, perfectly satisfied with what he’s given you. You gently flop down next to him, tucking yourself between his arm and his side, already shutting your eyes to drift off again and sleep off the rest of your illness. 

Roman holds his cock, tapping it impatiently against his belly. “Do I have to stay here and keep holding you? Can I go like…jerk off? You kinda left me hangin’ here, you know.” 

“Don’t care,” you murmur, reaching for one of his hands. 

“Yeah, I know you don’t. Whatever. Go back to sleep, you fuckin’...you’re already out. Cool. That’s - that’s nice.” 

Roman rolls his eyes, tucks himself away and rubs your hand with his thumb, absentmindedly spelling out the three little words he’s been itching to tell you. 

-

If you enjoyed, please lmk ♡ i love when you reblog and send me asks. It means the world to me to be able to discuss my fics with you all ♡

romey tags

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

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@perpetuallymanic @111melo @veryverycoolgirl @marisemonteiroo

@prettybpdgirl @butuhaventseenmyman

[1425fivefive]

for the kink prompt - 24 + landoscar plsss🥹your writing is gorgeous and making me discover things abt myself <3 ty in advance

landoscar + inexperienced partner (i was struck by a vision of girl!oscar pegging lando for the first time and this is the end result. for the kink prompts and yes i know this is a month late 💕)

When Oscar grabs the harness and lube, setting them on the bed beside them, she thinks Lando might chicken out. Might kick his heel against her thigh and tell her it was all a joke, that he doesn’t actually want her to fuck him, what the fuck’s she on about. 

But Lando stays perfectly still, sprawled out on the sheets, blinking up at her with wide eyes. His cock’s flushed and hard and huge against his belly and it makes her insane seeing it, knowing that he has all that and he’s still asking her to fuck him. 

He’d begged her for it, really, after he’d seen her strap in the draw of her nightstand. He’d had her pressed up against the wall of her bedroom, her nipples brushing against the cool plaster with each thrust of his hips, his fingers rubbing steady circles over her clit.

“Want you to fuck me like this,” Lando whimpered, breath hot against her ear. “Want you to make me come on your cock.”

She’d shuddered and come so hard she couldn’t catch a full breath, her clit twitching against Lando’s fingers, cunt throbbing around Lando’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Lando moaned. “Jesus, Osc.” His lips slid against her neck and then he was coming, his hitched whines echoing through the room.

Oscar had thought maybe it was just a fantasy. Dirty talk that he knew would make her come her brains out.

But Lando had brought it up again while they’d been lying in bed one night. His head was resting on her stomach, Oscar scratching her fingers idly over his scalp, his soft curls tickling her palm.

“I want you to,” Lando whispered. “Want you to fuck me.”

Oscar took a shaky breath, fingers tightening in Lando’s curls. A tiny grin appeared on Lando’s face, like he knew exactly how much it affected her, hearing him say it.

“Has anyone done that to you before?” Oscar asked, voice strained.

“No,” Lando whispered. “But I’ve, like—to myself.”

“Jesus,” Oscar murmured, dragging her hand down the plane of Lando’s back, tracing the dip of his spine. “And did you, uh, like it?”

Lando moaned at that, tipping his face against her stomach.

“Fuck, you did, didn’t you?” Oscar breathed. She ran her palm over the firm skin of Lando’s ass, imagining how he’d look underneath her, his muscles trembling as she pushed in.

“Yeah,” Lando whispered. “Liked it so much, Osc.”

Lando had eaten her out after. Let her swing a leg across his face and grind against his mouth. He’d stared up at her with a dazed expression, eyes huge and wet, and Oscar couldn’t stop imagining what he’d look like getting fucked. The same wide-eyed desperation, blinking up at Oscar with something like awe. She’d come with a choked moan, soaking Lando’s chin.

Now, as Oscar slips a second finger into him, she realizes he was telling the truth. He likes it. He likes it so fucking much.

Oscar tells him as much and he nods, whimpers. He lets go of one knee and brings a hand up to his chest, fingers brushing over his nipple.

Lando takes it so easily that she doesn’t bother with a third finger, just pushes off the bed and grabs the harness.

Normally, Oscar hates this part. Hates how stupid she must look tugging at the straps of the harness, hates how the harness sits right below the bit of flesh on her belly, the bright blue dildo jutting out obscenely. The whole thing makes her want to turn off the lights, shove a pillow over her partner’s face, tell them to look the other way.

But Lando’s watching her with hooded eyes, fingers still toying with his nipple, thighs still splayed open. His cock’s leaking against his stomach and he’s letting out these tiny little sounds that she’s not even sure he knows he’s making, eyes fixed on her strap.

Her breath catches at the sight, cunt throbbing. She wraps a shaking hand around the dildo, stroking once, feeling stupid even as she does it.

But Lando moans, thighs sliding farther apart. When his eyes flick up to hers, they’re dark and glassy, the look he normally gets right when he’s about to come. 

Oscar knees her way onto the bed and presses a palm against the back of Lando’s thigh, holding him open. He’s still hard, still looking up at her with a breathless expression, still brushing over his nipple.

She pushes in and it’s so fucking easy, easier than anything. Just a hint of resistance and then Lando’s opening for her, a whimper spilling out of him as she slides in.

“God,” Oscar breathes, staring down at where the strap’s disappearing inside him, at his cock leaking against his stomach. “You like it.”

“Yeah, fuck,” Lando gasps, hand flying down to grip his cock. She thinks he’s going to stroke himself, but he just grips the tip of his cock hard, the way he does whenever he’s trying to stop himself from coming too soon.

“Oh my god,” Oscar pants and she feels wetness slipping down her thigh, soaking the straps of the harness. “That’s so—” She trails off and starts fucking him in earnest, reveling in the little uh, uh, uh’s she pushes out of him with each pass of her hips. 

He’s still gripping his cock tightly in his fist, eyes squeezed shut, eyebrows knit together, his whole body clenched tight.

He lets out an awful little whimper and she needs to hear him say it, suddenly, needs to know he likes it, needs to know this isn't a joke.

“Lando,” Oscar says, fingers digging into the back of his thigh. “Lando, look at me, please.”

Lando opens his eyes the tiniest bit and he’s squinting up at her, like he can’t look at her full on or he’ll come.

“Tell me you like it,” Oscar begs. “Please, I need to—tell me you like it.”

Lando’s head tips to the side, pink mouth dropping open, panting against the pillow. He tries to say something, something that sounds like I and like, but the sentence fractures into a moan, his cock jerking in his fist.

And then he's coming, spilling all over his stomach in slow, messy pulses, come leaking between his fingers. He's whining, high and frantic, hips rocking back against her even as he comes.

“That’s it,” Oscar moans, watching him shudder underneath her, his face scrunching up, his toes curling, high, hitched whimpers spilling out of him.

It’s one of the things she loves most about him, how he always seems to lose himself completely when he comes, stops caring about whether he looks good. Like he knows the part she likes most is seeing him surrender himself to it.

She pulls out the moment he’s done coming, afraid of pushing him too far, and starts to slide off the bed, planning to grab a washcloth.

But before she can, hands find her hips and she’s being flipped onto her back, Lando sliding down between her legs.

“Lando,” Oscar gasps, fingers flying to his hair. “You don’t—”

Lando looks up at her, his face flushed, curls sticking to his forehead. “I like it,” Lando whispers. He gives her a tiny grin before he leans forward, dragging his tongue over the wetness on her thighs, sliding his lips over the straps of her harness.

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, tugging him tighter against her. “You like it so fucking much, fuck.”

Lando doesn’t say anything to that, just whimpers and wraps his lips around her clit, blinking up at her with a dazed expression.

[lixiesbrowniess]

SAFE WORD

Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, smut, rough sex, sexual content, safe word usage, he gets a little soft, talks you through it

The air was thick. You greedily suck it in as shaky moans escape your lips, Ben's hips snap harshly against you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled your ears as he drove his cock all the way inside your quivering walls.

It was nearly the fifth round, Ben had you pressed against the mattress fucking you right into it, as you arched flush against him. He had your legs around his waist as he was on his knees between them, able to push deeper and harder through your soaked cunt. Your hands gripped the sheets as you felt his hands grip your waist, pulling you back to meet his vigorous thrusts. That would leave bruises for sure.

His angry tip hit your cervix over and over until you felt it slightly penetrate it. A strangled moan leaves your mouth as you dig your nails into his bicep, Ben didn't even flinch at your assault as he kept slamming pummeling his aching hard cock into you, liking your moans and whines way too much.

Once he heard you whisper your safeword almost out of breath while your little hands desperately held onto him, his eyes widened slightly "C'mon what's wrong, sweetcheeks? Is it too much?" He cockily murmured against your cheek, leaving heated kisses down your neck and face.

You nod as tears prickle your eyes, soaking your cheeks. "Aw, you poor thing, want me to go easy on you?" His hips slowed their assault, his strokes progressively prolonged and interminable, his cock throbbed while he pulled his hips before he sheathed back into your heat. He leaned in his lips brushing against your neck.

"This better, babe? Hmm" he hums, kissing down your neck, your eyes shut, you could barely recognise him while being so soft, worrying about your own pleasure. "I know you can taket it, love." His slow strokes made heat pool at your core as you felt the pleasure bubbling again, your moans soft again as he spoke to you while thrusting into you.

You nod the pleasure building inside you, your grip onto his biceps softened. "Ben－" You whimpered, feeling yourself close to another climax "Yes I'm here, doll. Cum. Cum for me." His voice a deep growl as his thumb started to draw circles onto your clit softly, just grazing it, and that was enough for you to feel the overwhelming orgasm reaching you.

You came soaking his still hard cock, squeezing around him "Yeah that's right, soak my dick just like that" his hips stuttering as your cunt squeezes him even harder "Damn it doll, you're gonna cut it off" he chuckles as his thrusts get sloppy. He groans as he feels himself over the edge.

After a couple more thrusts, he buries himself into you, spilling his seed into you, filling you to the brim. "Oh fuck yeah. That was something else" he lowly chuckles pulling himself out and admiring your gaping hole, while his seed leaks out down your thighs. He plants a kiss onto your forehead.

"You alright, doll?" He murmurs before taking a cig from the night table. You breathe heavily, nodding. "That was much unexpected, Ben." You smile snuggling against him. "Oh sweetheart, I definitely know how to please a woman, don't you underestimate me as a man who just uses them for himself" he takes a drag from the cigarette puffing out a cloud of smoke. "I definitely love to know a woman screams in pleasure for me."

[redisthenewblue]

TINKER-Twisted Wonderland x Tinkerbell!Yuu/Fem!Reader Part 4

Part 3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The fairy stirred in her sleep, tossing and turning because of the relentless knocking echoing through the night.

“Who’s knocking at this hour?” The girl rubbed her eyes, feeling a bit frantic.

She rolled off her bed and landed on the cold floor with a thud. [Name] groaned as she hit the ground. “Whoever’s out there is gonna get it,” she muttered, dusting off her nightgown and slipping on her fuzzy slippers before quietly making her way down the stairs. Suddenly, she spotted sparks of blue fire and a tuft of black hair.

“Who the heck is here at this hour?” Yuuken grumbled, clearly annoyed.

“That's what I was thinking,” [Name] said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

“It’s me, Ace! Just let me in, okay?” Ace’s muffled voice called from outside the door. Yuuken and [Name] sighed, and she turned the knob, flinging the rickety door open to reveal the boy sporting an obnoxious collar.

“Ace? It’s the middle of the night! W-what is that collar?!” Grim exclaimed, staring at the boy in disbelief.

“I can’t go back to Heartslabyul House. I’m joining your dorm. For good,” Ace said, leaning against the wall defiantly.

“No way?! I’d recognize that collar anywhere. It’s the same one that psycho put on me at orientation! What did you do to end up with that?” Grim asked, raising an eyebrow at Ace, who simply shook his head.

“I ate a tart.”

“You… ate a tart?” Yuuken echoed, his disbelief evident.

“Seriously?” [Name] blinked, struggling to wrap her head around the idea that someone would get collared for a tart. She burst into laughter, falling back and clutching her stomach. Ace looked annoyed; he was hoping for at least a little sympathy.

“Could you maybe stop laughing?” Ace mumbled, looking down in embarrassment. “I was a bit hungry, so I went to the dorm kitchen and found some tarts in the fridge. Three whole tarts! And they were huge!”

[Name] finally calmed down from her laughter.

“And... now here I am.”

“So... you’re both terrible? The dorm leader sounds worse than [Name]!” Grim chimed in.

[Name] shot Grim a look that clearly said, ‘You better watch it.’

“You don’t think it’s crazy for my magic to be sealed away just for eating ONE slice of tart?! For a mage, that’s like being tied up and unable to move! And there were three whole tarts! THREE! It’s not like he could eat them all by himself! Come on, you know this is messed up!” Ace fumed.

“I guess...?” Yuuken hesitated, unsure.

“I’d be just as mad if someone had taken my food,” [Name] shrugged.

“What kind of wishy-washy answer is that?! And seriously, [Name], you’re supposed to be on my side!” Ace protested.

“Yeah, but… I mean, if there were three of them, they were probably meant for a party. Maybe it was someone’s birthday or something? Look at me, I’m like a master detective!” Grim puffed out his chest proudly.

“A birthday party, huh…?” Ace mused.

“That would make sense,” Yuuken added quietly.

“Man… I thought you guys would be more sympathetic! I’m a victim of the housewarden’s tyranny here!” Ace lamented.

“Glad I didn’t end up in that dorm! I’d hate to be in your shoes,” [Name] teased the orange-haired boy.

“But you stole food! That’s not cool!”

“For once, I’m with the furball on this one!” [Name] agreed, her wings jingling in excitement.

“Stealing food is a serious offense,” Yuuken chimed in.

“Aw, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Tomorrow, you need to go apologize,” Yuuken suggested, finally straightening up and returning to his serious demeanor.

“You don’t mess with another guy’s meal… Hey, wait a minute! I just realized I never got those cans of tuna the headmage promised me!”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re getting that… You didn’t need it anyway.” The fairy poked at Grim’s furry belly with her foot.

“Okay, okay! I get that I should apologize. But you’re coming with me, [Name] and Yuuken. This was your idea, after all.”

“Fair enough,” Yuuken nodded. [Name] was taken aback. Why was she being dragged into this mess?!

“Huh?! I didn’t even—”

“Anyway, do you have a place for me to crash tonight?” Ace interrupted.

“You were serious about that? Outside of my bedroom, this whole dump is covered in dust. So if you want to crash, you better start cleaning!” [Name] said.

“Dude, no way! I hate cleaning! Just let me stay with you, [Name]. I’m really slim. I won’t take up much space.” He nudged her, but she just stared back, causing him to pout.

“You wish.” [Name] turned her back to the boys and marched back to her room.

“Well, fine. The sofa it is. Night!”

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[Name] was totally in love with her uniform. She fiddled with the cute bow tie before adjusting her socks, admiring her reflection and giving herself a little spin. Then she paused, blinking as she pressed her skirt down in embarrassment, slowly turning around to check herself out.

“[Name], are you—” Yuuken stood at the door, his jaw hanging open. The girl’s usual glow turned a deep shade of red, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“GET OUT! WHY DIDN’T YOU KNOCK?!” she screeched.

“Yes, ma’am!” Yuuken quickly slammed the door shut, leaving [Name] to calm her nerves.

“Oh my sevens,” she groaned, patting her face with her hands. “I just want to jump off a bridge right now.”

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“Move it! Out of the way! Night Raven College student coming through! Oh? Did my collar catch your eye? It’s way better than the one you’re stuck with! You know, the one that keeps you from using magic? But hey, the school could always use another janitor! Bwahahaha!”

“You’re so humble, Grim!” [Name] shot back sarcastically.

“I think he’s suffered enough, Grim,” Yuuken added.

“Grrrr! Trust me, Grim, once I get my magic back, you’re the first one I’m coming for!” Ace shot back, glaring at the cat.

“Didn’t the headmage JUST tell you yesterday to cut out the incidents? Besides, you won’t be able to participate in class if you can’t use magic. So why not just apologize to the housewarden? It’s a small price to pay to get that collar off,” Deuce advised.

“Aaaaargh! I hate this so! SO! Much!” Ace growled, yanking at the collar around his neck in frustration.

“I hate your whining more than you hate that collar,” [Name] said, casting an irritated glance at him.

“Hmm. You know, we still have some time to kill before class starts. I’m kinda curious about the other dorms. Guess I’ll go check them out while you do the whole groveling thing,” Grim said, tapping his chin with his paw.

“Since when did this turn into a field trip?!” Ace groaned.

“Field trip? More like a break! The boys have been staring at me like I have three heads.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re the only girl in the school?! Plus, you’re like the size of a magic pen!” Grim teased, poking her leg.

“I may be the only girl in the school, but I’m not the only girl in the world! And, for the record, I’m considered tall by tinker fairy standards!” The fairy’s wings flared up bright red as she turned around and flicked fairy dust at Ace and Grim.

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“Wow, this place is seriously nice! It’s like a whole different world compared to our cramped little dorm,” Grim said, taking in the surroundings with wide eyes.

“Hey, our dorm’s just a little rough around the edges, okay?” Yuuken chimed in, almost trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

“Yeah, ‘a little rough’ is putting it lightly,” [Name] added with a smirk as she trailed behind Ace and Deuce towards the garden.

“Yesss! Time to get my paint on!” a voice suddenly called out from the garden.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” Grim said, surprised.

“They’ve got to be all red, or it’s ‘off with my head!’” the mystery boy shouted back.

“Wait, I feel like I’ve heard this somewhere…” Yuuken murmured to himself as he processed the boy’s words.

[Name] shot Yuuken a confused glance. “Did you take something while I was napping?”

“Huh...? You guys need something?” The orange-haired boy paused his painting to look over at the group.

“What exactly are you doing?” 

[Name] facepalmed at the obviousness of the question. I mean, come on, with the red splatters everywhere and a paintbrush in hand, it was pretty clear.

“Are you serious? I'm painting these roses red, obviously.”

“Why on earth would you do that?!”

Deuce had a point; why change something that already existed? This dorm was definitely quirky.

The orange-haired boy just chuckled. “Ah ha ha! So clueless, you really put the ‘n’ in newbie! Hold up, I know you guys! You’re the ones who shattered that billion-thaumark chandelier and almost got kicked out! And you—” he pointed at [Name], “—you’re the cute girl everyone’s been talking about!”

[Name] couldn’t help but feel a little flattered. Maybe she was kinda cute after all. She smiled at him, making her fellow first years stare in disbelief.

“Wow, you are cute. Especially when you smile,” Ace said with a snicker, only for [Name] to grab him by the collar and push him back, her expression turning neutral again.

“Oh, knock it off,” [Name] rolled her eyes.

“And you! You’re the one who scarfed down the housewarden’s tart that night! You guys are like, the hottest topic on campus! I need to get in on this fame train. Mind if I grab a quick selfie? I’ll tag you all on Magicam!”

“I’m Deuce Spade.”

“Ace.”

“I'm Grim, and that’s my sidekick, Yuuken.”

“[Name],”

“Uploaded! Awesome! Oh, I’m Cater Diamond, by the way. I’m a junior here at Heartslabyul. Just call me Cater or Cay-Cay if you’re feeling wild! So nice to meet ya!” Cater flashed a peace sign.

“Nice to meet you too,” Yuuken said, trying to keep it together.

“Wait, you’re the prefect of that so-called Ramshackle House dorm, right? I can’t believe you live there! It looks like a total wreck on Magicam. No filter could save that place!”

“Hey, all you’ve done is throw shade at us!” 

“Whoops, my bad! I’m losing track of time! The party’s tomorrow, and if we’re not ready, it’s ‘off with my head!’ So, you kids wanna help me paint some roses?” Cater called out, referring to the first years as “kids,” which made [Name] fidget a bit, her wings twitching defensively.

“Uh, why exactly are you doing that?” Ace asked, puzzled.

“Because red roses are way more Instagrammable! Or... something like that? Then I have to get everything ready for the big croquet tournament, which means I need to paint all the flamingos too.” Cater sighed dramatically.

“Wait, why are you painting flamingos?!” [Name] exclaimed, fairy dust fluttering around from her outburst.

“Now it’s all coming together, Ace! That tart you munched on must’ve been for the housewarden’s birthday, which is why he flipped out!” Deuce said, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s not Riddle's birthday,” Cater replied, leaving everyone even more confused.

“It’s not? Then whose birthday is it?” Ace asked, scratching his head.

“It’s no one’s birthday. Tomorrow is our dorm’s traditional unbirthday party! It’s this special tea party we throw when nobody has a birthday—if the housewarden feels like it,” Cater explained.

“And why do you even do that?” Ace pressed on.

“More questions! Listen, I need these roses to be red, like, yesterday! Can’t you guys help out with some magic or something? Oh wait, Ace is on magical house arrest and Yuuken’s just a regular guy, so you three will have to stick to paint.”

“Recolor the roses with magic,” Deuce repeated, trying to wrap his head around it.

“Never done that before, can’t say it sounds easy.”

“Same here,” [Name] added.

“Chill, it’ll be fine! You got this! Just try to do it before I lose my head, okay? Thanks!” And with that, Cater dashed off, leaving the first years in a whirlwind of confusion.

Taglist✨: @itwaszzmoon , @brights-place

Sorry for the short chapter😓 I’ll post some time tomorrow!! Thank you for reading💚