#I’m going to sleep now so night night!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hees-mine · 3 days ago

Text

Always - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cursing, angst.

Genre: brothers best friend.

WC: 4k+

Posting this here because i want to get it out of my drafts since it’s been there forever it’s old so it’s not good but oh well lowkey want to make another story with this trope though 👀 a better one

“Sure you don’t want to come with?” Your brother Jake cracks open your bedroom door, checking with you one last time.

“I’m sure I’m not feeling well today, so I think I’ll just stay home,” you told him a little white lie, pulling your blankets up to your chest.

“Alright I’ll be back in an hour or so do you need anything?” He asks like the caring brother he is.

“Sleep,” you reply with a chuckle.

“Alright,” he laughs softly and turns off the light in your room.

As soon as you heard the door close from downstairs, you texted heeseung, your brother’s best friend and the guy you’ve been hooking up with for the past couple of months.

Ever since Jake introduced you to heeseung, there was definitely undeniable tension between the two of you, but you both ignored it cause he didn’t want to break the bro code, and you didn’t want to disappoint your brother, so both of you kept your hands to yourselves.

That seemed to be working until you both entered college together, and to celebrate everyone’s success of getting into college, one of your mutuals threw a house party you had to attend cause you were one of the people being celebrated, and obviously, so was heeseung.

That night, neither of you could keep your eyes off the other. It started out with flirty glances and winks from across the room; then, after a few shots, it progressed into you both dancing together, him behind you, holding your waist while you sway your hips to the beat, feeling the unmistakable hardness in his jeans.

The alcohol in your system and the way his hot breath fanned across your face whenever he complimented your figure had you melting into him, and what made you give in completely was the subtle but very effective rolls of his hips, his hard-on brushing against your ass had you pulsing and dripping with need, and evidently, he was just as needy cause the words finally rolled off his tongue. “Let’s go upstairs.” With one last glance around the party, your brother was nowhere in sight, and you both snuck off to a vacant bedroom where he gave you the best night of your life.

He fucked you so good after years of being pent up he released all of his want for you in one night, giving you round after round till you both were numb and shaking with unspeakable pleasure.

That night led you both to hooking up behind your brother’s back you both felt guilty that’s for sure but now that you had a taste of each other there was no way you’d be stopping anytime soon.

Which is why your fingers are excitedly moving across your keypad to set up another hookup.

“My brother just went to the mall. Do you want to come over?”

“Finally, I’ll be over in ten. Be ready when I arrive ;)”

You smile at his text and pull the blankets back, going downstairs to unlock the door for his arrival. You quickly go back upstairs, slipping off every article of clothing before getting back onto the bed and waiting for heeseung.

He seems to arrive earlier than ten minutes he may or may not have sped on the way there he parked a few blocks away to hide his car just in case and made his way to the door not bothering to knock cause he knew you always kept it unlocked for him and besides this was like his second home with as much time as he spent here with Jake he opened the door and headed upstairs straight to your bedroom.

He knocked gently his eyebrows raising with amusement cause the door was already cracked all he had to do was push it open and there you were sitting there looking all pretty underneath the covers. “Hey” he says quietly and steps inside shutting the door behind him.

“Hey,” you reply flirtatiously and peel back the covers, showing off your body.

He bites his bottom lip and tosses his jacket to the side of the room, easily slipping off his shoes, which he didn’t even bother to untie.

You watch him undress, your body already heating up with anticipation.

His shirt comes off next, and he walks to the edge of the bed and climbs on top, crawling over to you until he’s hovering over your naked body. “Always look so fucking pretty for me” he kissed your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around his neck spreading your legs so he could get in between them.

“I try” You chuckle softly, and he captures your lips in a kiss slotting himself between your legs and pressing his semi-hard cock right against your pussy, causing you to moan of course, he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring every last inch of you.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you bring him as close to you as possible, kissing him with just as much desire as he does with you.

When it becomes difficult to breathe, he pulls away the string of saliva between the two of you, getting lost as he starts to kiss down your neck. “Hmm, hee,” his hands trail down your sides, softly tickling your flesh before gripping your waist tightly and rutting himself against your naked pussy your wetness surely staining his sweats.

He nips at the skin of your neck, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as you buck your hips up into him. “Fuck baby, I can’t wait anymore” he pulls back, staring into your eyes, his eyes full of lust.

“That’s good cause we only have an hour,” you chuckle, running your hands down his chest til you reach the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down along with his underwear till his cock falls out he, ’s rock-hard precum leaking at the tip of his shaft twitching as he catches the way you stare at his length between your legs.

Once you pull his clothing down his thighs, he takes the reins, slipping the two articles down to his ankles, too impatient to get fully undressed. “Turn over. Wanna fuck that pretty little pussy from behind.”

Not one ounce of shame runs through your veins as you turn over on your stomach at record speed, presenting your holes to him.

“That’s it” he bites his lip spanking your ass, and watching it jiggle, he places both of his palms on your ass, kneading softly as he slots his length between your round ass cheeks. “Shit,” he whispers to himself, loving the way his precum stains your beautiful skin. “Ass up for me” You arch your back, burying your face into your pillows as you feel his tip prodding at your pussy lips. “Look at that pussy so wet for me” he slips his first finger in you, groaning at the feeling of your warm cunt clenching around his finger. He added another alongside his index one, and your walls welcomed him with ease. Your sticky wetness aids the process of stretching you out. “Fuck you’re taking my fingers so well could probably just slip my cock in you right now.”

“Yes please I can take it” you laid your cheek on the pillow heart pounding with anticipation as your breath quickens.

“Yeah? Want me to put it in you?” he curled his fingers inside you, causing your walls to clench yet again.

“Fuck yes, please stick it inside me, hee” Your breath gets sucked out of you the moment you feel his bulbous tip enter you.

You’ve been wanting this for the past few weeks and finally you were able to get what you’ve been craving for.

He lets out a sharp breath sinking his hard cock all the way inside you till he bottoms out. “So tight and warm,” he moans softly, his head rolling back as he holds your waist, adjusting to the wet sensation encasing his cock.

Your mouth parts in a gasp, legs going numb as you feel him stretch you out so good.

You grip the sheets, your walls clenching and unclenching around his thick pulsing cock.

He withdrew himself, pulling out until nothing but the tip was left inside and then thrusting forward, filling you up to the brim. “God damn, you always feel so fucking good,” he grunts, creating a steady rhythm sliding in and out of your wet pussy.

“Fuck” you breathe out, eyes tightly closing shut as you focus on the pleasure of his thick length rubbing against your walls so deliciously.

“Yeah? Feel good, baby?” He grabs hold of your shoulders for leverage, stroking your walls perfectly. “Taking it so deep for me,” he smirks, watching the way your pussy lips welcome his cock so warmly. “You like it deep, huh?” His eyes are lidded as he witnesses the sight of your juices, creating a creamy white ring of arousal around his base.

“Yes, love feeling your cock d-deep inside m-me fuck heeseung,” you whimper, unable to contain the way your walls squeeze around him.

“Fuck you’re so tight I’m not gonna last long,” he huffs, speeding up the movement of his hips. It felt too good to slow down the sound of his skin slapping against yours, making him even more feral. “Fuck fuck fuck” he lowers his hands to your waist, holding you still, but the force of his thrusts has you sliding up the bed, his cock head kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“Yes, please don’t stop right there,” you whine, toes curling as you gush around his cock, creating the wettest sounds you ever heard.

“Hear that baby? Your little pussy is talking to me. You must really be enjoying my dick, huh?” He asks, knowing full well you love how he fucks every single time.

“Hmm, yes,” you whine, feeling your high approaching.

“You close? I can feel you clenching on my dick so hard” he lets out a laugh, fingertips pressing into your sides, his balls loudly smacking your ass as his thrusts turn erratic.

“So close,” you mewl.

“M-me too gonna fill this pussy up make it even more creamy baby,” he grunts, thrusting like an animal in heat. Both of you are so close the familiar warm tingling sensation spreads throughout both your bodies.

You could feel it just a second away, but the sound of his phone ringing made you lose focus.

“Fuck” he grunts in frustration. His hand leaves your waist messily, reaching for his phone so he can shut it off and focus back on what’s really important, except when he reads the caller ID, his heart races. “Shit, it’s your brother,” he sighs, slowing the pace of his hips but still fucking his cock deep into you.

“Just ignore it,” you complain, wiggling your ass against him, trying to get him to speed up again.

“I can’t just keep quiet yeah” he takes a deep breath before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to come over I was just at GameStop, and I bought a few new games” heeseung presses your lower back down, arching you further so he can reach even deeper, and you use every last ounce of strength not to moan out loud from the feeling of his thick cock reaching the depths of your pussy.

“S-sure, what time are you fuck-“ he hisses as another gush of wetness releases around his cock. “What time are you thinking?” He swallows thickly, his breathing becoming heavier with each stroke. He’s too close right now. As soon as the call ends, he’s gonna release his load deep inside your sweet juicy pussy and give you what you deserve.

“I’m on my way home in about fifteen. I’ll probably take a shower too, so in about half an hour,” heeseung tries his best to focus on what his best friend is saying, but it’s hard when your pussy squeezes his cock so tight.

“S-sounds good. I’ll come over in about 45 minutes,” he groans softly, but it could still be picked up over the line.

“You okay? You sound weird,” Jake says on the other line.

Heeseung panic’s initially but then comes up with the most feasible answer he can think of. “I’m good just out of energy getting in a really really good workout” he bites his lip to hold in a moan.

“Alright, well, enjoy your workout. See you tonight,”

“See you tonight” heeseung hits the end call button at lightning speed, and as soon as his phone hits the mattress, he’s gripping your hip and fucking into you like a wild beast, his thick cock fucking your walls to no end. You’re screaming mess nonstop, moans and cries of his name spilling from your pretty lips. “Fuck yeah, baby, scream my fucking name”

“Heeseung!” You cry even louder as he snakes his hand under your waist and starts rubbing your clit. “Oh fuck I’m coming. I’m coming, heeseung!” You shriek, your eyes rolling back as you shake violently on the bed, your pussy pulsating around him.

“Yeah, let go for me, cum all over this dick,” he hums. “Gonna pump you full of my cum, baby. Want that?”

“Yes,” you whimper breathlessly.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna give it to you” After one last thrust, he’s emptying his huge load in your hole. “Shit baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming” he grunts, hips wildly bucking into you, riding out his high, drilling into your heat, and filling you up to the brim with his cum. “Shit baby,” he throws his head back, panting heavily.

“Hmm,” you moan in satisfaction, his hands running all over your body, helping you come back down from the earth-shattering orgasm. You sink into the mattress, and he lays on top of you, panting as he leaves stray kisses all over your cheek, lips, and shoulders.

You both lay like that for a while, regaining your strength and being able to move again.

Everything is silent save for the short breaths you both let out. “Shit baby, I want you again already,” he chuckles against your ear biting your lobe softly as he rolls his hips sensually, pushing his cum deeper in you.

“Hee,” you whine at the feeling of his cock inside you. “I wish we could, but my brothers gonna be home soon,” you whisper.

“Fuck I wish he would leave more often. Going weeks without feeling your pussy is torture,” he laughs and rests his cheek on yours, relishing in the aftermath before he gets ready to leave.

Just before he begins to part from your body, you both hear the front door shut. “Shit,” heeseung slowly pulls out of your hole, both of you hissing at the loss of contact as all his cum streams from your hole.

You popped up out of bed, searching for his clothes so he could get dressed and leave a thick trail of white dripping down your thighs. “I thought he said half an hour!” You whisper yelled

“Me too,” he says, hopping on one foot to put his shoes back on.

“You have to go now,” you tell him urgently and open your window.

“Really?!” He whispers, knowing the window isn’t exactly close to the ground.

“Yes, now hurry.” he walks past you and doesn’t miss the mess he made between your legs. “Fuck” he shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t believe he had to leave you like that. If he had it his way, he’d fill you up all night long, but sadly, your brother and his best friend had to ruin it. “Kiss me,” he quickly whispered, and you gave him a little peck on the lips.

He goes out the window doing his best not to make a lot of noise and trying to grab anything for some type of leverage so he wouldn’t slip and fall.

After he got about half way he let go dropping to the ground softly and scurrying to his car to wait inside for another half hour and pretend like he had just arrived.

With a sigh of relief, you went to the bathroom to shower before bed.

That was close, almost too close.

As close of a call as that was, that still wasn’t gonna stop you from seeing heeseung again.

You were quite literally addicted to him.

But he was having other thoughts.

“Are you coming over tonight my brother is out again” this time you’d called him instead of texting.

“Nah, last time was close enough, and to be honest, I don’t think we should push our luck. Let’s just call this off.”

“Call it off?” You’re a bit surprised by that you weren’t expecting that would be his response but you understood where he was coming from.

Not to say you liked it, though.

“Yeah it’s not worth it anymore id like to live and if your brother catches me balls deep inside his sister I doubt he’d let me live” he chuckles but you don’t really find it to be that funny especially how he said it wasn’t worth it anymore.

“Well… okay I guess I’ll see you next time you and my brother hangout” you mumble a bit disappointed but you understood it was risky and you can’t really blame him for calling it quits.

“You will, dollface. It was fun while it lasted,” you smile faintly.

“Yeah…. Bye,” he ended the call first, and you tossed your phone to the side, sighing. Who were you going to get sex from now?

That question would be answered within just a few hours. Apparently, not just heeseung was hanging out with Jake today, but his friend Jay as well. You knew him well. He hadn’t been around much lately, but you did have a good relationship with him.

And now that you think about it, he was attractive, nice, and a good friend.

You’re sure he’s probably good in bed, too.

“Hi, Jay!” You cheered as he entered, already putting your plan in motion.

“Hey y/n! It’s been a while.” he walks over to you, ready to give you a side hug, but you pull him in a full hug, pressing yourself against his body. “Did you miss me or something?” he laughs awkwardly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you just as warmly.

“Yeah plus I didn’t know you’d be coming over” you pull away from the hug hands still resting on his shoulders.

“Yeah, it was heeseung’s idea.” you both looked at heeseung, and he was just standing there already, staring at the two of you and your hands on Jay's shoulders.

“Good idea, heeseung. It’s nice seeing you after so long, Jay,” you smile, taking a seat.

“You too, y/n.” he offers you a warm smile, greeting everyone else as he takes off his jacket and shoes.

“Well, we were gonna play games, but since y/n seems excited to hang out with us, how about a movie instead so she can join us?” Jake suggested that since you weren’t into video games that much,

“Sounds good to me,” Jay agrees.

“No, id rath-“Heeseung got shut down immediately by Jake.

“Three against one, you lose; besides, we game all the time anyways,” Jake concluded and sat on the couch searching for a movie.

Once the movie was picked, you all went to the kitchen to prepare snacks and drinks for the movie night once you got all settled in, you took a seat on the couch when heeseung saw where you were sitting, he moved over to you, but since the conversation you both had last time you didn’t want to sit next to him you couldn’t be that close to him not when you were literally thirsting for him how could someone look so good in a baggy shirt and pants you had no idea, but your panties definitely did as they were already damp just feeling him so close was doing things to you.

The fact you couldn’t act on those things was torture.

So you got up and sat next to Jay, who was on the bigger couch, leaving heeseung to sit all alone. He watched you sitting next to Jay, laughing together at some scene in the movie that he couldn’t even pay attention to cause he was too upset seeing you both that close together.

Since when did you have so much fun with Jay?

Heeseung was unknowingly sulking each time you laughed or pushed Jay on the shoulder even the way you both ate out of the same bowl made him feel weird.

He folded his arms across his chest, jaw tightly clenched. After he saw you both feeding popcorn to each other, he had to stop watching you two before he lost it. “You got any alcohol?” He asked Jake cause he’d definitely need something to numb whatever dumb aching feeling that was in his chest.

“Top cabinet.” he nodded and stood up.

“The popcorn needs a refill,” you announced and went to the kitchen a few moments after heeseung.

“Woah, slow down,” you said and giggled when you saw him downing a bottle of liquor.

“I should say the same to you.” he chuckled and threw his head back, taking another shot.

“Come again? I’m not the one drowning in booze,” you laugh, opening another bag of popcorn.

“Yeah, 'cause you wanna drown in something else,” he mumbles to himself.

“What?”

“You heard me. I saw you all over, Jay. Wouldn’t it be better to fuck someone that isn’t friends with your brother?” He laughs while shaking his head.

“Ehh, I was with you, and it didn’t bother me,” you shrug. “Besides, I need to get it from somewhere,” you add in a joking manner, but he doesn’t take it that way.

“Not surprised”

“Excuse me?!” You say, feeling slightly offended you had no idea where this was coming from.

��Don’t act shocked. How the fuck do think that’s supposed to make me feel? When you’re all fucking over him after we just- just fuck it, whatever, I don’t care.”

“Heeseung, you’re drunk,” you replied, brushing his nonsense off.

“And you’re nothing but a fucking slut that can’t go one minute without a dick stuffed inside you before you go fucking running off to someone else” he raises his voice slightly, feeling his agitation grow.

“Shush!” You whisper. “What is it to you? You said it wasn’t worth it anymore. What do you think? I’m just gonna stop having sex because we’re not doing it anymore?” You say, confused.

“Cause I didn’t want to fucking get caught. I didn’t know you’d go out searching the very next day. We broke it off,” he sighs.

“What am I supposed to do? You’re obviously not an option anymore,” you say, getting defensive.

“I don’t know, maybe try a little harder to make something work between us,” he lowers his voice, picking at the label on the liquor bottle.

“Something like what? this was just casual sex”

“Casual?” He laughs softly.

“Yes, that’s what we agreed on,” you remind him.

“So all this time we’ve been screwing, you still just feel it's casual?”

“Yes, and so do you, 'cause you even said I wasn’t worth it,” you replied.

“Well, I fucking take it back, okay, I like you. It was never casual for me, and it’s only been a few days, but I fucking miss you already, and to see how quickly you moved on makes me upset, especially cause it’s right in front of me.”

“So why did you say it?” You ask.

“Cause I didn’t want to get hurt. I knew we couldn’t be public, and I thought maybe just ending things would lighten the blow, but it made it worse cause to see you all over Jay made me feel like shit hence why,” he holds up the bottle of liquor.

“Hee, I feel the same way, too, but when you said it wasn’t worth it anymore, I didn’t think you really cared about us that much, and Jay, I don’t even know. I think I was just trying to take my mind off of you, but I want you and you only.”

“Yeah?” He stands up walking over to you and resting his hands on your hips. “You really mean that?” He cups your cheeks his left hand caressing your face gently.

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” you breathe out, getting lost in his eyes.

“Me too, but I understand, sweetheart. It was complicated, and I’m sorry for what I said earlier and for raising my voice and for cursing,” he rambles, and you laugh softly, wrapping your arms around him.

“I know I forgive you, hee.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

“Thank you, baby,” he smiles, pulling you into his arms. “I know it’s still complicated, but I’m gonna try my best to navigate through this with you. I don’t know what telling Jake will mean for us, but I think we should.”

“I’m scared,” you mumbled into his chest, fearing the disappointment your brother might feel if he found out about you and heeseung.

“Me too,” he chuckled. “But I know no matter the outcome, I want to be with you always.”

Leaning back, you looked up at him. “You mean that?”

“I do.” he smiles down at you, kissing your forehead and swaying you in his arms.

Only time would tell what the outcome would be of telling your brother you’ve been seeing his best friend, but you found comfort in knowing that heeseung would be there for you always.

Link to all my other works

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sibylsleaves · 3 days ago

Note

good morning sibyl … prompt: sleepy buddie 😴🤩

omg yay....this is the one i kinda started last night because i was excited!! also im sorry hima...i broke the rules right off the bat because this is slightly over 1k 😔😔 plz forgive me....

---

It’s late when they make it back. Christopher’s been passed out since they crossed the state line. Eddie’s absolutely exhausted, a little delirious from eleven and a half hours in the car but so, so happy as the little house on Bedford Drive comes into view. He gets Chris awake enough to shuffle inside and get into bed, and then drags their bags inside, leaving them in the front hall. Everything else can wait.

Tomorrow they’re going to head straight to Buck’s in the morning to surprise him—Eddie promised Chris it would be the first thing they did when they got back to LA. He’s already checked with Bobby to make sure he’s not on shift.

He’d been too scared to tell Buck that they were coming home. Terrified that Chris would change his mind, or that his parents would try to stop them, or that something would happen to snatch it all away from him again. It hadn’t feel real, hadn’t felt permanent, until he walked up the front steps.

Now, easing down the familiar creaky hallway and pushing open the bedroom door, Eddie lets out the breath he’s been holding since the day Chris left.

The sight that greets him on the other side of the door steals that breath right back.

There’s someone lying in his bed. Eddie knows it’s Buck before he can even understand how he knows it’s Buck. As if he could recognize him from just the outline of his sleeping body in the dark.

In the wake of his initial surprise, Eddie is filled with something he can only call peace. He’s home. They’re home. And somehow, it makes sense that Buck should be here, asleep in Eddie’s bed like he belongs there.

Moving quietly, Eddie sheds his pants and exchanges his road-worn henley for a fresh t-shirt. Then he moves to the other side of the bed and climbs in beside Buck.

“‘’ddie?” comes the sleep-roughened rumble of Buck’s voice.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly in the dark. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay. ’m glad. You’re here,” he says, or maybe it’s I’m glad you’re here.

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Eddie says, settling onto the pillow next to him. Under the blankets, Buck moves, rolling toward him, tucking all that bulk against Eddie. Eddie wraps an arm around him, letting himself, in this quiet, unguarded moment, live in the spaces of Buck’s body, in the warm certainty that no matter how far he goes, Buck will always be his home.

He breathes in, letting all the tension of the last few weeks dissipate, and presses his cheek into the hollow of Buck’s throat. Sleep is creeping up on him, waiting to pull him under.

Buck lets out a little hum, almost a moan, and turns his face toward Eddie’s.

It’s as natural as anything to meet him there, lips nudging together in a kiss that’s sweet and soft until it isn’t. Until Buck grabs the back of Eddie’s head, angling his face to kiss him deeper, until Eddie opens his mouth to greedily drink every sigh and whimper from Buck’s mouth, until he presses Buck down against the sleep-warm sheets and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

But sleep is still lapping at his edges, and soon the near frantic need slows into something languid and undemanding.

Buck sighs his name, sounding half a step from sleep himself, and they settle again, tangled together.

“I’m gonna tell you everything in the morning,” Eddie promises. Means it, too, when he says everything—everything that went down in El Paso with his parents, with Chris, everything he’s been keeping back from Buck because he couldn’t bear to tell him with eight hundred miles still between them. “But tonight I just—I’m home. We’re home. And I love you. That’s the most important part.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says, as easy as anything. Like it’s something he’s said a hundred times before. And maybe—maybe it really is that easy.

Buck hums again and between one breath and the next Eddie feels him drop back off.

He follows soon after.

When Eddie wakes, he’s alone. It takes him a full minute to even remember where he is—not in Texas anymore thank god— and an additional few seconds to remember that Buck was in his bed last night.

That’s also about when he hears the sound of the kitchen door closing just a little too hard.

He’s out of bed so quickly he’s almost dizzy, stumbling across the hall and into the kitchen where he finds Buck.

Buck who is not, as Eddie might have thought, shuffling around in his pajamas trying to get the coffee going for them. Instead he’s standing fully dressed, shoes on, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Eddie leans against the doorway. “Were you seriously gonna try to sneak out?”

Buck jumps at the sound of his voice and then immediately goes rigid, his head angled down like a dog waiting to be scolded for bad behavior. “Eddie.”

“Well?” Eddie asks.

“I—” Buck chokes out, his shoulders stiffening, his hand clenched around the strap of his duffle bag. “I’m sorry.”

“For sneaking out?”

Buck nods, face red and bright. “For—all of it. For being in your house when you were—when you were gone. For sleeping in your bed. For—for last night.”

“You’re sorry for last night?” Eddie echoes. “Buck, you kissed me.”

Buck flinches. “I didn’t—I thought I was dreaming.”

“What?”

“When you woke me up last night I—I thought I was still dreaming,” Buck says. “That’s why I kissed you. And then I woke up this morning and you were really there and that meant I’d really, actually kissed you, and I—”

“Freaked out and decided to sneak out of the house before I woke up?” Eddie suggests.

Buck nods miserably.

“And at any point in this freak out did it occur to you that the fact that you really, actually kissed me means that I really, actually kissed you back?”

“I—oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie repeats, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face.

“You wanted it,” Buck says slowly. “You…”

“Want it,” Eddie corrects, crossing the space between them and taking Buck’s face in his heads. “Really, actually.”

Buck drops the duffel bag on the ground. Eddie kisses him, as sweet and slow as he’d kissed him last night. Buck makes a noise that sounds like wanting and kisses him back, holding onto Eddie’s arms, thumbs digging into the soft parts of his wrists.

“This is real, Buck,” Eddie murmurs between lush, indulgent kisses. “I’m really here. I’m really home. And I really love you.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says, and it’s so different from the way he said it last night. In the light of morning, the words are tremulous and precious, but still easy, so easy.

Eddie smiles, and before he can kiss him again, Buck pulls back.

“And…you don’t think it’s weird?” he asks anxiously. “That I was, uh—living here?”

“Well, that explains the duffle bag,” Eddie says mildly. His hand finds Buck’s shoulder, his gaze finding Buck’s. “Buck, everything has felt wrong since the second Christopher walked out that door with my parents. Last night was the first time in my life that everything, finally, felt right.”

“Oh,” Buck says, eyes pink and wet. “That’s—me, too. That’s why I thought it had to be a dream.”

Eddie kisses him again and this time—this time the kiss turns from soft to molten. Eddie had been too exhausted last night to even think about anything more but now—now he’s definitely thinking about it. And judging by the noises Buck’s making and the way his hips hitch against Eddie’s, he’s thinking about it, too.

“You know,” Eddie says breezily, walking them backward out of the kitchen and back toward the bedroom. “We had a pretty long drive yesterday. Chris’ll probably be asleep for the next few hours. Maybe in the meantime, we can see if I can make some of your other dreams come true.”

ficlet february prompts

#sibyl answers #sibyls words #eddiegettingshot #ficlet february

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touchfoundation · 13 hours ago

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You have the prettiest eyes and most beautiful smile, and I find that you are certainly one of the prettiest and sexiest women I’ve seen for a long while. Of course one of the obvious reasons why you are so damn Sexy is because you have the prettiest and perfectly shaped, Extremely Sexy breasts that no one can deny. It’s almost like I have kept day dreaming about them, and keeping the dream alive by wanting to kiss them and lick them tasting their gorgeous shapes and loving them with my tongue and lips for so longingly and very excitingly, to the extent that my hard penis can’t take me loving your very beautiful and so extremely Sexy breasts like I want to continue with it. Because I had to forget about making a mess around my bed as I’m trying to go back and forth with your work, until I can go back to sleep! I will be hoping to find this absolutely Gorgeous young lady that’s into BodyArt. I also want and need to tell you that your amazing breasts are so damn Beautiful and sooo pretty and pretty incredibly Sexy as can ever possibly be, and thanks for sharing your beautiful breasts with me . Now I’m needing to slow back down and clean myself up. I am so grateful for your sharing your gorgeous sexy breasts , if only by a picture, I can always find a way by looking at your amazing sexy curves in my mind and spending a lot of time with caressing and suckling your incredibly beautiful body with your sexy breasts for so long you might think that I went to sleep, but I still want to satisfy you by kissing and licking and suckling your pussy, And especially with your sexy asshole for so long because I love tasting your pussy and your asshole for hours or until I can hear you screaming with pleasure.

You are so damn sexy that I couldn’t help myself around you , because I would have no choice but to think about how much I want to go down on you, and to dream of those thoughts that I just shared with you and found it necessary for me to go into a bedroom that nobody has been interested in going into the room and finish my orgasmic strokes until I’ve been completely spent. I’d clean up so much around me, but I know that I would be ready for some more of something to drink. Maybe we will surprise ourselves by having everyone take off their shoes, and then dance until the whole night has felt so electric, that we wanted to lay down beside each other after we both have discarded our clothes and couldn’t help finding ourselves making Love with, and into each other for a long while until we both came so hard and fast that I was not deciding to care about anything else.♥️🥰😘😛😛😋😋

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meazalykov · 2 days ago

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under her wing

giulia gwinn x spanish!reader , mentor!alexia putellas x spanish!reader

summary: your mentor is concerned about your relationship with your club teammate

warnings: three year age gap, reader is 22, a suggestive mention if you squint

you never thought you would leave barcelona. it had been your home, your dream, the place where you trained at la masia for many years before debuting on the senior team.

in 2023, when you won the champions league.. you ran into a bit of challenges. something that would not be fixed without a club change.

so… when the opportunity at bayern munich came, you took it.

it was the right step for your career, but that did not make leaving any easier since alexia had been the hardest part of it.

she was more than just a teammate…she was the older sister you never had, the one who guided you when you first arrived at barcelona.

when you told her about the transfer that summer, she had nodded, understanding yet saddened.

“if it’s what you want,” she had said, her voice soft.

“but i’m going to miss you.”

you had adjusted to life at bayern faster than you expected. the girls welcomed you, the club supported you, and before long, you found yourself settling in.

you still talked to alexia, everyday even, you guys kept eachother updated about your lifes in germany and spain.

well, not too much, of course, since she was a rival now. it's just enough for her to know you were okay.

then there was giulia.

she had been your teammate first, someone you clicked with on the pitch almost immediately. you admired her leadership, her composure, the way she carried herself with quiet confidence.

she was 25, a captain-like figure at bayern, the leader of her national team after popp.

she was also the best thing to happen to you in a long time.

you and giulia had only been official for a month. it was new, fresh, but something about it felt so different from your past relationships. healthier and safer like you were with someone who truly saw you.

you had not told alexia yet…there had not been a right time, and honestly, you were not sure how she would take it.

now, in march, you were on national break, back in spain, while giulia remained in germany. it was the first time since getting together that you would be apart for this long, but you both promised to keep in touch.

and you did.

you were always smiling at your phone. always taking pictures of your food before eating. always stepping away to take facetime calls in the bathroom.

that last one had really set alexia off.

she was not going to ask what you were doing in there on the phone with giulia, but she had her suspicions.

now, the night before your match against portugal, she was going to get her answers.

misa and aitana had just left the hotel room when she turned to you.

“hey, y/n, don’t go to sleep yet. can we talk?”

you blinked, confused but nodding.

“of course.”

she sat on the edge of the bed, watching you carefully.

“are you dating someone?”

your heart nearly stopped.

“wh-wha-what? how do you know?”

she let out a small laugh, shaking her head.

“so i was right.”

you sighed, rubbing your face.

“was it that obvious?”

“very,” alexia said.

“you smile at your phone too much. you always take pictures of your food and the facetime calls in the bathroom? come on, y/n! you could at least wait until you got home to munich.”

you groaned.

“fine. yeah, i am dating someone.”

she tilted her head.

“who?”

you hesitated.

“giulia.”

her brows lifted slightly.

“giulia?”

“yeah, giulia gwinn. my teammate at bayern. defender for alemania..”

you nodded, bracing yourself for her reaction.

alexia knew giulia. she had played against her plenty of times, had seen her lead bayern with the same strength she had seen in other great captains like herself.

however, her expression shifted into something more thoughtful, almost concerned.

“hmm.”

“what?” you frowned.

she hesitated for a second before speaking.

“it’s not a bad thing,” she said slowly.

“i just… well… she’s older. not by much, but still… i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you crossed your arms.

“do you think she’s too good for me?”

her eyes widened, shaking her head immediately.

“no! not at all. that’s not what i meant.”

“then what did you mean?”

she sighed.

“i mean that you’re 22. you’re mature for your age, but i want to make sure you’re making smart decisions and that you’re with someone who treats you well, who understands you.”

you relaxed slightly.

“giulia treats me really well, ale. better than anyone ever has.”

ale’s expression softened.

“that’s all i needed to hear.”

you felt the weight of her concern, the way she was looking out for you in the way she always had.

it was not about doubting you or giulia…it was about making sure you were happy. and you were.

before the conversation could settle, she smirked slightly.

“so… tell me more about this relationship.”

you groaned.

“oh god.”

“no, no, i want to know,” she teased.

“how did this happen? who made the first move? if i had to guess, it was her. there is no way your shy ass made any first move!”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile was tugging at your lips.

“oh shut up! i’ll tell you but only because you’re going to keep asking if i don’t tell you.”

and with that, you began to tell alexia the story of how you and giulia became girlfriends.

three months later.. the evening in valencia is warm, the sun just starting to set as you and alexia make your way toward the restaurant.

you’re not nervous about seeing giulia…you never are. she is your club teammate and girlfriend who you see everyday back at home. however, you are a little anxious about how this dinner will go.

alexia has been a mentor to you for years, almost like an older sister, and now she’s here to finally meet the woman you’ve fallen for.

“you look tense,” alexia says, nudging your shoulder.

“should i be worried?”

“no,” you sigh.

“i just want you to like her.”

alexia smirks.

“well, if she makes you happy, i’m already halfway there.”

you step inside the restaurant, immediately spotting giulia at a table near the window.

she stands when she sees you, her expression lighting up as you approach.

when you reach her, she greets you with a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to alexia and extending her hand.

“hallo, it’s nice to finally meet you properly, alexia,” giulia says, her voice warm.

alexia shakes her hand firmly.

“buenos dias, and same here. i’ve heard a lot about you.”

giulia chuckles, glancing at you.

“all good things, i hope?”

“mostly,” alexia teases, sitting down while looking at you beside her.

“i guess i’ll find out for myself tonight.”

the conversation starts light and familiar.. football.

soon enough, alexia shifts gears, watching giulia closely.

“so,” she says, swirling her water.

“what made you fall for her?”

you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“ale, come on!”

giulia laughs softly, completely unbothered. she looks at you for a moment, then back at alexia.

“it was easy,” she says simply.

“she’s loving and y/n is funny in a way that catches you off guard, and she’s so passionate about what she loves. she gives her whole heart to the people she cares about and i was able to learn that when she first came to munich.”

you blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice.

alexia raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed.

“not a bad answer.”

“what about you?” giulia asks, tilting her head.

“you’ve seen her grow up. how has she changed?”

alexia hums.

“she’s always been talented, but when she first came to barça, she had this uncertainty about her. now, she knows who she is. she’s stronger, more confident… and she looks happy.”

giulia smiles.

“she makes me happy too.”

there’s a brief pause, something unspoken passing between them before alexia leans back.

“i like you,” she says finally.

“you’re different from the people she’s dated before.”

giulia lifts an eyebrow with a smirk, looking at you while she asks alexia,

“how so?”

alexia glances at you before answering.

“you’re stable. you know what you want. you’re not playing games and have goals.”

giulia squeezes your hand under the table.

“yeah i promise there are no games,” she says softly.

“just her.”

alexia watches the exchange, then nods in approval.

“good. because if you ever hurt her…”

“i won’t,” giulia cuts in firmly.

“i’d never do that.”

there’s another pause, then alexia smirks.

“then i have nothing to worry about.” she glances at you.

“you got a good one.”

relief floods through you, and you smile.

“i know.”

masterlist

guys I'm sorry for being inactive, got busy with school and kind of lost motivation for a bit. I'll be back to posting more (like usual) soon!

#giulia gwinn #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #vfl wolfsburg women #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #giulia gwinn x reader #alex popp

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astraeus-tree · 2 days ago

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Chapter 3

『The Dark Sea Gets Deeper As You Approach』

Disparities Between Our Souls You're forced to make some decisions you'd rather not do and have a bittersweet goodbye with your aunt Disclaimer(s): N/A

Chapter 2 <- Chapter 3

The silence of the comms held countless unspoken words that piled up over the years you were gone. It was finally interrupted by Cass’s voice.

“As in our [Name?]” Her voice was full of disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Where are you. Damian could hear the urge and hope in her voice through the comms.

“I’m on a rooftop near their aunt’s house. They’ve just gone in with the other supposed-hero and the rogue.”

Finally, Damian heard the sound of Dick’s voice through the comms. “Robin, stay there and follow them if they go out. I’ll come over after dealing with some stuff in Bludhaven. Oracle, alert B when he comes back from his mission with the JL.”

“Copy.” Both Damian and Barbara replied.

“I’m coming over Robin.” Cass spoke up again, determination laced in her voice.

“Red Robin.” Dick called out.

“Yes?” Tim’s voice sounded surprised, like he had been lost in thought.

“You’re in charge of finding any information about [Name] and their partner.”

“On it.”

Throughout the whole conversation, many members of the group stayed quiet. Amongst these people was Jason Todd.

Jason had many regrets, more than he could count. Yet, one his biggest ones was his relationship with you. When you had gone missing, Jason was devastated. He was forced to confront his feelings. Forced to realise how his actions had caused you more harm than protect you, like he intended.

Those who had the misfortune of going against him the first few of your disappearance had instantly regretted it, but they did not have the pleasure of being granted mercy by the crime lord.

He thought he had finally accepted this outcome—you were gone, never to be found and you two would never have the chance to reconcile. This surprise turn of events had disrupted this mindset of his.

Jason didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, he finally had another opportunity to reconnect with you. On the other, he didn’t know how to go with his new-found chance. Clearly, you were not the same person you once were. Not the old [Name] who didn’t have any fighting knowledge. It almost made Jason laugh at how similar you and him were, but this wasn’t the time for that. He had a decision to make, to got or to not, and he had to make it quick.

The three of you of you had been at this for what seemed like hours at this point.

With such little tools and no idea why they were even broken in the first place, no progress had been made in fixing the gizmos. At times like this, you wished you were half as resourceful as Hobie Brown, but unfortunately, neither you, Miguel or you aunt were.

With it still being the middle of the night, you decided it was best for your aunt to get some rest. You did eventually persuade your aunt to go to rest, but not without some reluctance and white lies that you’d also go to sleep soon.

It was now only you and Miguel—excluding the anomaly— in the living room of your aunt’s. The silence made you uneasy, like something would pop out of the dark corners and scare you. With your adrenaline finally coming down from its high, you were left to deal with the overwhelming emotions that it left in its wake.

Mentally, you recounted the events that had occurred in just the past few hours; firstly, you were unexpectedly dropped into your home universe with no way to return to where you were before. Then, you and Miguel find an anomaly. You were ready to open the can of worms this knowledge came with so you moved on. Finally, you met your aunt after not being able to see her for 5 years, a seemingly invisible force stopping you every time you had attempted before.

So many emotions coursed through you that you honestly didn’t know how to feel.

Another problem to add to your pile was your family. You knew it was inevitable for your family to find out about you and your new identity, in fact, they probably already knew you were here, but you just weren’t ready to face them. Your habit of avoiding confrontation was always weakness of yours.

You wanted to stay away from them as much as you could. It wasn’t that you hated them, it was just that you grew to live a life without them and had almost completely forgotten what it was like to be with them and you wanted it to stay that way.

You decided to focus your thoughts back to the gizmo. This was your priority, not avoiding your family. You needed these gizmos working, stat. You and your husband had a HQ to run and an anomaly to send back to its universe.

Speaking of the HQ, hopefully it was doing alright without its leader. “Miguel, do you think the HQ is doing well?”

He nods. “Lyla’s most likely already informed the others of our disappearance. She can handle most of my responsibilities, and those that she can’t will be handled by Spiderwoman and, regrettably, spiderman.” You sighed, you knew you could trust Lyla and Jess with those responsibilities. Peter, maybe not as much, but hopefully the others will keep him in line. “Our main concern right now is to get our gizmos working again so the anomaly can be sent back.”

You felt defeated. All you had was a lack of new discoveries, useless tools and broken gizmos in your hands. Your train of though was interrupted by a familiar sound—distortion, like that of a TV. You swung your head towards the anomaly and then back to Miguel.

Shit.

You had forgotten about the glitching. You knew it was there but with so much happening, you were too busy to even remember that detail. Glitching was a painful experience, and as much as you didn’t like Doc Ock in any universe, you didn’t wish the pain of glitching upon them.

You really were on a time crunch now, unless you found a way to temporarily stop the glitching. Wait.

You did have one, and it was wrapped around your wrist right now; your gizmo. Although the portals weren’t working, you knew it still at least stopped the glitching. After all, your husband was standing perfectly fine with no glitches. As for you, this was your universe, you wouldn’t glitch at all as a native to the world.

“Should I give him my gizmo?” You stared down at the Doc Ock as you asked Miguel. His brows furrowed almost instantly at your words.

“I’m sorry? Did I hear that right mi vida?” Miguel was flabbergasted, in full doubt of your words.

“I mean, the portals aren’t working, communications are down, we’re in my universe and he’s glitching. I feel like the pros outweigh the cons right now.” You reasoned with not only him, but also yourself. You could see that Miguel was genuinely thinking through this plan of yours. You knew it was risky, but with the two main risks not working, you felt it would be fine.

Apparently, so did Miguel, as he nodded not even a minute later. “Alright.”

You took the watch off your wrist as you walked over to the Doc Ock and strapped it around his. “This’ll stop the glitching for now. Once we get back to the HQ where we can transport you back to your universe, I’ll take it back.” You spoke softly to him.

Although he couldn’t move due to Miguel’s paralysing venom, you could see his eyes light up and you took that as a thank you sign. You nodded at him before standing up again and facing your husband. “We really need to get back home soon.”

“Agreed, but we don’t have the right tools in reach to do that.” You both sighed and stayed quiet for a few seconds, letting each other try to come up with solutions. “Do you think we could go to your-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” You glared at him.

“It’s really our only option right now, corazón. Unless we suddenly had money, our only other choice is to steal. They’ll be able to help us, they’re your world’s greatest detectives, are they not?” Damn it, why did Miguel have to make such a compelling argument.

“I don’t want to talk to them though.” You saw Miguel’s demeanour soften at your mumbled words.

“I know mi corazón, but let’s think about it this way. They’ll be able to help us finish what we need to faster, and after we leave, you won’t ever have to talk with them again. Don’t you want at least some closure as well? How they felt about your disappearance?” You stayed quiet, biting your nails. Your mind was in a war with itself right now. “I’m sure they’ll be relieved to see you alive and well.”

“I hate how you’re probably right.” You slump in defeat, placing your head on his shoulders. You felt his arms wrap around you, comforting in every way and you melted into his embrace.

“I’ll be by your side the whole time. You don’t need to be worried about anything.” You clung to him tighter.

“Thank you my love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You mumbled, words even more muffled by that fact that your head was still leaning on his shoulders.

“Yo también te amo.” You smiled at the familiar phrase.

…..

The sunrise came far quicker than you liked it to. With it came a new day with tasks you had to fulfil. One of which was the bittersweet goodbye with your aunt.

You waited anxiously for her to wake up. As you did, you walked around the house, nostalgia heavy. You stopped at the entrance of your bedroom.

Your room looked like it had remained untouched throughout the years. You remembered when you were younger, this room—the whole house, actually— was a lot more ruined, with paint peeling and bugs crawling everywhere. As much as you didn’t like Bruce, you were thankful that his money was able to grant your aunt with better living conditions.

You head a familiar pattern of footsteps approaching your room.

“Do you miss it?” Your aunt asked, voice soft.

“I do. I always miss when it was just us two.”

“Me too.” You stayed silent, it felt like she wanted to say more and you were right about that. “When you first disappeared, I was devastated, you know? I would sleep in your bed, letting my tears dry there. I was too scared to touch anything else in this room. This was all I had left of you.”

She put her hand on your shoulder, and suddenly, it felt like you were a little kid again, afraid of what the big world had in store for you. “I know you’re leaving today. Don’t worry about me darling. I know you’re alive and happy and that’s all I’ll ever need.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. She turned you around to face her and cupped your face. “Don’t cry. I’ll always be here whenever you need me.”

You held her hands gently. “I promise to have back to you auntie. I’ll find a way.” You were filled with determination. Once you made it back to the HQ, you would do everything in your power to find a way to visit your aunt without some random rogue portal.

“I’ll be here waiting for as long as that will take.” You smiled at her and she returned it. It hurt you to break apart, but you knew you eventually had to.

You walked to the living room, where your husband was and nodded at him. He stood up, understanding the message. He easily picked up the anomaly and headed towards the front door. You slowly followed, reluctant to leave this place once again, but you pushed yourself.

You turned around to see her one more time before leaving. “We’ll be going now auntie. I’ll see you again.”

“Be careful out there darling.” You smiled and nodded before walking to Miguel who was waiting outside the door. You took a deep breath and stepped outside.

Taglist (open)

@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx @definitely-not-sammie @birbtweettweet @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato @yaoizee @bat1212 @mybones537 @cim0nnin @ninihrtss @redkarmakai @a-lurking-fae @1abi @lettucel0ver @leeiasure @chericia @yotokx @amber-content @oscarissac2099 @awawage @k-anaru

I'm sorry for another late chapter guys 😭

This chapter gave me a lot of trouble, I can't lie. I started getting writer's block and then I started hating my writing so that was fun

I'm also starting to regret starting this story without a proper plot so we'll see how that goes lmao

Also, most of Batfam finally makes their appearance, yippee!!

Anyways, I watched AOT: The Last Attack in the cinema yesterday and oml I was sobbing the whole way through. I won't spoil anything just in case some of ya'll watch it but it was just so sad

As usual, mistakes are free to point out! They will be fixed as soon as possible

This week's song comes from the English translation of Black Sorrow from Alien Stage

Have a great day/night everyone! <3

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 3 days ago

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Nurse

Sylus x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: pure fluff, nudity but nothing described, sick reader, flirty, soft boy Sylus, hinting at NSFW but nothing actually happens

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

“You need to strike harder than that kitten.” Sylus said as he blocked your punch.

You had felt off all day, tired and weak. The sweat running down your face didn’t feel cool and refreshing, it felt hot and sticky. You couldn’t catch your breath and you were slower than normal. “I’m done for today Sylus.” you said, holding your side as you walked over to your water bottle. Everything felt heavy in your body. Were the lights always this bright? Your mouth felt dry as you stumbled forward.

“Kitten?” Sylus said, walking towards you.

Your eyes fluttered as you felt your body go limp, dropping to the gym floor. You felt how cold it was against your scorching skin before you felt Sylus’ hands on you. You heard him calling your name but it sounded so far away and all that felt like a good idea right now was sleep. You let yourself slip into unconsciousness.

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

You woke up to the soft feel of cool silk sheets. Your head throbbed, you were thankful it was night and only a dim light illuminated the room. “Sylus?” you whispered, trying to see him through your blurry vision.

“Over here sweetie.” he said from the dim corner armchair. He set his book down, rounding the bed to sit next to you. He held the back of his hand to your forehead, you could feel how clammy your skin felt beneath it. “You have a fever.” he said.

“I feel like shit.” you sighed as you moved the covers to the side.

Sylus helped you sit up, “Come,” he said, holding your hand and tugging you towards the bathroom.

You followed him, the bathroom full of steam and the smell of roses. The bathtub was filled, bubbles and petals scattered the water. “Ever the romantic.” you smiled softly at him. Sylus always claimed he was not the affectionate kind but his actions always told otherwise. You let him help you out of your clothes before sinking down into the delicious warmth of the water.

You watched as his fingers traced over the top of the water before sinking down to hold one of your hands. “Better?” he asked, his red eyes focusing on your relaxed face.

You hummed, “Better.” you let him play with your fingers below the water, he seemed to have a fixation with your hands. When you finally opened your eyes you couldn’t help but notice the frown on his lips. “What is it?” you said, slightly worried.

His face softened as he let out a sigh, “I was so worried when you fainted…” he admitted. You knew he struggled to vocalize his feelings, especially ones that made him “weak”.

Your wet hand came to cradle his face which was resting on the rim of the tub, “I’m ok Sy,” you kissed his forehead, “you were there to make sure I was ok.”

He smirked slightly, “I’m always there when you need me sweetie.” he flicked a bit of water at you, making you laugh.

“Don’t be mean I’m sick.” you said.

Sylus held his hand to your forehead once again, “Your fever is breaking.” he said.

“Of course it is, look at who my nurse is.” you smile, “And since I’m no longer contagious I can do this.” you pulled him into a kiss.

Sylus followed your lips until he was in the bath himself, his clothes soaked through but he couldn’t care less as he nipped your lip. “I don’t think that's how that works.” he breathed out as you two pulled away, needing air.

“By all means then, I don’t want to get you sick…” you said with a smirk rivaling his own as you pushed him back slightly.

Sylus hardly moved. He admired the way your body was caged beneath him in the tub, you were completely his. And as much as he wanted you, he could see the need for rest swimming in your eyes as whatever virus you had was slowly leaving you. He got out of the tub, taking his clothes off.

Your eyes never got tired of feasting on him, he was the most perfect person you had ever seen. “Coming to finish what you started?” you asked.

“As much as I’d like that, you need to rest. Fully heal.” he said as he dried himself off and slipped some loose sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips.

“I thought my fever broke?” you said with a pout.

Sylus pulled the drain plug before he stood you up and wrapped you in a towel and carried you out of the bathroom. “Yes but that doesn’t mean your body is done fighting the virus.” he set you down on the edge of the bed.

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind? I’m feeling much better…” you said as you dropped your towel and pulled him between your legs by his waistband.

His crimson eyes were bright and full of lust and for a moment, he wanted to give in. “You can go to bed now and if you’re completely better in the morning I promise you won’t leave this bed all day.” he said, leaning down to hold your face so he could give you a quick kiss.

“Deal.” you smiled before throwing the blankets over your body. The cool silk caressing you in the best way, a sharp contrast from your still warm skin.

Sylus smirked at your answer before he got into bed with you, “Come here kitten,” he said, pulling you flush against him. “That's better.” he said as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

Your fingers locked with his as you held his hand to your chest, “Good night Sylus.” you yawned, already starting to drift off.

“Good night little love.” he mumbled, kissing your neck a few times before he felt your breathing even hout and your pulse steady beneath his lips. He tangled his legs with yours before falling asleep himself.

He’d need all the rest he could get if he was going to live up to his promise tomorrow morning.

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

Naboo's Note:

Sometimes I really wish this big mafia boss would just hold me then fuck me into next week hope ya'll enjoy love yaaaaaaa XOXOXOX

#writing #love and deep space sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x y/n #love and deepspace #lads #sylus fluff

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crushmeeren · 18 hours ago

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// ⋆ well shit…here i am, back on my bullshit, writing about the man who inspired me to start this blog in the first place.

// ⋆ no warnings, fluffy fluff with my main man katsuki. take it!!! (.づ◡﹏◡)づ.

master list

Some of the best moments in your relationship are in the evening. When Katsuki crawls into bed right after his nightly shower.

It’s late. Super late. So late, in fact, you’ve completed your own routine and have curled up under the covers. Dinner, shower, skin care, putting on your favorite lotion, etc. You’d reached the point of scrolling on your phone without a care, the TV playing in the background for white noise.

Katsuki comes home from patrol just as the grip on your phone starts to become lax, eyelids drooping, mind jerking awake to find the same video has played on an endless loop for the past five minutes.

Katsuki calls out as he strides down the hallway. “You in bed already princess?” He’s shoeless entering the bedroom, headband pushed up to hold back his bangs, and he reeks of sweat.

“Mhmm. Was gonna try and wait up for you so we could shower together, but I got too tired.” You drop your phone and reach both arms out for him. “C’mere.”

Katsuki hums, bending down once he reaches the bed, wrapping you up in a warm hug when you meet him halfway. “Careful, I smell fuckin’ terrible. I didn’t shower at work.”

“Don’t care,” you say, squeezing him tight. His tank top is a bit damp. “You smell like burnt caramel mostly, so it’s not too bad.”

“You’re fuckin’ lying,” he says with a laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple and releasing you from the hug. You flop onto the mattress, boneless. “I was soaked in sweat before I left, it’s more than just fuckin’ caramel. It’s ass.”

Laughter bursts out of you. “Alright! Alright, you caught me, I was lying. You stink. Go shower please.”

Katsuki returns to the kitchen and eats whatever leftovers you put in the fridge first, then jumps in the shower, eager to end the night with cuddling. Once done he turns off all the lights, leaves the TV on, and slips under the blankets in his briefs only.

Clean, fresh, and something salty reminding you of the ocean fills your nose. Katsuki’s been trying a new body wash and it’s amazing. He relaxes on his back, arm raising to welcome you in, and waits. You snuggle into his side instantly.

He’s a touch too warm from the water, skin so soft and so smooth. Satisfied and in love, you rest your head on his chest, unable to recall a time you’ve ever felt safer or happier in your life. The feeling of contentment radiates to the tips of your toes.

You search for the covers and pull them up, an arm draping across his stomach as hugs you close. Katsuki runs his free hand through his hair to shake out the access water, and a few cool drops hit your cheek, which he then wipes off with his thumb and mumbles an apology.

His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. Fighting off sleep is close to impossible now and the TV is still on.

“Kat,” you murmur. “I’m not making it through the next episode.” Your voice cracks with sleep.

“S’okay, princess. I’ll be up for a second, go ahead and knock out.”

You sigh and push into him even more. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, tone as sweet as honey. “To the moon and back.”

#bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugou x you #mha x you #bnha x reader fluff #bnha x reader

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mourndust · 1 day ago

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‧₊˚♡ DAYWALKER // vampire!cait x hunter!vi x reader

hiiiiii, the pool results are loud and clear, so here it is my little promised piece. this here contains smut so please, 18+ minors dni, dead dove do not eat, mentions of murder, voyeurism, vaginal sex, strap-on cait is my vibe (give me more top!cait now), descriptions of blood, spit, fingering, oral sex — it's clear this is a threesome so well. reader is caitlyn's pretty pupil and we love our creator. also, yes this is smut but it is lesbian drama, that being said, there's a lot of jealousy, attempts of murder, treason, toxic relationships (pls they are vampires and i'm no emily dickinson), english is not my first language, so any mistakes i’m sorry. reblog, likes and comments are loved, enjoy the read!

you know there's something off with caitlyn from almost two weeks before the incident.

you don't really know what it is exactly, but since she made you take the bite almost six years ago you know it deep in your chest as your emotions are connected to her, a constant thought that lingered in her mind whether she likes it or not — the countess is hiding something, and it makes you sick in the stomach cause fuck: when did you two began to keep secrets from each other? more than a partner you’re a part of her; caitlyn’s blood runs in your veins, keeping your twisted nature alive each passing second, making her irrevocably, more than just a creator.

"you look worried baby, what is it?" you're so invested in knowing what she's doing in the shadows that you openly ask her, placing a soft kiss over her shoulder as if to calm her nerves down: it has to be something far more sordid than what you two did every time when it comes to feeding cause she has the nerve to stay silent even when the vampire knows every corner of her own mind it's actually infected by you.

she hides it anyway, and mad does not cover the whole emotion you're feeling in your chest when you're still trying to discover what the fuck is going on by the end of the week. you're nothing to her in the matter of the word — yes. she's your creator, and it's an unbreakable bond you'll always share. you'll always have to be close to her since she aches, physically for your company, but she's not yours in the sense of the word, and you're not her's either.

did she found another vampire to rely her pleasure on? the thought eats your brain like a parasite on a saturday night. the moon is hiding in the sky as the clock hits in the middle of the silence marking the hour: six in the morning and you find yourself pushing the thick door of your room to slide in the cold spaces of the castle instead of sleeping. a light breeze hits your uncovered shoulder, and you're quick to become one with the dark nature of the place you call home.

it's a lack of respect to appear in the chambers of your count uninvited, but your feet do not listen, compelled to pay a visit to her without a proper plan: maybe demand an answer? bend caitlyn against that expensive desk she spends so much time in? make her admit there’s something off with her lately while she's weak and pliable? somehow you'll make clear you are bounded to her, that in the end of all, she's yours.

and as the dark engulfs you, the path to caitlyn's room seem an eternity in the long hallways connecting the whole property. silent as you can only hear the sound of your footsteps against the marble of the ground, the whistle of the wind almost whispering to you until you can see her door at the end of the hallway. your feet come to a complete stop as your fingers tighten against the fabric of your night gown when you can notice the smell it in the air like a disease — a human.

the countess is hiding a human.

if you'd had a heart, it would probably race against the sudden news. a few more doors and you'll be right in front of her room like multiple times before, yet this time completely different than any other day: was she feeding without you? was she playing with her food like you two always did?

deep down, you know what it is. you can hear it too. playing dumb like that wasn't the moans of your countess, like that isn't the subtle smell of sex leaking through the barely opened door of her room. you stand close to the gap not daring to touch the door, keeping your whole body at a safe distance before giving in an just lean.

there it is. the fever in your own body as a response to how caitlyn's spread open in the mattress of her room with a fucking human feasting on her cunt, taking your spot as she's knees deep into the irregular floor, pink hair, and tattooed back full in display, acting like she owned the place.

the countess is fucking a human.

and it's not any human when you pay attention to the girl's details, the mark of a vampire hunter resting in the skin of her lower back, hiding in between the mechanic design you look for a while.

your countess is fucking a damn hunter.

she can be killed by the high council if they knew the treason she's committing in her own castle — on vampire ground, but instead of leaving, of making your creator aware you're there, you stay right where you are, peeking through the door unable to look away.

something is not right with you, all sorts of freak when you keep looking, drinking in the sight of the human making delightful sounds deep between the countess legs, hands wrapped up in her tights as she pulls her closer to her face — caitlyn’s a fucking mess.

of course she is. dark blue hair spread on the pillows, back arched and opened legs like a fucking offer to her, like the count did multiple times with you.

caitlyn’s moans fill the room, and you feel filthy by looking, but you cannot dare to move away, even when you try to avoid that feel of ache between your legs as you’re painfully aware of how good the hunter’s making her feel.

you’re connected, isn’t that right? it’s both a curse and a blessing when you swear you can feel it, the long and wide licks of the haunter’s tongue, her calloused hands trailing up her body like a map she’s just taunting, land she’s just discovering. man, you want to hate it all — but hate it’s a strong word when you feel so fucking good there at only inches, damping your panties cause the scene itself could turn on even a damn nun.

and you’re annoyed. hella annoyed as you’re puzzled in between shouting or still enjoying the view stupidly horny, but even annoyed, you don’t dare to move a muscle, blending with the dark as a red hue appears in your irises: maybe you could kill the human. end up the threat and remind the count what a hunter should be to her: food.

“tell me what you want-” you hear the pink haired talk — “please. wanna do good f’you cupcake.”

has caitlyn been fucking the hunter for a while? your mind turns fuzzy as they go, not really aware of your presence as you lick your lips, craving some blood to warm up the insides of your cold soul, the fire slowly spreading in the pit of your stomach. you should be making a scene, demanding your creator to give you explanations when she, herself, has said multiple times hunter's are not to be trusted, but instead, your feet seem glued to the marble floor, just thinking for a while how much you'd love to kneel too. be good.

you try to understand what it is with this human. maybe that's the only rational explanation you can come up with — you're looking because you need to know: what does the hunter has, that you don't?

"your tongue, vi" the count answer in a ragged voice. "your fingers- please."

she's close. the human knows it, you know it. it's like a shared secret. you've seen her like that before, pleading, erratic, asking for more when she can even handle what she's already receiving, yet vi, looks pleased by it, curling her fingers inside her leaky cunt until the sounds you can hear are nothing but a nasty symphony of her arousal dripping down the hunter's hand.

"listen to you, cait" the sound of her voice is muffled against her, leaving kisses over her tights, biting the count's skin pleased with the whole situation — "you're sucking me in baby, 'can feel your pretty pussy squeezing me already, gonna cum, cupcake?"

your hands shake, and you wonder, deep in the confines of your mind, if it would be so wrong to finger yourself too. eyes narrowing in pure envy when caitlyn's mumbling some stupid bullshit about feeling so full, of her fingers curving just right to rub on that spot she fucking loves. her body spasms while the hunter's taking care of the mess she just made, slowly, gently, almost to herself more than in search of her desire. like she need to have just a little more.

it's not the worst. the worst comes when caitlyn's pulling her, tossing her to bed to straddle her lap, vi's hands on the countess ass — almost controlling her movements when she's trying to make her move, ride her tight to come undone once again.

and caitlyn's a greedy bitch. your creator has always been a greedy bitch, so it's not a surprise when she's making full usage of her force to keep the hunter prisoner under her tights like it's nothing, towering against her broad figure to let her fingers roam against her naked form, the silver jewelry of vi's pierced nipples that has your creator licking her lips in need.

fuck caitlyn. fuck that nice feeling in your chest being so connected to her, the one that mingles with the pleasure in your guts, coils of desire forming even when you try to push them aside, tempted to join in like looking at them is not really perverted already as the countess uses her bare hand to keep her steady against the sheets, ethereal in contrast to the poor illumination of the night coming to an end.

"feed from me," something stirs in you when hearing the hunter asking for something that she should be terrified about "somewhere they won't see- bite me." the smell of the blood makes you dizzy as caitlyn leans against her skin, kissing her with nothing but longing before her teeth sink in without a previous warning, and the sound the human makes — god. you crave to hear it again as the countess pushes her fingers against the wound she made beneath her left breast, allowing her blood to run freely as she licks on every drip.

it's hard to resist. and you know now why cait's keeping her. sweet scent, warm blood, devastating pussy-eater. it makes sense when vi's whimpering against the cold touch of your countess, how the vampire is so invested in something that could get her killed. the hunter's blood fill the air of the room, placing itself beneath your nostrils as you breathed, not because you need it, but because of the delicious smell of her blood.

she's risking her life because she's damn worth it. every. single. drop.

and as vi whimpers, lightheaded, you seem to also make a sound, cause suddenly the count's tense before looking over her shoulder, cold gaze now glued to the spot you used to be, scanning the place as she could smell your scent disappearing on the wind.

you can hear the footsteps even after you're long gone, going back to your room so fast to slide in the fresh sheets of your bed, turning off the candles in hope that would deceive your creator into believing you're deep in your sleep.

count kiramman is ruthless. you know that very well as you close your eyes mere seconds before your creator is resting against your door frame, hands crossed against her chest as she simply studies you, like you two aren't connected and she won't know in the end you've seen her, that you were there.

it feels like a test when she stays there for five-eternal-fucking-minutes, watching if you move closely before going back to her chambers in silence.

you know she knows. you know it, cause you can feel the hunter's hands all over your body too.

being connected is both a blessing and a curse, wasn't it? as a young vampire, you didn't really care about it until now.

there's no way caitlyn don't know.

even in the next days when she acts all happy and nice with you — it's all because she knows it. she knows you were there, that you knew about her biggest treason to her own kind.

was it an act? you've heard about creators killing their protégées, making fun of the idea before experiencing it first hand: will the countess kill you? she has a temper for sure, but enough to get rid of you? never. despite all tries to calm yourself down, you find yourself looking from over your shoulder multiple times in plain dark, barely sleeping through the day as you're too worried to wake up to her impaling you during the broad daylight.

it's rational that you're hurt, rational about your plans to get rid of the threat that is compromising your comfortable life, so you stay far from the countess as much as you can, surprising her to the point she's now questioning your presence like she didn't get you're heartsick ever since you find her with a hunter.

fuck. why does she have to be like that? why does she always want to have it all?

it pisses you off how she’s acting like everything's okay, like she cannot feel it too, that ache in your chest whenever you're close. you can smell the hunter's perfume like a new scent on caitlyn and you fucking hate it every time. furiously whenever you catch it, making up excuses about random things to avoid the count as you go to your room, plotting more plans that would fail miserably to just- kill her.

it becomes a need soon. so much you start to dream about it, the need to feast on your lover's pet only to leave her dry in front of her eyes — to hell if caitlyn's mad.

"i need to speak to you," the count's dark blue hair shines thanks to the light of the candles in your room, taking a look of the insides as you stand in front of her, barely covered in a white sheer nightgown that caitlyn feels it makes you even more desirable to look at, exposed cleavage as her eyes followed the moles that got lost in between your breasts—. "in my room."

"i know i've been weird lately. and i was hoping we could talk," she tries to convince you after seeing your annoyed expression: is that all it takes? a sexy outfit and some indifference? — "i'm not really asking."

the power she has over you must be studied, cause you simply nod as she leaves, making you promise you'll be in her room in an hour not a minute past midnight. so usually, that would mean a good old fuck, but now? now you're not really sure about what's going to expect you in that room.

will she be honest for once? admit she's been engaging relations with a hunter? putting them all at danger? it's stupid how torn she makes you, but you're standing there forty minutes later cause you're weak, and you'd hear anything she'd have to say not because you have to, but because you need to hear it.

so as you enter, it caughts you off-guard cause the hunter is there over her bed and you think it should all be an illusion but her gaze seems buried in you, very aware of your presence there in the count's room — "is this a tramp?" you ask, and the human's laughing as she props herself over her elbows, looking at the whole scene as if she's waiting for the next instructions.

"sit down," caitlyn’s voice is more of a command one than a plea. the tone she uses to make you do things, compelled by a force that's pulling you to the chair of her desk before you could even understand her words — "in the bed."

the scent of vi's blood is nothing but alluring as the hunter stays at a considerable distance when you both share the count's bed. naked shoulder on display for you to lean forward and just-

"you seem to forget about the fact that i can hear what you're thinking, love" the countess accent is a caress against your cheek, a gentle touch as she speaks.

"never" you admit as the vampire moves to stand between your legs, fingers tightening against your jaw to make you look at her.

"speak louder."

"i said never."

"then you think i'd never knew you were looking at us standing outside of my room like a pervert? that i'd forget easily?"

her tone is like a million cutting glasses in your skin, a taste of her temper as you blush, probably for the blood you consumed earlier, ashamed of her words — "you- you're fucking a hunter in vampire soil. risking it all for a human!"

"but you stayed to look, huh?" caitlyn demands, squeezing your cheeks harshly as her grip tightens each passing time — "stayed to see me cum like a dirty slut. leaved the place stinking with your fucking mess, made you soak your panties right in the hallways and you thought i- we were going to let it pass?"

she's cocky when right. enjoying the fact she has the last word as usual — "answer me."

"yes" you admit shamelessly — "i know i shouldn't have look."

“yes what?”

“yes count kiramman.”

"thing is, we're not really mad at that, aren't we?" she asks as the human shakes her head with a hum. "what i'm mad at is having you spent the whole week acting like resentful minx. this whole act of direspect.”

"this human can get everyone killed my count. you know it."

this time it’s the hunter who’s openly laughing when hearing you, shaking her head unfazed — “no one is finding this out, troublemaker. no one is going to kill anyone, don’t have to worry about me sweetheart.”

you look at her like she’s fucking crazy, staring at her freckles until you come across her blue eyes, trying to know if she’s going to jump to kill you anytime. however, you grow distracted by her features, finding in the rough exterior something magnetic that calls you in, a sudden need to touch her naked shoulder to leave a sloppy kiss to her bare skin.

“you like her too,” caitlyn seem pleased to look, staring down at your figure seated in the corner of her bed. there’s no explanation to how her words make you feel, how her voice tickles something in your brain — “i know you do. such a fucking mess for a hunter. can smell your cunt dripping just like before.”

“i don’t-” it’s pathetic how you try to hide it, how you’re so invested in a plain lie you don’t fully believe. violet’s smell is like a knife straight to the chest as she’s there, expectant, and fuck, the hunter’s gaze is so intense soon after you can feel it somehow, blue irises drinking in the sight of that lacy night gown that’s showing enough cleavage to let her wondering sight study you.

“no more lies,” the count says, shaking her head in disapproval — “i want your full honest or else i’ll get rid of you and your poor conduct.”

it’s impossible not to shiver when vi’s lips come in contact with your naked skin without a previous warning, soft kisses like the ones you wanted to give her before in your very own shoulder— “c’mon bloodsucker, don’t be mean. you’re a pretty vampire aren’t you?”

“yes- i’ll beheave” you answer — “i’ll be good i promise-”

the hunter’s words sends shiver down your spine as caitlyn’s grip in your jaw tightens for a second time, making you look up to her as the human continues on her own bubble. the feeling of her soft kisses is a huge contrast with the vampire’s cold fingers, and good fuck. you know you’re in trouble when you’re craving the warm feeling of the human’s skin, the blood pumping on her veins so close to you — “kiss her.”

the countess gaze search yours as her command lingers in the air, and you look like you don’t believe it at first: kiss her personal toy? did you hear that right? — “you know you want to. kiss her.”

violet’s eyes change to a darker shade of blue almost expectant of your next move, and you’re there, trying to remember she’s the enemy, jeopardized in your own feelings: why do you want to kiss her too? your fingers trace the shape of her lips, lingering on her scars as the hunter’s breathing hitches on her throat: weren’t you about to kill her? weren’t you ready to claim the count as yours? finish all the threats? it doesnt make sense now how a creature made to kill is so invested now in pulling you closer just to steal a deep, demanding kiss.

it’s a game. you’re nothing but a prime killer, top tier in the food pyramid and the human’s there, looking at you with pleading eyes like you’re not remotely near to be a predator. and you want it. pouring in your chest like a long lost need, something you’re craving yet somehow never realized it before.

vi’s lips are soft under her scars, pushing her tongue against yours in a saliva-filled kiss, wondering hands as she steals a moan — oh how quick she forgot you’ve sworn on killing her too! how quick she forgot she’s trained to kill you and the countess as she seems very into the kiss now, leaving a sweet scent in the air that mingles with her own arousal.

it’s almost a victory when you can smell her soaking panties, a trophy you’re planning to keep on your memories as you seek for more.

“aren’t you a charmer?” violet says sharing a look with the countess as if looking for permission — “are all vampires like this? so hot and bothered so easily?”

“no,” you answer sharply, almost offended — “most would kill you. pretty things like you should be destroyed.”

“don’t kill her” the count says as the hunter squeezes your breast when she notices how you’re not pushing away but in, kissing her until she’s choking on something so basic as breathing — “no feeding until i say so, get it? use your words and tell me you understand.”

“yes,” you soon shake your head, looking at vi’s chest filling up with air at the lack of it— “ i understand, no feeding- i’ll do it.”

“that’s more like it,” caitlyn praises as you’re crawling over on your hands on knees to corner the human against the bed, caging in between the mattress and your own body — “wasn’t so hard, see?”

you want to say something, deny it even, but fuck, how could you when you’re so lost in a hunter? bitting her with just enough force to make her body shiver in need, a tease when her reactions to you are like a vice. it’s not your fault when you’re breaking the bandages of her chest, tearing them appart without really making force.

“hey-” violet’s ready to whine before you lean against her breasts, squeezing them between your hands before sucking her nipple in, taking special time on marking her down as if you wanted to rip her off caitlyn’s property and make it your own. the barbell of her pierced breasts only seems to add to her pleasure as she seems to forgot about what she’s going to bark about, a competition almost as the countess makes you stay on your hands and knees, pushing you further into vi’s tits only to make your ass lift up in the perfect position.

“you’ve been nothing but a problem, forgetting about your place” her words are slurred as she moves you in the way she wants you to be, ass up, face buried in the hunter’s chest before spanking you until her whole hand is visible on your ass-cheeks — “should i remind you that i made you? that you’re mine too?”

you’re too zoned out to answer, kisses travelling from vi’s chest to her stomach as the sharp angles on her body now melt away against your lips, traces of visible saliva on her skin as she parts her legs like an invitation, leaving enough space for you to settle between them.

fuck her. the hunter knows what she’s doing, looking down to you as she moans and writhe, silently asking for more like good human pet.

“i can see now why caitlyn’s keeping you” you say, fingers purposefully moving now to reach her black underwear — “you got this nice smell on you and fuck. i could devour you whole, you don’t really understand.”

you aren’t aware of your ass being at the count’s behest, however, the strap is around cait’s waist as she uses her right hand to cup your cunt like it’s hers cause it is. and in her dingy room, her index fingers teases over the fabric of your underwear only to dampen her finger with it, looking, interested, how you’re pulling vi’s panties to the side, licking your own finger to just tease her entrace too.

she’s sensitive as you spit against your fingers, the feeling of your slick saliva in her sensitive sex as you look up to her, the blush on her face that matches her hair and makes your stomach do this thing you don’t even know it can do, a warm feeling spreading all over.

pink pussy on display, a rough slap on your ass and suddenly, caitlyn’s pulling down your panties to your knees, middle finger teasing your entrance without really going in, angling you down to where she needs you to be— “eat her up,” she breathes out, coaxing you into doing what you’ve been craving to since the beggining. “go on. feast on her pretty cunt, want to see you enjoying it.”

it alleviate all your aches, the weight on your back, the worry you’ve been going through the week, the anger you’ve been gathering on the pit of your stomach as the count buries her finger in your aching hole, pushing it inside until her knuckles are brushing against your core and you’re arching your back, presenting your ass to her without dismissing your current job.

she’s elegant even where her actions are nothing but filthy, taking her time in stretching you out as you sink in between vi’s legs.

it’s desesperation what invades you, a depravity that makes you surrender to her, to both of them. moans are muffled against the hunter’s cunt and suddenly you’re eating her up like a meal, tongue rounding her clit in slow, controlled strokes. “fingers-” vi whines, arching her back as she searches for more of your mouth, of your fingers stretching her open without fully sinking in — “please, please use your fingers.”

“so pretty when you beg-” you say, becoming a fucking mess against caitlyn’s fingers itself, moving against her digits to make them reach deeper as your own do the same, burying them in the human’s cunt, mixing up your caresses with your tongue until you can only taste her, flavour filling up your bucal cavity like candy — “ngh-fuck. you’re so warm-”

it’s making your mind go dizzy as vi’s pussy suck up your fingers, delving deeper as they curl inside her dripping cunt, arousal now dripping to your palm making you satisfied as ever.

it’s such a fucking sight.

trapped between the hunter’s pussy and the count’s cock she’s pushing against your leaking cunt, finally burying herself until it reaches that nice, velvety spot you enjoy almost too much so the pleasure becomes unbearable, her fingers leave your channel to be replaced with the her dick, making you look from over your shoulder as profanities leave your lips in response — she loves it. the vampire gets off your messy look, your swollen lips as you finger violet stupid, the blue rubber cock dragging along your walls, pushing against your cervix to take what she wants.

“such a whore, taking me all the way in,” she mutters “good girl letting me fuck you like this, sucking my cock in- keep eating her, c’mon, you’re losing focus baby.”

and god she’s so right. vi’s looking at you through half lidded eyes, lost in the squelch sound as your fingers quickly fuck her, curling inside as she seems interested now in the way caitlyn’s pistoning her hips against your sore sex, pushing her thumb against the entrance of your pucker hole, teasing you only cause she knows you like far more than you’re willing to admit.

connected. you are connected to the count so hell— caitlyn swore she can feel your walls clenching against her dick, your arousal dripping down your tights to stain the sheets of her bed, your sloppy, erratic licks against vi’s cunt and her fucking taste in your mouth.

vi’s abs clench as she’s close, muscles flexing as you look up to her, connecting your gaze to the powder blue eyes, sweat covering her skin in such a human reaction, arching her back to your mouth as she pulls you closer, taking the strands of your hair between shaky fingers — “m’gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum-”

the smell. god her smell is driving you insane. fuelled by caitlyn’s rough movements impaling you relentlessly, you swear your vision turns hazy.

“bite her,” the count manages to say composed as ever, looking down to both the hunter and her cute pupil — “you’ve been craving her blood since you saw us. bite her.”

you look up to the human almost asking for permission, like you really give a fuck about her opinions before she nods unaware of her surroundings. and there’s a pulsating vein on her inner tight you can feel pulsating over and over again like the key to heaven, a kiss or two, a slow lick as your fingers sissor inside her pussy and suddenly you’re bitting her with an unknown force, tearing up the sensitive skin to finally, finally have a taste of what you’ve been thinking about from almost two weeks.

it’s common that young vampires are unaware of their force, common that they take so much without noticing, so you think about it for a second, her warmth flowing inside of you only to renew your energy, a new vigor as your fingers greedely fuck her to reduce her into pieces — it would be so easy to just- end up with her.

that’s the emotion of all, you think. making her lightheaded to the point she’s not sure of where she finishes and where you begin, until her blood is staining the countess sheets and you’re sucking, like a fucking leech, the blood that comes out the open wound.

you can feel the hunter orgasm pouring in, the way her pussy spams in your hand, the loud moans as she loses control of herself, shaking beneath you. it’s such a lovely sight as you drink, taking more of her like you werent satisfied already, the pain mixing up deliciously with the pleasure you’re bringing to her.

so when violet cums, you can feel it everywhere. a demolition that crushes her down, destroying that façade of the bad big hunter to reduce her to a babbling mess, trembling against your fingers as she whines when you continue on sucking her blood, not caring about her uneven breathing.

“i said, don’t fucking kill her,” caitlyn’s rough voice it’s the only thing you can hear as she takes you by the hair, pulling on your strands harshly as she takes you away from her leg, keeping your head up as her hips crashes over and over again with renewed energy, the hunter’s pliable body beneath you as her hand comes up to choke you, not really harsh when she’s weak, but gripping your neck and tucking the messy strands of your hair beneath your hair.

“such a pretty pet,” the hunter says, looking down to you even when she’s still lightheaded from the blood loss— “let’s keep her, can we keep her?”

the countess hums in response, you’re her’s but she can share right? she can share a bit.

vi’s hand slides down to your clit, and it’s just right when her fingers move in circles, an added pleasure that makes your body shake, intense coils of ecstasy now forming in your belly as electricity travels down your spine, making your body burn without a previous warning.

it’s delicious- the way you reach your peak, a high you cannot come down as you ride your orgasm, face disorted in pleasure as your vision turns blurry, caitlyn’s burying the rubber cock as far as your cunt allow it just to leave it there— keeping you full of her as a way to remind you who owns you, you made you like this.

fuck.

maybe you are going to be acussed of treason too, cause when vi’s pushing you forward to make you sit on her face you don’t have any questions about it, surrendering to her touch in seconds.

pathetic. you love it.

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thefairywithboots · 3 days ago

Text

Sweet Rest (Loki x fem!Reader)

As requested by @stilleobjection, I present to you Sweet Rest.

Summary: Loki helps you relax after a stressful day at work.

Ratings: General audiences

Warnings: Just pure fluff. Lots of cuddles.

Word count: 1.4K

This is my first non-smutty Loki fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Tag list in comments

It was well after midnight when you finally got home from work and unlocked the door to your apartment, wanting nothing more than to sink into your bed and just forget the day.

Your boss had insisted that you stay overtime and finish the extra paperwork that was left behind by your coworker, causing you to leave five hours later than you normally would.

When you finally got back to your apartment, your head was pounding against your skull. You went into the kitchen and filled the teapot with water to brew some tea. You left the pot on the stove to boil before going into the living room.

When you switched the light on, your heart gave a jolt when you saw a familiar figure sitting in your armchair.

"Christ, Loki- couldn't you give me some kind of heads up that you were coming over?" you breathed out, placing a hand over your heart. You had given him a key to your apartment but had not expected him to come over while you were gone, and just wait in your living room with the lights out.

Loki was sitting there, his arms on either armrest. His long black hair which was usually slicked back hung loose past his shoulders. Even through your stress-induced headache, you could not help but notice how gorgeous he looked right now.

"Well, you weren't answering your phone," he said while standing up from the chair. His tall frame took up a large portion of your living room. You had to crane your neck back to look up at him. "And you're usually not gone for this long, so I thought I would come and see what was wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," you said while rubbing your hand over your forehead to try and ease the pain in your head. "My boss was just making me work enough for both me and my coworker since she left work early today."

Loki's gaze softened as he tilted his head to the side, humming softly. "That doesn't really seem fair to you, does it?"

You shrugged. "I'm getting paid more by the end of the week, so I suppose it's worth it."

The sound of the teapot whistling in the kitchen caught your attention, and you ran back in there to take it off the stove.

While you were tending to the tea, Loki followed you into the kitchen, his tall frame towering over you as he leaned over your shoulder, and placed his hands on your arms. "I think I have a good idea as to how to help you relax." His voice had a way of slithering into your mind as if he were using his magic on you when it was just his voice alone. He kissed down your jawline and to your neck, pulling you against his chest.

Any other night, you would have melted into him and dragged him off to your bedroom to get lost in him completely. But now you felt like all you wanted to do was have your tea and go to sleep.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips against your skin for a moment. You would have let him kiss you all over all night if you thought he would stop there, but he was already massaging your breasts through your blouse.

You shook your head slightly, pulling away slightly. “Not tonight, Loki… I have a headache and it’s been a long day.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not in the mood? You’re always in the mood… are you ill?” He dramatically put a hand to your forehead as if to check your temperature.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “It’s just been a long day, and I’m really tired.” You leaned against his hard chest, laying your head on his shoulder. “I’d like it if we just sat and cuddled for a while.”

Loki’s arms wrapped around you, his chin resting against the top of your head. “Of course, darling… I just want you to feel relaxed.”

Loki told you to go and make yourself comfortable on the sofa and he would bring you the tea. You dimmed the lights, the slightest light making your brain want to jump from your skull.

He brought the tea into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you before pouring you a cup.

“Here you are, darling…” he said while handing you the cup and saucer. You took a sip, the familiar warmth of chamomile relaxing you slightly.

“I really hate my boss…” you muttered.

“Oh? And why is that?” he asked while walking around to the back of the sofa. For a moment, you thought he was going to grab a blanket until you felt his strong hands on your shoulders.

He began to knead the sore muscles in your shoulders, and you resisted the urge to moan out loud. His touch was deliberate and skilful, loosening the strain that had been building up in you all day.

“It just… feels like he expects me to cover up for my coworker when she takes off early… and… she never has to make up for any—“ You cut off, letting out a sigh as he massaged your shoulders more rhythmically. “Loki, that feels so good…”

He hummed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. You turned your head towards him at the last moment, causing him to kiss your lips instead.

Heat rose in your cheeks once the kiss broke, and you knew it didn’t have anything to do with the tea. His lips trailed across your cheek and to your neck as his hands continued to work your shoulders. The feeling of his lips made you want to melt into him and forget the rest of the world.

Once your muscles were loose and relaxed, Loki finally came around to sit beside you as you were finishing off your cup of tea. He pulled you into his arms, leaning back against the armrest of the couch. You sighed, snuggling into his hard chest as you settled between his legs, allowing him to envelop you in his warmth.

You could have laid there in his embrace all night, feeling so safe and secure with him wrapped around you. The sound of his heart beating could be heard gently as you rested your head over where his heart was.

“I’m sorry for startling you when you first came in…” he said gently while twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You hummed softly, inhaling his scent; a warm, earthy aroma that had floral undertones. “I’m glad you’re here…”

One of Loki’s arms reached behind him as he took one of the books that was lying on the table next to the lamp. He turned the lamp on the dimmest setting so as not to disturb your eyes as his eyes scanned the cover.

“Jane Austen, huh?” he mused while flipping through the giant tome. It had four novels in one volume.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling as you saw his blue eyes scanning over the pages.

“Loki?”

“Hm?”

“Can you read to me?”

The feel of his lips against the top of your head felt soothing. “I thought you had a headache.”

“I like the sound of your voice… it’s soothing.”

A small smirk came across his handsome face, as his hand began to idly massage your scalp. “Very well. Which of these would you like for me to read to you?”

You hummed. “Whichever one you want. I’ve already read them all.” You buried your head into his chest.

You felt as if you could feel him smirk as he flipped through the book, trying to decide which one appeared the most interesting to him. Every move he made was soft and delicate as if he were afraid of disturbing you. Even the sound of the pages turning was soft and quiet.

Loki began reading to you in a low, gentle tone, and you recognized it as the beginning of Sense And Sensibility. The sound of his voice made his chest rumble against your ear, and you could already feel yourself begin to doze off in his arms.

You must have fallen asleep before he could finish the first chapter, because the next thing you knew, he was pulling a blanket over your shoulders before wrapping both arms around you, holding you close. After pressing a kiss to your forehead, he whispered “I love you.”

He clearly thought you must have still been asleep. He had never told you that before, your relationship having been casual up to this point. But the moment of vulnerability made your heart swell. You kept your eyes closed and your head on his chest as his breathing slowed, and he fell into a quiet doze himself, before allowing the welcoming tendrils of sleep to pull you back under.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x reader fluff #loki fanfic #fluff #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #thefairywithbootslibrary

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sosasturns · 16 hours ago

Text

bad ideas & good distractions - c. sturniolo

fic, part one of bed chem… next door neighbor!chris x beauty influencer!reader

the first time you notice the moving boxes in the hallway, you don’t think much of it.

it’s a nice apartment building, and people come and go all the time. besides, you’re too busy editing a new video to care about whoever’s moving in.

then, later that night, it starts.

the music.

so loud it rattles your walls, pulsing through your head as you stare at your laptop screen. you try to ignore it, try to focus, but the bass is relentless.

eventually, you sigh, shut your laptop, and crawl into bed, hoping it stops soon.

it doesn’t.

this continues for the next few nights—loud ass music, doors slamming, voices in the hallway. annoying as hell, but not enough to make you confront your new neighbor.

until one night, around 1 a.m., when it’s actually a full-blown party.

laughter, shouting, people stumbling up and down the hall like they pay rent here.

you lay in bed, glaring at the ceiling, seething.

what the hell is his problem?

but instead of doing anything about it, you toss and turn, forcing yourself to sleep.

the next morning, you’re filming a get ready with me for an upcoming event, sitting at your vanity, blending concealer under your eyes.

“i did not sleep last night,” you say, “my new neighbor—who, by the way, i have not met yet—thinks my apartment complex is a frat house, apparently.”

you shake your head, dabbing in more product. “anyway, i’m going to this event later, so let’s fix my face and act like i’m not sleep deprived as hell.”

you post the video and go about your day, shoving the whole situation to the back of your mind.

but that night, when the music starts up again, you’re done.

at first, you try to ignore it, sipping on a glass of white wine as you edit a brand deal video, but then there’s moaning. loud, exaggerated, fake as hell.

you slam your laptop shut.

this motherfucker has lost his mind.

you storm into the hall, crossing your arms as you knock on his door, loud as hell.

the music doesn’t stop, but the door swings open a moment later.

and that’s the first time you see him.

low sweats. shirtless. hair slightly messy.

he leans against the doorframe, eyes dragging over you—your heartless hair curlers. pink pajama set. silk robe. fluffy slippers. the sleep-deprived glare on your face.

you looked like you just woke up from a slumber on twenty mattresses and still felt the damn pea.

then he smirks. “cute pajamas.”

you shift your weight onto your hip, unamused. “most people on this floor are in bed sleeping right now.”

his smirk deepens. “clearly, i’m not most.”

your eye twitches. “turn the music down. and the fake ass moaning, too.”

he chuckles.

you wait. “so?”

he shrugs, barely moving. “i’ll think about it.”

oh, you hate him.

“whatever.” you spin on your heel, stomping back to your apartment and slamming the door behind you.

the next morning, your head is pounding, but you push through and meet your girls for brunch.

“babe,” one of them says, stirring her mimosa. “you look rough.”

you sigh, stabbing your eggs. “my new neighbor is a fucking menace.”

they lean in. “spill.”

so you do.

you tell them about the loud music, the party, the smug ass smirk.

they listen, nodding along, sharing their own bad neighbor horror stories.

but one of them grins. “he’s hot, though, right?”

you hesitate. “that’s not the point.”

“but he is, isn’t he?”

you purse your lips, sipping your mimosa. “whatever.”

they laugh. “oh, you so think he’s hot.”

you don’t answer.

but you don’t deny it, either.

a few days pass, and you avoid him.

not hard to do.

but the thought of him lingers, especially late at night, especially when you’re in bed, mind wandering.

he’s just a guy.

just your annoying ass neighbor.

but you can’t stop thinking about his voice, his smirk, the way he leaned in the doorway—

get it together.

except you can’t.

and eventually, you come to terms with it.

it could just be a singular fuck. nothing more.

just something to scratch the itch.

so, one night, against your better judgment, you grab your keys, take a breath, and step out into the hall.

heading straight for his door.

@ sosasturns

part two 02.14

sosa mafia taglist: @submattenthusiast @sophand4n4 @secretlocket @mrsdillonx @ch6rm @sweetrelieef @gabri3la-sturns @inspiredangel @sturn777 @et6rnalsun @faiyaz555 @whore4mattsturniolo @courta13 @katie-tibo @ifwdominicfike @raesturns @adoremattsturns @conspiracy-ash @chrisslut04 @ily-tothemoonandback

+ @riasturns @angelic-sturniolos111 @cinnqmonsw1rl @blushsturns @fratbrochrisgf

#sosasturns #next door neighbor!chris #beauty influencer!reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo au #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets

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sunflower1experiment · 2 days ago

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Children (Risk's Prequel 2.0)

pt1, pt2

Harley is so full of himself, sometimes dating him was like dipping your hand in a rose bush. Like him they were beautiful. charming, hell you even considered the relationship with him to be a thorn bush without the roses. But it was the day something happened in the labs, you went in and noticed the toys were crying? "What happened?"

You march by and comfort them, "What is wrong with them!?" The other scientist who fails to answer at first, backs away but then she feels you lean in. "What happened? Answer."

"You really don't know? Of course not, not when you're busy playing work wife for Sawyer." You glance at Leith, eyes filling with animosity.

"Mind running that by me? What is wrong with my children?"

"Ah so you claim them. Well, let me break it down, your children, they are not just toys. You of all people should have noticed the vast majority of the new high rise of emotions and tension between them and us." What is he spouting about!? You look at Stelle with a curious eyebrow quirk, she avoids your gaze and once more you return to Leith's cold side glance.

"Sawyer didn't....inform me..."

"Of course not, why would he want to break his favorite sentimental experiment's heart." It goes quiet.

The toys who coward behind you, look up as he leaves, as everyone leaves. You kneel down to study them, then your eyes begin to well up. "......Prototype was serious."

The little ones start to hug your feeble form, while you realize how terrible and naive you are the sounds of shoes fill your ears. "You, you're different..." A pink hand holds your shoulder, a long arm follows after and hugs you.

"No need to cry, Mommy's here." You look at this so-called Mommy, and realize why you recognize this voice, it couldn't be, not her.

"Marie Payne?" She backs up with a slight chuckle and the little toys cling to your hand sadly while Mommy stands on the ground, "So you know, or you did know. What makes you think you're different from them?"

"I'm not, I failed...I-"

"Then stop wallowing and do something!" Mommy's hand punches the ground, this was obviously Marie talking. You firmly nod but then hug the toys again, Banzo bunny, the mini huggys, Daisy, Cat-Bee, so many of these little ones.

When you leave the toys behind you take one more glance at them, Mommy watches with a somber stare, Harley took you for a fool didn't he? Or did he simply know how senstive you were.

You couldn't let these children starve, going back home, it meant missing dinner, breakfast, sure but they had to eat. Risking your job would be worth it regardless, Leith calling you an experiment was one thing but to be embarrassed by everyone? Over his dead body, whenever you returned to work with food, you'd just make a simple curt excuse, then place the boxes and containers down.

"What is this?" Mommy grabs the food, "This will feed you all, starvation leads to difficult actions. Now come on. We have to take care of the kids."

She was in shock, for you to get back up after a day, why weren't the adults who hurt her like you? Even if you played a role, the willingness to do better still prevails. Maybe, she looks at your lab coat while you feed the children fruits, "Maybe there are some good people."

It was a lot to handle, a bit overwhelming even but you didn't pull any punches, but when you met with Harley, you both were quiet. He was sent to sleep on the couch that night. Three days would pass, and he’d check on you, “Dear?”

“What did you do with those orphans I cared for?” Harley kicks himself, cursing Leith, Stella and Eddie. Those three were told to keep you away, how can he adore you if you know too much!? Your face of revulsion or disappointment, so he gently holds your hand, “What do you mean?”

“Harley, do not play dumb with me, you’re smart and that's what I love about you…” Of course, of course he should be honest…. “I, well Elliot said we should do this for the betterment of humanity, I’m simply following orders.” The audacity, you were there when he argued with Elliot and everyone knew he had anger issues.

That was why you chose to avoid Harley but you both attracted each other, he was enamored by your genuine curiosity and adoration for simplistics, meanwhile he always had such charisma with that gentle tone, polite demeanor and fascination with anatomy. Were you in love with a facade perhaps? “So you knew, and didn’t tell me?”

He didn’t deny the knowledge but to deliberately not tell you, why? So Kissy, her stress, Mommy, Huggy, and who else? Harley hated it when you cried, he knew when the tears fell that you’d rebel or probably not speak to him. Relationships were complicated, but you both communicated and that was what made Harley stay, yet this time he knew you’d speak your mind. So he did what he could to try and change the perception of the situation.”You know I love you, I would never lie.”

His hand falls flat and he clutches it, your face wasn’t shedding tears but they looked disappointed. You then hold your stomach before hugging him sadly, “.....One more question, what did you do…with him?”

No, not him, not the boy…

“Him?” That was the answer you needed, “How can I trust you if you won't even tell me the truth?"

Why? Why were you so sentimental!? Did you not realize the risks? No, of course not.

NSFW, CW and TW // Minors DNI (signs of pregnancy, intimacy for NSFW)

CW// Signs of emotional abuse, self-loathing, child experimenting, and abuse

TW// Slight suicidal thoughts. (If you ever feel this way, be sure to call a trusted friend/adult or the hotline, know that you are not alone, you are deserving of care and to be heard.)

"I'm sorry, I’ll make sure to do better..." You nod into his hand while his gentle gaze remains on you, he may be a liar but Harley knew he adored you, you’re perfect. His perfect experiment, the only one who understands him, the only responsive and reactionary force he wished to invest in after he was tired from his other sets of experiments. He slept in the bed beside you, his larger hands resting along the arm while you remained in Harley’s arms, you were naive even when you held so much unconditional love for him. His lips travel to your neck, hands intertwined together in the moment where Harley’s lips touch, he notices how much your lips embellish his growing adoration.

When things start to heat up, Harley is there, his arms will wrap around your waist while you admire him, those worry wrinkles, his gentle hands with calluses, and most of all his gaze. Bed creaking, your soft sounds of breathing filling the doctor’s ears whenever those hands of his would roam your frame. At some point he had a moment of lingering, a longing, and it makes him wonder what would you have done if he told the truth? Would you love him enough to fix things, perhaps give him a chance. It was wishful thinking on his end, especially when it comes to his lover. In the intensity of this heated moment between you both, he could feel your hands resting along his face or they’d move to hold him close.

His deep chuckles and breaths, while you both share more kisses than one can count, Harley would let himself sink into your arms while he indulges in everything he loves. About you, it was strange to be in love with someone, someone of his intellect falling for you. A scientist with a bleeding heart and someone who was always willing to cater to him.

Harley would simply lose his mind at the idea of not being able to cradle your form, in life or death maybe but, he simply wouldn't allow it. Not when someone as perfect as you, could fit his standards of experimentation.

Every fiber of your being knew something was wrong, even after you began cuddling again, his grasp of you was firm with the iron grip. The way he’d kiss your forehead while you lean into his bare chest, “Hey....if Leith ever talks to you poorly, let me know…and, try not to worry about the toys. You should be focused on our work.” It goes silent, as you cuddle into him with a distant sad gaze, taking note of his slightly serious tone.

“Okay..”

You lied, now you were worrying for the children more than ever, feeding them and then the visit to Kissy’s room, carefully feeding her you note the long gaze. Kissy slowly moves forward and then her slender arm moves carefully; she begins hugging you close. “It's okay Kissy, I’m fine.”

How could someone of your caliber be so naive and caring? Especially when she and these children rely on you, the only adult to make this right?

"So, you and Harley?" Stella tries to make conversation, you merely nod in agreement, even if he had to sleep on the couch for a couple of days. Somehow it always worked out, because you'd still feed him, tend to him, you could be angry right now and he's already slipping through those cracks and crevices. But when he was angry, he was never one to aim it at you but when he did, you'd offer a hug, some time alone or just to talk.

The thing is this anger wasn't ever aiming to you: his partner, but instead your coworkers who could feign innocent all they want, yet none of them were any better than you or Harley. That is why you hated your sense of morals; how could you date a potential child abuser? What if, he hurts....

"Mz.?" You startle when Stella speaks again, gently moving the Candy-cat toy so he wouldn't get hurt. "I- need to check on the children."

She frowns, "Hey, um...If...Harley is..."

"What?"

"You'll come to me if he does anything right?" Stelle asks, you pause then turn to her while she gives a somber smile to assure any form of Desolate emotions that threaten to spill out.

"Stelle, you and Leith know what he is doing. You never told me; we are no better than him and you shouldn't try to be of help when these children are being treated this way. The least I can do is comfort, nurture and love them." As your back turns to the woman who watches your retesting form she looks down, gripping the Zinnia while Harley, as if to mock her walks by with a Tuberose flower.

He places it in your vase, then looks to Stella, "You should focus on work. I'm sure you both will find a way to rekindle whatever friendship you had."

Whatever Harley told you it was obvious he didn't realize how much it would hurt you at the end, Stella saw the signs clear as day. She was your friend, easy to socialize with, but you always took the time to listen to her dreams and desire to care for the children. As you place more food down for the little ones, Mommy finally speaks again.

"I saw you with Kissy, she's being moved...further down, and... there are more...down below."

"Down, below?" Mommy couldn't help but scowl at your naivety, she felt sorry for you. ".....That boy, Quinn?"

What about Quinn? She tells you softly while you listen, her hands grip your arms to keep you from running. Being outraged, it was quiet...

Down below, Quinn, Marie, how many children...

One last thing to do.

You step into the lab, where Prototype remains. "gOoD tO sEe-E you, mY dEAr.." His metallic hands carefully hold your soft fleshy ones.

But you merely look away, he senses the hesitation to speak and realizes how much you knew. "s0 thE dOcTeR t-TRu-TRULY! Truly did fail, you know a lot but how much?"

Enough to where you were sitting before his creation, "I...I am not any better than him. I asked him to stop hurting you, he was...."

"Angry?" The experiment says in his voice to which you wince and then nod slowly, "Yes but it wasn't enough, you and I both know that." Prototype lifts your chin up.

"oF cOurSe."

"I'm sorry, I cannot apologize enough, I so badly wanted to think that, not everyone is truly a monster, and these children deserve the best....as many have said: Children deserve parents, but parents do not deserve children or deserve to even be parents. But I was truly naive, Mommy knows this." As the Prototype listens, he also twitches.

Harley was coming, so he gently shushes you and then points. You stand, grabbing the files but before you leave. You speak one more time, "Please do not hurt the children, and don't let vengeance cloud your perception."

With that you leave with the door shutting behind you, Harley walks in and notices the files. At first, he wanted to start a long lecture about his experiments being disturbed but you hand him the files. "Sorry, I wanted to help you work..."

Harley smiles at you for a quick moment but then you both go your separate ways, until you stop. "Harley."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever considered the thought of children?"

He pauses at the question, thinking of the implications of you having his child...the thought occurred to him during your intimate nights together. But he truly didn't see the resolve, especially when there are children surrounding you every day. "No, not when we have the Playtime Co. You and I are truly different."

It goes quiet and you leave, but not after chuckling to his little banter. Of course, Harley Sawyer is so full of himself. Very apathetic, very....

Foolish.

Sometimes, life felt like grappling at a thread just to see you survive, the more food you'd distribute the more guilt you felt.

The last straw was probably when you asked him to go down below. ".....Of course, is there a reason?"

"Of course, I want to see my partner's work up close." Harley couldn't help but crack a smile, he holds your hand, like always as if trying to form some sort of emotional power balance. Then his lips connect to your head, "I'd be happy to."

.....

What have you done?

#harley sawyer x reader #harley sawyer #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #stella greyber #slight Stella greyber x reader #mommy long legs #kissy missy #yarnaby mention #harley sawyer poppy playtime

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imsofreakingtired · 15 hours ago

Text

i lost the anon ask for this, but here's an angst/fluff fic in which sevika comforts reader with insomnia <3

apocalypse

content warning(s): none, light angst and fluff :)

"kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms you've been hiding them in hollowed-out pianos left in the dark got the music in you baby, tell me why got the music in you baby, tell me why you've been locked in there forever and you just can't say goodbye."

☆ ☆ ☆

context: reader and sevika are not yet in an established relationship

☆ ☆ ☆

“Commander,” Sevika snaps her fingers. “You in there?”

You give a start and look up. “Yes,” you say. “Sure.” Even you can tell how unconvincing your tone is, but it’s the best you can offer right now.

Despite her brusque tone, Sevika is worried. She frowns down at you as she loads the Shimmer cartridges into her belt. This is the third time today you’ve spaced out and missed a chunk of briefings for the day’s shipment assignments. There are dark circles under your eyes and you walk as if you might fall over any second. You’re forgetting instructions you usually remember with ease. Just that morning Sevika had to stop you from pouring the scalding hot coffee for Silco directly onto your hand because you were seeing the cup double.

Today it’s your turn to scout the air ships, not too big of a job. If you were in charge of steering, or even bargaining, Sevika might have been stricter. But today you’re with her, with Ran heading the other air ship entering Piltover.

She peers down at you. “You look like hell,” she says.

“Thanks. I just got back.”

It wasn’t too far from the truth. For the past three days and nights, you had seen the sun set and rise like a relentless bitch on the skyline of a sleepless city without a wink of sleep yourself.

Do you know what it is to be unable to sleep? No matter how your body demands it, begs for it, screams for it? No matter how your muscles ache and your limbs shake uncontrollably from fatigue? You swear sleep is harder to catch than an orgasm.

Sevika wouldn’t know. Many a late night you found her snoring on the couch in Silco’s empty office with the documents scattered on the floor around her, her mechanical arm still on. She had trained her body to snatch what hours of sleep she could steal. You would gently detach the prosthetic so her limb wouldn’t stiffen, pull a blanket over her, and envy the blissful unconsciousness smoothing her features.

Sevika shakes her head. “You’ll sit this one out, commander.”

“No! I’m fine,” you snap.

Another pleasant perk of sleep deprivation: the changes in temper, the raging mood swings. You want to crumple into a ball and weep one moment, you’re ready to tear someone apart limb from limb the next.

Sevika only raises an eyebrow. “Right. You’re the damn poster child of stability.”

“Don’t test me,” you say. “I haven’t slept in three days.” You wave to Locke. “Start the loading in five.”

But when you start to walk up the plank into the airship, Sevika grabs you by the arm and pulls you aside. To Locke she says, “get Jennes to scout the ship.”

He nods and walks away.

“What the fuck?”

“Now let me get this straight,” she says in a low voice. “You’re telling me you haven’t slept once in three days?”

You struggle to pull away. “I said I’m fine. Why would you do that? Why would you just change the assignment?”

“Uh-uh. No. You’re going straight home and you’re going to get some sleep.”

You open your mouth to argue, but something in her tone collides with your precarious mental state, like the strike of flint and stone against a brittle pile of tinder. She isn’t even angry, just concerned. Maybe disappointed. But in this state of mind, you’re convinced you have failed her, you’ve failed everyone, and that she despises you for your incompetence. You feel something break inside you. You violently wrench yourself away from her so she can’t see the tears streaming down your face.

“Hey,” Sevika says in a gentler voice. Your outbreak evidently alarms her. “Hey. Come here.”

You try to stifle the tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why—”

“It’s okay.” She reaches out and takes your chin in her hand, turning your face toward her. With her thumb she wipes away the tears from your cheek. “It’s okay,” she says again. “You’re tired.”

A shock goes through you when she touches your face and you grow still. Her hand is rough and warm.

She looks around briefly, as if to see if anyone is around to overhear her. No one else is at the harbor within earshot. She drops her voice to nearly a whisper.

“I know you’ve been looking after me those nights in the office,” she tells you. “And covering for me just to let me get some more sleep. You think I’d let that slide without doing anything in return?”

“You don’t have to, it’s nothing.”

“Let me handle this,” she says. “Let me cover this one. Please.”

You meet her eyes, startled. The word ‘please’ coming out of Sevika’s mouth was about the second least likely thing you would ever imagine happening. It was like a shift in the laws of nature.

“I can’t sleep,” you say quietly. “Not even if I tried.”

Her brows crease. “Have you taken anything for it?”

“What, pills?” You laugh wryly. “Can’t afford it.”

You see her purse her lips, her jaw tighten, as if she’s thinking. Then she says, “just get home and lay down. You can do that, can’t you?”

“If that’s what you really want me to do.”

“It’s an order, commander.”

You sigh. But you turn and walk away.

☆ ☆ ☆

You are working in the storage room of the Last Drop when Sevika walks in and hands you something small. You look down at the palm of your hand.

“Is this asbestos?”

“You’re not funny,” she retorts. “It’s melatonin.”

“Where the hell did you get it?”

“Don’t ask questions,” she says. “And don’t thank me.”

She storms out of the room as if to avoid even risking hearing you thank her.

As usual, you work late that night. The pill sits in the breast pocket of your shirt and you imagine it pulsing with your heart. You know it’s stupid to consider it a gift, but you’re reluctant to take it nonetheless. Sevika would never say so, but you’re certain she went out of her way to find an Undercity apothecary that sold it, and it couldn’t have been any small price either.

But it is the fourth night, and your head feels close to exploding. You down the pill with a drink of stale beer.

It’s already nearing four in the morning, and you decide it isn’t worth going back to your apartment only to return to the office by nine. You haven’t seen Sevika all day since she met you in the storage room—you wonder if she took off early, though you can’t imagine such a scenario.

Drowsiness fills your head as you lay down on the couch. It smells old, the mildew of ancient leather, but from the number of times you’ve seen Sevika passed out on it you imagine you can almost smell her scent on the cushions, too.

You’re half asleep when Sevika comes into the office. She sees you and walks over. You keep your eyes closed. You feel her touch your forehead briefly, then she spreads her cloak over you.

☆ ☆ ☆

note: pls get good sleep, stay hydrated, take care of yourself <3

divider by @enchanthings-a

#song: apocalypse by cigarettes after #sevika arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika fanfic #sevika x female reader #sevika fluff #sevika imagine

140 notes · View notes

lisasmuts · 2 days ago

Text

EPILOGUE | pt 2

Lalisa Manoban

Epilogue to The Debt Series.

5k words.

The debt series.

( The final and final end of the debt series. The epilogue ends here too. )

As the morning lights peeks through, lisa gazed down at y/n with tender affection as he stirred awake, his sleepy eyes meeting hers. A soft smile played on her lips as he gently released her nipple, the loss of his warm touch eliciting a slight shiver from her.

“Good morning, my love.”

She murmured, her fingers tracing the contours of his face.

“Did you sleep well, nestled against me like that?”

Leaning down, she pressed a feather-light kiss to his forehead, her heart swelling with the depth of her love for this man. In this quiet, intimate moment, she felt a profound sense of belonging, of being cherished and adored beyond measure.

Shifting slightly, she guided his head back to its previous resting place, cradling him against her chest once more. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat and the warmth of her embrace were a soothing lullaby, lulling them both back towards the embrace of slumber.

Lisa giggled as she gazed down at y/n’s sleepy face.

“Oh my love, I’ll pull out your cock out now, okay? I need to go pee – I’ve been holding it all night because you were just so cute, having my nipple in your mouth like a newborn baby. Haha”

She laughed softly, her fingers gently guiding out y/n’s softening length from her warmth. As she withdrew, a gush of his spent pee spilled from her pussy, eliciting an exclamation from lisa.

“Whaaaat? You silly boy, you peed inside my pussy?”

She laughed, her tone playful and adoring.

y/n chuckled sheepishly, nuzzling against lisa’s chest.

“I couldn’t help it, my little slut. I was in such a deep, peaceful sleep with your nipple in my mouth and your warm pussy cradling my cock. I felt so relaxed and safe nestled in your embrace.”

Lisa smiled tenderly, running her fingers through his hair.

“I know, my darling. You were like a little babe, so content and at ease. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, her heart swelling with adoration.

Gently disengaging herself, lisa rose from the bed, her thighs glistening with the evidence of y/n’s essence. She paused, glancing back at him with a mischievous grin.

“Now, I really do need to go take care of that little mess you’ve created. Don’t go anywhere, my love. I’ll be back soon.”

With a wink, she sauntered off the bathroom, eager to clean herself up and return to y/n’s waiting arms, their bond stronger than ever.

After their refreshing shower, lisa emerged from the bathroom, droplets of water still clinging to her glistening skin. She held up a few outfits, turning to y/n with a playful pout.

“So, my love, what should I wear today?”

She asked coyly, already anticipating his response.

y/n chuckled, his gaze roaming hungrily over her bare form.

“You should wear nothing at all, my little slut,”

He purred, his voice dripping with desire.

“You’re mine, and you deserve to stay naked for me always.”

Lisa feigned a scolding expression, though the mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

“Oh, you!”

She exclaimed, before relenting with a soft giggle.

“Alright then, if that’s what my daddy wants…”

Tossing the clothes aside, lisa sauntered towards y/n, her hips swaying seductively. She knew exactly how to play him, to keep him captivated and craving her touch. After all, she was his, body and soul, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

As she sauntered over to y/n she jumped onto his hands and kissed him hungrily, then she worked her hands guiding his soft cock into her asshole, y/n instantly realized something was wrong,

“Baby? Did someone else used you??”

Lisa’s eyes widened in feigned innocence as she gazed up at y/n.

“Oh, my love, I’m so sorry! A few days ago, I went shopping but forget my purse. To buy the things I needed, I… I offered my ass to the shopkeeper, not that I couldn’t pay it online but still I wanted some sex hehe that’s why.”

She bit her lip, her expression a mix of shame and contrition.

“But I promise, he didn’t cum inside me! I would never let anyone but you have me like that.”

y/n’s grip tightened possessively around her waist as he searched her face, his brow furrowed with concern.

“My darling, how could you do that? Your body belongs to me, and me alone.”

His voice was laced with a hint of possessiveness, yet tinged with the unyielding love he held for her.

Lisa nuzzled against his chest, her fingers soothing patterns on his skin.

“I know, my love, I know. It was a moment of weakness, but I swear it will never happen again. I’m yours, completely and utterly. Please, forgive me?”

y/n’s expression softened, and he pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth with a fierce intensity. When they finally parted, breathless, he gazed down at her with unwavering adoration.

“Of course I forgive you, my love. You are mine, and I will always cherish you.”

After giving forgiveness, he started guiding lisa up and down on his cock. Giving brutal thrusts inside her asshole.

The pain of y/n’s brutal, punishing thrusts inside her abused asshole was immediately eclipsed by a wave of pleasure for lisa. She knew that by confessing the shopkeeper incident, she would only incite y/n’s jealousy and possessiveness – and that was exactly what she craved.

As his hips slammed against her with bruising force, lisa cried out in a mix of agony and ecstasy. She wanted him to claim her, to mark her ass his own in the most primal way possible. The knowledge that she belonged to him, and him alone, sent tremors of delight through her body.

Tightening her muscles around his invading length, lisa met each of his thrusts with a desperate roll of her hips. She was his to use, his to punish, his to cherish – and in this moment, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

As y/n took lisa on the bed, he began ruthlessly ramming her abused asshole in the prone bone position. Suddenly, lisa’s phone rang – the caller ID displayed ‘eli’.

With a coy smile, lisa brought the phone to her ear, her voice dripping with false innocence. Concealing the depraved scene unfolding behind her.

“Eli, darling! What a lovely surprise.”

Her words were punctuated by the muffled slap of y/n’s hips against her flesh, but she maintained her composure, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight.

“I’m doing just fine, sweetie. In fact, I’m having a wonderful time with y/n.”

She bit her lip, stifling a moan as y/s’s cock plunged deeper into her aching asshole.

“But I miss you too.”

Lisa’s free hand gripped the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white as y/n’s relentless assault continued. She knew eli was none the wiser, and the thrill of her deception only heightened her pleasure.

Lisa’s eyes widened when she realized her slip-up. Quickly, she tried to change the subject, lying that she hadn’t said y/n’s name, but something else entirely.

“Oh, eli, I didn’t say y/n’s name, I said something else. But anyway, how are you? I was just telling you the family problem I had is all over now, but I think I’ll still stay here a little longer, if that’s okay with you.”

She smiled sweetly, hoping eli wouldn’t press the issue further. Her heart raced as she tried to cover her tracks, all while y/n continued his relentless pounding of her abused hole behind the scenes.

Lisa’s eyes darted nervously as eli questioned the suspicious sounds. She quickly turned her head back to y/n, mouthing her words ‘stop, just for a while’ with a pleading expression.

Her heart raced, knowing she had to think quickly to divert eli’s attention.

Turning back to the phone, lisa forced a calm smile.

“Oh, that? Its nothing, darling. Just the TV playing in the background. I’ll turn it down.”

She shot y/n a pointed look, silently urging him to hold off until she could steer the conversation in a different direction.

Eli still sounded unconvinced, but lisa pressed on.

“Anyway, as I was saying, the family issue is all resolved now. I’m just taking some time for myself and my family, you know? I hope you understand.”

She paused, her mind racing to come up with a plausible excuse.

“Actually, I was thinking of going shopping later. Would you like me to pick you up something?”

Lisa held her breath, praying that eli would be satisfied with her explanation and drop the subject. She couldn’t afford to let him discover the truth of her current situation – not when y/n’s relentless desire for her was so close to the surface.

“Fine, but put me on video call so I can see what’s really going on.”

Eli demanded.

Lisa gently turned onto her back, pulling the bedsheet up to cover her bare breasts. With a practiced hand, she grabbed y/n’s cock and skillfully guided it into her waiting, slick pussy, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her lips. As she connected the video call with eli, her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

“Look, darling, there’s nothing going on. I’m just relaxing on the bed.”

She purred, her voice laced with false innocence as y/n began to thrust into her, his movements slow and deliberate.

Lisa maintained eye contact with the camera, her expression serene, even as her body betrayed the carnal delights she was experiencing. She was a master at this game, adept at concealing her true activities from eli while indulging in the forbidden pleasures’ y/n offered.

With each subtle roll of her hips, lisa drove y/n deeper inside her, the familiar ache of fullness sending tingles of ecstasy through her core.

Lisa feigned innocence as she gazed up at the camera, her fingers trailing teasingly along y/n’s back.

“Who’s y/n, darling? I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about.”

Her words were punctuated by y/n’s aggressive thrusts, his cock plunging deeper into her slick heat. He leaned in a little close, his face straight behind the mobile.

‘You don’t know me, baby? Hmm, don’t you remember?’

He mouthed, his eyes smoldering with desire.

As eli explained that y/n was his bestfriend, lisa’s expression shifted to one of feigned realization.

“Oh, I see now! Yes, of course, y/n – your bestfriend. How could I have forgotton?”

She giggled coyly, her hips rolling in sync with y/n’s relentless pace.

Lisa’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she added,

“The one from whom you had taken a debt, right eli?”

Eli agreed, chuckling slightly.

“Yes, that friend. I still don’t understand how he suddenly cleared my debt,”

He said with a puzzled laugh.

Suddenly, y/n pushed lisa’s phone, causing it to fall. He then placed his hand over the microphone, his voice a low, menacing growl.

“Because I now own your girlfriend in return for your debt, you stupid eli.”

He said, laughing triumphantly.

Lisa laughed and giggled, picking up her phone.

“Oh, the phone just slipped out of my hands, darling. No need to worry!”

She said, her tone light and carefree, as she continued to ride y/n’s cock beneath the covers.

Lisa’s eyes gleamed with wicked delight as she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah, eli, in return of your debt, y/n owns me now. Haha, I’m so glad he owns me.”

Eli turned his head back to the camera, a puzzled look on his face.

“Did you say something, lisa?”

Lisa quickly schooled her features, flashing him an innocent smile.

“No, no, darling. I didn’t say anything.”

She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but the thrill of deceiving her unsuspecting boyfriend only fueled her growing arousal. y/n’s possessive claim over her sent a shiver of excitement through her body, and she couldn’t wait to see how this twisted situation would unfold.

Lisa let out an exaggerated yawn, her eyes drooping with feigned exhaustion.

“Oh, eli, darling, I’m just so tired from the flights and everything. I think I need to get some rest now, okay?”

She flashed him a weary smile, her fingers toying with the hem of the bedsheet.

Without waiting for his response, lisa ended the call, tossing the phone aside. Turning her attention to y/n, her expression morphed into one of unbridled desire.

“Now, where were we, my y/n??”

She purred, her hips rolling sensually against his.

y/n’s grip on her tightened, his eyes burning with possessive hunger.

“Right where you belong, my little slut, under my possession.”

He growled, pulling her into a searing kiss as he resumed his relentless thrusts, claiming her as his own once more.

y/n’s grip on lisa’s hips tightened with a possessive anger as he pounded into her pussy with relentless force. Lisa was lost in a haze of pleasure, her mind consumed by the feeling of y/n’s monstrous cock filling her completely. She was utterly enamored with him, her thoughts consumed by his dominating presence.

Each thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy through her body, and she reveled in the sensation of being so thoroughly claimed. The pain had long since given way to unbridled bliss, and lisa knew in that moment that she belonged to y/n, body and soul.

Her back arched, her nails raking down his muscular back as she cried out in rapturous delight. Nothing else matter but the two of them, locked in this carnal embrace, lost in a world of their own making. Lisa had never felt so alive, so completely and irrevocably his.

Throughout the night, y/n’s relentless lust knew no bounds as he claimed lisa’s body in every corner of the hotel room. From the bathroom to the balcony, and even the small desk, on the floor, he ravaged her with a primal hunger that left her breathless and trembling.

Lisa reveled in his possessive dominance, her mind clouded with the intoxicating sensation of being so thoroughly used. When y/n dragged her out into the hotel hallway, pinning her against the wall as he ruthlessly plundered her pussy, lisa felt a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins.

Back inside the room, y/n continued his merciless assault, staking his claim over the body that he now owns as his sole property. Lisa’s cries of pleasure echoed through the suite, her every nerve ending alight with the euphoric pain of his punishing thrusts.

In this moment now, lisa belonged to y/n, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her world had narrowed to the sensation of his cock filling her, his hands bruising her flesh, hid dominance consuming her completely. She was so lost in a haze of carnal bliss, her love for him brighter with each passing moment.

As the morning light streamed in through the window, y/n continued his relentless pounding of lisa’s pussy. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door – the room service had arrived.

Without missing a thrust, y/n shouted,

“Come in!”

As he maintained his brutal pace, his hips slamming against lisa’s with unforgiving force.

Lisa’s eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of panic crossing her features. But then, a mischievous smile spread across her lips. Throwing caution to the wind, she arched her back, her moans of pleasure echoing through the room.

As the room service guy entered, y/n and lisa had already shifted to a new position, giving the intruder a clear view of the depraved scene unfolding before him. Lisa stood with her front to the door, in a sensual bend position, her tongue darting out as y/n’s powerful frame towering behind her as he pounded her relentlessly.

The room service gur’s eyes widened in shock and delight at the sight of Lisa Manoban’s magnificent nude form, her body glistening with sweat as she was ravaged by y/n’s monstrous cock. A gleeful exclamation escaped his lips as he drank in the carnal spectacle.

Lisa met the man’s gaze, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She knew she should feel ashamed, but the thrill of being watched only heightened her arousal. Throwing caution to the wind, she arched her back now, pushing her ample breasts out as she gets ravaged by y/n’s cock with unbridled passion.

The room service guy stood transfixed, his mouth agape, as he witnessed the depraved display unfolding before him. Lisa reveled in his stunned reaction, her own pleasure building with each punishing thrust from y/n’s hips.

Lisa’s voice wavered slightly as the room service guy entered, but she maintained a polite and sweet demeanor.

“Oh, hello there. Please, go ahead and do your job. Thank you so much for coming.”

She flashed him a coy smile, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. The guy couldn’t help but marvel at lisa’s composure, even as she was being so thoroughly and roughly used by y/n.

“Wow, even when she’s getting ravaged like this, she still manages to talk so politely. What a slut she must be – I bet she’s a very experienced one,”

He thought to himself, his gaze drinking in the depraved scene.

As the room service guy cleaned the room, the air was thick with the scent of sex from lisa and y/n’s passionate night together. The guy spotted lisa’s discarded bra and panties near the bed,

He discreetly slid them into his pocket, taking the opportunity while the couple remained oblivious.

Continuing his work, the guy found more evidence of the lust-filled night, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the show that lisa and y/n had put on for him. He marveled at lisa’s composure, even as she was being so thoroughly used by y/n’s monstrous cock.

The guy couldn’t help but feel a sense of voyeuristic thrill, witnessing the depraved scene unfold before his eyes. The temptation was too great. As he finished his task, he couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets this room might hold.

Upon completing his work, he comes near the bed, his jaw dropped as he took in the sight of lisa’s face, flushed with lust, her eyes rolled back and her tongue darting out.

He was transfixed by the sheer debauchery of the scene unfolding before him.

y/n noticing the guy’s lustful hunger, asked bluntly.

“Hey, you. Do you want to kiss her?”

Lisa’s eyes snapped open at y/n’s words, a wicked grin spreading across her face. She locked eyes with the stunned staff member, silently daring him to make a move.

The room service guy’s eyes widened with lust as he eagerly accepted y/n’s offer. Approaching the bed, he gazed hungrily at lisa’s inviting expression, her mouth open slightly and her tongue darting out ever so teasingly.

Without hesitation, the guy pushed his face against lisa’s, their lips crashing together in heated, hungry kiss. Lisa moaned into his mouth, the vibrations sending tingles of pleasure through the man’s body.

The guy relished the feeling of lisa’s soft lips and skilled tongue, losing himself in the depraved moment. y/n watched with a possessive gaze, his grip on lisa’s hips tightening as he continued to pound into her relentlessly.

The room filled with the sounds of their carnal activities, a symphony of moans, gasps, and the slick sounds of flesh against flesh. Lisa was in her element, reveling in the attention and indulging in her insatiable desires.

The heated kiss continued until lisa tapped the man’s face, gasping for breath as they parted. The guy looked at her with a grateful expression.

“Thank you. Can I… can I leave now?”

He asked hesitantly.

Lisa teased him, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Oh, but I was really hoping you’d stay. I’d love to give your cock a few sucks and taste your cum.”

She purred, her eyes sparkling with lust.

The man’s eyes lit up with hunger and excitement at the thought of Lisa Manoban wanting to pleasure him.

“I-I would really love that,”

He stammered,

“But can I come back tonight? Because in the night I’m the horniest, so in the night I’ll be able to use you more thoroughly. And I can’t really do it now or I’ll lose my job.”

Lisa considered his request, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“Hmm, I suppose that will have to do. But don’t keep waiting too long, darling. I’ll be aching for a taste of you.”

She said, her tone laced with promise.

As the room service guy left, y/n playfully spanked lisa’s ass, scolding her.

“What were you thinking, begging for his cock and cum, huh? You stupid slut.”

Lisa giggled at his jealous scolding, feeling a thrill at riling him up. She turned her head over her shoulder, poking her tongue out teasingly.

“Aww, don’t be like that baby. You know I only want your big, hard cock inside me.”

Pulling her back against his chest, y/n growled possessively.

“Damn right, you do filthy whore. This pussy belongs to me, and me alone. Don’t forget that you, insatiable whore.”

Lisa moaned, grinding her hips against his.

“Then why don’t you remind me, hmm? Show me who I really belong to.”

With a feral grin, y/n flipped her over, pinning her to the bed as he resumed his relentless pounding, determined to leave no doubt in her mind about who owned her body and soul.

y/n’s grip on lisa tightened as he began to fuck her with brutal, angry force. His hips slammed against hers relentlessly, determined to remind her that she belonged to him and him alone.

Lisa cried out, her back arching as the pleasure-pain of his punishing thrusts sent shockwaves through her body. She knew better than to defy him – this was her punishment for her earlier teasing and flirtation.

Gripping the sheets, lisa surrendered herself completely to y/n’s possessive onslaught. Her mind was hazy with lust, every nerve ending alight with the sensation of being so thoroughly claimed. This was her place, here beneath him, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

As y/n’s relentless pace continued, lisa felt a familiar coil of ecstasy building within her. She was his, body and soul, and the knowledge of this drove her wild with unbridled desire. With each bruising thrust, she was reminded of her true purpose – to serve and please her master her y/n.

y/n’s hips pistoned relentlessly as he neared his climax. Leaning in close to lisa’s ear, her growled.

“I hope you’re not on birth control, you little slut. I’m going to fill your womb completely.”

Lisa’s eyes widened at his words, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. The thought of being bred, oh having y/n’s seed flooding her most intimate depths, sent her spiraling into a frenzy of lust. She cried out, her inner walls clamping down as her orgasm crashed over her.

y/n roared in triumph, his hips slamming home as he emptied himself into lisa’s waiting womb. Wave after wave of hot, thick cum poured into her, coating her insides and sealing her fate as his personal breeding vessel.

Spent, y/n collapsed atop her, his breathing ragged. Lisa clung to him, a delirious smile on her face. She knew that from this moment on, she would be forever changed – bound to y/n by the most primal of bonds. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

As y/n’s cock finally began to soften, lisa let out an elated exclamation.

“Oh, y/n! fuck this feels sooooo good, I’m so breeed with your seeeed my love. You came so much inside me.”

Her eyes shone with a mixture of excitement and mischief.

Trailing her fingers along his chest, lisa gazed up at him adoringly.

“I want nothing more than to carry your child, y/n. to have your seed growing inside me, to be completely and utterly yours. Please, make me a mother. I’m ready to be bred again and again.”

The thoughts of lisa’s womb swelling with his child sent a possessive thrill through y/n. He pulled her into a bruising kiss, his hands roaming her body possessively.

“That’s my good girl. You’re going to be the perfect breeding bitch for me, aren’t you? I’m going to fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum.”

Lisa moaned into the kiss, her hips rolling against his in eager anticipation.

She was ready to take the next step in their carnal journey, to cement her place y/n’s devoted, fertile mate.

With his softened cock still buried inside her, y/n began to thrust again, his movements gradually picking up speed and intensity. Lisa gazed up at him, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“Ohh, does breeding me excite you that much, my love??”

She teased, her hips rolling to meet his punishing thrusts.

y/n’s grip on her tightened, his eyes burning with possessive desire.

“Fuck yes, it does,”

He growled, slamming into her with renewed fervor.

“I’m going to breed you over and over until you’re swollen with my children.”

Lisa moaned in delight, reveling in the sensation of being so thoroughly claimed. She knew her place was here, beneath y/n, serving as his fertile vessel. And in that moment, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

As the days passed, y/n made sure to continuously breed lisa with his potent seed whenever he had to attend meetings outside the hotel. While he was away, he ensured that lisa’s womb remained well-filled with his virile cum, keeping her in a constant state of satisfied arousal.

When y/n returned in the evenings, he would ravage lisa’s body once more, pounding into her relentlessly and flooding her fertile depths with even more of his seed. Lisa reveled in this, her body and mind consumed by the primal need to be bred by her dominant partner.

Each time y/n claimed her, lisa felt a thrill of excitement, knowing that she was one step closer to becoming pregnant with his child. She craved the sensation of his hot release coating her inner walls, sealing her fate as his personal breeding vessel.

With each passing day, lisa’s belly grew more swollen, the evidence of y/n’s virility plain for all to see. And through it all, she remained utterly devoted to him, her sole purpose to serve as the vessel for his offspring.

As the business trip came to an end, lisa had been breed and impregnated by y/n countless times over the past two weeks. His potent seed had flooded her womb repeatedly, leaving her body swollen with the promise of new life.

Upon returning home, lisa faced the challenge of reuniting with her boyfriend eli. The contrast between her sweet, loving relationship with eli and the depraved, submissive dynamic with y/n created a complex emotional landscape for lisa to navigate.

Yet, the insatiable hunger for y/n’s touch never abated. Each weekend, lisa would eagerly make her way to y/n’s residence, her body tingling with anticipation. Once there, she would surrender herself completely to his carnal desires, becoming his obedient, breeding slut once more.

YN would claim her again and again, filling her womb with his seed and ensuring she remained perpetually pregnant with his children. The sounds of their lust-filled encounters would echo through the walls, a testament to their primal connection.

Afterwards, Lisa would return to Eli, her body still humming with the lingering effects of YN's possession. She would cherish the tender moments with her boyfriend, but the knowledge of her depraved activities with YN would always linger in the back of her mind, fueling her insatiable hunger.

This delicate balance, this duality of her life, was a constant source of excitement and torment for Lisa. But she wouldn't have it any other way, for she was YN's devoted, breeding slut, and that was the role she was born to play.

As the months passed, Lisa's belly grew ever more swollen with YN's countless children. One month, YN took Lisa to the hospital to check on her wellbeing during the pregnancy. The doctor, upon examining Lisa, couldn't believe his eyes.

“My goodness, how on earth are you pregnant with this many children?”

the doctor exclaimed in disbelief.

Lisa shamelessly replied with a giggle,

“Well, you see, my love y/n is just so insatiable.”

She laughed, reveling in the doctor's shock.

After the visit, Lisa returned home to Eli, eager to share the news of her pregnancy. Eli, none the wiser, believed the child was his, unaware that these children were the result of YN's relentless breeding.

Lisa, however, knew the truth. She cherished the tender moments with Eli, but her heart belonged to YN, the man who had claimed her as his devoted, fertile mate. The duality of her life only fueled her insatiable desires, as she eagerly awaited her next tryst with her master.

As the months turned into years, Lisa's bond with YN deepened to an all-consuming love. She had become utterly devoted to him, forgetting about her boyfriend Eli almost entirely. Her life now revolved around YN, the man who had claimed her as his own.

Day in and day out, YN continued to breed Lisa, filling her womb with his endless seed. Lisa reveled in this, her body swollen with the fruits of their carnal union. She cherished every moment, knowing that this was her true purpose - to be YN's fertile, obedient mate.

The debt that YN had given to Eli had opened up a new life for Lisa, one that she embraced wholeheartedly. She and YN were both grateful for this arrangement, as it had allowed them to indulge in their primal desires without restraint.

Lisa's days were now filled with the blissful sensations of YN's possession. She had found her true calling, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. This was her life now, and she was determined to savor every moment of it, basking in the love and devotion of her insatiable master, her true love Y/N.

#blackpink #lisa manoban #lisa smut #lisa blackpink #blackpink smut #blackpink lisa #kpop smut #idol smut #kpop #lisa

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rivalsispunk · 2 days ago

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Inappropriate (Chapter 4 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Series summary: Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), mention of male appendages (IYKYK), mention of female orgasm, pussy pronouns, smut smut SMUTTTT, jealous Declan, all the good stuff

Word count: 11.4k

Chapter summary: Happening across your boss pants down only spells the beginning for you and Declan, but neither of you are expecting a surprise visitor to muddy the waters.

A/N: Thank you all for being SO SO patient with this one. I could've easily released this chapter in two parts but didn't want to disrupt the flow of the story (*ahem* smut). This has had a brief edit in my hastiness to publish so any mistakes... Shhhhhh!

Chapter Four: Inappropriate

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had an inappropriate thought or two about Declan O’Hara in the time you’ve been friends with Taggie, perhaps more frequently since he’d become your superior, but that had nothing on the unadulterated filth that had infiltrated your brain in the hours since leaving The Priory. You can barely recall fleeing down its staircase or the drive home, what unfolded at the forefront of your mind until a self-induced orgasme lulled you into a deep sleep. Now, you’re permanently marred with the visual of Declan — your best friend’s father, your boss — fucking his hand with your name on his lips. You should feel dirty. You should feel violated. You should feel the way you do when Tony Baddingham’s beady eyes drink you in across the office. Like you need a scalding hot shower and to scrub yourself down to the bone. But you don’t. You feel like somebody’s doused you in gasoline and lit a match, your whole body burnt to flames — and it’s exhilarating.

How many times has he done it?

Was that the first time?

And why do you want to watch him do it again?

“Did ya stay late last night?” Declan asks you the next day while you’re sifting through old newspapers in search for more dirt on Rupert, at your boss’ request. “Went straight up to bed once I got back, so didn’t hear ya leave.”

Liar, you think.

“Not too late. Eleven, maybe,” you respond, eyes glued haphazard clippings across your desk.

“Not that I would’ve heard you anyway,” he continues. “Not with the wailing guitar riffs at full volume on Taggie’s stereo.”

Only then do you flit your gaze up to look at the man on the other side of the office. Acting professional after that murky moment with Declan in the hot tub was one thing, but pretending you don’t know what your boss looks like with his pants dropped and cock in hand is a whole other kettle of fish. Under normal circumstances, you’d be awkward. Uncomfortable. But now it’s as if having his secret affection has allowed you the permission to challenge him.

“Do you have something against Bon Jovi, Declan?”

“Under normal circumstances, no,” he responds, lighting a cigarette. “But when it feels like Jon is in bed with me screaming in my ear while I’m trying to sleep, I’m inclined to think otherwise.”

Let alone when you’re dancing around all but naked to it.

“So, can we count you out of belting Livin’ On A Prayer at Bar Sinister tonight?” you chide, reminding Declan of the invite you’d all received from the Joneses. Smoke plumes from his lips as he rears back from a drag.

“Yep. I’ll not be going anyway. Got too much work to get done.” “You always have too much work to get done,” you tell him. “You have to take a break sometime.”

“That’s what sleeping is for,” he counters, a slight smirk rising from under his moustache.

“Oh, come on, Declan. It’s one night.” You’re staring at him all doe-eyed across the room and your innocence, faux or not, does the heavy lifting of your convincing. “Come to Sinister. It’ll be fun.”

It’ll be fun, you’d said, voice all but a whiney beg that zapped like a rod of lightning straight to his crotch. But Declan’s struggling to find the enjoyment in spending his evening watching a revolving door of men try their luck with you, in that impossibly short merlot-coloured dress that’s befitting of Bar Sinister’s name. First, it was Bas Baddingham; the younger, kinder, though no less leery half-brother of Tony. Declan had noticed the pair of you when he arrived, his attention magnetised to you the moment he walked through the door. Bas had you cooped up in the corner by the floor to ceiling wine racks, his frame bowing over you while you chatted.

Declan wasn’t prepared for the twist in his stomach, nor the prickle of heat that scaled his body until it reached his cheeks while he watched you giggle with Bas, eyes sparkling under his attention. It was almost as if he were a child watching someone play with his favourite toy, unwilling to let anybody else have a turn, even though he was well aware it wasn’t his to keep in the first place. You slung another one of your dazzling smiles Bas’ way, and it was enough to have Declan beelining for the bar to order a wine and a whiskey to keep his envy at bay. After a while, Bas was called away to assist with a kitchen catastrophe. He was quickly replaced with Rupert Campbell-Black, all smiles and slime as craned his neck to whisper in your ear. Whatever words he was imparting on you — undoubtedly dirty — saw you blush, a stunning flush of fuchsia flooding up your neck to your cheeks. This goes on for a while — too long, in Declan’s opinion — and every grin Rupert shoots your way, coupled with you staring up at him all starry-eyed like you’ve been touched by the hand of God, has Declan grinding his teeth to near-dust.

He’s too old for you, he thinks. Certainly not good enough. The journalist had already been forced to warn the former Olympian off Taggie. He ought to do the same for you. But who was he kidding? He has no claim over you. You’re not his daughter.

The idea has him downing his whiskey in one gulp.

No, you’re definitely not his daughter.

Filthy hypocritical git.

You felt Declan before you saw him, his gaze like daggers slicing into you as you spoke with Bas, then even more so when while you chatted to Rupert. In all honesty, you had no interest in either men, but you made sure to ramp up the flirty act, particularly with Rupert, because you knew how much Declan disliked him. You weren’t entirely sure why; perhaps you wanted to see whether it bothered him, or how much it bothered him, but you could never get a good enough look at him to gauge where his head was at. You weren’t even talking about yourself, save for Rupert once again trying to coax you into a dinner date. Instead, you’d geared the conversation towards your best friend, whom you knew had a burgeoning crush on her neighbour despite her failed attempts to deny it.

“Are you expecting someone?” Rupert asks partway through gushing over Taggie’s catering at a recent hunt. “Or am I just boring you?”

His question falls on deaf ears, and you scramble to make up for your rudeness. “Sorry, Rupert. What was that?”

“Your eyes have been darting around this bar like you’re watching a tennis match.”

“I’m not—”

“Trust me, you are. It’s not often that a woman can bear to take her eyes off of me,” Rupert peacocks, cheeky grin blooming at his shameless confession. “So, who’s the lucky sod?”

God, he’s nothing if not perceptive, you think, chewing the inside of your cheek. Finally, you clock Declan by the till, his eyes stuck on you while Lizzie Vereker chats animatedly at his side.

“So, are you going to tell me or are you going to make me guess?” Rupert tries again.

Turning your attention back to him, you make a show of laying a hand on the sleeve of his navy sports coat as you lie through your teeth. “It’s nobody. Nobody worth worrying about.”

“Are you trying to burn a hole through him?” Lizzie wonders aloud, cheeks already flushed from her half a glass of wine.

“He’s just… everywhere. It bothers me,” Declan tells her, not taking his eyes off you.

“Bothers you that he’s here, or bothers you that he’s here with her?” She looks at him quizzically before her sight slices to you.

“You know I can’t stand him, Lizzie. Sorry, I know he’s your friend but, God. Always lurking, trying to shag anything with a pulse. Even that might be too restrictive to the lengths he’ll go to.”

“She’s an adult, Declan. A strong-headed one, at that. She can make her own decisions.”

“Well, she’s making the wrong one with him. He's got all the charm of a burst hemorrhoid."

Lizzie swats Declan for his off-colour description. “And what do you suggest the right one to be, then?” She’s staring up at him, lips pursed like she knows something. Like she’s pried his skull open with a crowbar and all of his dirtiest thoughts about you have leaked all over Bar Sinister’s maroon carpet.

“Someone her own age,” Declan decides, as much as it pains him to admit. “Someone that’s not Rupert Campbell-Black.”

“Someone like Patrick?” Lizzie poses, and Declan’s head whips towards her at the mention of his son.

“Patrick? My Patrick?”

“It’s not that crazy an idea. He’s a perfectly lovely boy.”

“He’s also at university, Lizzie.” Far away from you.

“Was at university,” a familiar and all-too-missed voice sounds from behind the journalist, and he just about spills his Pinot Noir as he turns to greet his son.

“Patrick!” Declan pulls him into a hug, clapping a hand against his back. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I had a few days between exams. Thought I’d pay a visit.”

“Shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Come on, Dad. I’m here to have fun. You should try it sometime,” Patrick jests. There’s that word again. Fun. Despite your earlier promise, so far, Declan’s having anything but. “Hello, Lizzie,” Patrick leans down to drop a kiss to her cheek. “So, what are we talking about over here? Though with you Rutshire lot, I suppose the question should be who are we talking about?” he asks, taking the wine glass from his father’s hand and polishing off what’s left of the heady liquid.

Lizzie steals a quick look at Declan, who feigns disinterest. “We were just talking about that glorious young lady over there,” she tells Patrick, pointing with her wine in your direction. “Rather beautiful, is she not?”

Patrick’s eyes narrow as he spots you across the dim-lit room, still deep in conversation with Rupert. “Isn’t that Taggie’s friend? I remember meeting her at my birthday party. Rupert hasn’t eaten her alive yet?”

“Seems she’s one of the only women in this town that’s immune to his charms,” Lizzie conveys, and Declan wonders if they’re watching the same scene; Rupert laying it on thick and you seemingly lapping it up.

There’s a soft, almost curious tilt to Patrick’s head, lip pursed over as he watches the pair of you. “She might stand a chance after all,” he announces, then he’s away as quickly as he appeared, swerving through the crowd as he makes his way towards you.

Freddie is eight minutes through Meat Loaf’s Bat Out Of Hell and the whole bar is loving it. You can’t recall a time you’ve had this much fun out, your throat is stinging from how loud, how ferociously, you’re singing along with the electronics businessman. Freddie’s off-key and lack of rhythm is long forgotten under the haze of alcohol, and even Declan has slid off his broody perch to join the sing-a-long. Before the unmistakable first riff of the song blasted from the speakers, you’d spent the last half an hour chatting to Patrick, who’d surprised his family for a weekend home from university. You’d met him once before at the O’Hara’s most recent New Year’s Eve party. It’d also doubled as his twenty-first birthday, though you’d barely exchanged more than a hello and goodbye on the night and he was yet to venture back until this evening.

The only son of Declan and Maud, and it isn’t hard to see where the majority of his genes descend from. Hickory curls wisp every which way, nougat eyes flecked with black just like his father’s. While Patrick is far more idealistic than Declan, he’s just as foolhardy and exudes the same charm. He’s funny, too, much easier to joke with than his dad, you find, and though he can’t hear what his son is whispering to you over the roar of the crowd, the way you lean into him and laugh between lyrics grates on Declan. He silently curses Lizzie for setting Patrick’s sights on you. He knows — yes, knows — she was doing him a favour, in some roundabout way, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially when he has an unwilling front row seat with you standing between him and Patrick. To compete with Rupert and Bas was one thing, but his own son? Even if the whole thing was complete mental game, it wears on him, reminding him how fucking absurd his affection for you is.

The bar erupts in applause as Freddie wails along with the song’s final chord, his voice landing nowhere near the note Meat Loaf intended. Beside Declan, you cheer for the businessman while Patrick hollers in a way that’s more suited for a football match

“Right then, you randy bunch,” Freddie shouts, his cockney accent impossibly louder under the boom of the microphone. “Which one of yous dares to follow after the King of Karaoke?” The machine, some high-tech gadget flown in from Asia, fades into the next song, and the first couple of lyrics from Don’t Go Breaking My Heart appear on the screen.

“Oh, Daddy loves this song!” Taggie squeals from behind you, hands coming to shake Declan’s shoulders.

“What? No, I don’t,” he scoffs. “Where on earth did you get that idea?” “I’ve heard you singing it in the shower,” she says, shouldering her way between the two of you. “Both Elton and Kiki Dee’s parts.”

Declan playfully swats his daughter. “Oh, shut it, Tag. Can we have no secrets?” Their repartee makes you smile, even more to see Declan without that far-etched scowl he’s often sporting.

“Kiki Dee fan, hey, Dad?” Patrick teases, waggling his eyebrows.

“Not enough to get up there and sing it.”

Nobody else has jumped at the opportunity yet, and Freddie’s still trying to hype up the crowd to find a taker as the instrumental track rolls into the chorus.

“You’ll sing it with him, won’t you?” It takes you a second to realise that Taggie is talking to you. “You were saying on the way here that you wanted to step out of your comfort zone a bit more.”

You shake your head. That’s absolutely not what you were referring to.

“I meant professionally! Not…” you gesture haphazardly to the stage. You hadn’t mentally prepared to get up and perform. It also wasn’t exactly the activity you had in mind when you thought about you and Declan.

“Oh, go on, you two!” Taggie eggs you on, hopping with excitement.

“I’ll give you ten quid,” Patrick wagers, and Declan slices a dark look his way.

“Anyone?” Freddie is still trying, swinging the microphone around by its cable. Then, you feel a hot breath sluice over your cheek. The scent of whiskey emanating from Declan gives away the dangerous amount he’s consumed this evening, which could be why he drops his mouth to your ear.

“I’ll do it if you do it,” he murmurs, the deep timbre of his words racking through you. You rear backwards, nearly headbutting Taggie in the process.

“Are you joking? Two seconds ago you didn’t want to get up there either!”

Declan gives a half-hearted shrug as if to say why not. “It is a duet, after all.” His gaze holds yours and walks a fine line between pleading and defiant. There’s something in it now, a dare lurking beneath the surface, like he’s waiting for you to rise to the challenge. The look hits you sharp, suddenly; a flash of lightning tearing through the dark, and one final daring tilt of Declan’s head pushes your reservations aside.

“Okay, fine.” You snatch his glass from his hand and throw back the rest of the thick amber. A swell of pride burns through his chest, watching you pitch up the courage — even if it’s liquid — to get up on stage. “Freddie!” you shout towards the host. “Start it up again. We’re doing this.”

“Woohoo!” Freddie pumps a fist in the air, winding up the crowd until their cheering and applause hit deafening heights. Between the whiskey and the support of Taggie and Rutshire, you should be amped up enough to get through one measly song. But not even the heat blooming from where Declan’s hand rests on your back as he guides you on stage is enough to distract from the terror gnawing at you.

Despite the small set-up and there only being forty-odd people in the crowd, you might as well have been performing at Wembley. The relentless stage lights make it seem like you’re just metres from the sun and your heart is pumping a frantic, runaway rhythm that just won’t quiet. You blanch, surprised the microphone doesn’t slip from your clammy palm as Freddie passes it to you, the object a heavy weight in your hand. Just below you, Taggie pumps a thumbs up, and Patrick claps supportively. And then there’s Declan, standing beside you, his presence both grounding and electrifying as he leans in, voice low but steady as the intro to Don’t Go Breaking Your Heart starts back up again.

“Just breathe, love,” he tells you. “The worst that happens is we both end up looking like idiots.”

The first four bars pump out of the speakers, and you barely hear Declan apprehensively sing the first line because you’re too focussed on not regurgitating the cacio e pepe you’d consumed at dinner. You’re already a beat off when you murmur through your round of the lyrics, but Declan does a fine job at making up for your lack of stage presence. He’s side-stepping to the beat, putting his hips into it and clicking with his free hand. He’s still rigid in his movements, because he’ll be damned if performing for his peers this way is a regular occurrence, but it’s all he can do to get the attention off you, to calm your nerves without pulling you into a storage cupboard and fucking the anxiety out of you.

By the time the second chorus rolls around, you’ve loosened up enough to follow Declan’s lead, your feet no longer paralysed by fear. You move about the stage, pointing dramatically at Taggie and wiggling your body. The gesture is small, but swinging your hips in a circle has Declan stumbling over his words, his trousers tightening over his crotch.

Ooh-ooh, nobody knows it (nobody knows), the entire bar is singing along now, and Declan’s welcome for the distraction because the song is right. Nobody knows just how far gone he is for you, and this little love song performance isn’t helping anyone. Thankfully, the music begins fading out, signally the end of your time up on stage, and you clamber down the two rickety steps to resounding applause.

“See?” Taggie says when you return to your rightful place out of the spotlight. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You ignore your heart leaping at the base of your throat and ignore the urge to steal a glance at Declan, who’s made straight for the bar. Again.

“No, not all bad,” you give in, smiling between your friend and her brother.

You stay for one more drink and a few more songs, finally calling it a night once Charles coaxes half the broadcasting staffers into a Les Misérables sing-a-long. You and the O’Hara’s venture outside, the crisp night air pulling all of the hairs on your arms to their ends. While the four of you wait for a cab, Patrick sloughs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, an almost silent that’s better slipping into the darkness. Lighting a cigarette, Declan tries — tries — to mind his own business. But his ears prick up at the mention of you and dinner.

“What do you say?” Patrick is asking you, voice competing with the sound of tires on wet bitumen and the chorus resounding from inside Sinister. “Tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up?”

The words hang in the air. Simple. Loaded.

You feel Declan’s gaze like a weight on your shoulders. You should want to go on a date with Patrick, right? You’re supposed to; he’s smart, funny and, more to the point, not nearly two decades your senior. But all you can think about is how Declan’s attention makes your skin flush, how he’s standing right there, probably watching this all unfold. You swallow, pressure mounting as Patrick’s invitation still hangs between you. A few steps away, Declan shifts, just barely, but enough to catch your attention. When you glance back at him, he busies himself with his lighter, like its manufacture is the most fascinating thing in the world.

Would he even notice if you said yes to his son? Would he care at all?

You nod before you can second-guess yourself, your words tripping out like they’re not even yours. “Yeah, sure. Dinner sounds good.” Patrick beams brightly as a taxi pulls up to the curb. Declan’s unreadable as he stubs out his cigarette, while the energy pouring from Taggie is hard to miss.

“I’m so excited!” she whisper-shouts, her hands coming to wrap around your left arm as you approach the cab. “If this works out between you and Patrick, we’ll be sisters!”

Behind you, Declan pales at his daughter’s comment.

You and Patrick. Working out.

You and Taggie. Sisters.

The idea makes him sick.

“Is that thing broken?” Declan stabs a finger at the clock hanging in The Priory’s kitchen. He’s positive something is wrong with it. Every time he looks to the wall, the hands appear unmoving, perpetually stuck at eleven-fifteen.

“It’s working perfectly fine,” Taggie assures her father while kneading a mound of dough that would soon become dinner rolls for tomorrow’s black-tie event at the Baddinghams’. “I think the issue is you keep checking it every five seconds.” Declan shakes his head, boots scraping along the floor as he paces up and down the length of the room. “Daddy, can you stop for a moment? You’re making me motion sick.” “Patrick should’ve been home by now,” he says, ignoring his daughter while his eyes flick to the clock again.

“He’s on a date, for goodness sake,” Taggie says, and the reminder of his whereabouts — your whereabouts — feels like an infected scrape across his heart. “Just leave him be. He’ll be home when he’s home.”

Declan barks out a laugh. “Leave him be! Thanks, Taggie. That’s just grand parenting advice. I’ll try that one with you when you’ve got kids galavanting around God knows where at all hours of the night.”

“I’d hardly call eleven all hours of the night,” she counters, and the comment stops Declan at the head of the kitchen bench. She keeps stretching and folding the dough, almost unphased by her father’s agitation. Declan smiles, just for a second, recognising that Taggie’s become far more outspoken, less inward, since having you around. He’d be proud if the situation wasn’t so infuriating.

“I’m just—” he stares at a crack in the timber benchtop. “It’s just getting late and he has to drive back to school tomorrow.” It was a cheap excuse. Declan knew full well that Patrick would have no issues making the two-hour drive back to campus, even on little sleep. In truth, he could roll in at four AM and he’d not bat an eyelid.

But this isn’t really about Patrick, is it? No, it’s you. You, out there with his son, doing God knows what, God knows where. He could feel the weight of it— the resentment, the jealousy — settling deep in his chest. What if you’d kissed? Worse, what if you’d—No. His fingers tighten around the edge of the bench, knuckles coming up white. His mind deceives him again, and there you are, entwined in your bed sheets with Patrick, your laughter mixing with the sound of something more. The thought burns hot and quick through him, and the longer you’re out with Patrick, the harder it is to shake.

Then there’s the slam of a car door. The whine of hinges at the entrance to The Priory. Declan and Taggie both glance at each other before racing to the foyer to greet Patrick.

“Are you guys waiting up for me or something?” he chides, unravelling himself from his navy scarf.

“No,” Declan is all too quick to answer. Yes.

“So?” Taggie, flour marring her right cheek, is just about levitating with the way she’s bouncing on her feet. “How was it then?”

“Lovely,” Patrick says. “She’s really great. So intelligent.”

Yeah, I know, Declan dares to think.

“Did you kiss her goodnight?” Taggie wants to know, gazing up at her brother like a toddler waiting on a fairytale.

A quiet chuckle rumbles from Patrick as he slings his coat over the staircase bannister. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, my dear,” he muses, thumbing his sister’s chin.

“You know I’m going to find out from her anyway,” Taggie warns him.

“Then you’ll just have to wait until you see her tomorrow, won’t you?”

She rolls her eyes, and Declan’s stomach churns in a similar motion. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, but Patrick wasn’t usually one to play coy. The only reason for his self-effacement must be because he really likes you. And, as Declan trudges up to bed, throwing a tetchy goodnight over his shoulder to his children, he worries you likely feel the same.

The date was…fine. Patrick was twenty minutes late, but it was quickly made up for with the bouquet of roses, twice the size of his head, that he arrived alongside. After a quick peck to the cheek, he ushered you into the Clubman he’d borrowed from his father for the night. The car reeked of stale smoke and the leathery wood smell of Declan’s cologne. If you allowed yourself, you could almost hear the rasp of his voice and the sharp click of his lighter. Beside you, Patrick chatted away about his literature class at university while he navigated the quiet streets, completely unaware of how his father’s presence seemed to haunt every inch of this car. You bypassed Bar Sinister and town completely, ending up at Le Petit Chêne — The Little Oak — a small, family-owned French bistro fifteen minutes down the road. The food was delicious, the wine even better, but as the night wore on, you couldn’t help but compare Patrick to his father, even though you were well aware it wasn’t fair. Patrick had that same tapered jawline, those dark eyes, but where Declan’s gaze felt like a bolt of electricity, Patrick’s was softer, warmer. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes were like something familiar, comfortable, like you could just keep moving through the motions and never have to think too hard. But Declan... Declan made you feel every. Single. Glance.

Still, the comfortability and Patrick’s friendliness made it easy to lose track of time as you traded tales from your time at university and compared your favourite novels, arguing over the crux of Of Mice and Men — you find it majorly depressing, while Patrick thinks it signifies hope. You agreed, begrudgingly, to disagree, the squabble wrapping up as your date pulls up outside your flat.

“I had a really nice night,” he confessed when you reached your door.

“Yeah, me, too,” you responded, shrugging off his jacket he’d once again loaned you. “That restaurant was lovely. Thank you again for paying.” “You’re worth it.” Patrick shuffled from one foot to the other, the subtle movement signifying the first time you’d ever seen the eldest O’Hara child anywhere close to nervous. You knew what was coming next, with the way he looked up from your doormat with hopeful eyes, blush pinching at the apples of his cheeks. “Can I kiss you?”

You should want to kiss him, the young, likable man standing in front of you. Going against your better judgement, you said yes and tried to enjoy his soft lips against yours. His touch was gentle, one hand on your waist, the other cupping your cheek, but the spark that should ignite at having a handsome man like Patrick wanting you was missing. It didn’t help that you could still feel the ghost of Declan’s presence, like the heat from his stare was still burning into your skin. No hairs stood on end. No rush of warmth flooded your chest. Nothing like the way you felt when Declan’s gaze lingered on you just a little too long, or when your hands brushed, the way they had that night in the hot tub. The gnawing comparisons followed you into your flat once you and Patrick had said goodnight, and tucked themselves into bed beside you, marking the beginning of a long night of fractured sleep.

The next evening, you find yourself in a sea of black tuxedos and satin gowns, the clink of glasses and low murmurs of conversation filling the ballroom in the Baddingham manor as you celebrate Four Men Went To Mow dominating the winter ratings. Early that morning, Taggie called to hear details from your date with Patrick, revealing that her brother remained mum about the night you’d spent together. You kept it top-line, telling her it was fun and that there was a peck, which was met with squeals from the other end of the phone. Taggie then dished that Patrick had extended his stay in Rutshire and would be attending that night’s festivities, and whatever excitement you held for the party dissipated.

After your date, you’d expected Patrick to return to university, taking whatever fleeting attraction he held for you with him. You found comfort in that, knowing you wouldn’t have to let him down easy and that Taggie would stop prematurely planning your wedding to her brother. Yet, here he is, looking dashing in a three-piece tux and already the life of the party. So, you push any awkwardness aside and focus on the night ahead. Patrick told you he was definitely leaving tomorrow morning—no harm in enjoying his company tonight, right? You can smile, have a bit of fun, try not to think too much about it. The music plays, the conversation flows, and you laugh, genuinely, pretending for a moment that everything is simple. But through it all, you can feel Declan observing the pair of you across the grand hall. No matter the conversations he finds himself amongst, whether it be with board members about his show, or colleagues exchanging gossip about interoffice affairs, a portion of his attention is always attuned to you. He winces every time your laugh rises above the chatter and he’s desperate to know what words his son is crooning to justify such a heavenly sound. There was something in the way you looked at his son — a softness that went beyond polite attention. But who was he kidding? Why wouldn’t you be interested in Patrick? Lizzie was right. Patrick is the right choice, and judging by the smile pinching at your cheeks as you look up at him, a choice you’ve gladly already made.

After two rounds of canapes have made the rounds, Taggie manages to steal a few minutes away from the kitchen to join you and Daysee on the dancefloor for the YMCA, the three of you giggling between the iconic moves as you try to decide which of the Corinium men would be each of the Village People. Despite the low temperature outside, sweat slides down your spine and the hairs framing your face stick to your forehead. “I’m going to get some air!” you shout, gesturing to the doors in case your friends can’t hear you above the music. As the song fades into a Hall and Oates hit, you push through the throng of guests, ignoring the way Tony Baddingham’s eyes rinse over you in your baby blue dress as you pass by him and Freddie Jones in the corridor. When you step outside, the pulse of music and chatter drifts into the cool night, mingling with the quiet conversations and laughter of guests convening among the manicured hedges and flower beds. The air is thick with the scent of damp grass and the faintest trace of woodsmoke pumping from the manor’s chimneys and many roaring fireplaces.

Down the far end of the house, you spot Declan in the shadow of one of the sky-reaching pillars. He’s still, watching the party through the large windows, light from inside flickering softly across his face. It catches the curve of his cheek and the edge of his stubbly jaw in bursts, and battles with the glow of the cigarette he lifts to his lips. Smoke curls up into the night, and only when it shifts does he finally catch sight of you. He doesn’t say a word, just lets the silence stretch between you for a few moments until you ask him, “Are you hiding?”

“Just getting some fresh air,” he says, taking another drag.

“With lungs full of smoke?” you dare.

The cigarette tips towards the sky as Declan smirks. “Watch yourself.” You take the cheeky lilt in his voice as an invitation to join him, your heels echoing off the concrete pavers as you walk. “Are you having fun?” he wants to know when you fall into line beside him.

“Yeah, it’s a great party. I just hope Freddie hasn’t brought that bloody karaoke machine with him,” you say, only half serious.

“I’ll say,” Declan agrees, dark eyes still fixated on the window. Beyond it, Patrick is talking animatedly with a group of six or so guests gathered around him, all of them ogling the young scholar over their drinks like they’re the disciples to his Jesus. As if he’s just relayed the punchline to a joke, his onlookers throw their heads back with laughter, and the man to Patrick’s left claps him on the shoulder, unable to contain himself.

“People are just drawn to him, aren’t they?” Declan wonders out loud. He doesn’t mean it as a test, but he’s curious to see if you open up to him about the night before.

“It’s not hard to see why,” comes your answer, and it’s clear you’re keeping your cards as close to your chest as Patrick.

“He’s a good boy,” Declan forges on, nudging his chin in the direction of his firstborn.

“You told me that boys don’t know what they want.”

“Not my son. He’s known what he wants since he was in the womb."

“And what about you? Do you know what you want?” The question is playful and doesn’t probe in the way you wish you could ask, but it’s enough for Declan to debate answering.

What does he want?

You.

To not want you.

“He likes you a lot, you know," he pivots, as much as the facts pain him.

“Oh, yeah?”

Declan nods. “He was out here not long ago, banging on about your celestial light.” The phrase makes him chuckle while he shakes his cigarette, ash flickering from orange to grey as it drifts to the ground.

“Celestial light?" you scoff, breath turning to fog in the air. "You’re joking. I have about as much celestial light as a flickering lamp post.”

“Don’t do that.” Any amusement in Declan’s voice is gone with those three words.

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down. Make yourself small.”

“I don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t you?" Declan presses, head quirked. You don't fool me, is what he means. "You don't have to do that with Patrick. Don't have to do that with me."

"And the rest of them? I'm not naive enough to think that I'm more than some young thing expected to keep quiet and look pretty. That's just the way it is. All those men in there," you nod towards the sprawling windows that separate you from the party. "They don't think anything of me. They just see me as —"

“Smart? Witty?” Declan interjects, trying to meet your eye as you toe a stray leaf that's blown onto the concrete. “Beautiful as you may be, you have a hell of a lot more going for you. Believe me.” He’s being earnest, you can hear it in the way his voice dips to barely a whisper. In this way, his words are intentional and just for you.

You abandon the leaf in favour of his face. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Be crazy not to."

"Declan..." You don't know where your sentence is going, or why you step towards him, but you do, the confession — as minor as it is — digging into you like a hook and Declan's eyes, pinned to you, reeling you in.

"So, how was your date then?" The question throws up a wall between you. An unscalable, Patrick-shaped wall. A red flush spreads over your chest and blooms up your neck. You don't want to talk about this. Not really. Not with him.

"Patrick didn't tell you?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, is what he said." There's a strangled edge to his voice, a frustration, like his son being cryptic was the most inconvenient thing in the world. "Did you —"

"There you are, Declan!" The voice has you skittering you across the pavement away from Declan, your heart tugging like you're still attached to him by that imaginary hook.

"For fuck’s sake," he mutters, snuffing his cigarette out under his dress shoe as Tony Baddingham saunters towards you, sly smile poisoning his lips.

"And here you are," he croons your name. "Never far from Declan, are you?"

"I told ya, Tony. She's my right hand man," your boss says, and you snuff the smile threatening to crack across your face at the thought that Declan’s talking about you, needing you. He’s trying to sound aloof, but he hates watching Tony sniff you out like a wolf stalking its prey — circling, picking up every subtle scent of your discomfort, eyes glowing with that predatory gleam.

"So, it would seem. I must admit, your show has taken quite a spectacular turn in the ratings since this one's come along," Tony continues, coming to stand beside you. His cool hand slides too comfortably around your bare shoulders, his fingers pressing into your skin with an air of ownership. You flinch and try to mask it with a forced smile, but Tony doesn't seem fazed, chuckling as he leans in closer, eyes trailing down the front of your chest. "This dress is something rather spectacular itself. How did you know blue is my favourite colour?"

"Lucky guess," you tell him, stiffening under the weight of his arm. Declan's jaw tightens, and while he's trying to stay composed, tension radiates from him in violent, crashing waves. Your eyes dart about as you shift uncomfortably — something that doesn't go unnoticed by Declan.

He digs into his pocket, retrieving a small, stainless steel case that he holds out to Tony. "Cigarette?"

"Ah, I told the lady of the house that I would try to quit," Tony explains, referring to his wife, Monica. "But I suppose one never killed anybody." It feels like a tonne has been sloughed off you when Lord Baddingam unravels himself from you, moving towards Declan to light up.

"Thank you," you mouth behind Tony's back, and Declan returns a wink that goes straight to your warm centre.

Inside the house, the party erupts in hoots and cheers as La Bamba starts over the speakers, and you catch sight of Daysee beckoning you back to the dancefloor from the other side of the glass. Tony begins rattling off competitor numbers and other industry secrets well above your pay grade, so you take the opportunity to slip back inside for another champagne, another dance.

Before too long, you’re swept into a conversation with Valerie and Lizzie — well, more Valerie, who is probing you for gossip from within the walls of Corinium. She’s a total fiend for a scandal. You’d heard through the grapevine that she’d told Monica Baddingham about her husband’s sordid rendezvous with Cameron Cook, and no doubt Valerie was well across the fact that Lizzie’s own husband was spending a great deal of time pants down in his dressing room with his co-host.

“Well, there’s got to be something,” Valerie whines when you tell her you tend to keep your nose out of other people’s business.

“Oh, leave her be,” Lizzie tells her before turning to you. “How are you, love? More to the point, how’s Patrick? I heard the two of you went on a date last night.”

Jeez, word travels fast around here, you think.

“You and Declan’s son?” Valerie clarifies, tweeting at the revelation. “Handsome boy, him. God, Declan’s genes are strong, aren’t they?”

The mention of Declan has you searching for him through the windows, and you catch him just in time to see him storm away from Tony, disappearing from view until he barges back into the party with a snarl contorting his mouth. Most of the guests are too drunk to notice him stalking through the ballroom, or swipe a glass of whiskey off the tray of a waiter in one brisk snatch he doesn’t even slow down for.

“Oh, God,” Lizzie mutters, turning away from Declan as he shoves past your trio, the sleek material of his jacket scraping across your upper arm.

You call after him to no avail before Lizzie touches your wrist lightly, shaking her head. “Leave him, darling.”

“Why?” you ask, searching her face for some shred of a clue. “Lizzie, what’s happened?”

“You didn’t hear it from me —”

“Oh, don’t start with that,” Valerie squawks, her cockney twang exacerbated by alcohol. “The whole bloody country’s already read about it in the paper this morning.”

“For God’s sake, read what?”

“Declan’s wife — Maud — well, she’s got some big flashy part in some famous play in the city,” Valerie is all too excited to tell you, while Lizzie takes far too much interest in the ice melting at the bottom of her empty glass. “Three month run if it all goes to plan, the article said.”

“At least,” Lizzie finally pipes up, crimson colouring her face immediately after. “Poor Declan.”

Yes, poor Declan.

Taggie and Patrick, who are dancing to a completely different song to the one that’s playing, are none the wiser that their father’s just come barrelling through here like a bull in a china shop. And, given that Taggie’s yet to mention anything about her estranged mother, your bet is that they have no idea about her new role, either. Your heart breaks for your best friend, for all of them, which is why you trail after Declan once Lizzie and Valerie have found another unsuspecting guest to pry information from.

The first few doors you try are no-gos: an office space that looks rather untouched, a sitting room decked out with floral upholstery complete with a couple you’ve never met going at it on a sofa, and an ornate guest bathroom. It’s not until the fifth door that you find Declan looking forlorn in the Baddingham’s library. He’s sprawled out in a dark armchair, tall frame filling it out. Legs spread like he’s waiting for someone to kneel between them.

“Hey,” you say quietly, closing the door softly behind you.

His voice is groggy with liquor when he responds, “Where’s Patrick?”

“Dancing with Taggie, I think. It’s nice seeing them together, I know she’s missed him,” you tell him, adding, “You’ve raised some good kids.”

Declan scoffs. “Dunno how. Workaholic father, absentee mother with a chronic wandering eye.”

Your stomach dips. “I heard about Maud. Are you okay?”

“So, everyone’s talking about it.” He sinks impossibly lower into the chair, its leather whining as he splays his arms out to his sides. The whiskey in his hand splashes over the edge of his glass with the movement. “Am I okay? What’s it look like to you?”

He looks like shit, inky hair disheveled from raking a frantic hand through it, but the frustration already emanating from him stops you from voicing it. The man just found out his wife has no intention of returning home anytime soon. The least you can do is give him some grace.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Declan snaps. “And I shouldn’t be discussing this with you. It’s…” he ponders on the right word before settling on, “Inappropriate.”

You drag your bottom lip between your teeth. “Because I’m Taggie’s friend?”

He laughs incredulously. “Yeah, because you’re Taggie’s friend. You’re my employee. You’re…” He gestures haphazardly in your direction.

“I’m…?” you prompt, taking a few trepid steps towards him.

Insatiable. Infallible. Interminable. Indomitable. How could he ever settle on just one?

“Insufferable,” Declan eventually mutters, chasing the confession with a slow swig of his drink.

It’s your turn to laugh now. “I’m insufferable? I’m not the one that’s stalked off to sulk and—” You stop, shake your head. “Actually, I’m not going to argue this with you. If you want to sit in here alone instead of spending time with people who actually care about you, people who are actually here, so be it.” After shooting Declan a pointed look, you stalk to the door, but there’s a buzz in your veins that knows you’re not ready to let up just yet, so you turn on your heel to face him again. “And I don’t need you telling me what is and isn’t appropriate. Your moral compass is far too gone for that.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Declan wants to know, sitting a little more upright in his seat.

“You’re kidding, right? I heard you, you know. The other night. Saying my name while you were touching yourself.” Declan’s whiskey glass freezes at his lips, black eyes locked on you. “Not very appropriate considering I’m Taggie’s friend. Your employee,” you confess, throwing his reasons for not opening up to you back in his face. Your chest heaves with shallow breaths, like spilling the secret of you watching Declan come undone has stolen every bit of viable air from your burning lungs. You half expect him to deny it, but his face is blank, and his silence is aggravating. Time, what feels like minutes, stretches between the two of you, gazes set on one another while you silently duel across the library.

“Nothing to say, Declan?” you press. “That’s a first.”

Leather ripples through the room as he stands, abandoning his glass on a side table before stalking towards you. He doesn’t stop until you’re toe to toe and your back presses into the cool wood of the door. Whiskey, aftershave and a lick of sweat consumes you as Declan regards you down his nose. “Like I said,” he croaks. “You’re insufferable.”

Your jaw unhinges as you go to bite back at him, to tell him that he’s the one making things unbearable, but then he tuts, jabbing his forefinger into his chest. “You’ve said enough. It’s my turn to speak.

“Hiring you is up there with the worst things I’ve ever done, and believe me, love, I’ve done a lot of shitty things. That night in the hot tub? Ruined me for all I’m worth. I can’t go to sleep without seeing you. Can’t go to work without wondering what it’d be like to bend you over the desk. Can’t bear to watch you bat those fucking eyes of yours at Rupert or Bas or Patrick. Then there’s Maud…” His eyes slip shut as he speaks, a small shake of his head revealing shame eroded in the space between his unruly eyebrows. “Every moment she pulls away from me is a moment that pushes me closer to you, and I hate it,” he confesses. “And seeing you with Patrick is fucking eating me alive, because what kind of man — what kind of married man — wishes the worst on his son over a woman that he has no claim over?”

“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“Jealous,” Declan repeats. He can only laugh. “Did you fuck him?”

You pull back, head softly ricocheting off the wood behind you. “Did I— you can’t be serious, Declan.” “Answer the question. Did. You. Fuck. Him?”

“Of course not!”

“No?” He sounds surprised, and you’re almost offended.

“No!” you spit. The thump of muffled music vibrates through the door, matching your heart trying to break free from your chest.

“Why not?”

“Declan, stop—”

“No, tell me,” he probes, hot breath fanning over your face. “Is it because he’s not smart enough for ya? Not manly enough?” You divert your gaze, blurred vision locking onto some benign object in the distance, because you don’t trust yourself to keep looking at Declan. You can’t tell what his angle is, whether he’s jealous at the attention you’re getting from other men, or annoyed that you’re not interested in his son. Eventually, he cocks his head to meet your sightline, finger coming to your chin to turn you to face him. “Tell me why you didn’t fuck him.”

“Because he’s not you!” It flies out of your mouth before you have the sense to stop it, breath catching in the back of your throat as you await Declan’s next move. The energy caught in the mere inches between you continues to crackle, but the fire burning under him seems to have subsided as his shoulders fall from their tense fixture, his suit jacket sagging with his muscles. He looks down at you with heavy eyelids. He’s tired. So fucking tired. Of pretending he doesn’t miss Maud, that he doesn’t want you. That of both those unspoken truths piled together makes him feel like a right failure as a husband, as a father, as a boss. He was already broken, and your admission was the final crack that made him shatter.

Shaky hands come to cover your mouth, a barrier to keep any more secrets from polluting the fragile silence that hangs heavy between you. Declan shuffles back, just a hairbreadth. He’s got his head viced, one hand through his hair and the other gripping his jaw. “Fucking hell.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Even if it’s the truth?” He’s just barely looking at you, sheepish. Like he’s waiting for permission. Or a denial. The torture draining the colour from his face is making it hard to tell what’s going on in that gorgeous head of his.

“It’s not fair. On either of us.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t fair. None of this is fair.” He’s back at you, crowding you against the door, one large dress shoe pitched between your platform heels. You’re certain that if he took one deep breath, his belt buckle would make impressions on your stomach. You can see the indentations in his lips, the miniscule patch of dry skin at the corner. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? I’ve exercised more restraint in the last month than I’ve ever had to in my life. You’re fucking ruining me.”

The disclosure has thinned his voice to barely a whisper. Heat bubbles low in your stomach, the pull of wanting to close the gap between you warring with the consequence you know wait for you both if you give in. Still, the way he’s staring at you, with wounded eyes like twin black holes, how could you ever stand a chance?

It’s why you let another confession slip, for better or for worse.

“You think I don’t feel it, too?”

Declan reaches to tuck your hair behind your ear, his hand trailing back to caress your cheek. The minute he touches you, your whole body goes lax, completely pliable for him. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, and you can practically taste the liquor on his tongue. Black eyes zigzag across your features while his palm moves to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb meeting the swell of your bottom lip.

“This okay?” You only nod because you don’t have the strength, the gall, to betray Taggie by vocalising how desperately you want her father to keep touching you in ways you’ve only dreamed about.

“Need to hear you say it,” he urges. “Gotta make sure you really want this.”

He has no fucking idea how much you do.

“Please,” is all you manage to muster before an animalistic growl scrapes up the back of his throat and Declan O’Hara is kissing you in a way that’s going to screw you up forever.

You’re folding like the world’s flimsiest house of cards the moment his mouth hits yours, all teeth and tongues, whiskey, tobacco and him. If it weren’t for him scooping an arm around your waist to hold you to him, you’d be in a heap on the floor. Declan’s faint grunts resonate around your tongue as his own explores your mouth with fervent jabs, only breaking the erratic rhythm to suck your lip so sensually it peels a whimper from you. His arm is scorching against the bare skin that sits above the low-cut back of your dress. His hips flex into yours, and you feel the cool metal of his belt through satin. Then you feel it. His hard length, constricted by his suit trousers, pressing to your stomach. Excitement and desire pulse through you, the feeling of his arousal against you intoxicating, knowing you’re the cause.

“Ya feel that, darlin’? Feel what you do to me?” Declan asks, each word heavy with need and muffled into your neck, tongue flickering over the salty skin there. Your hands twist into his curls while he sucks a kiss into your collarbone. It pulls blood to the surface, most likely noticeable, but you don’t care. Not when Declan branding you feels so fucking good. After a few good moments, he pulls back to take you in, his lips puffy from working over your decolletage. His eyes skim over your face, drinking in every detail — the pale lipstick smeared around your mouth, your glassy eyes, the pink flush staining your cheeks.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “So fucked out for me already.” Any shame that previously coloured Declan’s features has evaporated, the pity drowning his eyes flushed out by incessant need. He kisses you again, though it’s not so much a kiss as it’s a collision, only slowing down his movements once he’s confident this isn’t one of his fleeting, filthy dreams. It’s been so long since another person has kissed you like this, touched you like this. It’s everything Patrick’s kiss wasn’t, intimate and intentional despite the roaring laughter and music on the other side of the wall.

Declan’s large hand leaves your hip and you immediately miss it as his fingers brush over the cool doorknob. They don’t linger, there’s no hesitation before the click of the lock vibrates through you. You don’t hear it, though. Not over your pulse thrumming in your ears. It’s a purposeful, unspoken decision to shut out everything but the heat building between you, then his hand is back at your waist, pinning you in place against the wood. The other grazes down your body until he reaches the hem of your dress, sliding it up your leg until he has it gathered in a pool of azure at your hip. Your breathing hitches at the feeling of his skin on your hip bone. Under the flood of material, Declan’s fingers find the waistband of your underwear, thumb trilling over the flimsy lace holding your thong together. Your breaths mingle, lips barely grazing while his mind runs ragged with thoughts of what colour the garment is. Black to match that sinful bra you wore to your interview? Red like the pair you were wearing in his dream last night? He hooks a finger under the elastic, pulling the panties away from your body then letting them go so they snap against your skin. You let out a sharp gasp at the sting but he’s already soothing it, one step ahead of what you’re needing.

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so fucking long,” he groans. His hand finds its way under the lace material again to glide over the bulb of your arse, kneading the flesh there.

“Declan,” you whine, jutting your hips into his, desperate for friction.

“What’s that, darlin’?” Even with your eyes clamped shut you know he’s smirking, relishing in your neediness. You arch forward again but he’s far stronger than you, his brawniness keeping you in place. “If you want something, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Please,” you sigh, following up with a strangled, “Touch me.”

Declan wastes no time in finding you bundle of nerves, but as soon as he’s there, it’s like time slows to an excruciating speed, his fingers featherlight over the thin material. You’re already soaked. Have been since he started berating you about how much him wanting you was fucking him up. Declan knows it too, groaning as he applies more pressure, your slick seeping around the pad of his finger.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he grunts. “Is all this f’me?” Your head cants incessantly, mind and heart and pussy chanting more, more, more. But it doesn’t come. He just holds his finger to you, steady, waiting, like a finger on the trigger of a gun. The only relief you’re getting is from you squirming under his touch, and even then, it’s just not hitting in the way you know Declan could if he would just. Move.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest and as sexy as it sounds on a regular day, under the circumstances, it almost has you seeing red. “Oh, there she is,” Declan says when you finally look at him. “Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” His eyes are glued to yours, half-lidded with a grin tugging under his moustache. It’s not a challenge. It’s a promise. He has you right where he wants you, and you can feel it in the air, thick with his quiet confidence. Your mouth goes slack when Declan removes his finger from the outside of your underwear, instead using it to push the material aside, granting himself full access to your swollen centre. Then it’s back to square one: unhurried, languid movements as he traces your folds. Up and around, not once sliding over your clit despite your unintelligible splutterings begging him to do so. Declan’s lips fall back over yours with a quiet, charged kiss as his hand comes to cup your mound completely, his tongue seeking purchase against your own. You stay like that for a moment, tongues battling each other, his hand covering your pussy like he already owns it. Every single one of your nerve endings is alight, every inch of your skin acutely aware of his presence as his moustache grazes your top lip, as his middle finger ever so slightly dips between your folds. Then finally, finally, he slides a thick finger into you and you clench around him, the unfiltered pleasure enough to never want to be without the feeling of him inside you again. You both moan, the sound disappearing into your kiss, your hand disappearing into his hair, holding him to you.

The hard peaks of your nipples create little blue buds against your dress, and they rub against Declan’s chest while he drags his finger from your body, in and out, in and out, each movement as deliciously slow as the last.

After a minute, he breaks your kiss, letting his forehead rest against your own. “You’re so tight,” he grits, adding another finger despite his observation. The new addition allows the palm of his hand to jut against your clit, and the friction almost has you levitating. “Oh, you like that, huh?” Declan teases, pushing into you harder, faster. The change in pace has you jerking like a live wire. Totally unhinged, the world feels like it’s spinning off its axis, more dangerously the longer he keeps that unforgiving pace. All this pent up frustration and teasing and longing bucks you closer to the edge, pins and needles edging their way from your toes up your body until—

Knock knock knock.

The door thumps into your back, scaring your orgasm away with it. Declan’s fingers freeze inside you, your clit pulsating against his palm, your eyes locked on one another as you will away the intrusion. The doorknob jostles next and all you can think is thank God Declan locked it when he did.

“‘S occupied!” he growls.

“Dad? Is that you?” Patrick.

The whites of your eyes blow out as you glare at Declan, panicked by the arrival of his son — your date, not twenty-four hours earlier — as you conjugate just mere inches away. Declan lifts his free hand to his lips, pressing a single finger into the supple flesh. Shh.

“Dad? Are you in here?” Patrick asks again, trying the door for a second time.

“Yeah, son. You alright?” Declan responds, and your eyes go impossibly wider at him answering while his fingers are still buried in your pussy. While his steely length presses into the crease between your thigh and crotch.

“Are you alright? You’ve been gone a while.”

Declan’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving a devilish smile in its wake. “Everything’s grand,” he drawls, fingers slipping out of you to stake claim on your clit. The subtle movement yanks a gasp from you, a mix of embarrassment and arousal pumping through you as Declan begins to trace circles there. You’re caught between wanting to disappear and wanting more as Declan keeps talking, Irish accent laden with lust. “Just needed a few minutes to myself. Needed to…” he pauses, licking a stripe up the side of your neck before latching his teeth onto your earlobe for a hair of a second, “Decompress.”

“Mmm,” you moan, too loudly, because Declan claps a hand over your mouth to keep any more desperate sounds slipping from under the door. There’s a moment pause, and you panic, thinking you’ve given the pair of you away, but then Patrick is chattering away again, asking after you.

“Have you seen her? Could’ve sworn she came down this way.”

“Nope,” Declan lies, picking up pace as he strums your clit, like he’s getting off on holding a conversation while trying to take you to the brink of no return. “Haven’t seen her.”

The knot in your stomach mounts again, your whole body buzzing at high frequency. Patrick says something else, a goodbye, you think, but for all you know he could be speaking gibberish, the rush of blood to your ears blocking out anything that’s not Declan.

The slight savour of sweat he’s worked up and how it tangoes with the cigarette smoke still lingering on his suit jacket.

How his mouth hangs slightly open, his tongue resting loosely against his bottom row of teeth, completely dumb for you.

The grunt wrapped in a sigh that pushes out of him when he plows two thickset fingers inside you again, and the matching moan you hum into the palm of his hand, the metal of his wedding ring cool against your upper lip.

“You’re making me crazy,” he says lowly. “Turnin’ me into someone who steals his son’s girl.” Your response comes out distorted, muffled against his skin. Declan’s hand slips from your mouth, finding its way to the nape of your neck and tangling its fingers into the frizzy hair there, the slight tension making your scalp tingle. “You got something to say, darlin’?”

“Not… his… girl,” you pant, words punctuated by Declan pumping his fingers impossibly deeper into your cunt.

“You’re damn right you’re not his girl.”

The subtext is clear. You’re not Patrick’s. You’re his. The feminist in you should balk at the insinuation but who are you kidding? Every stolen glance. Every car ride. Every solo orgasm you’ve yanked from yourself in the dead of night to the thought of him. Everything has led you to this.

Your mascara flakes over the apples of your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, Declan’s fingers expertly twisting and careening until the coil in the pit of your stomach is wound so tight you think you’re going to crack in two.

“Fuck, Declan,” you mewl, gripping his biceps to keep yourself steady. “So close.”

“Look at me, love. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come.”

You could’ve fallen apart at those words alone, but you do what Declan says, gaze fluttering to his face as the butt of his hand against your clit works in tandem with his fingers until there’s a sharp and sudden snap, breaking you apart in a violent burst.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” your expletives are swaddled by his hand yet again, eyes pricking with tears as you chase your high. Even through the blur, you see Declan grinning down at you with pride, nodding, quietly egging you on.

“That’s it, darlin’. Good. Good girl,” he whispers, thumb at the back of your head stroking tiny circles while his opposite fingers slow down with your breathing. It’s only when you stop convulsing completely that he drops his hand from your face. Your feet scream in pain as you come back to yourself, the weight of digging your heels in to keep you upright making itself known. Meanwhile, Declan slips himself from you, gently rearranging your underwear over your folds and allowing the skirt of your dress to float back down your legs. He shuffles backwards, allowing you space to gather yourself, to ground yourself, breaths still shaky as you step away from the door you’d come to be far too intimate with. You don’t speak, not yet, just watch as Declan peers down at his right hand that’s glistening with your slick, then to his left hand, where his wedding band glints under the library’s chandelier.

“Are you—” okay, is what you intend to ask, but Declan cuts you off, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

“I should go find Taggie and Patrick. Can’t have them hearing about their mum through some idle party gossip,” he says, voice steady but marred with a tinge of uncertainty, as if he’s trying to make sense of everything. He maneuvers around you awkwardly, all that cockiness from moments ago melted away. He pauses at the door, the heavy silence between you so palpable. His hand rests on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn it. “This was…” he trails off, eyes searching the room for the right word.

"Yeah," is all you can manage, because you can’t find the words either. For how he just made you feel like every single one of your synapses was on fire. For the way he's treating you now, all cool and distant, like he's casually asking you to grab him a coffee. Declan forces a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and nods. Just once, stiff. With one final glance, he slips out of sight, laughter and clinking glasses and whumping music replacing Declan in the room before the door clicks closed behind him. And almost immediately, you feel irrelevant and unsure of what to do next. At least, you think it best to let a few minutes pass before you leave the library, so you shuffle over to the large mirror hanging above the fireplace to take in your dishevelled form. You look utterly wrecked, all puffy lips and smudged mascara. All at the hands of Declan O’Hara.

Oh, God, you think, doing your best to wipe away the fallout of the last twenty minutes from your face. What have we done?

When you’re satisfied that you don’t look like…well, like your boss just plied an orgasm from you, you trace Declan’s footsteps and step back into the party, hoping to go unnoticed by the sparse guests mingling around you. Just when you think you’ve escaped unscathed, you catch Rupert’s eye at the end of the hallway — sharp, knowing. He tilts his glass of champagne towards you, slight smirk with the quiet gesture. It’s not a greeting, but an acknowledgement, and you wonder if he saw Declan leave the library, too.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!!!! Let me know in the comments what you think, and what you predict might happen next?!

Previous chapters: Chapter 1: The Interview, Chapter 2: Beneath The Surface, Chapter 3: Driving Miss Crazy

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