#Like since when did rugged features get so looked down upon

[travelbystarlight]

people stop trying to bishonen up Baldurs’s Gate characters challenge. They’re already hot looking normal. Not everyone in the game needs to be the ‘pinnacle of beauty standards’ Let my boyfriend be ugly jeez!!!

[leggerefiore]

Misplaced Emotions

cw: unhealthy relationship, dark content, suicide attempt, self-harm, angst, comfort, pokehybrid au, Hoopa Lear

pairing: Lear/Reader

just making it clear to read with the content warnings in mind.

Your ship had wrecked, leaving only you to float along at sea on the debris that you held on to for dear life. Everything inside you burned with exhaustion as the sun baked down on you. The ocean was more like desert, and you had begun to wonder if you would die painfully. Perhaps letting go and slipping beneath the waves would be a better fate than dying of thirst in the scorching sun. Finally, your consciousness slipped away and you pondered whether you would ever awaken.

You did.

You laid on a beach surrounded by strange, unknown people. The debris you had clung to laid beside you. Those who hovered around were normal in your deprived mind, but a second glance let you take in more and more features. Hybrids. You swallowed. There was nothing you personally had against them, but you were not going to pretend you had not heard stories of feral hybrids attacking humans brutally. Were you on some uninhabited island? The clothes of hybrids seemed quite modern and fashionable, though. You could not even speak. Your throat was so dry.

The crowd around you split when a loud voice called out. You forced yourself to sit up as you watched a lavishly dressed man approach. Horns spread out from his head, which had golden rings sitting on both. A similar ring also engulfed his waist. You blinked. “A human…” his eyes were hidden behind opaque shades, “… Hmm…” He held his chin in deep thought. Another hybrid. Your brain rushed with questions about where this was, but the man spoke again. “Killing you feels like a waste,” he said simply. You felt yourself almost collapse from shock. He chuckled at your reactions and laid his foot on your stomach while leaning down. “Truly a waste… Alright, I'll make an exception in the execution order,” he snapped his fingers. Everyone nodded. “This human may live…” His grin felt malicious, “As my personal pet.”

It was then you realised there were truly worse fates than dying at sea.

~

You were paraded around like some object for scorn. A collar was forced upon you to wear as orders were given to you. It was quite similar to how hybrids were often treated in other societies. You had never found that quite right yourself, and now you found yourself even more opposed. The man who had forced this role onto you was the king of this island, Lear. A Hoopa hybrid. You knew little about them except that they were quite fond of tricks. Lear certainly seemed to be a fan of embarrassing you. While you were technically also just a servant, you were viewed as completely beneath the other ones that worked in the castle. Abuse and ridicule were a common thing for you.

Maids frequently served you bad food or tampered with it in some way. Your clothing was always in horrible condition, too. Everyone seemed to look at you and chuckle, knowing that you were the lowest being on this entire island. When you messed up, aggressive chiding was to follow. You were belittled for being incompetent and routinely useless. Insults were hurled near constantly for any little reason. And, worst of all, some even dared get physical. The trauma of being knocked to the floor and kicked like a rolled up rug haunted your mind. It only stopped when a head servant appeared and told off the assailant. The Honchkrow hybrid had helped you to your feet and checked you for any injuries. He excused you from your duties for the rest of that day, too. It was the only kindness you had been shown since washing up on Pasio's shores.

From everything you saw, it was a paradise for hybrids. A place for them to be without judgement or pain. You were the only human unlucky enough to end up here. Most others were killed. Why you had been spared felt like something far more cruel. This society openly despised you. In truth, you began to wonder what lied ahead for you. More suffering, certainly. It was only a few months in when it started. Mysterious wounds that aroused questions from a few others. You kept your head low and presence small. Eventually, Lear would grow tired of you and toss you aside.

Except, he seemed to never be any less entertained by you. The collar around your neck was nothing but a sign that you had become a pet to him. Having a human under his heel (sometimes literally) was entertainment for him. He truly hated humans, but something so pitiful about you led to a certain sadism from him. He wanted to see you in pain.

Which is what led to you standing on the very same shore you washed up on late at night. It had been exceedingly difficult to escape the castle while going unnoticed, but you had managed it. Now, you had your escape.

You had been meant to die when your ship had wrecked. This was only you embracing the fate you had run from. Stepping into the waters, you shuddered at their icy kiss. You closed your eyes and let the waves take you out further from the land.

~

Your “freedom” was short-lived. Before you could even comprehend it, your eyes opened to a certain Umbreon hybrid maid giving you CPR. You lied on the floor of the throne rook as Lear glared down at you. Water sputtered out of you. The maid stood up and averted her gaze. A ring was grasped in the king's hand.

“There's not any escape,” he said simply, “I don't know what you were expecting.” You felt your eyes burn from both the sting of salt water and tears. A scoff left him. “You should be honoured,” he placed the ring back on one of his horns, “I could have just killed you. Maybe I should have.” You struggled to your feet. There was nothing you could do, was there? A weep left you.

“Then do it,” you demanded, “Kill me.”

He tensed up. His face twisted into a frown. “Absolutely not,” he refused.

You wanted to attack him to force his hand, but your head just fell. Exhaustion was consuming you. Lear ordered the Honchkrow hybrid who had helped you previously to take you to the servant's quarter. He led you away following Lear's demands.

The large man gazed at you with a strange gentleness. He shook his head. “I'm terribly sorry,” he simply said, “… I wish His Majesty would realise this is him misplacing his aggression.” You blinked. His aggression? What did that mean?! Your expression prompted him to continue. “… Did you know that our Queen, his mother, was human?” You felt your stomach twist. “… Her passing was truly a tragedy. How it has effected the young master should be plain to see,” He sighed, “It may be painful, but please try to live…” A large hand gently came to support your weight. “I think only someone like you can save him from this fate,” the Honchkrow hybrid begged.

You wanted to scream.

~

“… Those injuries,” the voice of Lear caught you off-guard, “How did you get them?” He caught your wrist and eyed them from behind his sunglasses. You flinched. The head servant's words swirled around in your mind. How did you answer that? Your lack of an answer vexed him. “Did another servant do this?” he demanded, “I want names. They should know better than to attack you. Sawyer already told me of one incident.”

You flinched. He actually seemed angry at the thought of you being hurt. Lear cocked a brow up, clearly waiting once again for your response. “… It's not from anyone,” you replied, not wanting to explain how you got them. He seemed more frustrated by that, however.

“Then how did you get them?” he demanded. You could not meet his eyes. His grip on your wrist was tight enough to constrict blood flow. Silence still came from you. A sigh left him. “… It seems Sawyer was correct then,” he released you and crossed his arms to his chest, “Apparently I'm pushing you too far.” You felt stricken. Someone was… advocating for you?

“Fine, then, I order you to cease these activities at once,” he snapped his finger, “Your master's orders are final.” You wanted to sigh yourself. His hand came back to grasp your chin. “… No one is to lay a hand on you either,” his voice was low this time, “If anyone dares, tell me right away. I'll handle it.”

He walked off before you could try to question what that meant.

~

You stared awkwardly at the large painting of a woman. It had been under a sheet within a storage room you had been ordered to tidy up. She was truly beautiful… A visage of elegance. Within her arms was a bundle of blankets. A tiny face with nubs of horns on their head told you exactly who it was. It seemed Sawyer had not lied. Lear's mother was a human. A man stood behind her, clearly Lear's father. You wondered what happened to her. Her death must have been tragic.

Your contemplation left you unaware of the world around you. Someone had walked into the room, seeing you simply staring at the painting. It was only as a hand came upon your shoulder that you realised that another had joined you. Turning around, you saw Lear. His sunglasses were off, revealing his eyes. Your gazes were locked together for a moment.

“… You shouldn't be in here,” he said simply.

“I was ordered to tidy up this storage room,” you shot back. Lear's expression became something more exhausted. He shook his head.

“What is their name?” he sounded tired already, “… I don't understand what they get from this.” You told him the name of the head servant you had received your duties from. He seemed annoyed even more. Stepping around you, he gazed at the painting. “… Humans killed my mother,” he said simply, “They brutally took her life because she dared protect me and love my father.” His gaze was harsh as it landed on you. Something inside you felt like it was sinking. Of course… His aggression. Misplaced. His eyes were tired. “Why do you look upset?”

“… I'm sorry,” you said simply, “That's horrible. No one deserves that.” It was generic, but you felt confused as to how it had happened. Pasio lacked humans, after all. His face twisted into a grimace.

“I can't stand this,” he stood up, “Follow me out of here at once. You aren't ever to enter this area again. I will be having a talk with that other servant.”

You almost swore he sounded vulnerable.

~

“… Eat,” Lear's voice carried over the dining hall. You had been called in and ordered to sit at the table. The food in front of you was far nicer than anything you had since becoming trapped on Pasio. It felt like a test. You resisted until his gaze narrowed. “… You haven't been eating properly. Eat.” It was then that you finally began to try the food tentatively. The flavour was truly the best. Soon, you began to eat like you had never been fed before. Lear engaged with his own meal. By the time you finish, he still had well over half his meal left.

He wiped his mouth, “… You will be sharing meals with me once a day.” You blinked. “… I have been informed your food has been tampered with. What kind of master would I be if I failed to make sure that you were fed?” Your mind raced. He had learnt of that… “So, we will be sharing a meal.” You nodded. It… It did not sound so bad. His eating continued in relative silence. You enjoyed the break from your duties as best as you could.

~

Things felt better.

Slowly, life had become bearable. Sure, you were still at the bottom of pecking order among castle servants, but it became understood that you were not to be otherwise harmed in any sort of way. Your presence became something ignored rather than filled with scorn. Work continued on, but Lear seemed more personable. It was becoming something you would dare even say you could live with.

Until, one day, after having your daily meal with Lear, a Bisharp maid pinned you to a wall and placed her blade to your neck. You could not even scream as she pressed it into your flesh and hissed for you not to make a sound. “You're corrupting His Majesty,” she said simply, “… I need to stop you.” You wanted to struggle as the knife began to press into your skin. Your mind went blank. Why? After everything was improving… Her other blade was dug into your side.

This really was the end. Your closed your eyes and hoped it would be quick.

Yet, it never came. One moment, there were blades pressed into you, and the next, there was nothing but air in front of you. Lear stood nearby, holding one of his rings. His eyes were large and filled with rage. You fell forward onto your knees to cry. He rushed to your side, eyeing your wounds. Blood trickled from your neck. An order was barked out from him to someone. You were brought to his private quarters and laid on his bed. Sawyer came and applied gauze to help with the bleeding. You were ordered to remain in bed.

Lear took in uneven breaths. He grasped your chin and stared deeply into your eyes.

“… I'm sorry,” he said simply, “I've done this to you.”

You felt tears burning your eyes. What was this?

“… Let me return you to your old life,” he brought out a ring, “… I can see you will know nothing but pain here.”

“… I don't want to go back…” You mumbled. Your old life… was it better? Lear dropped the ring, utterly stunned into silence. You grasped his hand. “… I… I want to stay here…”

“Really?”

“Yes…”

He sighed. His gaze was oddly soft.

“… I can't let you stray from my side any more…” His hand held your own tightly, “… You really don't understand, do you?” He suddenly met your gaze with a burning intensity. “Are you certain that you wish to stay here?” You nodded. He brought his hand from your hold to comb it through his hair. “…” Suddenly, his hands came forward to undo the collar around your neck. “I relieve you of your duties and role…” He let it fall to the floor. You were shocked when he suddenly cupped your cheek and brought his forehead to your own.

“… Become my lover,” he mumbled, “You can deny me if this is truly too painful. What I have done is unforgivable.”

Somehow, you let yourself say yes.

~

“… So, is it tradition to have at least one human monarch?” you asked Lear while laying your head in his lap. He was reading over a review of an event that he had planned. Life had truly changed. Overnight, you went from the lowest rung in society to the highest. It was clear this decision was not supported, but Lear refused to back down. The king orders were absolute. The servants were still not allowed to be alone with you, barring two of his retainers. You lived luxury like no other – The Hoopa hybrid spared in expense in your happiness. So desperately, he wanted to repay you for the pain he had caused you. Oftentimes, you found him sobbing and clinging to you, pleading for forgiveness. You both still had much work to do, yet a genuine relationship somehow had formed.

“… My father built this kingdom for my mother and I,” he replied, “It was supposed to be a paradise where humans and hybrids to live together as equals.” The document was placed down. He sighed. “… My mother would be disappointed in me. How could I lose sight of that?” He brought a hand to stroke your hair. “Darling…” You sighed at the pet name. Sawyer's words finally made sense. Saving him… “I'm sorry–”

You leaned up and kissed him to silence him. Pulling away, you stared into his eyes. “I've forgiven you,” you reminded him, “… You made a big show of how much you loved a human even at the expense of your own reputation.” The wedding had truly been grand. It left no room for doubt with what you were to him.

He became suddenly determined.

“I need to do more,” Lear's eyes went back to the event report, “… Won't you help me?”

Naturally, you would.

[good-realtor-bad-realtor-dynamic]

I finally caught up with Succession over the course of this week. In fact, I literally finished S3E9 a few hours ago and I'm still completely thunderstruck.

I actually started season one a few weeks ago but struggled getting past the first few episodes. I reckon it took the writers a few episodes to settle on the tone of the show, to hone in on the correct balance between comedy and drama, and to identify the strengths of their cast so they could write them into the characters.

Once I made it to S1E6 though, I was hooked, and by season two, I was laughing, sobbing, seething and getting my heart broken, all in equal measure, because somehow showrunner Jesse Armstrong had managed to elevate the stories, the dialogue and the characters, and somehow Jeremy Strong had found new and interesting ways to complicate his portrayal of Ken, the only financebro sonofabillionaire loser on tv to have ever broken me, before his brother Rome joined the club, by reaching heretofore undiscovered depths in Pathetic Failure acting...

I was so ready for season three to fall short of the standards set by its predecessor, but it didn't. It may have been slow going in the middle for a bit there, but by the end, all I can think is what a ride. I don't know how it matched them, perhaps even exceeded them, but it did. At the beginning of this season, "Relevant Donuts" planted the idea that what we really want is to see the siblings together on the same side, taking down their father. So when the season finale finally pays that off, and we start to feel hopeful even a little proud of our trio for overcoming their father's machinations, only to have the rug pulled out from under us all in that Godfather betrayal — I'm still reeling. It was not shocking that Tom would do that, given everything he'd been put through, but I'm still shocked. And that is some brilliant writing.

I fully understand now why Charlie and Glenn were so in awe of Matthew Macfadyen's acting range and his seemless transitions from the most ridiculous comedy to most affecting drama (in a conversation from one of those early video episodes of the Sunny podcast). I've only known him from his fantastic performance as Mr Darcy in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film, and Tom Wambsgans couldn't be further away from that role.

I have so many thoughts about how charming yet sneaky and two-faced Greg the Egg was all along, how that social climbing nature was developed, and how fascinating his dynamic with Tom is, especially as a parallel to the Tom/Shiv marriage. I despise everything that people like Shiv and Roman stand for and yet I can't help feeling so sorry for them as they stand before their father, looking for his love and approval, only to be ruthlessly dismissed, used and humiliated. I don't remember the last time I hated a character more than I do Logan Roy for his manipulative behaviour and the cruel ways he makes his children compete for his affection while claiming to act from a place of paternal benevolence. I can't say enough about Kendall, Siobhan, Roman, Tom, Greg, Logan, Gerri, Frank, Marcia, Hugo and just the whole bloody cast of characters and actors on this show.

As always, the "Jesse Armstrong and Armando Iannucci Uncomfortable Satirical Comedy Universe" of shows and films about fucked-up people, usually in positions of power, does not miss. I'm going to try not to be very annoying about this on my Sunny blog, but hey, it's my blog, so I might actually, at least in the near future since season four is nearly upon us. But I'm also a lazy bastard who hates hitting Post on their drafts. So who knows.

Anyway, I'm likely going to be the obnoxious friend who quotes this show like I do with Sunny and The Sopranos with my mates all the time now. It's already begun irl and I don't think I'll be able to stop anytime soon.

Excuse me while I go down a rabbit-hole of videos featuring the writers and cast of this show now. Maybe Jesse Armstrong will somewhere explain his brain to me.

[nxrthmizu]

happy birthday — tsukishima kei

pairing | tsukishima kei x reader

genre | fluff

w.c | 1.6k

↪ part two of this

second chance // an opportunity to try something again after failing one time

tsukishima kei wasn't expecting anyone. sure, it was his birthday, but he did have work the next day, and wasn't very keen on drinking himself senseless into the witching hour.

since yamaguchi, his mother, and akiteru had taken it upon themselves to inform half of japan of his birthdate, kei had just spent the past four hours repeating 'thank you' to people ranging from his junior high schoolmates and strangers he had never met. he was certain that 99% of the players involved with the japan volleyball league had shown up, much to the amazement of his museum colleagues.

the bell rings for the third time, and kei is suddenly hyperaware of how annoying the sound is. he had just sat down, for goodness's sake— was it too much to ask for one minute of rest?

with his socializing energy at an all-time-low, kei nearly tears the door off his hinges, greeting his unwelcome visitor with a fierce snarl. "what do you want—" the words clamp down on his throat, breaking his airflow for a whole five seconds as he stares, utterly floored. "... y/n?"

"...hey?" you look sheepish, holding a small, one-cake-slice-sized box in your hand. he's known you long enough to know that you did your makeup on the fly— the tremble of your eyeliner is a sure giveaway. "... uh... is this a bad time? cause i can come back later—"

"no!" he blurts, hands slamming onto the door frame. he hadn't caught a glimpse of you in six months, ever since that fateful night when you walked out through the same door you were now standing in front of. there wasn't a single night in those six, grueling months that he didn't think about you, or the warm feeling of having you contained within his arms. sure, there were nights when you two fought, heading to bed with your backs faced to each other— but when morning came, you would somehow be in his arms, and somehow kei just knew that things would blow over.

except maybe they didn't.

left with too much time to think, he analyzed every little argument the two of you ever had, critically examining every word he uttered. perhaps the break was needed— the two of you needed to take a step backwards, re-assessing what you two wanted for each other, what you two wanted together. what you said that night hadn't be wrong— there were just too many issues being swept under the rug, too many things you weren't communicating about, too many problems he elected to ignore, in hopes that they would just 'blow over'.

"i mean," he clears his throat, lifting his hand off the doorframe, groaning at the paint scratch he caused. "would... would you like to come in?"

mentally, he smacks his forehead. you don't need permission to enter! in his mind, kei still considers the apartment your home, too. even if you haven't stepped foot within its grounds for half a year.

"if that's okay?" you smile softly, holding up your cake box. "you've probably had some already, but i bought your favorite. if you're full, you could have it tomorrow morning, before work?"

"no, no, i'm not that full." kei instantly assures, even though he's already brushed his teeth. on normal circumstances, he would leave it for the next morning, but what was brushing his teeth one more time if he got to talk to you for the first time in over a hundred-eighty days?

you narrow your eyes at him playfully. "don't lie to me, tsukishima kei. i can smell your toothpaste. i'll leave it in the fridge."

a fond smirk dances over his lips as you brush past him into your apartment, leaving your shoes where you always do on the shoe rack. the sound of your sock-clad feet padding past the living room brings a truckload of tension that kei didn't know he had off his shoulders, and all of a sudden, the house feels a thousand times cozier, even if nothing materialistic has changed.

he watches you from the sofa as you bustle around the kitchen, and he knows by the number of beeps on the electric stove that you're boiling water for tea— green, probably. the ration of tea packets are restocked regularly, because when you moved in, you brought your tea addiction with you, too. kei's been lured into drinking it on a daily basis, right after dinner, as a way of calming himself down after a day of work and practice. typically, tea would be accompanied with you, snuggled up against his side as he complained about the kids he met at work that day (you both knew that he had a secret fondness for them, but shhh).

"i hope you don't mind. i made tea." you say, bringing the glass teapot you were adamant on buying a year ago. it was one of the best purchases kei ever made in the apartment, because he was reminded of the worth every single time the two of you did your regular tea routine.

"of course i don't mind." he replies instantly, picking up his mug (the green one with tiny dinos on the edge). "this is still your home, too. you don't have to ask to do anything."

he pretends not to see the flash of surprise across your features.

"right." you murmur, pressing your mug onto your lips, blowing gently on the surface.

the two of you sit in silence for a while, sipping on your tea as the clock ticks onto eleven o' clock. suppressing the urge to ask you to stay, kei taps the surface of his porcelain cup rhythmically, forgetting that you know all his tells, front to back.

"is there something on your mind?" you ask gently, setting your mug down. he grimaces.

"ah... it's nothing." kei brushes off, not wanting to come onto you too quickly. for all he knew, you were just here to deliver the cake, not to reignite whatever was left of the relation he let simmer for too long...

"... right." the tone of your voice spells i-know-you're-lying-to-me,-but-i'll-let-it-go-for-now.

the silence continues, like a set prolonged. it's starting to get on kei's nerves when you (thankfully) speak again.

"happy birthday."

"thank you." even though he's said those words a thousand times that night, it sounds a comparatively much less robotic than it had for the previous thousand times. perhaps it was thousand-first time's the charm. "i mean it. thank you for coming over."

you wave it off. "i couldn't have not come. tadashi sent me an invite, but my boss needed me to work late and i didn't manage to make it."

ah, so that was why his best friend routinely glanced at the entrance nervously throughout the night. that explained a lot.

"i don't mind." kei takes a sip of his green tea, enjoying the warmth that courses through his chest. it isn't warmer than the warmth you give him, though. "i like it like this. ... just the two of us, i mean."

you contemplate him for a moment. "i like it like this, too." you confess quietly, as if whispering a childhood secret to him behind the karasuno gym.

he couldn't bear it any longer. he's always been patient, yes, but he's seen the looks his mother and brother threw him through the night, because they both knew that the one person that really mattered wasn't there. he was pretty sure his mother was just about to introduce him to some random girl before he excused himself for the night.

"will you stay?" he blurts, feeling very un-tsukishima-kei-like. it isn't like him at all, to be brash, and bold, but how can he? for the past four hours, he's talked to countless people— heck, half of them were volleyball celebrities— but not the one he wanted to talk to.

"do you want me to?" you ask softly, shyly, and kei knows that you're thinking if he wants you back— which is stupid, honestly. he knows that you're always thinking that you're lucky to have him, when it should be the other way around. kei doesn't think there's anyone else willing to put up with his dry humor, his hectic schedule, and his dinosaur memorabilia. if anything, he should be the one thanking the gods for letting him have you.

"don't be stupid." he snaps, cringing internally at how his tone came off. "of course i want you to stay, you're the best thing that happened to me. i won't force you, but—"

"i left some clothes here, right?" you cut him off with a hum, and when kei looks into your eyes, he just knows.

there's still a long, long, long way for the two of you to go. there's still plenty of things he needs to learn. there's a pile of issues in the store room that needed to be tended to.

for every million arguments there are a billion conversations where you two need to sit down and work out the knots. for every insecurity, for every misunderstanding, for every conflict, there is a needed effort to clean up the mess properly instead of just sweeping it under the floorboards. but for every tangle there lies between the two of you, there is a universe of room to grow, and change.

kei knows he's willing to make an effort, for you. kei knows that he's willing to do anything to make sure you don't walk out that door without looking back again. kei knows he's willing to do every single thing he can do (and can't) to make it work.

he knows.

he looks into your eyes, and he smiles.

everything is going to be alright.

haikyuu!! taglist: @ryuiki @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @cemeiia @animegirlweeb @mitzwinchester @fandomsgotmefucked

[world-of-aus]

Ghost Story - Bugged

Pairing: eventual hitman!bucky x detective!reader

Warnings: None for this chapter.

A/n: This is definitely going to be a series as for how long i’m unsure but this wip has been sitting in my docs and my mind for far too long and needed out. I hope you all will enjoy it, and hopefully i can really build this one up, yall ready?

Stay up to date with my latest updates by checking out @worldofausupdates​!

His file had been thrown on your desk, its contents nearly spilling out due to the manner in which director Fury had delivered it to you.  

“Fury,” you greet as you look down at the file thrown on your desk to the man in question, “to what do I owe the pleasure - or rather displeasure,” you add taking notice of the grimace painting his already disgruntled features.

Fury say’s nothing as he zones in on your desk, hands meeting wood as he looms over you, “James Buchanan Barnes,” he begins his hand reaching out to open the disheveled file, “a ‘ghost’ taking it upon himself to go after the scum of New York,” your brows raise as he digs through the files, “Mob bosses, arm dealers, human traffickers, if they’ve ever been brought in; they’ve likely seen the end with him.”

Your office grows quiet as Fury gives you a minute to look over the file that he had started to present to you. “How did he even manage to get in with the likes of some of these,” you question as you flip through the photos encased in his file, “red skull, kingpin, Thanos, Ultron,” your eyes meet your directors.

“Ever heard of a contract killer,” he questions, “contract killer, you mean like a hitman?” Fury's nodding at your question, your own brows furrowing at the answer, “wait so these men hired James Barnes for a job only to become ‘the job’ - how’d he manage that?”  

“Doesn’t sound like your typical hitman does it,” fury questions, “well he isn’t,” he answers at the shake of your head. “James Barnes from what we know is a planner, very detail oriented – does his research on the bastards that hire him, finds their weak spot, wins them over, and then uses that against them when their guards are lowered and they’re least suspecting.”

Your brows furrow as you continue to flip through the contents of the file; James Barnes was indeed very detail oriented from what you could see. He had planned every last detail from how we came across those who hired him, to how he crossed them. For many of these men you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel sorry for their imminent endings, it was a long time coming after all.

“It seems like this ‘ghost’ Is doing us a favor don’t you think,” you question as you close up the file sliding it back to your director, “would it really be so bad to just slide his ‘wrong doings’ under the rug like the others, they’ve done far worse for longer and we’ve all had to turn a blind eye to it.”

Fury’s face is unreadable, and for a second you think you might have broken the unruly man but then he’s producing a second file from his coat. The file hitting your desk in the same manner as the first this time though he doesn’t bother opening the contents for you before he’s speaking.

“Brock Rumlow, you heard of him?”

You can’t help the quiet scoff that leaves your lips, you had heard, and dealt with Rumlow plenty. “Really Fury, Rumlow is one that we’ve - I've had to turn a blind eye to plenty, course I’ve heard of him, he’s been escaping prison sentence since our first meeting.”

Fury is leaning forward to open the file, “Rumlow’s hired Barnes for a job, thing is this jobs been going on for months and Barnes finally has enough on Rumlow to take him down,” your eyes flick to your directors, “and as much as its going to pain you to hear this Barnes needs to be stopped.”

“Stopped,” you question, “did anyone ever stop red skull, kingpin, Thanos, Ultron when they were skipping out on arrests for doing far worse than what James Barnes is doing?”

“Is he any better though,” Fury retaliates, “he’s still murdering people detective,” you scoff to which Fury raises a brow at, “James Barnes is murdering men who if you ask me deserve it – the men he’s taken down have murdered innocent individuals for less,” you continue, “these men deal Fury, they traffic children, women, and you want me to stop him from taking another rat down?”

Fury’s lips are set in a thin line, “detective if Barnes is successful in taking Rumlow down we will have no one, no one, to take down,” he barks, “all these names are attached to each other in some way, and with the information Barnes has obtained if we can just bring him in, get him to comply we can shut them all down with just Rumlow alone – we can bring a stop to this detective.”

“But he knows me Fury, I've brought Rumlow in enough for him to recall my face, how exactly are you expecting me to infiltrate?”

Fury doesn’t answer as he turns to your door, taking a few steps to reach for the door handle, you watch as he works open your door, a familiar figure standing on the other end of it. “I’m sure formalities aren’t needed but detective y/n, this is detective Rogers – Rogers, y/n.”

Steve is offering you a warm smile before he’s crossing into your office, the door closing behind him. “Rogers here is very familiar with Barnes having spent months himself trying to find this ‘ghost’.” Your gaze falls to Steve who's nodding his head as his lips part, “Barnes isn’t an easy man to track, on top of how well he has these hits planned he has his tracks hidden just as well, or at least till now.”

Your brow raises as Steve steps forward placing an open file on your desk, “I didn’t want to read too much into this, but like I said I’ve been tracking Barnes down for months trying to catch him before he can strike but I've always been a few steps short of him - until last week, I think he wants us to find him, I think this is a possible call for help.”

Your eyes take in the photo, “is this an address,” you question as you take in the warped letters in blacklight seemingly painted to a bathroom shower wall.”

“It is,” Rogers confirms, “looked up the location and it leads to a broken-down warehouse, and you know these guys and their warehouses – there's always something more,” you finish for him.

“So what,” you question as you look up at him, “you really think this is the ‘ghosts’ way of asking for help? He hasn’t let you catch him before, so why would he now?”

“I had your same thoughts,” Steve replies, “the first thought that hit me was that it was a set-up, a possible trick to set me off his trail – but Barnes has never in any of the areas where I suspected him to be, left anything like this and I'll scour the entire room to find a trace.”

Your eyes are leaving his to look back down at the file, mind racing. This could be it; you could put an end to every corrupt evil thing hiding in the shadows, though you know it wouldn’t be the last you see of them, but bringing Rumlow in could very well shut all this down for a long while.

Your eyes flicker to Fury’s, “If I agree to this, how are we getting me in,” you question, “Rumlow will know it's me the second I get in.”

“Good thing you aren’t going in.”

Your brows furrow, “but Fury you just - how”

“We’re sending you after Barnes,” Steve cuts in, your eyes meet his watching as he leans forward to reveal another photo similar to the first, “he thinks I'm the one trailing, so he won’t be suspecting you, or at least that’s what we’re hoping, by also sending you in we hope we won’t be conveyed as a threat, and that he can trust us to help him take down Rumlow – but our way.”

Your office goes quite for a second before you’re speaking up, “I can be threatening you know,” and that draws a grin from the two men posted in front of you, “and we have no doubts about how threatening you can be detective,” Fury gets in, “but we need Barnes on our side, and in order to do that we need to try and talk him down, and we believe you to be the one to be able to do that.”

You mull over their words before you’re turning back to Steve asking the one question on your mind, “Rogers you say you’ve been trailing Barnes for months now, you don’t think he’s going to get thrown off seeing me come in, surely that’s gonna piss him off and make him run no?”

Just as Steve goes to speak Fury’s phone is going off, the two of you watching as your director reaches for the device in his jacket. He’s turning his back to you giving a greeting before he falls silent, he points a finger at the two of you before he’s making his way out of the office without a single word more.

It’s only when the door is closed behind him and it's just you and Steve that the brunette is closing in on you in a rushed manner. “We don’t have much time,” he whispers as his eyes dart over his shoulder, “but he’ll be expecting you, he knows you’re coming.”

Your brows furrow, “what do you mean - Steve who knows I'm coming?”

Steve’s leaning further into your desk hands quick and quite as he lays a burner on your desk piled on a closed envelope. “Fury’s going to send you out, take one of the cars parked in the garage and go to the location he sends you, from there you’ll get more information.”

There's a skip in your chest, “Steve what’s -” the door to your office is swinging open then, Steve sliding the envelope and phone into your hands, “take it,” he murmurs quietly.

“Y/n,” Fury calls voice booming, “I’ve been given a lead on Rumlow, I need you to go now.”

Your eyes are snapping to his, “a lead on Rumlow, but – now detective y/l/n.”

You know you can’t argue with the stern glare being directed at you, so you move quickly gathering all the files and burner that had been deposited onto your desk. The skip in your chest is now a fast flutter as you do one last sweep of your office before your following Fury and Rogers out of your office. Fury flanks off first as you move down the busy hallway.

Steve remains by your side as he seemingly guides you to the parking garage, taking you out of the offices side door exit fairly quickly. He leads you to the patrol car Fury has assigned you, opening the door for you letting you settle in.

“Rogers, seriously what’s going on,” you question as he leans to buckle you in, he tucks his head slightly voice barely above a whisper, “this runs deeper than we imagined y/n.” Your eyes are wide as he pulls away from you, “what does that mean,” you breathe.

You don’t get an answer as Steve closes your door for you, the words ‘start the car’ being mouthed from his lips, you listen, not knowing what else to do.

You’re then putting the car in drive as you pull out of the garage altogether, it's when you're exiting onto the busy streets of New York that the burner is buzzing in the passenger seat. You reach for it at a red-light finger flipping it open as you open the unknown numbers text.

“Go to the address Fury provided, open the envelope and go from there, when you arrive, he’ll be waiting – he’ll be able to explain more.”

A second text comes in just as the light turns green a car horn sounding from behind you.

“Trust no one.”

[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

[realcube]

msby boys finding out their s/o is pregnant

navi | masterlist | taglist  

thank you to anon for this wholesome request 

content warning ♡ pregnant! reader, sexual references, swearing & fluff

characters ♡ sakusa, atsumu, bokuto & hinata

kiyoomi sakusa 

♡ he faltered

♡ there was half a minute of silence between the two of you; him just staring at your stomach while you gazed into his eyes

♡ he was almost certain that he misheard you, so he felt inclined to inquire, ‘huh?’ as indifferently as he could, though he wasn’t doing a good job of concealing the shocked expression on his face 

♡ ‘i said i’m pregnant, sweetie.’ you giggled, admiring the emotions he displayed on his face as it wasn’t a sight you got to see often

♡ sakusa continued to stare at you, eyes wide 

♡ though he knew what you meant, apart of him insisted that he was mishearing you 

♡ his wide-eyes were fixated on you, his lips slightly agape as he tried to process what you just said and what this meant for the both of you 

♡ the only emotion you could read of his face was shock. at first, you were sure that he was happy but he was just taking a while to accept it, but now that a few minutes had passed and he was still yet to say anything or even smile, you were starting to second guess yourself

♡ despite the fact sakusa had already agreed that he was on board with the idea of having a child many times before - in fact, there were nights where he’d admit that he can’t wait to start a family with you - but you still worried that perhaps he has now that had a change of heart

♡ that was until you noticed his eyes become unusually glossy and red, along with his cheeks adapting a somewhat red tint, ‘if this is a joke, (y/n), it’s not funny.’ his ordinary, monotone voice was now slightly shaky and low 

♡ ‘it’s not a joke, ‘iyoomi.’ you laughed, feeling your own throat go dry and your cheek flare up upon seeing how emotional sakusa had become

♡ before the tears spilled from your eyes, you felt sakusa’s arms slowly snake around your waist, place an elongated kiss on your forehead then rest his chin on your shoulder 

♡ he held you close enough that you could feel his rapid heartbeat thud against your chest and his wobbly breath tickle the back of your neck

♡ he stayed like that, silent, for a good few minutes 

♡ when he finally pulled away to admire your stomach, you noticed how his damp cheeks glistened in the light and you couldn’t help but smile

♡ although he wasn’t very vocal about how happy he was, his actions spoke a thousand words

♡ he’d insist in home-cooking all your food now because he didn’t want to risk you getting food poisoning 

♡ when he’d come home from practise, absolutely exhausted, the first thing he’d do when he gets home is  wash his hands then cut you some fruit 

♡ when he has free-time, he used to just watch TV but now he’s picked up a few hobbies of reading childcare books, tending to your every need/want and researching good baby names

♡ also, he’s so gentle with you - like, he was gentle with you before but this is a new extreme

♡ excluding the time he almost tackled you to the ground when you suggested atsumu as a baby name

♡ like he baby-proofs the house like a month into your pregnancy lmao 

kōtarō bokuto

♡ the corners of his lips slowly curl into a bright smile, ‘pregnant?’

♡ you cocked your head to the side slightly, then hummed, ‘yeah. pregnant.’

♡ ‘like..with a kid?’

♡ you snorted, playfully rolling your eyes, ‘i’d hope so.’

♡ ‘like..with my kid?’

♡ ‘our kid - but yes.’

♡ a while passed and he had yet to do anything besides stare at you in pure adoration so you prompted him by opening your arms 

♡ to which he immediately responded by throwing himself onto you, ‘I’m gonna be a dad?! like seriously?!’

♡ luckily you were sitting on your bed so you fell back onto that but you were still being smothered by his chest 

♡ ‘bo!’ you squealed and squirmed under his weight and tight grip, glad that he was as cheery as you had hoped but not appreciating being suffocated 

♡ he suddenly pulled away but kept his large hands glued to your shoulders, revealing the tears that were already streaming down his cheeks and dampened your shirt, ‘really?!’

♡ ‘yes, bokuto. i am 100% pregnant.’ you declared for the final time before bokuto cupped your face with his hands and pulled you in to a passionate kiss, not stopping until your lips were basically swollen

♡ he’s just so hyped during the first few days of your pregnancy and he’s just super duper ready to become a dad!

♡ like he’s already practising his dad jokes 

♡ but then you remind him that he’s gonna have to wait around 9 months before he can actually see his baby and his hair literally deflates 

♡ ugh how rude of you 

♡ can you not like...make it grow faster?? please??

♡ once you explain to him that’s not how babies work, he kinda accepts it and just focuses his attention on you

♡ he kinda does some research on babies/pregnancy but not prior, he just does a quick google search when he needs to 

♡ but the intention is definitely there bc he googles the most trivial of things like ‘what to make pregnegant ppl for breakfast?’

♡ ‘what do pragnant ppl need from the supermarket?’

♡ ‘can my pregenunt wife have peanut butter?’

♡ ‘how to spell preaignant’ 

atsumu miya 

♡ DEEP denial

♡ he thinks you are playing a prank on him bc you don’t ‘look pregnant’

♡ even when you show him your positive pregnancy test he’s like ‘and how much did that cost?’

♡ he deadass acts as if he wasn’t the one who’s been trying to get you pregnant and raving on about how much he wants a family with you for the last few months 

♡ but he just doesn’t want to believe you bc he know he’ll get way too happy for his own good and he’s afraid to be let down

♡ plus, it was one of those ‘a blessing of this magnitude couldn’t have happened to me - of all people - so this is probably either a cruel joke or a hallucination.’ moments 

♡ he’s just so far gone that after your eleventh attempt at trying to convince him that you’re pregnant for real, you just give up

♡ so y’all just go around your business somewhat normally - except atsumu was more skittery - until your baby bump started to become more prominent

♡ one day, he came back from practise, noticed your bump and pulled you into the most passionate, heartfelt kiss before placing a gentle kiss upon your stomach, a buoyant grin gracing his features

♡ though he doesn’t say much since he is at a loss for words, he mutters a few sweet nothings into your ear as he carries you to the bedroom

♡ for a joke, he pretends to be gutted if you’re libido production decrease but really, he couldn’t care less

♡ but if it increases tho- 

♡ expect him to take full advantage of that 

♡ also, if he didn’t already treat you like his goddess, he does now 

♡ work has moved down his list of priorities and you + his baby are now at number one 

♡ usually he keeps his phone on silent/stuffs it into his bag while he is practising but now he insists on keeping it on full volume, out on the bench, just in case you call him for an emergency 

♡ same goes for texts; he will literally stop mid-set to rush over to his phone if he hears it vibrate 

♡ bokuto thinks it’s sweet but the rest of them get pretty annoyed of his antics quite quickly but whenever they try to call him out on it, he’s like ‘is your wife 6 months pregnant? no! i didn’t think so. i should be on paternity leave right now so be glad i’m blessing you with my presence.’

shōyō hinata

♡ he cannot stop thanking you

♡ as if you’re doing him a favour, which - depending on how you view it - you are

♡ he’s literally on his knees with his hands clasped together, tears of joy streaming down his face as he looks up at you in pure adoration, ‘thank you, (y/n)!’

♡ you tilted your head to the side and stared at him with a perplexed expression, ‘you’re welcome?’

♡ it’s a while before he moves from that position but when he does, it’s only so he can press his ear against your stomach to see if he can hear the baby 

♡ ‘shō, i don’t think it’s body has even formed ye--’

♡ ‘shh! it’s speaking to me.’ he chuckled then proceeded to squeeze his eyes shut, intensely listening to whatever the baby had to say 

♡ you quirked a brow, waiting for him to finish and once he did, he sprung to his feet and threw his arms over your shoulders to pull you in for a hug - in which he had to stop himself from squeezing you too tightly in fear of hurting you, as if pregnancy meant that your bones were now made of glass

♡ he’s just so happy that you agreed to bear his children 🙏

♡ also, seeing how excited you were to tell him about your pregnancy really prompted him to step up his husband-game 

♡ from now on, he loads the dishwasher, does both of your laundry, cleans the house on his own and cooks most of the food 

♡ he acts as if being pregnant means you are no longer able to do basic tasks but his real motive behind doing these things was not only to take the pressure off of you but to also prepare himself for father life 👍

♡ also, to prepare him for shopping for his kids’ clothes, he goes out and buys you maternity wear 

♡ he does this like...3 weeks into your pregnancy though so the clothes just sit and catch dust until a few months later when you actually need them 

♡ and although he is a bit of a pain to go stroller/pram shopping with (he just says buy whichever one goes the fastest), you let him take the reins when it came to buying/preparing the baby’s room and it came out beautiful!

♡ like the cradle was good quality and firm, the rug wouldn’t irritate the baby’s skin, the walls were painted expertly and the plushies/toys he picked out - unbeknownst to you at the time - kept the baby entertained for ages

♡ oh and no matter what day/week/month you are in of pregnancy, he will always look at you and your bump with the same amazement and gratitude as he did the first time you told him

[honeytae]

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests or not, but I was hoping I could request something along the lines of where you’re in love with your best friend, taehyung, but he doesn’t know and he’s getting married soon. you don’t tell him how you feel until the night of his wedding when you’re a bit tipsy from drinking your feelings away. you can decide the ending! thank you in advance if you end up writing this! hope you’re doing well and staying safe. Xx

hi darling! i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write. i couldn’t get it to a point where i was satisfied with it for a really long time, i still don’t feel that good about it honestly but hopefully it’s okay for you!!! i tried to make it angsty (yikes) so hopefully it’s not horrible lmao

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: angst

word count: 1.6k

warnings: um so much heartbreak, oc is a little (very) in denial about the situation and comes off a little toxic tbh, requited love but nothing they can do about it now, mentions of tae going into a panic attack

You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the ‘congratulations to the happy couple,’ nor the Mr. and Mrs. Kim sign practically floating over their heads. You couldn’t handle the copious bouquets and all the preparations that went into this.

And you felt like a complete asshole about it.

Which is precisely why you decided to prematurely exit the event, doing yourself and everyone else a favor by leaving for the night to go sulk in your hotel by your lonesome.

The elevator ride up to your floor was miserable, your own battles within your mind coupled with the fact that your floor was the top one, making the ride excruciatingly long on top of everything else.

Rustling with the hotel key in your bag seemed to take forever as well, finally barging into your half unpacked space with a sigh. You quickly shut the door behind you, hoping you’d been able to sneak away from the hotel lobby without any guests noticing.

Shuffling further into the room, you sat on the edge of the king bed in the center of the room, placing your head in your hands at the mere prospect of this weekend.

Taehyung was getting married. Kim Taehyung, your best friend, the one person you’d been pining for since middle school, would be legally bound to someone else in less than twenty four hours.

Maybe you just shouldn’t have come. Despite sending red flags to Tae, you couldn’t think of a better solution than fleeing at this exact moment. Why did you think you could handle this?

Two knocks against the locked door had your head raising from its resting place, cursing under your breath at someone coming after you.

You didn’t feel well. That would be your excuse.

“Hey, you okay?” Immediately upon opening the door, Taehyung spoke the question out into the air, dark eyebrows knit in concern and kind eyes imploring yours for an answer.

“Hi. I’m fine, just a little tired, Tae.” You pressed your lips together in a hopefully believable smile, the man frowning before nodding at you.

“Me too. Can I come in?” He asked, the question completely innocent however making your heart rate a bit faster at the what if. What if things had gone differently? What if it was still a possibility for things to escalate between you two?

Cut it out. He’s about to be a married man.

You raised your eyebrows at him for a moment, then stepped back to allow him in, putting all your concentration on shutting the wood for a moment as you took a steadying breath.

“What about your party?” You wondered aloud, the man humming as he took a seat on your fully made bed.

“I’m tired of the parties. They’re exhausting.” He chuckled, covering his face with his hands as he reclined back on your bed.

Your heart skipped another beat at the vision, his tight pants leaving little to the imagination and buttons from his dress shirt stretched to new limits with his strained position. Diverting your eyes, you walked over to the desk chair in the corner of your room, reaching for a water bottle out of your mini fridge. Get a fucking grip.

Tossing one over to the bed beside Taehyung, you sat down in the plush seat, grateful that the man didn’t seem to notice your distance from him as you glanced out the window.

Until….

“Are you really okay? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

At his sudden words, you froze, gripping your water a bit tighter as you brought your eyes back to his face. He was closer now than before, having scooted to the edge of your bed to lean toward you, eyes showing concern for you as you shuffled in your seat.

Taehyung was never one to beat around the bush, and at times like this, you really wish he would just brush some things under the rug as easy as you could.

“I’m good, Tae. Just have a lot going on, I guess. I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” You said, hoping to clear the air and dismiss the topic as soon as you possibly could. The man’s stare wasn’t helping your state any.

“No apologies. Just wanted to check in on you.” He sighed, seemingly disappointed with your lack of response before a hideous painting across the room caught his eye.

“What the fuck is that?” He griped, making you chuckle as he sat up to lean toward the art piece, squinting with his lip curled in amusement.

“It’s not so bad.” You shrugged, smirking when he turned back to you in bewilderment. Realizing you were teasing him, his eyes went back to normal size, a smile meeting his own lips at the return of your familiar banter.

“How can you sleep in a room with that shit? I feel like asking for a refund.” He shook his head, making you laugh before taking a swig from your water.

“Somehow I manage.” You replied, twisting the cap back on the bottle with a sigh.

It’s times like these that you feel as though nothing is wrong. Times like these that transport you back to periods of your life when Taehyung was just a call away, and you thought maybe, just maybe, you two had a chance. But that was over now. Those days were no more.

Because Taehyung informing you about a blind date then turned into him in a full blown relationship, a serious one at that, and soon enough they were taking big steps such as meeting the parents, moving in together, and yes, getting engaged.

Your friends had been just as shocked as you were, pitying you with deep sympathetic looks over Taehyungs shoulder as you hugged him in confused congratulations. It had all happened so fast...how did you manage to lose him forever?

Waking up the next day, you felt a particular heaviness on your chest. It was the day before the wedding, the rehearsal dinner turned into an entire day of partying for their guests. A celebratory day, if anything.

But waking up and getting all dolled up for this occasion was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, today or ever. You had always thought that you’d have much more of a starring role in Kim Taehyung’s life. Shaking your head to dismiss those kinds of thoughts, you cursed as you left your hotel room, wondering how the hell you’d be getting through this day.

Four martinis. Four martinis was how you’d be getting through today. The bartender had become one of your closest acquaintances over the past few hours, eyeballing you silently as he poured you yet another cocktail, your demands obvious that you were not drinking out of celebration.

Sitting at the bar, you contemplated everything. From the time you’d met Tae, you had been so sure that you two completed each other. Were you that naive? And fuck, why are you still thinking about this now? It’s over. You and Tae will never be.

Nearly jumping off your stool at a hand suddenly clapping your back, you shifted your gaze over to the arm belonging to Jungkook, one of Taehyung’s youngest yet wisest friends.

“You’re sulking.” He said plainly, dark eyes tracing over your faded features, briefly examining the drink in your hand before shooting the bartender a knowing look.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” You sighed, nearly breaking into a sob when his hand laid over yours, fingers fitting between your own in a comforting gesture. With one glance at the man, you gained all the information you didn’t want.

He knew.

You wondered how long he’d known. Jungkook, being the quiet and relatively introverted person he was, was an observer. He knew everything about everyone it seemed, by not speaking to them at all. He noticed everything.

You just hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes started blinking rapidly, and that he’d instead just go back into the party without another word.

“Neither should you.” He replied to you, his tone holding nothing but concern as he tried to catch your eyes.

You just couldn’t hold it in.

“Well maybe if I wasn’t in love with him I’d be having a better time.” You mumbled, leaning your head down on your hands, elbows pressed to the tops of your thighs, sad and tired as Jungkook froze beside you.

Unbeknownst to you, a concerned Taehyung had also come to find you, stumbling upon that very scene as Jungkook tried to console you.

Meeting eyes with his older friend, Jungkook’s mouth gaped open for a moment, opening and closing like a fish out of water as you cluelessly rambled under your breath about how stupid you were to ever let yourself come here.

With a shaky exhale, Taehyung silently began to put it all together. The way you’d been working constantly lately, picking up every shift you could to decline his repeated attempts at getting together with you, the way you’d ran off last night and brushed it off as you being too tired. It was all adding up.

You were struggling with this as much as he was. Maybe more.

But what Taehyung could do about this years ago was no longer an option, his hands shaking at his sides as he spun on his heel and walked out of the lobby. He could briefly hear Jungkook call for him but ignored it, breathing heavily as he rounded one of the hallways leading to the restrooms.

Unshed tears misted over his eyes as he hugged a corner of the wall, feeling rather unsteady as he leaned his forehead against the cool surface. The burning pain in his chest had him sinking down to the floor in an instant, sobs wracking his shoulders with heightening emotions rising in his throat.

You’d finally given him the green light. And it was too fucking late.

[goingmorry]

The Art of Domesticity [Trafalgar Law x Fem! Reader]

Synopsis: On a whim, Law decides to indulge you with a hot bath. Feeling lethargic despite your nap, you are more than delighted to take him up on his offer.

Tags: domestic fluff, sexually suggestive themes, male and female nudity, established relationship

Word Count: 2,161

In the depths of the Grand Line, deadly sea creatures swim idly by, patiently waiting for the next unsuspecting shipwrecked pirate to serve as their next meal.

Not long after, an unknown object of immeasurable speed barrels across the ocean floor, whirring past the mess of Sea Kings. Intent on chomping down on the foreign entity, the creatures join together in pursuit.

A yellow submarine, adorned with a Jolly Roger resembling a smiley face and inscribed with the words "DEATH,"  shakes beneath the water pressure.

The Polar Tang, home to the notorious Heart Pirates, aggressively reverberates in response to the Sea Kings' pursuit, mimicking the chaos inside the ship.

Meanwhile, in the control room, Captain Trafalgar Law stands at attention, face impassive as he calmly assesses the situation. In contrast to the rest of the crew's panicked behavior, Law had complete confidence in his crew's ability to make it out of this predicament unharmed. Right on cue, Law watches as his navigator, Vice-Captain Bepo, expertly maneuvers the ship away from dubious underwater beasts and excess debris. Under Bepo's supervision, Shachi and Penguin carefully operate the numerous controls to keep the sub afloat. In the engine room, Ikkaku and Jean Bart attend to the ship's generators, air compressors, and fuel pumps, ensuring their pristine condition during the onslaught.

After weeks of being submerged, the Polar Tang steadily heads to the surface. And with every second that passes, the distance between the pirates and the monsters increases until the vessel can no longer be seen by their pursuers. Sure enough, having lost sight of their target, it became apparent to the Sea Kings that they were no match for the submarine's speed. Where the ship once was, only faint bubble traces remain.

Unbeknownst to the pirate crew, loud rumbling sounds vibrate across the sea bed, the Sea Kings' roars echoing across the deep oceans, scaring away small fishes that dare to come close.

"We've lost sight of them, Captain," Bepo exclaims, swiveling his chair in Law's direction.

"So it seems," Law says, grabbing the nearby Den Den Mushi to announce their successful escape to the entire crew.

Almost immediately, Penguin and Shachi cheer in conjunction with the rest of the crew's boisterous laughter. To celebrate their victory, the Polar Tang resurfaces, providing an opportunity for the crew to receive some much-needed sunlight.

The turbulent atmosphere moments ago can no longer be found, replaced by a serene calmness. In celebration, the Heart Pirates gather in the upper deck, engaging themselves in various recreational activities. The perfect time to disappear for a bit, Law thinks.

Voicing these thoughts, Law directly addresses Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. "I'll be in my room."

Shachi nudges Penguin, suggestively wiggling their eyebrows at each other. Bepo curiously looks at the duo, sneaking glances at his captain, while Law scowls at their childishness.

"Don't worry, Captain! We'll make sure no one bothers you two!" Penguin blurts out, earning a swift elbow to his ribs.

"You idiot! Be more discreet next time!" Shachi angrily whispers in Penguin's ear, looking around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation, before continuing, "They're still in the honeymoon phase."

"More like hornymoon phase," Penguin huffs, causing both of them to break out in uncontrollable giggles. Bepo lets out an innocent smile.

Choosing not to respond since nothing he could say could convince Shachi and Penguin otherwise, Law hurries to his quarters, leaving the two to their incessant bickering.

- - - - - - - - - -

Standing in front of his bedroom,  Law raises his hand to give two light raps to the door. He frowns at the lack of response, turning the door handle to reveal your upper body sprawled on his desk. He pauses for a moment before walking over to your slumped form. Upon closer inspection, you were sleeping soundlessly, seemingly unaware of earlier's events. Your head was nestled atop your forearms, an expression of serenity overcoming your features. Sheets of paper and various writing instruments were strewn across the corner of the desk, haphazardly pushed aside to accommodate your slumbering figure.

Law lifts his tattooed hand, gently brushing the stray hair that had fallen on your face. He runs his fingers across your unruly hair, noticing several tangled knots that had formed. Despite your less-than-ideal appearance, however, you never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

Deciding to let you sleep for a moment longer, Law saunters over to the bathroom, intent on running a bath for himself and you, should you choose to wake up in time to join him.

The sound of the water steadily splashing as it fills the tub is enough to rouse you.

Your eyes flutter open, turning around in search of the source of the noise before landing on the ajar door leading to the bathroom. A familiar lanky figure - sporting his signature leopard jeans - crouches over the tub. You couldn't see the top half of his body, but you were pretty sure he was monitoring the tub's water level. Not long after, you hear the sound of the faucet turning, and the water stops. Law stands up, walking over to lean against the doorframe. His golden eyes meet yours in amusement, mouth turning upward in a slight smirk.

"Mmm... Did something happen?" you mumble, voice raspy from your nap. You stretch your arms over your head, groaning in satisfaction before leaning back against the headrest of the chair. Despite the needed rest, you didn't feel as refreshed as you'd hoped. You felt so exhausted, your lips dry and your mouth parched.

Law must have noticed your tiredness in your appearance and voice. He reacts almost immediately, enveloping you in a familiar blue film. "Room," he says in that low tone you've come to love before a mug of water appears on the desk in front of you. You blink at him in surprise, humming appreciatively.

"I... Thanks," you say, gripping the mug between your hands before taking generous gulps. He can be so thoughtful when he wants to be, you think, unable to hide the smile gracing your lips as you do so.

He returns your hidden smile with a smile of his own. "Nothing important," he vaguely adds.

You look at him in confusion before realizing his was response was to your previous question. You nod in acknowledgment, deciding not to pry, before setting the now empty mug aside.

Law walks over to his side of the bed, pulling his cap off to set it down on the nightstand, keeping it relatively safe and away from tonight's activities.

"I ran you a bath. Get in it."

He glances at you before striding over to the bathroom. You cock an eyebrow at his retreating figure.

Before you have the chance to retort, he pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it over to the laundry basket. The sight of his muscled backside, inked with his jolly roger, makes the words die in your throat.

Before you can stop yourself, your tongue peeks out from the corner of your mouth to moisten your chapped lips. Your thirst was for an entirely different reason now.

"Don't keep me waiting." As if seemingly aware of his effect on you, Law disappears behind the door, the sound of clothes rustling reach your ears, no doubt the sound of the remainder of his clothes being shed. You can hear the amusement dripping in his honeyed tone, can picture the full-blown smirk evident on his face.

You reflexively gulp, feeling your body flush in response to his invitation. You've seen Law naked plenty of times by now, you reassure yourself. Have become well-acquainted with each other's bodies. Know firsthand how the heart tattoo inked on his chest ripples under your teasing touch as your hands trail down his chiseled abs. How the sweat glistens his toned skin and how his usually impassive face contorts in pleasure as he thrusts into-

You shake your head to keep the dirty thoughts at bay.

We're just having a nice relaxing bath together, you think, not entirely convincing yourself.

Following his lead, you stroll over to the laundry basket, stripping yourself of your clothing to join Law in the bath. Your head peeks out from the corner of the open bathroom door while the rest of your naked body remains in the bedroom, away from his prying eyes, your nervous gesture making it appear as though you were an innocent virgin.

Adorable, he thinks.

You look at each other expectantly, your eyes admiring his perfectly relaxed posture. His jet-black hair was in disarray, poking out in all directions, evidence of his combing through them in a careless fashion. His arms were stretched to the sides, slim fingers gripping the edges of the tub. His naked upper body was in full display; the dark ink of his tattoos was a stark contrast to the white bubbles that formed on the surface of the water, obscuring the lower half of his body.

You clear your throat, eyes returning to meet his golden ones that were alight with apparent amusement. "Sorry to intrude."

Law chuckles, the sound of his baritone voice echoing across the bathroom walls, only for your ears to hear. When you take a step forward and close the door behind you, his eyes drop to your naked form, shamelessly admiring your breasts and derrière.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," you say indignantly, pausing right in front of the tub, his brazen admiration of your nudity quickly restoring your confidence.

"I am," he says without hesitation, golden hues darkening with desire at your bold gesture.

Leaning over the tub, you bring your face close to his, lips a breath away from touching. For a moment, you pull back to admire his rugged handsomeness, fingers ghosting over his goatee to his cheek before settling on the back of his neck. Lightly tugging his hair, you pull him in for a chaste kiss, your free hand grasping the edge of the tub for balance. Law has other plans, however, as he reciprocates by licking the bottom of your lips for permission to dive into the wet expanse of your mouth. You let him, of course, moaning at the feel of his demanding tongue as it fights against yours for control.

His hand snakes across the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging, mirroring your previous actions, while his other hand firmly kneads your breast. You groan against his mouth at the display of dominance in his rough handling of your body, loving how depraved he can be when aroused by you.

After what seems like an eternity, his hands gently encircle your waist, coaxing your body to join him into the warm pool of the tub. You oblige, breaking off the kiss to positioning yourself in between his legs, facing toward him. You sigh in contentment at the feel of the bubbled water and the warmth emanating from his bare body. Making an executive decision not to escalate further should both of you decide to forego the bath in favor of more risque activities, you avoid the softness of his lips. Instead, your mouth latches onto his neck, leaving trailing kisses to his jaw before stopping to rest your head at the crook of his shoulder. In response, Law sighs in defeat, hands rubbing reassuring circles against your back. The heated passion of your earlier kiss was replaced with soothing affection.

"Will you wash my hair?" you ask, voice slightly muffled against his skin.

Law looks down at your head nuzzled against him, eyes softening at your vulnerable state. "Honestly, you're hopeless without me," he says before nudging you over to turn around.

You do as your told, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position. His hands reach over the side of the tub for your shampoo, squeezing a sizable portion onto his hands, lathering it up into a foam. His hands weave into your hair, softly massaging the shampoo into your scalp in circular motions, careful to avoid your ears.

You can't help the wide grin that stretches across your face, thankful that your lover can't see your smile from the way you're positioned away from him. Trafalgar Law - a notoriously fearsome pirate, Captain of the Heart Pirates, and a former Warlord of the Sea - is the perfect picture of a doting boyfriend as he methodically applies shampoo onto his girlfriend's head, eyebrows furrowing in deep concentration.

"I love you," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

His hands still for a moment before resuming their ministrations. And though you've said it plenty of times before, he can't help the wild beating of his fragile heart in response to your sincere declaration.

While words fail him, actions don't. Law pulls you into a comforting hug, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders as you lean back against his defined chest, blissful in each other's embrace.

- - - - - - - - - -

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed my writing! I'd love to hear feedback. 💖

[worminstuff]

The Balcony of the Treehouse pt.3

sleepy bois x reader au

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“I want to preface this, I do love you all so much, but I'm incredibly disappointed.” Phil stared at the 4 kids in front of him. He knew his words struck as deep as they would to any kid hearing that from an adult important to them. Especially Techno, he strived to make Phil proud even more than Will. Y/n on the other hand, he wasn't sure of. She often was a chaotic wild card, and she didn't get much parenting from anyone other than him from what he's seen over the many years. Phil believes he's disciplined her more than her own guardians, and she listens to him. But she's also gotten herself in many tough situations all the same.

She's not necessarily his own, but he treats her as if she were.

Out of Techno and Y/n she was definitely not the mediator. The only time he's seen her relatively responsible, is when it comes to being home alone, and interacting with Tommy. Which both impressed him greatly, but not enough per say.

“I know all of you are stubborn, some more than others,” he directed his gaze to Techno, whos eyes seemed to hold more self loath than before, “but unless you all talk even a bit, it's only going to get worse.” he turned to Y/n and placed a hand to her shoulder, “i want you around. I know you don't tell me everything I should know, especially about home, but I know enough and I see enough. I want you here with us when you need us. And we need you too.” he watched as her eyes welled up with tears.

Y/n turned her head slightly to glance at Techno, who was finally looking at her for the first time since the night prior.

She watched his lip give a small wobble as his eyes seemed to fight back a bit of tears.

“He's not wrong.” Techno mumbled out.

Y/ns brows furrowed, “why would you need me?”

Techno looked at Tommy in Y/ns lap not wanting to look at her. Tommy realized he was looking at him, and upon seeing Technos teary eyes Tommys started to get a bit watery even.

“You're my only friend.. Who's gonna sit with me in the treehouse? Who's gonna listen to me ramble? I wouldn't get good morning hugs..i wouldn't get anything you do for me on a daily basis and i don't wanna think of that.” his voice was barely audible but Y/n could hear him. She felt a tear run down her cheek. Tommy looked up at her too, now wondering why everyone was crying. His face started to contort in baby-like sadness, smacking a hand on her leg, but not harsly. He was reaching up at her face. Y/n looked down at Tommy and her heart melted, she leaned down slightly and he set a small hand on her face.

“No more crying!” Tommy didnt often speak, he very much could, pretty well sometimes, he was just more physical usually when conveying his thoughts. Which made this situation all the more meaningful.

Phil was the only one who had looked at Wilbur yet, who was sitting silently watching Y/n and his little brothers, Wilbur had more tears on his cheeks than all of them. Well maybe not Tommy, but he was rivaling him.

Wilbur was realizing how Y/n really meant to Techno. But all the same, he was realizing how much she meant to him too. She was everything to him since he was 12 and realized he liked her. Since he was 15 and realized he loved her.

“Even Tommy needs you. Trust me, we all do.” wilbur said softly. Y/n looked over to him, her eyes softening, her heart hurt for him. Wilbur was really getting the worst of this situation.

Before she could say anything, he spoke again, “Techno i know you don't like how i feel but we're both being selfish. It very much isn't our decision to make for her.” he said to Techno but quickly looked back to her, after wiping away a tear, “not that i want to force a decision on you any time soon,” she nodded as she rubbed tommys back to calm him a bit.

“I just..it's..she's my Y/n” Techno looked at Wilbur, it was the first thing he'd said to him through all of this, and everyone was a bit taken aback.

“Your?” Y/n said, the most taken aback.

“I know that sounds bad but, but it's been us since..since forever!” his voice cracked slightly, he looked at her, “were us! Y/n and Techno! You're my person!” he was getting angry, “and you!” he looked to wilbur, “and you're my brother! You shouldn't get to try to take that away!” his face was growing red.

“That's not what i want! I don't want to steal her, she decides how she spends her time not me! If she wants to spend time with me shouldn't she be allowed to?” wilbur scowelled.

“I don't like this at all'' Y/n mumbled towards phil. “This is like some stupid cheesy movie with two brothers fighting over a girl. Its stupid to be frank. I think we should just..we should just get over ourselves yeah? Wilbur i..im not commenting on either of our feelings cause i don't want to. And Techno, I get that we are us and all, but I'm still my own person. I love you, and you're my person too, which is why you need to talk to me.” she wiped away all the tiers from before, as did Techno, and he nodded at her.

Wilbur was solem, he figured he was setting aside their problem as to not talk about it infront of Techno. At least he hoped that much.

“You're right, i'm sorry I was mad Y/n.” he felt entirely better.

“It's okay, no biggie.” She offered him a smile which he returned. “Treehouse?”

Techno nodded excitedly.

Y/n looked at tommy in his lap, he seemed less upset now, “see Tommy, not more tears,yeah?”

Tommy seemed to lighten up at that, so she looked to Phil who gave a silent nod and picked Tommy up from her legs.

Techno stood, looking at her to follow,

“I'll be a be up in a bit, go ahead.” she smiled and nodded towards the backyard. He nodded back and turned to go.

Phil left the dining room, leaving Wilbur and Y/n alone.

He looked at her with a small smirk, “do you still have my sweatshirt?”

Y/n's face reddened slightly, she pouted. “I wanted to apologize, you know.”

“You don't have to, Y/n” he chuckled.

“I slept in it actually.” Y/n mumbled, not looking into his eyes.

“In what?”

“Your sweater.”

His stomach felt queasy.

“Y-you did?”

“Erm..yeah. It was comfy. And i felt close to you..” she looked up at him, only to see the widest grin shed saw on him in a while.

“Well, i have a lot of them.” he leaned back in his chair, gaining a bit of confidence.

Y/n smiled shyly and stood up, “yeah because you're obsessed with spending money.”

“I'm so not!” he laughed slightly.

Y/n gave him a small giggle, “i'll see you later wilby.” her voice was soft and smooth, she leaned over the table and placed a small kiss to his cheek. Leaning back she watched as his eyes grew wide and his cheeks burned a faint pink before she turned to make her way to the treehouse.

Before he could get another word out, she was already outside.

Phil poked his head into the room, letting out an airy laugh.

“Yeah?” he said to wilbur, laughing at how shocked he still seemed.

Wilbur looked up at phil, “Dad?”

Phil nodded, “mhm?”

“I love her.” he had a starry look in his eyes. “Shes-she's-..” he was trying to think of a word when suddenly Tommy spoke up from phils arms again for the second time that evening.

“Pwetty!” he grinned and looked up at phil.

Wilbur and Phil both laughed softly.

“That's for damn sure..” wilbur smiled to himself and shook his head slightly.

Once Y/n had made it into the treehouse, Techno immediately pulled her into his arms. Y/n quickly hugged him around his shoulders.

Techno was tall, not as tall as Wilbur, but definitely taller than Y/n and tall for his age. He leaned down to rest his head on her shoulder as he hugged her.

Looking over his shoulder she noticed the contents of her bag on the floor, “so you found the book?”

Techno nodded into her shoulder, “can we sit?”

She nodded and slowly pulled away looking up at him, moving to the rug.

He sat in front of her, but reached his arms out. She smiled and moved to be in front of him, leaning back against him. They usually sat this way when he was reading, so he could either read to her or she could just sit close to him while he read.

Techno leaned his head on top of hers, and slid his arms around her waist pulling her close.

“Thank you for the book by the way.” he mumbled.

“Did you cry?” she smirked.

“I did cry. But not because of the book specifically.” he said.

“Oh.” her smirk fell. She put one of her hands on top of him, pulling it from her waist to hold on to his fingers. “Did you..sleep here?” she saw the way the blanket was on the rug and the book around it.

“Uh..yeah. I did.” he picked his head up to look at their hands. He flipped his hand so it was facing up, Y/n traced small patterns into his palm.

“I almost came up here..” she turned to look up at him.

Techno stared down at her, his eyes tracing each feature on her face. His free hand came off of her waist to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “I wish you had..”

Both of their eyes were lazy. “Will you tonight?” Technos eyes weren't on hers, they were watching her lips, and his hand was resting at the base of her neck, he could feel her pulse quickening.

“Yeah..of course.” she tried to contain her nerves at the way he was staring at her.

He stared at her a little longer before she moved his hand from her neck up to her cheek.

“You signed that letter “your Y/n”..” he mumbled, looking at her eyes for a split second.

“I did, yeah.” her eyes almost seemed glazed over.

“You're mine?” his eyes were wild, unlike hers. Her head lulled more to the side, into his hands at his words.

“Say it..i need to hear it please..” his words were so soft, but they felt like he'd just knocked the wind out of her all the same.

“I'm yours.” she stared at him, as he seemed to tense at her words. His eyes drifted to her lips again as he slowly leaned down to her, his face less than inches from hers.

“God..” he mumbled as his lips clashed with hers. She reached up behind her to rest her own hand on his cheek, pulling him closer.

Y/n could barely think clear with the way his lips felt on hers, he was being so gentle.

Meanwhile Technos thoughts were running rampant. The way her small hand felt on his jaw, the way her pulse was going so quick, the way her face felt so warm, the way she was still holding onto his other hand grasping it so tightly. And it was all his doing.

He pulled away for a moment, needing to know how she was feeling and what she was thinking.

As he pulled away Y/n gave a small whine, unhappy with how he moved away from her. Her eyes were still closed even as her brows furrowed.

He smiled softly down at her, he couldn't believe he'd kissed her.

Her eyes opened for a moment, finding his loving gaze.

He was about to pull her face back to his when they both suddenly heard a knock to the doorway of the treehouse.

Wiilbur was standing on the balcony outside the doorway. His eyes seemed almost empty.

“Dinners em..dinners ready. Dad sent me up to get you two.” he turned quickly, getting away from what he'd seen as quickly as possible, before they could see any sort of tears that had formed in his eyes.

This time it was Techno that had messed up royally.

^^^

pt 4

[house-md-obsession]

Shake [James Wilson x Reader] Part Three

153 hours prior.

The talking on the TV jolted her awake. Some rerun of a sitcom found itself playing on the television. Her eyes flit open as she gained awareness of her surroundings. She felt the warmth of the soft quilt James keeps on his couch, it offering the comfort of the late nights she'd spent over there. The smell comforted her— cedar wood... and... Chinese food?

She glances to her right, to see James slurping down lo mein, chopsticks sitting in his hands. When he realizes she's awake, he hastily sets the food down on the coffee table in front of him, and flashes her a smile.

  "Hey, ___. How are you feeling?" He asks, sitting up and readjusting his position. He leans forward a little, finding himself a little closer as she tiredly pushes herself upright. She wipes the sleep from her eyes, and feels her hair tie at the end of a long-fallen ponytail. Her hair was nothing short of a mess, but that was the last thing she'd worried about. She had long given up on how she looked once she had gone two nights without sleep.

  "Honestly? Foul." She muttered, her voice raspy. He struggled to keep for letting out a soft laugh. She tried running her fingers through her tangled hair, and found her fingers caught. She pouted.

  He felt his heart nearly skip a beat.

  "I bought some takeout. I snagged you some sweet and sour chicken if you get hungry. You don't have to eat but I figured I've seen you eat very little since this last case."

  He stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

  "Oh, and here's some Tylenol. You took some earlier but I can't imagine it's still working."

  She suddenly once again felt the headache that had creeped up on her earlier, as if the mention of Tylenol had served as a reminder.

  "Thank you." She said, hoarse voice finding itself softened as he walked back towards her. His soft brown hair was a little askew— small strands of his normally well kept hair hung in front of his softened, mature features. His cheekbones caught the light of the buildings that shone through his opened window. The sun was setting and the orange in which that faintly painted the room was welcomed as the brightness gradually softened and her eyes eased.

  "Yeah, of course." He said, in which she noticed he had grabbed a glass of water for her in the time he ventured over. He handed it to her, his gentle hands making sure her tired ones had a grasp on the glass before letting go, the mildest of touches graced her fingertips.

'His hands are warm.' She thinks to herself.

  He sits down on the couch next to her as she swallows the pills, downing half the glass as well. He laughs softly, no hesitation this time.

  "Should I look into purchasing you a water tower?" He jokes. She flashes him a smile and softly smacks his upper thigh.

  "What time is it?" She asks, and he flicks his watch up at him. She see finds herself for a split second studying his forearm, almost admiring its masculinity. 'Let's not be weird, ___.' She thinks, and her eyes avert.

  "Seven fifty-eight." He says, and she stretches before finding herself back where she was, their upper arms touching as she was just a little closer than before.

  "How long was I out? Time tends to blur together after the first day."

  He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, before turning his gaze to the TV that was on.

  "Hmmm, about four and a half hours I'd say. You passed out in the car, and it took a while to get you in. And you fought with me over offering you my bed."

  "Yeah, offering to let me crash in your bed is a little weird." She said, dryly.

  "Oh yes, God forbid I look out for one of my best friends that couldn't tell if something six inches from her face was within reach less than four hours ago." He almost upsettingly muttered, and relaxed once he glanced over and saw a small smile decorated upon her younger features. He watched for a moment as her eyes drifted closed, her seemingly lost in her own train of thought. He watched as her eyes opened once again and he quickly retrained his focus back onto the TV.

  "Thanks for taking me home and letting me stay here for a little while. I appreciate it, James." She said, her eyes trained on him again as he watches the TV. 'He seems to be so focused on the show. I wonder if he'd even notice if I left.'

  Her mention of his name had him trained on the way it left her lips. He doesn't know what, or why, but it failed to leave his mind.

  A click of the doorknob down the hall jolted her upwards.

  "Of course. I just hope you don't think you're going home yet." She turned around, to be greeted by the rugged features of her boss, as he made his way towards the two. The tap of his cane against the hardwood was a familiar noise that simultaneously relaxed her but kept her on edge.

  "Well, I have work at six in the morning. I should probably make my way home." She said, vaguely confused.

  "No you don't. Forced vacation. If you show up to the hospital for any reason for the next week other than to fawn at your old-man crush Doctor James Wilson, you're fired." He said, before walking towards them. She felt a hot flash radiate over body she became flustered with his words. 'He has a creative way of getting under my skin.' He motions for the two to part, as he plops down in between them. The words her boss spouted hardly even registered. It was just the generalized annoyance his presence brings in which she rolled her eyes.

  "Leave her alone. Someone in their twenties can be friends with someone in their forties. It's not a wild concept, House."

  "No. Only reason someone as attractive as her would befriend someone in their forties is because she's into old men. Someone to pay her debts from medical school because they've paid off their own."

  "House, seriously?" Wilson asked, dumbfounded. He could feel her shutting down from across the couch.

  "You're an ass." She says, and finds herself walking towards James room, in which she closes the door behind her.

  House glances over to his friend, whose lips have curled up into a smile.

  "You're good at that." Wilson says.

  "Annoying her so she will finally take care of herself for once? I've done it a time or two." House said to his friend.  "Besides. I need her. You may want her to be around but I actually need her. To save lives and stuff." House teased. Wilson scoffed.

  "Of course I like having her around. I mean, in the same regards I like having you around. I care about her, I'm going to want her to take care of herself."

  "Yeah, but you almost parent her. It's like a weird fatherly fetish."

  "This has nothing to do with our age difference of maybe ten years. She is twenty-nine. She is more than an adult and also, I do not parent her. I just want what is best for her. Same way I do that for you." James explained, but House wasn't biting that explanation, and neither was he.

  "Whatever. She's hot. You're like every other man and like to look without commitment. I'm sure if you asked she'd send you nudes so you can see more and stop pretending to care." House said. Wilson felt himself get frustrated with that comment.

  "I'm not like you, House. I can have real friendships, as well as ones with the opposite sex. So what if she's attractive? That doesn't matter to me. I mean yes, it's nice to... look. But for me not every relationship I foster is purely sexual." Wilson said, standing up, walking away from the couch.

  "Whatever helps you sleep at night!" House loudly called.

  "SHHHH! She's trying to sleep!"

147 hours prior.

  She awoke to the familiarly loud buzzing of her phone. Sitting up, she found her phone plugged in on the nightstand next to her. 'James must've plugged it in for me at some point while I was asleep.' She thought, and further noticed a glass of water once again on the nightstand as well as a bottle of Tylenol and a note.

  She glanced to see the caller identification was none other than her friend, Remy. She tiredly picked up the phone, and was greeted by the familiar voice.

  "Hey, how're you feeling?" Her soft voice asked through the phone. ___ sat upright, letting out a grunt as she did. Her body seemed to feel even heavier than when she was sleep deprived. ‘Waking up is going to be a bitch.’

“Tired. As fuck. I need to get up and around but I don’t know if I can muster the energy to. James bed is…. so comfy.”

“Well, good thing I’m right outside. We’re getting coffee.”

[sooibian]

Catch These Hands

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader

Description: Living with Baekhyun comes with its own challenges

Themes: Fluff (surprise!!!!), established relationship, make up artist and masseur Byun, a little bit of byuntae, and one (1) Eminem reference lol

Prompt: @/notyourenglishprofessor : You SAY you didn’t eat in bed but these crumbs say differently.

A/N: Happy Birthday @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ !!!! here’s your biggest pet peeve woven into a bbh fic! Hope you enjoy it XD

Word count: ~ 1.7k

Nights out have never agreed with you. It’s 2 a.m. and your feet hurt from the heels, your head hurts from the drinks, your little black dress (your best friend sure does have a penchant for party clichés) is mocking your food baby, your makeup feels clumpy - maybe you overused the setting powder but you wouldn’t know because the complex art of blending cosmetics has always eluded you. How do they make it look so easy in YouTube tutorials?

As you’re keying in the passcode to your apartment, despite all the malaise, a sudden surge of comfort courses through your veins at the thought of your adorable boyfriend asleep in a clean, cozy bed, engulfed in warm and fresh sheets that exude the fragrance of a spring meadow - courtesy of your brand new laundry detergent. You imagine he is dressed in his snuggly pajamas, with his lips slightly parted, dark hair tousled, and your ostrich plushie clutched to his chest. Ever since you started living with him, you’d never spent a night away from home but the one time you returned after a weekend long Neuroscience conference, you found your plushie resting in the comfort of his arms. The next morning he insisted that he didn’t know where it came from.  

‘Time to catch him red handed’, you smile to yourself.

Kicking off your heels and scraping your hair up in a bun, you tiptoe to your bedroom and the faint melody of Baekhyun singing in a highly expressive croon falls upon your ears.

Tell me you’ll love again, come back to me again..

He should’ve been long asleep and while you can’t wait to crash out either, you allow yourself the pleasure of eavesdropping on his heavenly vocals that always sound especially sweet when he’s wrestling sleep. Until..until you hear it.. the sharp crunch of plastic which sends you barging into the bedroom with exasperation painted across your features. 

Baekhyun clamps his mouth shut. 

Instead of jumping out of bed to wrap you in his arms, he uncharacteristically stays burrito-ed in his duvet, fixing you with an apologetic gaze. Elbow crushing the pillow underneath him, shoulders crouched, lips pursed, hair dishevelled, pajama bottoms scrunched up to his calves, he tries to blink away the very apparent guilt in his eyes. Your ostrich plushie lay on your side of the bed as if its neck had been snapped like a popsicle stick. 

As you loom over him, lower lip wobbling, he pushes his weight further down the pillow but the tail end of the red Orion choco pie wrapper teasingly peeks from underneath it, glimmering in the cozy golden lighting of the bedroom, already chuckling at the drama that is to ensue.

You’re too tired for this.

Without a word to him, you grab a bunch of blankets from the dresser, shut it with a loud bang and stomp out of the room while Baekhyun’s bearing is that of a frozen frame. As you’re questioning your life choices and are about to vent your frustration on the irreproachable couch, your weary gaze finds the bane of your existence again - crumbs. White, inelegant fragments of food conspicuous against your tan sofa.

They say the more you try to avoid something, the more you create it. This was unequivocally the worst quote you’d ever read. You created nothing! You were not the one to leave this slew of crumbs on the sofa neither did you leave a pile of crumbs on the bed! It was all Baekhyun! 

You’re way too tired for this.

Drowsy, you lie down on the floor, curled up in the many blankets, although still cautious as your piercing eyes doggedly probe for more evidence of Baekhyun’s insolence. Surprisingly, the rug was clean-ish. It was almost as if he had planned on you sleeping on the floor tonight. This thought fuels the rage bubbling in the pit of your stomach so you force your eyes shut to avoid a shouting match this late in the night. 

The shuffling sound of footsteps grows closer and you’re determined not to give him the satisfaction of even a glance. The sound comes to a halt and you feel a gentle caress of warm fingers ghosting over your cheeks which is quickly replaced with a smooth and cool touch of a cotton pad against your eyelids, cheekbones, jaw line, with a distinct scent of micellar water wafting in the little to no space between Baekhyun and you.

You continue to play dead as he’s quietly and deftly taking your makeup off while delicately holding you up by the back of your neck and you coyly move your face from side to side to allow him better access to every inch of your skin.

“Too much setting powder”, he whispers.

Darnit!

“Still so pretty”, he remarks in his dulcet voice. Your head now rests in his lap and he’s gently moving his thumbs in tiny circles under your brows, working his way from inside out and continuing the movement all around your eyes and ending back at the bridge of your nose, almost lulling you to sleep.   

At this point every cell in your body is waging a war against your now weakened spirit that’s continuing to disregard him yet you find yourself revelling in his mellow affections.

“It’s a rookie mistake. Not to worry, baby, I’ll help you get it right the next time.” He reassures, planting a soft kiss on your pout.

“Right”, eyes still wilfully shut, you chastise him, “maybe when you find the time from eating in bed.”

“Yah! Don’t be like that.” Baekhyun whines, prying your eyes open with his fingers, not-so-gently.

You smack the back of his hand and sit up cross legged facing him. He stretches his hand out to pat your head and you smack it again invoking a look of pure confusion in Baekhyun’s soft features. His hand is now barely an inch away from your lips and he commands with a raised brow, “Now kiss it better.” 

“Ew!” Your hand strikes the back of his, again. “How many times do I have to tell you not to -”

“Not to eat in bed!” Baekhyun completes your sentence with a deep sigh, “I know and I wasn’t -”

“Do not lie to me Byun Baekhyun!” Warning him, you wag your finger as annoyance betrays your voice, rendering your pitch shrill. Dusting the corners of his mouth with the pads of your fingers, you sneer, “These crumbs say otherwise. You know I hate it when you eat in bed! It’s ...It’s….disgusting! And -”

“And?” 

“You always ignore my post-its!”

Baekhyun huffs and runs a hand through his hair. Letting on a forced smile, he reasons, “We’ve been living together for three years now. I think it’s time you stopped leaving ‘do not eat’ post-it notes on everything you buy!”

Tilting your head to the side, you explain animatedly, “First of all, you won’t let me buy snacks on our grocery runs because they’re unhealthy or whatever and you want to bring about a stupid dietary reform in the household which, by the way, is failing miserably - ”

“Yah!! We’re still in January, don’t be such a pessimist!”

“Do not interrupt me! The few that I do manage to sneak into the cart are mine and mine alone!”

“It’s just that..the ones that you buy taste better”, he mumbles, unveiling the most powerful weapon in his artillery - the pout.

“That is the most ridiculous thing that’s come out of your mouth today aside from the crumbs! I imagined you’d be...”, it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re starting to descend into a fugue state, “you’d be...curled up in bed like a...like a... cooked shrimp with a plushie clutched to it’s chest!”

Visibly offended, he flicks your forehead and bellows, “Cooked shrimp!? It’s called the fetal position. Look it up!”

“I know what it’s called!” Your livid expression eases into a rather ill meaning smile, “My apologies, I took you for a grown man.”

“What in the world - I am a grown man!” His lips stretch into a wide grin and the tips of his fingers tease the sensitive spot on your neck, “would you like to see?”

“You’re disgusting, Byun Baekhyun! A grown man does not eat in bed!” You smack the back of his hand. Again.

“Strike four! You’re obligated to kiss it better now!” 

Tears start to well up in your eyes at the sight of his hand dangling so close to your face. “I’m tired”, you cry, burying your face in your hands as exhaustion and exasperation take over, “I really need you to stop eating in bed.” 

“Babe, I -” His eyes grow into large brown circles at the sight of your distressed state and he freezes.

“I feel like the crumbs will, like, turn into ferocious ants and nibble at my skin while I’m asleep”, you break into full blown sobs and Baekhyun takes you in his arms, holding you tight against his warm and comforting frame and patting your head to calm you down.

“Hush, baby”, he sing-songs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! You go get changed into something comfortable and I’ll dust the bed, okay?”

“Can you change the sheets instead?” Sniffling, you ask him with wide, pleading eyes, a sly smile playing at your lips.

His eyebrows shoot upwards and he exclaims, “It’s three in the morn-”

“Please?” You sing-song, a little too loudly.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Okay! I’ll change the sheets.”

With his slightly dispirited face sandwiched between your hands, you ask cheerfully, “And you promise to never eat in bed again?” 

“I promise to never eat in bed again.” A dejected Baekhyun says to his knees. 

“And you won’t steal my snacks?”

You had now started to push your luck with him, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

He flicks your forehead a little harshly this time making you squeal. “Can you stop with the stupid post-its, already?”

Rubbing your forehead, you surrender and get up. “Fine! I’ll go shower now.”

Baekhyun wraps his arms around your waist. Nuzzling your neck, he coos seductively, "I’ll join you.” 

“Byun Baekhyun!”

[sukunahz]

i.  been away .

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: what would you do? / a03

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your old friend, eren yeager had been gone for almost an entire year and you and your friends have all but moved on with life. in fact you have barely given him a second thought -- but when he returns, he's not the same passionate frat-boy you once knew; he's a stranger now.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.6k words

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, oral, fingering, eren is kinda’ mean, mentions of alcohol, intoxication and drugs. based on the absolute banger been away by brent faiyaz. i posted this on a03 two months ago and i swear every week my writing changes and when i look back i’m ashamed. i swear the chapters get better 😩

You were barely paying attention to the conversation around you, you were idly fiddling with your completely empty cup since Sasha and Connie had been arguing about the same thing for the past 20 minutes. You knew it was because they had both been tiptoeing around something; they were keeping something from you. What did you expect from the two people closest to you, but you weren't a sensitive, little baby bird? In fact, you had forced yourself to not shed tears over a night that was so insignificant that there was no point for these two to continue on with this desperate charade. “He’s back. Isn’t he?” You stated bluntly, your words were viciously slicing at their conversation. They both remained silent; their clear discomfort was painted vividly onto their expressions as they exchanged worried glances between each other. Eren had been gone for so long that he had faded from you and your friends’ lives completely, he was so easily displaced from your thoughts in such a short amount of time and you had felt the least bit of guilt for it. Time marches on, not even Eren would be able to bend time to his will. Your friends had adjusted to life without their friend, but you could sense the discomfort in celebrating Connie’s birthday in his absence.

“Apparently.” Sasha replied, her gaze darted towards the door as if his return was some impending doom, like a devastating natural disaster that would upset the balance of everything. You wanted to be confused as to why they were hiding this from you, but you knew full well that with the way he disappeared – you would be counting down the days till he returned. Sasha and Connie knew that you were now a minefield and one misstep by anyone would illicit a violently ruinous reaction from you.

“He’s not the same.” Connie added, interrupting your train of thought. “You know how he left… he's -- he's not the same guy.” There was a silence after that, you had lost the energy to keep fighting them about Eren. You could see the disillusion drain into Connie’s face, you weren’t the only one who Eren left, in fact – it was everyone in this room that he had left behind. Those two were inseparable a year ago and now it seemed like Connie could barely string together a sincere sentence about Eren. You couldn’t keep recounting your history with them, a history that was so minuscule that you had no right to expect anything from him -- right? You forced the two to return to their idle conversations, doing anything to drag the conversation away from someone that you had tried so hard to put behind you. There was load music droning through the common area accompanied by smoke from Jean’s vape that was dancing wistfully near the window.

You heard a pause in the atmosphere in the room, there was a break in the cluttered chatter of the house. There he was, speak of the devil -- Eren had finally returned after an entire year, surrounded by a group of people who carried the same troubled and unsettling demeanour as him. You had to force every muscle in your body not to respond to him, since all he did was glance languidly your way before he joined a group of people in the other corner of the room. You felt nimble fingers press a comforting touch upon your thighs as she was still engrossed in her conversation with Connie. “Don’t.” Sasha whispered to you; her gaze was still straight ahead. You scoffed at her warning; she knew you all too well, just how easily you were able to get tangled into Eren’s web.

“I won’t.”

You weren’t over Eren because there was nothing to get over, you had no feelings for him, and not a single thing would change just how much of a brazen jackass he was. The timing of your pep-talk with yourself couldn’t have been better since Eren and his friends found themselves occupying the vacant furniture around Connie, Sasha and yourself. It had been a while since you had even been able to soak in his presence, but you could tell there was a different air to him, he seemed indifferent now, his lids drooping low and he barely paid any attention to the conversations around him. You could hear Armin’s attempts to draw Eren out from his shell, his repeated calls to invite him to participate in the conversations but all Eren could do is brush him off or reply with a simple mumble. How did he manage to be so magnetic; he was surrounded by friends and yet he was completely withdrawn and isolated?

“Hey—” Zeke called out to you, his words were already slurring, and the smell of beer was swimming around the air around him. He was just as rugged as his younger brother and you could tell that he was a part of Eren’s recent downward spiral. Despite bearing the same haunted resemblance as his younger brother, Zeke’s blonde hair is tidy and taken care of in contrast to his unruly facial hair. You could tell that Zeke bears no regard for taming his beard or his alcohol intake, you could also tell that just like Eren, he probably didn't care about much at this point. Lost in your observations, you realised you must have been staring too long as Zeke’s gaze met your own. “You know he almost used up his one phone call at the station on you!” He wrapped his arm drunkenly around Eren’s shoulder. Station? You thought to yourself, did that idiot get himself arrested? You glanced quickly towards Eren and you could see the shame and irritation across his demeanour. He had barely even said a word since he arrived, yet he already looked drained and exhausted.  

“Why would he waste a call on me?” You muttered with a roll of your eyes. Your short temper was also about to blow. Why does everyone connect you two together, you were friends before he left and nothing more? No amount of history between you two would change anything, not even one alcohol-fuelled mistake. Eren didn’t owe you anything and he didn’t fail to hammer that notion into you when he left.  

“Eren, you might wanna’ take care of your wasted brother before he embarrasses you anymore.” Sasha jested with a tilt of her head, a futile attempt to diffuse the situation. With that, you decide that it would actually be you who embarrassed themselves if you stayed any longer.

“I’m gunna’ get a drink.” You whispered to Sasha before forcing a reassuring smile across your features in order to ensure that she doesn’t follow you. You weren’t in the mood to talk about Eren or whatever the fuck he’s been up to in his long absence. A better person would be concerned for him but all you could do was feel irritation, you heeded Sasha’s warning, you’ve been living your life – dealing with your own baggage and Eren doesn’t get to just return out of nowhere and take the reins of your life again. You pushed yourself onto your feet towards a familiar friend in the hallway.

“Not joining the welcome wagon?” You teased; a conceited sneer etched upon your features as you can see the displeased expression on your friend. You were provoking the obvious bad blood between the two, it was rather petty of you to seek him out for the sole reason of loathing Eren together, but who better to understand than Jean

“My bad, I better hop in the line and give that asshole a proper welcome!” Jean quipped back, his tone was overly dramatic and topped off with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “I’m actually getting out of here; Connie’s got some weird black pepper flavoured vape that I’ve been dared to try – wanna’ come?”

“Yeah – I’ll join you in a sec’, let my grab my jumper first.” You replied, accepting any invitation that would lead you as far away from the impending disaster that lurks outside the hallways. As Jean made his way downstairs, you entered your room before the comfortable silence was interrupted by an all too familiar voice. The voice was deep and steady, but you noticed it lost its notable flare, the usual effervescence had lifted from him, all that remained was something dark and troubled. You couldn’t recognise who the man standing before you was. He had stray, brunette locks falling on his forehead while the rest of his hair was hastily tied into a bun. His broad physique was framed by an almost entirely black wardrobe with the exception of his large gold key necklace that sat perfectly upon his chest.

“What’s wrong with you?” He dimly asked, he crossed his arms as he pressed his weight against the wall. He had an air of disappointment surrounding him, as if he couldn’t believe that you wouldn’t want to be in his presence, he couldn't believe that you didn't press further on the comment that Zeke made earlier.

“What’s wrong with me?” You challenged him, was he so self-entitled that he thought he could guilt you from walking away from a conversation that you did not want to be a part of. You didn’t want to know what changed Eren and you didn’t care what it was that pulled him away.

“Wanna’ tell me why you’re so pissed?” His expression, or lack of expression didn't change. As your temper rose, Eren’s voice and demeanour stayed the same. Despite his words showing a genuine interest, his voice and mannerisms displayed nothing but a disregard for absolutely anything going on around him. This wasn’t the Eren that you knew, the man that you had known had life and zest spilling from his expressive eyes, he cared about the smallest things around him despite being just as haunted as you were. In fact, it was Eren who was able to keep you from falling into a dangerous spiral, but it looks like he wasn’t able to save himself.  

“Fuck off, Eren. Maybe if you could take a hint, you’d realise that you’re the one pissing me off.” The words came carelessly fumbling out from your mouth -- at this point you knew you were overreacting; you could tell he had gone through something, but he owed you much more than he was giving you and you relished the thought of humbling him.

Eren didn't respond to your rant, instead, he drew in a long, sharp breath of air before he stepped towards you. Your chest rose and fell, almost out of breath from your last sentence as you stumbled backwards from his advances, your back crashing against the wall behind you. His arm extended to reach out for the wall behind you as his face creeps in closer towards you. “You and your short temper.” He mumbled to you while you soak in his scent. At least there was something familiar about him, this same scent that you were once tangled in. It’s embarrassing just how easily he’s able to bend you to his will. Just like that you were under his spell again, itching to give him a proper welcome back even though you know he doesn't deserve it. But he was so close and tempting, covered with a new and mysterious aura, maybe it was your distaste and resentment for him that fuelled your next move.

Your hands tugged at the ends of his shirt to pull him closer to you as you connected your lips with his. It was a long and messy kiss when he slipped his tongue inside yours. Eren's movements were hungry, as if he had been starving for days and this was his first taste of food. You could see his features were radiating with passion, the colour from his eyes seeping back in. His movements were so robust compared with the apathetic display he had put on earlier. Just for a second, you could see the person you once knew before. Your arms travelled from the bottom of his shirt to wrap around his neck and Eren slips his arms around your upper thighs, inviting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He didn't break his lips away from you but instead he sends a wet trail of reckless kisses along your neck before he lowers you onto the desk nearby, your legs still wrapped around his body. You were ashamed that you wanted more, didn’t you promise yourself that you wouldn’t let him come back and take over your life again, you put him in the past the second he chose to walk away.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You mumbled; Sasha’s prior warning seemed to have fallen upon deaf ears. There was a room outside full of your friends and one stray noise could end it all for the both of you. Despite your weak attempts to convince yourself that you could walk away from this encounter, your body seemed to have a mind of its own and was telling him the exact opposite. Eren’s lips trailed lower and lower from your neck, to your chest and falling all the way to your thighs. Almost every inch of your skin was covered in his wet trails. Your neck and back arched as soft moans spilled from your unruly lips.

“Tell me to stop then.” He breathes, you peered down on him as his hands rest on your thighs while he was on his knees. You remained silent; however, your hands travel to his hair as an invitation for him to continue on. Eren inches closer and closer towards your centre, his fingers pushing the thin fabric guarding your core to the side. His tongue draws intricate and wet lines across your slit as you emit a loud moan at the sudden sensation. You could feel a forceful wave of euphoria rush through your spine while he keeps a tight hold on your thighs to stop you from squirming. He was assiduous with his ministrations and he didn't remove his tongue when he introduced his fingers to your wet centre, teasing your entrance to get a reaction out of you. You inhaled sharply at the newly added sensation, his tongue and fingers massaging your clit effortlessly.

“Ere—”

“Just shut up…” Eren interrupted, as he pushed two of his fingers into you, dangerously close to being knuckle deep inside you. As if your calls of his name were distracting him from his intricate work. His familiar cockiness has returned, the jovial frat-boy that you once knew was zealously tasting you. His ministrations contained a heightened bravado now and you were finally starting to recognise who the man before you was.

“You’re tighter than I remember.” He observed, his fingers were frozen inside you as his piercing eyes were connected to yours, you knew that he was about to have you wrapped around his finger again.

“Maybe I’m just not as turned on as you think I am?” You challenged, forcing yourself not to bite down on your lip in front of him. With your remark, he quickly pulled his index and middle finger out of your pussy. The movement was so abrupt, and it left you craving all the more from him, just when he was pushing you to arrive to your peak, you came crumbling back down. A punishment for your quip at his sexual prowess.

“Oh really? Why don’t I show you just how wet you are then?” The devilish smirk spread across his lips was almost maniacal, a gesture of his sudden surge of confidence. He wrapped his already wet fingers around your own and lead them towards your now notably, wet pussy. Your fingers lingered there, unsure of what to do as you refused to make eye contact with Eren.

“See for yourself, since I apparently am not up to the task.” You still stalled for a moment, heat racing towards your cheeks, despite you baring your entire body to him, were you so shameless that you would pleasure yourself right in front of him?

“Go on — touch yourself.” This time, Eren’s tone was posed as a dominant command than it was a request. Just when you had thought you had the upper hand; it took just one minute for him to have you at his beck and call again. You hesitantly began to rub around your slit, shame soaked into your thoughts as you realised that you are just as wet as Eren stated.

Quiet moans fell from your lips as Eren smugly watched you have a taste of your own medicine, it was bittersweet since despite the pleasure you were giving to yourself, all you were doing was proving Eren right. Once your high started increasing, he softly wrapped his fingers around yours to stop you from what you were doing before he rammed two fingers inside you abruptly, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from you. His other hand was still wrapped around yours, pinning your arm to the desk to stop you from squirming. “Jealous, are we?” You provoked him; your eyebrow raised to match your goading sentiment.

His pace begun slow as he pulled in and out of you in long and detailed movements, he knew exactly how to build you back up as you responded to his movements with moans and your back arched up against the wall, your arms still pinned down by his free hand. “God, stop playing around.” You called out in frustration, he was playing with you and you knew that he was keeping you just below your boiling point.

“I thought you weren’t turned on?” He questioned; his fingers were moving just slow enough within you. You sat there silent, breaking your eye contact with him and refusing to fuel his ego anymore. However, Eren can see the way your body responds to him. “You want it that badly? Then beg for it.” He removed his fingers from you hastily as he rose from his kneeling position, so his face and body were hovering over you. He was just high enough that the tip of the key hanging off his change was resting comfortably on your chest. Your fingers reached out for the collars on his shirt as you carelessly pulled him even closer to you, your lips angled towards his ear.

“I’m begging you… Don’t you want a taste of me?” You successfully coaxed Eren into returning to your core, however, it was not his fingers that revisited you but his tongue. Your game of cat and mouse continued on as his tongue explored every single crevice of your pussy, his hands were keeping your thighs spread apart and pinned to the desk. Your back arched higher and higher as you quickly approached your climax, your fingers were tangling themselves into Eren’s hair and your chest rising and falling as you were getting ready to cum. Eren’s tongue was hitting all the right spots, it was as if he could read your body like the back of his hand, someone with barely any experience with your body could still bend and twist it to his will. Your body finally released the cluster of sexual tension that Eren had so diligently built up with within you. As you fell back against the desk, Eren rose from his position again, standing up this time as the pad of his thumb narcissistically grazed the bottom of his lip, cleaning up the excess remains of your orgasm.

“You’re right, I did want a taste.” He buttoned the bottom of his shirt back up and ran his hand smoothly through his hair, a futile attempt at cleaning himself up. You knew he was about to walk out, and you should have known better than to try to stop him, you loathed him at that moment and yet your body and perhaps even your heart was yearning for him.

“Eren.” You sat up quickly and reached out for his arm. He stopped in his tracks, not a word left his lips just his wide, emerald gaze staring at yours. “I think you should fuck me—” Before you’re able to provide any explanation his lips had crashed onto yours, yet he remained standing, his arms were cupping your upper neck as you are pulled up to meet his height. You responded instantly; your arms wrapped around his torso as your tongue eagerly crashed against his own.

His lips met your neck, and you knew he was about to plant a blue and purple reminder of this very moment. Despite Eren’s greedy reaction to your kiss, you could sense his hesitation in his movements, and you’ve experienced this before, he’s going to walk away – again. “I can’t…” He whispered into the crook of your neck, halting for a moment before he pressed one final kiss above your now growing bruise before he straightened himself up and walked out of the door. He didn’t even give you one final glance before leaving you alone on your desk and once again you could see all the colour drain from him as he exits. He was about to return to the same brooding and apathetic person he had become. It was embarrassing that you thought one hate-infused tryst in your room would change that, you were never able to change Eren.

You had barely adjusted to the change in pace, one second ago he was tasting every inch of you and the next he was leaving you dazed and confused on your desk. How quickly the loneliness crept into you, why did you need him around you so badly? Hadn’t you just sworn to yourself that you would resist him, you wouldn’t make the same mistakes that you did before? You forced yourself not to delve into the dark mystery that was Eren’s year away, but you know he wasn’t relaxing and getting back in touch with his brother, he had lost himself, getting himself arrested and God knows what else – but for some reason he’s back now?

[bestiesenpai]

Idolatry - Getou Suguru

I love aliens and someday I will fuck one

Content warnings: manipulation/blackmail

“Mayday, mayday! Mission control, please come in, this is astronaut Getou Suguru!” The red emergency lights were on, multiple different sirens were going off in the background and Getou had just lost the rest of his crew.

“Mission control, can you hear me?!” He slammed on the control panel, desperately flipping switches and trying to regain control of his failing aircraft. All his training back on Earth hadn’t prepared him for the possibility of a black hole opening up and sucking in half his ship, ripping it apart and taking it somewhere unknown.

“Please, please, please!” There were frantic tears and sweat dripping down Getous face as he tried to get the thrusters back online. His ship was in shambles, slipping further and further into the blackhole.

Looking up through the windshield, his view of space before him was slowly fading away and he felt an intense pull from behind him, almost as if he was being ripped apart himself as he and his ship were pulled into the blackhole.

Getou didn’t think he’d wake up after that. The world had gone completely black, all the oxygen yanked from his body and the cold vacuum of space compressed around him. Getou hadn’t expected to wake up on firm, solid ground. And much less surrounded by otherworldly creatures.

“Is it really him?” He wasn’t sure how he understood the things before him, their voices warbled and distorted, but he could. Getou could only watch with fuzzy edged vision as the creatures crowded around him and their features became clearer.

“It must be! Just look at his face!”

“He’s got the hair as well, and his skin is milky white like in the stories!”

“Our God has returned to us, what a joyous day this is!” Someone cried and Getou was lifted up from the ground and removed from the rubble that was his spaceship. Struggling to breathe, he was sure there were a few cracked ribs under his skin.

“Be gentle now, the journey from the heavens wasn’t kind on him.”

“To the temple, at once!”

Placed on a long gurney, Getou was transported to the temple in question. With his vision going in and out, he could just barely make out the bright blue trees and foreign animal sounds passing him by. The creatures that had lifted him up were now closer to be viewed and Getou could tell they weren’t of human origin.

“Oh, how we’ve waited for this day!” The heat of whatever jungle Getou was in had a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin, but the warm air helped lull him into a more relaxed state, almost falling asleep despite the situation.

Carried up the steps of the temple, Getou barely came to when he was stripped and submerged into a pool of light green water, nearly scalding him and scented with what appeared to be rose petals floating around him.

“Call the shamans, we need to make sure everything is correct!” There was rustling around him, figures darting in and out of his half lidded gaze. Someone was lifting one of his arms to wash him, immediately letting go when he let out a pained groan.

“He needs medicine, quick!” In an instant something was being poured down Getous throat, an ice cold liquid that spread across his body and made a shiver go through him. There was a heavy silence in the air for a moment as he was observed, and all of a sudden, he felt better.

Sitting up a little straighter in the solid gold tub he could now see, Getou stayed silent as his body was washed. The creatures around him avoided eye contact, bowing their heads when he turned to look at them.

They were gentle, washing the dried blood off Getous face and combing through his hair with their long pointed nails. He’d never received such lavish treatment before, and as he relaxed further into the tub, a man dressed in robes not unlike the ones Getou owned back home came to the side of the tub with a heavy tome, reciting something in an unknown language over Getou.

He was lifted out of the tub and dried gently, dressed in a soft green robe like the man that had prayed over him, and escorted to another room. He could tell this was at the heart of the giant gray stone temple, a skylight and large windows high on the vaulted ceilings letting in plenty of natural light and illuminating the lavish scene in the middle of the room.

In the middle of the room atop a short flight of stairs, sat a golden, red tufted stool only a few feet up from the ground and surrounded by a multitude of pillows and ornate gold decorations. Several oriental rugs were draped across the floor, covering the cool limestone underfoot.

A thick mattress lay just behind the stool with semi-sheer curtains curtains concealing it and the many pillows and blankets atop it. Hundreds of candles were lit around the room as well, lighting up dark corners or simply for decoration around and atop the rugs and stool.

Able to walk on his own now, Getou slowly went up the steps with only a mild drag in his sore legs. Skimming his fingers across the seat of the stool, he walked past it and to the bed, pushing the curtains aside and melting into the squishy mattress.

Even though he couldn’t really keep track of the time, Getou was sure a week had passed since he’d crash landed on this mysterious planet. In that time, he filled in the blanks of what was going on around him.

He was being worshipped as a God, an altruistic being that had fallen from the heavens as foretold in the legends of the people that lived here. Apparently, he was one of many gods and goddesses that the planet believed in, and it just so happened that his sudden appearance aligned with a prophecy that he would arrive.

Not one to live in a lie, Getou had originally wanted to tell the truth once he was able to speak more properly. It wouldn’t be right for them to place such strong faith into him when he truly wasn’t what they wanted, but he found it harder and harder as time went on.

And that was because of the treatment he received. He was bathed everyday, fed delicious meals whenever he wanted and was showered in praise and admiration at every second. To say Getou was soaking up all the attention was an understatement; he was absolutely drowning in it.

“My Lord, may I approach?” It was midday, the sun beaming down through the ceiling directly onto Getou, warming him up and making him radiate with light. A temple worker he’s never seen before enters the room, head bowed and with a familiar set of objects in their hand.

“You may.” Getou quickly noticed the basin, towel and pitcher of water and sat up a little straighter in his stool. It was time for his midday foot bath. You made quick work of the steps and knelt down before him in a moment.

Getou watched as you silently poured the water, keeping your head bowed per usual. Craning his head up to the sky, Getou lazily studied the windows above him. There were no clouds in the sky on this planet, but it didn’t stop the sky from looking beautiful.

“You’re quite handsome, my Lord.” That comment had Getou’s head snapping back down and coming eye to eye with you. No one else had ever made eye contact with him, not even the shamans that spoke with him about sacred texts. The sudden change unnerved him, making him blush.

“I didn’t know you were allowed to look upon me in such a way.” Getou said, dipping his feet into the bath and relaxing his legs. “I am a God, after all. Wouldn’t a comment like that be considered blasphemous?” Regaining control over his suddenly rapid heartbeat, Getou still felt a light veil of heat across his face.

“It would be, if you really were a God in the first place.” Getou nearly choked on his spit as he heard the words come out of your mouth.

“E-excuse me?! I am a God!” His face erupted in a dark blush. This was bad, really bad. The smirk on your face told him all he needed to know; the jig was up, you saw right through him. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still try and keep up the ruse.

“An arrival from the sky may have been foretold in the legends, but you are not what was promised to us.” Your words were quick and concise, an almost harsh tone underlying them. “It was my job to go through the rubble of the craft you arrived in, and I found quite a few things labeled from a planet called ‘Earth’.”

He and Gojo just had to have too much fun with the label maker, didn’t they?

“Earth is what us God's call the place we reside.” Clearing his throat, Getou tried to soothe his burning cheeks.

“Then why did I find this?” Digging into a hidden pocket within your robes, you pulled out a thick manuscript, personally typed and signed by Getou outlining his position within the team and the duties he’d fulfill while on the mission that ultimately brought him here.

The edges of the paper were all burnt and crispy, but most of the pages were still intact. Flipping through them, you showed him all the polaroid pictures that were stuffed inside of Getou in his space suit and at the control panels of the ship, and with Gojo and other crew members.

“I didn’t think a God would carry around so many papers about his job. I thought you just knew.” Tossing the manuscript to the floor, you sprinkled smelling salts into the water and grabbed onto one of Getou’s feet, raising it only slightly as you let him mull over the new information before him.

“So, I assume you’ll have me killed for lying, then?” There was a heavy pit sitting in his stomach, but Getou knew this day would come, it was only a matter of when.

“Kill you? Never!” Your sudden laugh gave him pause.

“Then what? What will happen to me now?”

“I intend to use this information to my advantage.”

“You want to use me to climb the ranks at the temple, don’t you?” Narrowing his eyes, Getou could already see the plan formulating behind your eyes.

“Precisely, my Lord. Over the course of a few months, I will become your most trusted advisor.” Letting go of his foot, your hand slid up Getou’s leg, your pointed nails scraping against his skin. “And before the anniversary of the sun’s return, I will be the highest shaman in the temple. Your right hand, if you may.”

As you spoke, your hand went higher and higher, skimming the edges of his long silken robe and going under it, cupping his knee for a moment before stopping midthigh. If anyone walked in right now, what would they say to the scene in front of them?

“What’s in it for me?” Getou shuddered as your nails dragged lightly along his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake that had his senses tingling. You flashed him a smile, one full of rows of shiny black teeth.

“Why, you get to remain the all powerful God of this land, bestowing wisdom upon the subjects that worship you.” Sidling up to Getous legs, you fully pushed apart his robes to reveal his soft cock. “And…”

“And?” Getou pressed as you trailed off, subtly opening his legs as much as he could with his feet still in the basin. You chuckled at him, hand grabbing gently onto the base of his cock. Getou had come to learn that the creatures on this planet were often colder than he was, and your lukewarm hand was a testament to that.

“And I’ll keep you nice and happy.” Brazenly leaning over his lap, you sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth, your long tongue lapping out and wrapping around him, the tip going all the way down to his balls.

“Ah!” The unexpected pleasure shooting up his spine made Getou curl inward, knocking over the basin and spilling water onto the rugs. His hand shot out to grasp the back of your head, urgently trying to ground himself as his mind turned to mush.

“Don’t worry about the mess, my Lord. I’ll clean it up.” Pulling off his cock, you licked your lips and looked over your shoulders.

“You- what’s your name?” Getou panted, his legs already starting to tremble.

“(Y/N), my Lord.” You grinned, beginning to slowly jerk off his cock.

“(Y/N).” He tested the name on his tongue but he couldn’t speak any further as you thumbed the tip of his cock.

“But you don’t need to worry yourself about that now.” Now that his feet were free, you could slide in between Getou’s legs and get to his cock easier. “Right now, it’s all about you.”

[lahyene]

Chemistry Read.

Pairing: chris evans x celeb!reader

Summary: You’ve been casted as Chris’ love interest in an upcoming movie he’s not only acting in but directing himself. He calls you over to run lines, but you soon find out he wants to do a little more than that to prepare for filming.

Themes: smut

Word count: 1537

Your heart is racing as you knock on the door of the upscale LA apartment owned by none other than Chris Evans himself, the director and lead actor of the upcoming movie you’ve been selected to play the female lead in. 

You only met him a handful of times. He was there during the casting process, of course, and you had to have a chemistry read with him. You could still remember the way he gazed at you with those perfect blue eyes, as if you were the only girl in the world- he’s dangerous, and you’re reminding yourself of that now as you hear the footsteps approach the front door.

But when he opens it and looks down at you with those rugged features and charming smile, any warning from your conscience is thrown out the window. If this was a cartoon, you would have a puddle of drool at your feet by now. He looks ridiculously handsome in a steel grey henley that fits his muscle just right, a pair of dark jeans, and a Red Sox cap atop his fluffy brown hair.

“Hey,” you greet with a smile, barely tugging on your lower lip with your teeth. “Sorry I’m a little late. LA traffic, you know how it is.”

“Oh, do I.” He scoffs, gesturing for you to come inside. “Just another reason as to why I miss Boston everyday. I mean, sure, we get a little road rage from time to time, but at least we know how to keep it movin’.” He laughs softly and you do too, already feeling at ease despite his intimidatingly good looks. “Thanks for coming here to run lines, though. Can I get ya a drink or anything?”

“Just a water is fine, thanks.” You reply with a smile, unzipping your purse to take your script out. “So, uh, was there any scene in particular you wanted to go over?”

“Honestly, I was thinking we should go over the more intimate scenes.” He answers truthfully, going into the kitchen to retrieve your water from the fridge. “I mean, it’s clear we’re killing it with the light, romantic, sugary sweet stuff, ya know?” He comes back with a small grin, handing you the bottle. “And I hear it’s your first time doing more... explicit scenes in a movie?”

Your heart is beating faster solely from the thought of doing anything explicit with Chris, but you force yourself to look composed, smiling slightly. “To be honest, this movie has a lot of firsts for me. I’m more used to modeling than acting, but I’m so grateful to have this chance. I’ve wanted to be an actress ever since I was little.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” Chris nods, and you swear you notice his pacific hues rake over your body. “I remember seeing your pictures during casting. You mainly model lingerie, right?” He smiles, head tilting slightly. “So you’ll probably already feel more comfortable in front of the camera in... well, next to nothing.” He laughs, but you don’t miss the way he bites his lip, the sight in itself making you feel thirsty for more than just water. 

Did he really call you here just to run lines?

“Yeah, I’m pretty used to it.” You answer, your voice a little softer than before as your mind begins plotting. After taking a sip of the water, you set it down on the table. “But it’s not just about the camera, right? It’s also important to be comfortable with the person you’re working with.” You look up at him innocently, barely raising an eyebrow. “So maybe we should really get into character, huh?”

Chris blinks, but the corner of his lips tug upwards ever-so-slightly into a tiny smirk as he looks at you with intrigue and curiosity. “What exactly were you thinking?”

You pick up the script again, flipping to the right page. “Well, for instance,” you answer nonchalantly, “there’s a scene where our characters are making out- but we’re both naked, because we just went skinny dipping.”

Chris’ smirk is getting slightly wider as he walks backwards, sitting down on the couch with his jean clad legs barely spread, his thick thighs looking more welcoming than ever as if waiting for you to sit upon them. “Right. So what are you proposing here?”

You bite your lip as you admire his manly stature before placing the script down, taking hold of the hem of your tank top and pulling it up over your head. You’re making a bold move here, but Hollywood likes bold. And from the way Chris is staring at you in complete awe and hunger, it appears he likes bold too. You’re not done yet, though- you reach behind to unhook your bra, letting it drop to the floor. His blue-green eyes widen slightly before a husky curse escapes from under his breath, his large hands immediately reaching to yank his own shirt off, his hat falling off with it. “C’mere,” he mutters hastily, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you to his lap, eliciting a delighted squeal from your lips.

“I don’t think that’s how the script goes,” you barely have time to tease before he pulls you in for a kiss, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck with his fingers tangled in your hair. 

He chuckles darkly in between steamy kisses, moving his other hand up to squeeze and grope your breasts as if practically worshiping them. “You said we should get comfortable with each other first, right? I think that’s exactly what we’re doing here...”

You can’t help but hum and whimper in satisfaction as he plays with your breasts, your hands moving up so you can run your fingers through his hair as you continue your heated make out session. It isn’t long before you find his belt, unbuckling it and tossing it aside, lifting your hips so both of you can remove your pants and underwear. 

“Did you actually intend on running lines, Chris?” you ask with a breathless giggle, curling your fingers around his thick shaft as you rub it up and down. 

He lets out a deep and guttural groan, tilting his head back while he bucks his hips slightly. “I... really did want to, for at least a little bit... but... fuck,” he’s practically panting, teeth tugging at his lip harshly from the enjoyment your hand is giving him, “Ever since we first cast you, and since I saw your pictures... shit, I needed you. You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever fuckin’ seen...”

“Little ol’ me?” you whisper, rubbing faster and enjoying the pleasured expressions twisting his handsome face. “Well, I’m flattered, seeing how many A-listers you know...”

“Shit, baby.” He growls, giving you an urgent look of desperation. “I need to be inside you right fuckin’ now.” 

As much as you want to tease, you’re only torturing yourself here. You look around, breathing out, “Do you have a-”

“First drawer,” he immediately answers, nodding towards the chest beside the couch. You giggle slightly and lean over, opening it and taking out a condom, removing the wrapper and slowly sliding it along his impressive shaft. 

“You’re so big,” you murmur, lifting your hips and teasing him by rubbing your wet core against his tip. “You’re going to stretch me out so much...”

“Fuck,” he groans, gripping your waist, “I can’t wait, baby girl.”

You sink yourself down onto his swollen head, a moan erupting from your throat as you grip his biceps tightly, eyes closing as you feel him already enter deep inside you. “Holy... holy fuck, Chris...!” 

He smirks breathlessly as he watches you bounce on his cock, his massive hands supporting your waist and helping you move as well, his chest heaving with his breaths. “Shit, it’s like your pussy was fuckin’ made for me, honey. You feel so goddamn good!”

Your moans grow louder as his hands find your ass, squeezing and groping and smacking every chance he gets. You can’t help but marvel over the beautiful sight underneath you, from his perfect facial hair, lust filled blue eyes, huge arms, and toned abdomen. You arch your back to get a better angle, leaning forward as your breasts bounce right under his nose- he gladly begins to kiss and suck on them as he thrusts himself upwards, wanting to fill you up as much as he possibly can.

“Fuck....! Chris, I’m gonna....”

“Me too, baby, holy fuck, me too!” 

You both find your release, your mouth open as you practically gasp for breath, running a hand through your slightly dampened hair as you slowly lift yourself off him. He helps you steady yourself before removing the condom, walking away to dispose of it- you can’t help but stare at his beautiful frame, eyes lingering over the chiseled muscle of his back and dropping to his infamous nude ass. You lean back against the couch, trying to catch your breath again.

He comes back and chuckles, picking up your water bottle and handing it to you, shaking the sweat out of his brown hair. “You know, I think this was way more productive than any chemistry read or rehearsal I’ve ever had...”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Stepdaddy

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Its here and now I lowkey wanna write more of this)

Summary- Caught in a lustful attraction, Keanu and his soon to be step daughter, fall victim to their desire. *OFC (Y/n) is over 18. (I beg you, please don’t kill me.)

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, daddy kink, semi-public sex, infidelity (please just read the title and summary), age gap

Keanu knew it was wrong, with every fiber in his being, from the depths of his experienced mind all the way down to the very tips of his toes, he knew for certain, it was wrong. But he couldn't help himself, for though he’d prided himself on having a strict moral code, he was, at the base of it, a man. A man who could appreciate a gorgeous woman when he saw one. If only that gorgeous woman wasn’t mere months away from being his step daughter.

From the minute they’d met, Keanu had found himself urging resistance, he loved his fiancée, he did. Caroline. She was a notable, and incredibly talented designer and they’d met when the fashion house she worked with had sourced him as the face of their fall line. Falling for hadn’t been instantaneous, instead, they’d spent a few too many nights together and gotten to talking. He’d found something in her, a resting place for his weary soul, a familiarity that had yet to be discovered in anyone else. They were both well travelled, old souls and no matter where they were, as long as they were together, it felt like home. When they’d gotten together, Keanu was positive that he’d never have eyes for another. That was, until he met her daughter. 

The spitting image of her mother, thought minus twenty something years in age, Y/n was jaw-droppingly stunning. From the minute she’d walked into the room, that night when she’d returned from a month-long trip to Paris with some of her friends, Keanu found it hard to tear his gaze away. She was magnetic, far more melancholic than her mother and had this sort of dark princess, too moody to be the life of the party kind of vibe. But still, there wasn’t a soul that didn’t gravitate towards her when she entered a room. Y/n was a paradox of sorts, wildly mysterious yet disarmingly charming. 

After their initial introduction, just some seven or eight months prior, she’d become a staple of their Malibu household- he and Caroline had agreed that they would move into her place on the beach; it was the one thing she’d held on to after her husband’s untimely passing and where she’d raised her only child. At first, Keanu welcomed the idea, anything for his dear Caroline, though, months later, he was slowly beginning to regret it. Especially when work had taken Caroline to Italy, leaving him to often find Y/n lounging near the poolside, with her model friends and whatever lucky man had been in her good graces at that point. 

They never seemed to last; the men, and every time one stopped coming around, Keanu would breathe a sigh of relief. It was ridiculous really, but he’d somehow developed the notion that if he couldn’t have her, no one else should. He wanted her, physically he ached for her, especially after seeing how the scarce fabric of her bikinis would hug her curves. And then to add insult to injury, during the stretch of her mother's absence and the short stint of one of those overly pompous surfer boys, he’d stumbled upon the most vulgar thing on his way to his and Caroline's shared bedroom. 

Well, maybe ‘stumbled upon’ might have been too generous. Maybe he’d followed the sounds of strained yelps and heavy grunts all the way to a slightly ajar door that led to Y/n’s bedroom. A peek in had proven to boil his blood upon finding her with her back pressed against the dresser, panties hanging off one of her ankles and her nameless companion jerking her body into the furniture. Part of him was illogically enraged, jealous. But another part had stiffened, hardening in his pants and when he’d found the will to rip his eyes away from the scene, Keanu had stolen to his room, taking himself in his hand after a pumping some lotion from a bottle on the nearby nightstand into his palm, grunting Y/n’s name through clenched teeth as he fucked himself. After that, it was hard to look at Y/n without thinking of what he'd seen, without wishing it had been him with her that afternoon instead. 

That night, long after Caroline’s return, when they had made reservations at a nearby restaurant to celebrate the green light on her latest line, Keanu, for a few dear minutes, had been able to give his fiancée his full attention. He wished it could have lasted longer, because every time his mind wandered, it made him feel guilty, but they were just heading out through the front door when Y/n sauntered in, from a hallway off to the side, head down and loose tresses, curtain her face as she secured her phone in her large clutch. She swayed her hips slowly and thin heels thumped quietly on the hardwood. “Sorry,” she breathed absently, not looking at them.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Caroline huffed and unlike Y/n, all Keanu could do was stare. And try to not drool. Her black dress was skin tight, sporting a high slit at her left thigh as if its already lacking hem didn’t boast her smooth legs. Spaghetti straps supported a dangerously low neckline and he had to actively avoid ogling at how her full breasts seemed pushed together. A bright ruby pendant drew attention to her cleavage, while similar stones shone on the ear that she’d tucked some of her hair behind, though, none of the exquisite stones were as deep or dark as her full lips, caught in a perpetual pout. 

As she lifted her head, Y/n rolled her eyes, sighing softly as she met her mother’s fallen expression, her own softening as she spoke next, “I said I was sorry,” Y/n sighed again, approaching her mother and seemingly ignoring him at her side. As Y/n leaned in to peck Caroline’s cheek though, her bare arm brushed his, and Keanu could have sworn electricity passed between them. “You know I wouldn’t miss this mom, it’s important to you.”

“I know,” Caroline smiled softly, slipping her arm into Keanu’s, “Isn’t Shane joining us?” She inquired absently as the slipped through the front door, the steps illumined by yellow, glowing porch lights. 

Scoffing, Keanu barely missed the way Y/n brushed some hair out of her face as she did. “He’s…..we’re done.”

“So soon?” Keanu was the one who spoke up that time, his interest peaked. Shane had been around for longer than the others. They’d actually met him and Caroline seemed to like him well enough for her daughter.

“Mm hmm,” Y/n hummed, being the first to get into the back of the black, heavily tinted sedan so he and her mother could sit together, “He was boring.” She never came off as one interested in offering many words, and as far back as Keanu remembered, they’d only had a handful of full conversations. If it weren’t for Caroline telling him, he wouldn’t have even known that she had a job outside of lounging by the pool almost everyday; she was a fashion curator, whatever that meant. 

“He’s a doctor!” Caroline defended, knitting her brows, “A doctor for Doctors Without Borders, what’s so boring about that?”

Shifting so she could look out the window, Y/n propped her chin on her hand, her elbow stationed on the door, “I don’t know,” she shrugged half heartedly, already off in her own world, “He just was.”

Keanu threw Caroline, who’d realized that Y/n wasn’t really entertained by the conversation, a sympathetic look, effectively hiding his satisfaction with how unattached her daughter was. “Alright dear,” she gnawed on her lower lip and Keanu affectionately squeezed her hand in his, “Whatever you say.”

Vacantly, Y/n stared at her half finished meal, fork held loosely between her fingers. Occasionally, when she’d raise her head to take a sip of her wine, she’d meet the sight of her mother leaning into Keanu’s embrace as they shared innocent pecks ever so often. She liked seeing her mother happy, it had been years since her father’s passing after all, and Keanu was the first person she’d let get that close, but despite it all, Y/n was still jealous. Not jealous of her happiness, but really, who she'd found happiness with; Keanu.

He was smolderingly attractive; the specs of salt in his beard, the dark locks falling perfectly over his rugged features, his broad shoulders and towering stature. Y/n could see the appeal, and she could see it well enough to want her chance at him. It was twisted, immature and he should have been off limits, but there was just something about his rich pools of whiskey that sent shivers up her spine when he laid eyes on her. And Y/n went out of her way to make sure he laid eyes on her.

It was particularly hard either; half her time back at the house was spent in a swimsuit anyway, and she’d been especially sure to wear her skimpiest pieces when  she knew for sure that he'd be out on the balcony for his late night smoke. It wasn't overtly obvious, but Y/n could tell her efforts were paying off. Sometimes, depending on what she was wearing and if they were alone in a room, she could feel his eyes following her around, and then, there were some more…….unsavory things that she'd been privy to. 

It had never been Y/n's intention to hurt her mother, or steal her boyfriend, but who could resist a man as magnificent. Keanu was every girl's wet dream, older, hunky and no doubt experienced, in all respects. Besides, it wasn't like she was trying to snatch him away forever, at most, she wanted to show him a good time, what her girl her age could do before he and her mom got hitched. 

Speaking of the wedding.

"Y/n?" Her mother roused her attention, just as her eyes had started straying towards the ocean view offered through the window, "I’ve waiting to ask you something when we were all together, as a family," Caroline reached across the table for her daughter's hand, "I know that we haven’t been as close as we used to be before you left for college. But you're still my daughter, my little ballerina," at the words, Y/n blushed, memories of a simpler time flashing across her mind, "And I'd love it if you'd be my maid of honor."

Widening her eyes, Y/n's jaw slacked, "Mom…..I'd be honored." Mustering up a smile and doing her best to ignore Keanu. That moment wasn't about him, it was about her and her mother.

"Really?" Caroline cooed giddily, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. For a split second, a pang of guilt stabbed at her chest. Her mother was marrying Keanu. Her mother who'd sworn off dating after a horrible accident vowed her a single parent. Her mother, who'd taken her around the world as a child, along with an armory of private tutors, just so Y/n could have the best of both worlds. Her mother, and there she was, trying to seduce her fiancé. How ungrateful could she be?

Chuckling fondly, Y/n tilted her head, "Of course mom, I'd love to be your maid of honor."

"Oh! I'm so happy to hear that," Caroline sniffled, "Keanu can tell you, I've been meaning to ask since you got back. But we hadn't even started planning the wedding yet, and then I had to go to Italy and I didn't just want to spring it on you either," her smile faltered, and Y/n knew where her mother was going with that, "I know that it's been almost fifteen years, but I didn't want you to think that I'm marrying Keanu to replace your father."

The memories of him stung and Y/n had to clench her jaw as she shook her head, "I know. It's been…..a long time, since he…...doesn't matter," clearing her throat, Y/n was suddenly fighting tears, "You deserve to have love again."

"Y/n's right sweetheart," Keanu pecked the top of her mother's head, "And I'm so happy that I'm the only that gets to love you."

Even if she'd just reprimanded herself, seeing Keanu coddle her mother was still a bit annoying, and coupled with the barrage of memories shared with her late father, Y/n was starting to get the feeling that the walls were closing in on her. She needed air, fast. "Excuse me," the chair scraped the tiles noisily as she stood abruptly, discarding her napkin next to her plate on the table, "I think I'm gonna go for a walk, get some fresh air."

As she stalked off hurriedly, Y/n could hear her mother calling after her, asking if she was okay. But the last thing Y/n wanted to do was talk about it and, as she broke through the glass doors of the establishment, sea breeze blasting her face and the sound of waves crashing against the shore filling her hearts, she sighed heavily, grateful to finally be alone with her thoughts.

Replaying the past in her head, like the best parts of a movie on repeat, Y/n walked slowly along the sand dusted wooden pathway tucked against the side of the restaurant. The area was barren of all other life, and dark void of any other lighting besides what was offered by the twinkling night sky. Usually, she supposed the area was used by workers who wanted to escape the bustle without being caught, but that night, it was perfect for a young girl seeking to escape her reality.

If only for a very short while. 

"Is everything okay?" A painfully familiar baritone pierced her thoughts, causing Y/n to turn around as face Keanu. His features were shrouded by the dimness, but she could identify the outline of his frame almost immediately, marveling at how much bigger he looked under the cover of the shadows. 

Blinking away her tears, thankful that he could not see her glassy eyes, Y/n nodded stiffly, "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

Shrugging, Keanu took a couple steps forward, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "You ran out of there pretty quickly," he nudged towards the restaurant, "Your mom wanted to come talk to you, but I offered to do it instead?"

"Yeah?" A sly smile broke through without her permission, and Y/n folded her arms, leaning against the sturdy guard rail, "Why?"

"I just think it's important for us to be able to have these kinds of conversations, I'm marrying your mother in a few months after all," his words seemed to shake and Y/n was beginning to wonder if concern for her was what had brought him out there. As much as people wanted to believe it, she knew that Keanu was hardly a saint.

"You're right," Y/n teased, subtly inching closer. Any trace of guilt she'd harbored was gone from the minute he'd called out to her. Maybe he should have stayed inside if he wanted to keep up the good guy persona, and maybe, just maybe, Y/n was a little too used to getting want she wanted. "Soon you're gonna be like…..my daddy," raising her brows, she snatched her lower lip between her teeth, "My step daddy," sure enough, she enunciated the word, ensuring that it dripped with seduction.

"So that's why you came out here?" Keanu scoffed, shaking his head and clearly trying to hide his smirk, "You know, you're not as innocent as your mother thinks you are."

Throwing her head back, Y/n chortled, the sound smooth like a full-bodied red, "I never claimed to be, or tired," shaking her shoulder, she was eventually looking at him again, dark, lustrous gaze unwavering, "You on the other hand…..you might have her fooled. Hell, you might have everyone fooled, except for me."

Licking his lips, Keanu hesitated before humoring her, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't act so coy," Y/n dismissed with a wave of her jewel adorned hand, "Tell me Keanu," she closed the distance between them, leaving a weak few inches between their bodies, "Do you always call my name when you fuck yourself?"

He knew exactly what she was talking about and Y/n could tell. She'd heard him that day, even when the door muffling her words, in particular, had rang through clearly; her name as he came sloppy all over his fingers. "You heard that?" He breathed hoarsely. 

"And so much more," Y/n fingers lightly trailed the zipper of his leather jacket, and she gazed up at him through her thick lashes, daring him to make the next move. "Wouldn't you like to feel the real thing?" Y/n hummed, "See if I'm as tight as you're imagining." 

"You're a bad girl," he mused, his warm palms ghosting her hips, as if he was scared that touching her would solidify the act. Still, he worked against conscience, "Say it again," he urged, "Call me that again."

Quelling a mischievous soiree, Y/n laid her free hand on his bicep, discarding her last shred of rationality, which screamed that she was possibly among the worst in the world, "Daddy," she purred. "How often do you think about fucking me, Daddy?"

"Too often," he growled, hastily shoving Y/n against the wall. "You walk around in those tiny outfits, like some kind of little slut. And you let frat boys fuck you with the door open. You're practically asking for it."

"And what are you gonna do about that?" Keanu had already hoisted her up, one of Y/n's legs hooking around his hip while the other laid limp. Her arms looped his neck as their proximity had allowed for her breast to be pressed against his chest as she kept a hand planted on her ass. 

"I'm gonna give it to you sweetheart," he nipped at her neck, carefully avoiding any marks, "I wanna be a good Daddy."

"Fuck," a lewd moan escaped her lips, and the feeling of his hard-on pressed against her inner thigh was enough to drench her panties. Keanu merely felt deliciously big. When he nipped on her skin, dragging his teeth as he pulled away, she clutched his bulky arms, nails sinking into the soft leather of his coat. Y/n’s body arched into his as she threw her head back, and Keanu’s hands slipped beneath the hem of her dress, the fabric bunching up at her waist as he roamed her body. “I want you,” she whispered huskily, shutting her eyes and lolling her head back against the wall. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he mumbled, pawing at her ass, kneading and squeezing the firm flesh roughly. Wasting no more time, he shoved her panties away, setting Y/n back on the ground so they could slip down her legs and fall in a sparse pool of racy navy lace at her feet. As Y/n nudged them away with the tip of her stiletto, Keanu got started on the buckle of his belt, aided by her lithe fingers. 

“What if someone sees us?” She probed, finding the zipper of his jeans and then reaching inside his pants to palm his hardened cock through his boxers, grinning wickedly at its undeniable girth.

“Look around baby, no ones gonna see a damn thing,” he offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “We just gotta be quick.”

Hissing loudly as she squeezed, Keanu bucked into her touch, groaning languidly when she rubbed her thumb over his cotton clad head. “Then what are you waiting for Daddy? We haven’t got all night.”

“You’re right,” he snarled, hastily collecting her in his strong arms once again, shoving her against the wall, situating himself between her spread legs. Temporarily, he clumsily squeezed one hand between their heated bodies, pushing down his underwear and freeing his cock. “You ready?” Keanu’s rumbling words didn’t await permission before he jerked into Y/n’s dripping cunt, her response reduced to hitched cry. Immediately, she could feel his veins bulging against her sensitive walls, and the slight curve of his shaft reached so deep she could have sworn she felt him in her stomach. “You cunt’s so tight babygirl, perfect for Daddy’s cock.”

The feeling of Keanu nestled in her drenched sex, his pace steady and guiding, while still bordering intense rabidity, had Y/n gasping for breath, not caring if the salty air would assault her senses. His cock expended her, almost to the point of creating the most pleasurable burn, and his bruising grip on her waist, the only thing supporting her, was like electricity. Desperate to touch him, Y/n clawed at his t-shirt, barely aware that ripping it would be an unexplainable disaster. Though, her patience quickly wore thin and she resorted  to sliding her hands down the neck of his t-shirt, reaching for his back. 

Keanu’s tongue, dancing around hers, tasted of the beer he’d been having with dinner, and that, coupled with the lingering Merlot on her tongue was astoundingly intoxicating. The act, the danger of being caught, its depraved immorality, was so sweet that it was drunkening. The feel of Keanu drilling into her, leading her to the threshold of sweet release was far above anything she’d ever felt. The top of his jeans, lowered only enough to allow their sin, chafed the underside of Y/n’s thighs, the friction only adding to the unmatched sensation.

“Oh fuck!” She rasped, sinking her nails into his shoulders, the words swallowed eagerly by Keanu as he rolled his hips aggressively, knowing that they didn’t have much time.

“No marks,” he managed, pulling away and pressing her nose to Y/n’s.  Shrugging hastily, Keanu tried to nudge her hands off, “She can’t know.” Barely registering his words, Y/n still loosened her grip, sliding one of her hands up to disturb the neatness of his hair. Around his hips, her legs tightened, consequently restricting his pace even as she breathlessly mumbled broken pleas for him to go faster. 

As Y/n’s nails scratched his scalp, one of Keanu’s rough palms deserted her hip, roaming her side, yanking down one of the thin, delicate straps of her silky dress down her arm, freeing one of her breasts so he could grope it eagerly, between moments spent rolling her pebbled nipple between his thumb and pointer. Struggling to buck her hips to meet his, Y/n could quickly feel the last threads holding her coherence together getting ready to snap. “I’m gonna…..” Y/n threw her head back, cool night air combating the heat seeping to the surface of her skin. An indecorous cry parted her lips, and she barely got the words out, “I’m close.”

“The come for me,” Keanu gritted, baring his teeth as he buried his face in the crook of Y/n’s neck, “Come all over Daddy’s cock, baby.”

Under the witness of the navy cloak, speckled with twinkling specs of white, and to the melody of foamy water sloshing beneath their shaky feet, the broil in Y/n’s stomach overflowed explosively. Stars, much like the ones teasing them from above, danced on her blurred vision as a rush of slick moisture coated their thighs, bathing Keanu’s swollen member. As she clenched around him, her legs losing sensation, Y/n felt him slow down, his thrusts rigid as Keanu revealed in the feeling.

A vulgar grunt joined their sounds, ending with a series of hitched breaths as Keanu shot generous, hot bursts of his product inside her, coating her slick walls as excess dripped between them. Sloppily and without rhythm, he rode out both their highs, his movements only slowing down almost completely as they came down. 

Stumbling back as he pulled out, Keanu braved himself on the banister, catching his breath. Y/n, still disheveled, slouched against the wall, eyeing Keanu intensely as her chest heaved with deep, heavy breaths. The lingering exhilaration roused the tried smile from her and leaning her head back, Y/n let her eyes slip closed.

"We need to head back inside," Keanu declared, putting himself back together. "Tell you what," he beamed wickedly, bending near Y/n's feet to collect her discarded panties off the floor, "I'll keep these," he crumpled her thong, shoving it into his back pocket, "And you can keep this," without warning, he tossed her the same handkerchief he'd used to hurriedly wipe away the evidence from his thighs.

Before Y/n could even sum up a witty response, still in the process of rearranging her dress, Keanu was adjusting his jacket and running corrective fingers through his full, dark mane. "Don't take too long, alright?" He set off for the side entrance, "See you inside Kid."

As he neared their table, nearer to the cost booths and situated perfectly under the intimate lighting, Keanu watched as Caroline lifted her head, a worried, yet hopeful smile etched across her lovely features. He loved her. "Sweetheart," he bent, pecking her cheek quickly before settling in the chair next to her. As he did, a wave of guilt, incomparable to anything he'd ever felt before then, washed over him. He'd betrayed her, the woman he was going to marry, with no other but her own child. 

"Is everything okay?" She probed gently and when Caroline looked at him, with those familiar eyes so full of love, Keanu felt like he was bare naked and blasted with frigid air.

"Yeah," he gestured elaborately with hands, trying to suppress his muddled feelings, "Yeah, why?"

"Well my daughter left in the middle of dinner and practically ran out of the restaurant and you told me you were gonna talk to her. So I'm just wondering how it went," Keanu knew it wasn't her intention, Caroline trusted him, even if he didn't deserve her trust, but every question was suddenly an interrogation, a witch hunt for the truth.

Sucking in a breath, the feel of her against him, her part breasts to his chest, the warmth between her silken legs, the taste of her skin, it all came back to him in a rush, as if he were still out there with Y/n, losing himself in the pleasure. It had been a while since he'd been with a woman that age, and with the experience he'd had then, the thrill was exalting. He wanted it- her again. But he shouldn't have had her at all. "It was good," he cleared his throat reaching for his beer in hopes of swallowing the lump in his throat. "We had a nice-"

Before he could finish, Y/n was approaching the table with a cool confidence that suggested that nothing out of turn had transpired between them. When she sat though, even if Caroline was completely oblivious, a heavy tension befell their table. "I'm back," she declared with a soft giggle, hiding one of her hands, presumably the one with his kerchief, under the table. 

"You are, Keanu was just telling me that you two talked things through. And sweetie, I just want to apologize, I shouldn’t have brought him up, I know you don’t like to talk about your father,” reaching across the table, Caroline took her hand and Keanu noted how Y/n stiffened, actively avoiding him.

“I should be the one apologizing mom,” Y/n inhaled audibly, her feigned smile faltering, Y/n turned her hand over so she’d have a loose hold on her mother’s manicured fingers, “I’m sorry, about just leaving like that earlier,” for the first time since she sat down, Y/n glanced at Keanu, and he found guilt reflected in her eyes, with something else lingering beneath, desire perhaps. He held her gaze, for a little longer than he was supposed to, and Y/n was eventually the one to turn away, guarding herself as she fixed her attention on her mother once again, “I’m sorry mom.”

*****

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