#a peek into our twisted mind

[papple]

me when im crazy..... (check the tags rahh)

[peachesofteal]

Hello! Been enjoying your Through Me series, thanks for sharing it. Curious how Simon reacts to Mama having morning sickness and/or when the baby bump starts showing.

Hope you have a wonderful day!

Through Me (The Flood) - Simon Riley/female reader

"I'm pregnant, not dying."

Simon's lips twist, trying to swallow a smile as he plucks Orion from your arms. "I know, mama. Still, he's huge. You don't need to be picking him up if you can't help it." You throw your hands in the air and your shirt rises, highlighting where your belly has started to change. He can't help but stare at it, warming with pride, with obsession, lust. You turn him into a madman. The bump has pushed him farther into the irrational, possessive, caveman part of his mind, more than he ever thought possible. You're his, all his, carrying his baby again, and it does wild things to him.

"What am I going to do when you're not here?" He frowns, and you place your palm on his hip, patting reassuringly. "Simon, I love you, but you're going to have to let go a little bit."

"I'm going to let go plenty when I leave for work." He huffs, reaching out to spread his hand across your belly. The swell is hardly pronounced, but still there, and it does a weird thing to his heart every time he touches it. You, and the baby. It clangs around in his chest like a wild drum.

He's sick at the idea of leaving you, and you read it on him. "We're going to be okay, Si. I promise." You can't promise that, just he can't promise anything either, but he'll hold tight to the hope.

"I know." Still, he doesn't let go. He leaves his hand sitting there, thumb rubbing circles into your belly, watching your eyes. You're tired. You've been sick, more sick than you were with Orion, and it's wearing you down, whittling your energy away. "You should rest." You glance at Orion reluctantly, and he kisses your temple. "I've got the rest of the night. Go lay down."

Simon snaps the last button closed on Orion's pajamas as he starts peeking around the room.

"Mamamamama-" Ry babbles, looking left and right for you. He always wants you before bed, wants to at least see you if you're not the one putting him down. Simon doesn't blame him. They're kindred spirits in that way.

"Alright little man, let's go say goodnight to mama." You're asleep on your side, a pillow wrapped up in your arms, and he carefully settles onto the bed, tilting forward so Orion can give you a kiss.

"Mama mama." He calls, and your lashes flutter, barely rousing to say goodnight with sleepy sweet smile.

"Hi baby." You reach, bringing him close. "Daddy tucking you in?"

"Had to say goodnight." He soothes a hand over your hip and down to your belly, gravitating towards it like always now. You're in no better shape than you were earlier, and worry twists in his gut. You've promised its normal, but it doesn't sit right with him.

"Okay, love you." You kiss Orion's cheek, holding the back of his head before letting go, looking up at Simon. "Coming to bed after?"

"Gonna clean up the kitchen and then I'll be in. Go back to sleep." He tries not to focus on the anxiety, trying to stay in these moments, these short moments that he'll need to hold onto for as long as possible.

At the door, he turns, watching you slip back under the waves of sleep. His baby in his arms, another one growing inside you, the entirety of the stars shining in the sky around their moon. You.

He makes it to bed an hour later. You're out like a light, sleeping like the dead, snoring, rolled onto your back now, arms and legs out like a starfish, and he tucks himself around you, shifting carefully to avoid waking you while still getting as close as he possibly can. He finds the bump again, flexing his fingers into soft flesh, breath fanning across your collarbone.

"She says you can hear us, you know. Not clearly I guess, but enough to know our voices. That's why she's always talkin' to ya. So you know who she is." He takes a deep breath. "She wants another boy but I think you're gonna be a girl. Have a feeling." You twitch with a small noise, and he kisses your neck to settle you. "Have to even out the odds around here, and you'll have a big brother to look out for you. Protect you, when you need it." He pushes Tommy from his mind as soon as he appears, burying the ghosts back to where they belong. Wounds heal, but scars can still hurt.

"You talking to him?" You murmur, and he holds you tighter.

"Her, yes. I'm talking to her."

"Mhmm." Your burrow your face in his neck and sigh. "Love you."

"Love you too mama."

[wesstars]

crush

cairo sweet x fem!reader (no pronouns used)

summary: when cairo goes home, what comes to mind are thoughts of you. wc: 2.3k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! all characters 18+. university au. masturbation, smoking, non-linear narrative. reader is cairo’s teaching assistant, reader described as masc presenting. a/n: let me know what y’all think :) for the vibes

masterlist

“Is Professor Miller not coming?” Winnie had just dropped into her unassigned assigned seat next to Cairo, two minutes before Greco-Roman Literary Theory started. The flipping of pages punctuated the chatter of other students waiting, a comfortable sound.

“He said he’d be gone today,” Cairo replied absently. “There’s a ‘guest lecturer,’ our teaching assistant.”

“Oh, right. Who’s that?”

Cairo shrugged. “Who knows.” 

As if on cue, the door swung open. Cairo didn’t even look up—Miller mentioned that he kept a handful of research assistants that would be there to help with the advanced reading. But honestly, Cairo wasn’t sure what they could tell her that she didn’t already know. A melodic hum fell through the air for just a moment, a chorus. 

“Good morning.” At your lilting voice, rough with the edge of 10am, Cairo started. She watched you set your messenger bag on the desk. Your white shirt pulled over your shoulders; there was a glint at your collar, a necklace peeking through. A thin watch adorned your wrist. Winnie, along with some of the class, echoed your greeting, and Cairo blinked.

Late spring afternoon draped across the furniture in Cairo’s room, the quickly waning light giving easy way to a blue hour. Dropping her bag at the door, she tore off her shirt and skirt with the confidence of one standing before a crowd. Running a hand up from her sternum to her neck, she stretched languidly, sinking down onto her bed. After so many uneventful days—when she applied to Yale, she didn’t think that there would be any uneventful days—she finally had a story to turn over in her mind. 

You. You were a mystery. Even as you had started the class with an introduction, telling Cairo you’d graduated from a middle-of-nowhere college in California and sought a writing career in Vermont before delving into research, she longed to lay out the details and pull them out from under the rug. Where did you learn to teach? Did you like to drive, or be driven? Mountains, or the sea? Where did you grow up? Was there coffee or tea in your cupboard? Cairo’s stomach burned to know. Her dark eyes burned the ceiling with smoke signals, searching for you even though you were god knows where in that seaside state.

Arching her back, Cairo let her hand travel down, palm flat against her stomach, to trace the seam of her upper thigh. As the class had progressed, your keenly observant nature did not elude Cairo. Maybe listening was something that your pedagogy instilled in you, but the way you held each student’s question in the cant of your head, an answer in your crinkling eyes, listening seemed to be in your nature. It was meticulous, the way you picked apart the class text, weaving in references and tying it all in. In that two hour lecture, Cairo learned that you watched the same way you listened. 

Balmy as it was, the humidity made her dark waves cling to her skin, and she shivered as she brushed them back, thinking of a different pair of slim hands. Your scrutiny of each student had an intention that she couldn’t quite place; a determination that thrilled her. Cairo imagined that you’d observe her the same way, that she would be the one you were most fond of. It was only natural that her own attention would draw yours onto her. Holding the weight of your envisioned gaze made Cairo’s core twist, a pleased little flush that she prayed you could see. Your affected impartiality didn’t bother Cairo—in fact, it pulled her into your shadow. In her bed, she rolled onto her stomach then her knees, shaking her hair out. 

Her hands were steady as she reached for her bedside table, thumb rolling on the wheel of her zippo as she held the cigarette to her lips. Cairo took a drag, blowing out neat smoke rings as she settled back on her heels. The skin of her own fingers was cool against her lips, and when she took the smoke away, she studied the pattern of her lipstick on the white paper as she had so many times before.

She’d watched, unabashedly and unafraid of being caught, as you drummed your fingers on the chalk tray. Would your fingertip be soft or work hardened if it pressed down her tongue? Would your skin carry the stain of her red lip as deeply, as obediently, as the malleable wrapping paper?

“Alright, class,” you cleared your throat, turning slowly around the room to make eye contact with each student. “As you know, Jonathan’s away on a conference today. I’ll start with a bit of roll, just so I can learn your names. Not many of you come to my office hours, I know.” You smiled easily. It was so guileless, Cairo mused, nearly childlike. You had the class go around the rooms with names and majors, a circuit that Cairo gave no attention to other than your lilting rhythm of hums, the tapping of your foot on the floor, the way you flicked the corner of the role sheet with your thumb. Your gaze was soon on hers, waiting expectantly. She looked right back with a blink.

“Cairo Sweet. English major.”

“Cairo.” Her name rolled off your innocent little grin, making her cock her head. “Wonderful.” Fascinating. Would you whisper midnight black desires in her ear, so deep and dark they might be murmured into the ink of your own empty room?

You continued, circling back to the front and easily transitioning to the lesson plan. You had an awfully effortless way of grasping the class’ attention, holding gently and never forcing. It wasn’t like Professor Miller, who always seemed to hasten through the lecture so he could return to his research. She could tell you liked the woods of the text, to fall down into the depths of each word, feeling its weight in you and letting it rock. Just like Cairo. 

She sighed into the warm air prickling up her skin, the curl of your voice around her name making her nipples harden in her bralette, even in retrospect. Exhaling around her cigarette, Cairo brought her hands up to palm her breasts, feeling the drag of her rubied nubs on her palms. Was it the high of the nicotine, the blur of smoke ridden air that made her float straight up into the lofty space you’d created in her mind? Though the feel of her own fingers scraping the lace against her skin was familiar, she found herself keen to think of your soft or callused hands. She was wet already, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten wet so fast.

The weight she imagined of your touch on her flushed skin was completely, deliciously foreign. Unbidden but intimately welcome, Cairo wished that your caress would find the map of her chest as familiar as a classic, something you had searched a million times over yet always managed to find something new. Shamelessly, Cairo trailed her fingers down her stomach, nails catching on every rib as she arched her back in the spilled moonlight. The mystery in the crossing of your long legs as you’d leaned back on the desk climbed up her belly, curling in the thump, thump, thump, of her heart. The uneven roll of your sleeves clung to the corners of her eyes, eidetic and oh, so, tempting. She had watched you so ardently—did you like to watch? Would you watch? 

The space between her thighs was achingly empty, craving the set of your narrow hips. She was comfortable there, and she remembered the taut stretch of wool as you dropped into your chair and set one ankle over your knee. There was something endearing about the way your trousers had pulled up to reveal slouchy black socks, and darker her mind went as the material pulling creases around your lap made her shudder and—she reached behind to pull one of her fluffy pillows under her, smoke billowing into the air. 

Cairo gave her hips an experimental roll, imagining it was the soft fabric of your slacks against her aching cunt, and grinned around her cigarette. Unlike the pillow, you would be ever so solid under her, grabbing for her thighs like a dog yearns to please. Were you more likely to bruise her skin, yanking her into you without care for blood—or would you guide her gently, make a home in her innocence and hold her more dearly than life ever could? Either way, your desire for Cairo would be so apparent that you couldn’t help yourself.

The dip of your tongue in her navel, the little smirk you’d undoubtedly wear as you went down further—would you go for her throbbing clit first, or would your lips press so warm—she didn’t know. She didn’t have to, content with all those different versions of you unfurling before her. In her bedroom, each time she moved her hips, it became easier to imagine you guiding her actions, the bump of your nose on her folds, damned if not addicting.

Cairo grinned as she fell onto her forearms, hips pushing into the soft pillow without abandon. The slide of her panties soaked with slick against her sensitive clit felt like the delicate press of your splayed hand on her desk as you’d passed, eyes occupied by the text you were holding. It had only been a split second, but it was enough for her to memorize every crease, every vein. Cairo let out a whine, a demanding little sound, as her movements grew erratic. Looking up into the heaven where you must be, she imagined that you’d murmur to her, “I’m here, I’m here, how could I be anywhere else but here?” as you traced the dip in her back. Her arousal took her down every sullied path she’d ever dreamed of, but her mind stuck on one gesture that made her mouth go dry. 

She remembered the way your shirt got just a bit untucked when you stretched during the class break. You’d instinctively tucked it back in, quick as you surveyed the class. Cairo thought that you’d dress yourself back up the same way after you bent her over the desk after class, pushing her skirt up and shoving your fingers into her, painting bruises onto her hip bones with how tight you held her.

The two of you would share a mutual understanding that she wanted this, wanted it bad enough for you to take it whenever you saw fit. Cairo decided that today, this time, you’d be as rough as you pleased, a cup of pens clattering to the ground as you pushed her down, forearm across her shoulder blades. Your necklace would be cold on her warm skin, would it be cold on her tongue? You’d put two, three fingers inside, humming in that absentminded way you did. She thought you’d nuzzle into her ear, all lips and sharp teeth, asking if she’d sprayed your favorite hair mist of hers because she hoped you’d notice—she did—and take her, break her, whatever you wanted. 

You’d send her plummeting down towards a deeper hell (or was it higher, up to your majestic heaven?), already knowing everything that her body needed. Cairo imagined herself coming so helplessly around the stretch of your fingers, so high strung from nights of trying to mimic the press of your touch on her clit, unable to reach the same heights you sent her to. As she held back tears, eyes on the ceiling in reverence, feeling herself drip to the floor, you’d sigh as your mind wandered to other things already, carelessly running a hand down her back. 

Cairo gasped, dropping her nearly finished cigarette in favor of gripping the bed sheets. The white fabric wrinkled around her fingers, reminiscent of your shirt creasing as you’d rolled your sleeves up. This was something new you could show her, just how fast she could come and just how wet it made her. It was a marvel, feeling the fabric cling to her cunt, almost as good as how you’d feel. Resting her forehead in the crook of her elbow, she murmured your name over and over again, a little susurrus of a litany, so similar to your preoccupied hum. Panting, Cairo giggled in her bliss, soft and bright as Californian oranges clinging to rich leaves. You were dark enough to be tucked into the wrinkles in the soft pillow, dark enough for Cairo to love, as a journal loves a secret.

Sated, Cairo grabbed her phone and typed your name in. The results spilled out, and she scrolled, looking for all of the details in the background of your social media posts, curiously drunk on the year’s gap in your CV. Cairo noticed the perfect little circle where the cigarette had burned when she dropped it, and she brushed away the remnants. The gesture smeared the ash on the sheets.

—

Walking into your office with barely a knock, Cairo took in the familiar room of an academic, but with your unfamiliar knick knacks around the place. A lighter, a leather wallet, glasses and wired headphones. You didn’t look surprised as you glanced up from your laptop. Instead, you smiled. 

“Cairo, isn’t it?” 

A flush of pleasure shot straight into her—you remembered. She nodded. Your shelves were covered in books and stacks of reviews, the morning’s leftover cup of coffee sitting on one of the ledges. Did you smoke before, or after your coffee? The terrible, terrible want to replace the taste of smoke on your tongue with the taste of her gave Cairo just the confidence she needed. 

“What can I do for you?”

Cairo leaned over your desk, watching the way your eyes dropped to her burgundy lipstick. “Would you be able to help me on the Aristophanes reading?” She pushed her copy of The Clouds towards you. “I can’t seem to grasp it.” Your eyes met hers. “Of course.”

--

a/n cont'd: can you read my mind, i’ve been watching you… there’s just something about you, baby… ♪ / hope you enjoyed @woewriting :)

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[wolverigrl]

The talk

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Previous Part

A/N: Enjoy this part 3! I hope you like it! In this story, Blake and Ryan have been married since 2010 and therefore had their children earlier. I changed the age of the children to make it fit.

Warnings: maybe some swearing here and there, a bit angsty and fluff, mentions of alcohol

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

I couldn’t sleep last night. I’d been tossing and turning for hours, staring at the digital clock that blinked back at me relentlessly. When 6 a.m. finally rolled around, I gave up, threw back the covers, and dragged myself out of bed. I needed something to ground me, to keep my mind from spiraling, so I rolled out my yoga mat in front of the massive window that looked out over the New York skyline. The city was still half-asleep, but I could already feel its energy buzzing in the distance.

After a quick, but calming, yoga session, I snapped a selfie. I sat on the mat in my sports bra and leggings, my hair a messy bun, and the sunrise just starting to peek through the buildings behind me. My face looked peaceful, but inside, my stomach was a knot of nerves. Still, I posted it on Instagram, hoping the positivity from my followers might lift me a bit.

Within minutes, comments flooded in. Mostly love and support, people saying how they wished they could be as dedicated to early morning yoga as I was. But some of them worried about me. There were a few messages asking if I was okay, mentioning the paparazzi photos of yesterday. Apparently, walking through the city with Blake after the premiere turned into a full-on hangover spectacle, and people noticed. They always notice everything.

I sighed and decided to call Blake.

“Heyyy!” she greeted cheerfully, her voice always so full of life.

“Hey, Blake!"I replied, trying to sound less anxious than I felt.

I hesitated. I didn’t really want to unload on her again.

“I, uh, I’ve got Hugh coming over soon. I… I don’t know, I’m kinda nervous about it. We need to talk, and I just—I don’t know how it’s going to go.”

I heard in her voice that she was smiling. “Listen, you and Hugh will be fine. He’s a great guy. If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t be flirting with you so much in public. Trust me, I’ve known him for years—he doesn’t do that unless he means it.”

I bit my lip, feeling my anxiety twist and turn. “But what if… ahh.. nevermind. I’m just so confused.”

“That’s okay. As I already told you, you don’t have to figure it all out in one day. Just talk to him, be honest, and see where it goes. You’ve got this.”

Her words helped, if only a little. I thanked her, and after hanging up, I busied myself around the apartment, waiting for the knock on the door.

When it finally came, I almost jumped out of my skin. I opened the door to find Hugh standing there with a bag of bagels in one hand and two coffees in the other.

“Good morning. I brought us breakfast." he said with that charming smile of his.

We exchanged small talk as we sat down at the kitchen counter, nibbling on our food. He complimented the view, asked about my morning, and I tried to stay calm, but the tension between us was impossible to ignore. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dancing around the subject, I took a deep breath and started the conversation I’d been dreading.

“Hugh,” I began softly, setting my half-eaten bagel down. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m feeling. About us, I mean.”

He nodded slowly, looking at me with that warm, steady gaze that always seemed to calm me, even when I was a mess inside.

“I like you, y/n. A lot. And I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now. But I’d like to figure it out together if that’s something you want to.”

My chest tightened. “But the age thing… your kids… Hugh, it’s a lot. I don’t know if I’m ready for something so complicated.”

Hugh leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I’ve already talked to my son about it, actually. Oscar asked me about you, and I told him the truth—that I’m happy when I’m with you. And he said that as long as I’m happy, that’s all that matters to him. Ava feels the same way, I’m sure.”

I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes. The relief I felt, knowing that he’d already had that conversation with his son, was overwhelming. But at the same time, the weight of everything else crashed over me, and I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping at my eyes as the tears fell.

Hugh got up and pulled me up from the chair so that I stood in front of him. His arms wrapped me in a soft hug, and his fingers tilted my chin up slightly so he could kiss the tip of my nose. It was a soft, sweet gesture that made my heart skip.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ll take it slow. One step at a time. We don’t need to rush anything.”

I nodded, sniffling a bit. “Slow sounds good. Maybe we could… you know, go on real dates? But keep things quiet for now.”

He smiled again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, Blake and Ryan can know, but no one else. At least for now.”

We finished breakfast and cleaned up, and soon we found ourselves on the couch. Hugh wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. For a while, we just sat there, the silence comforting, our worries temporarily pushed to the side.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “Did you… did you mean it? That kiss in the gym?”

Hugh chuckled, glancing down at me with that familiar playful spark in his eyes. “Was that not obvious?”

I felt my face heat up, a slow blush spreading across my cheeks. I shrugged, trying to play it off, but the vulnerability in my voice betrayed me. “I had other things on my mind.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and infectious, and I found myself smiling despite the butterflies in my stomach. There was something so disarming about him, the way he could make me feel at ease even when my heart was racing. His gaze held mine, the tension between us thickening, and suddenly, I couldn’t resist any longer.

Without thinking, I leaned in, brushing my lips against his. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but the moment he responded, everything else faded away. His lips were soft and warm, moving gently against mine, and the kiss quickly deepened, growing more intense with each passing second.

My heart pounded in my chest, the heat between us rising as my hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. Hugh’s arms circled my waist, pulling me closer until I was practically sitting on his lap. His hands were firm yet tender, one resting on the small of my back, the other moving up to cradle the side of my face as the kiss continued to build in intensity.

I felt my breath hitch as his lips trailed from mine to the corner of my mouth, then along my jawline, his stubble grazing my skin in the most delicious way. My pulse quickened as I let out a soft sigh, my fingers tangling in his short, soft hair. The sensation of his lips on my neck sent shivers down my spine, my entire body humming with anticipation.

Hugh's hand slid down to my back, pulling me closer to him. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the hard lines of his body pressing against mine, and it sent my mind spinning. His touch was gentle but sure, his fingers tracing small circles on my lower back, grounding me even as everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

His mouth returned to mine, the kiss now slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. His tongue teased my lips, and I opened up to him, the kiss deepening as our breaths mingled, the air between us growing hotter. Every nerve in my body was on fire, the warmth of his touch, the weight of his hands, the way he held me, as if I were something precious. I felt safe and reckless all at once, the thrill of being so close to him coursing through me like electricity.

Hugh’s grip tightened on my waist, his hands sliding down to my hips, and I could feel the heat pooling low in my stomach, a heady mix of desire and disbelief that this was actually happening. His lips parted from mine just long enough for me to catch a shaky breath, my eyes fluttering open to meet his. His gaze was dark, intense, and filled with the same want that was swirling inside me.

I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned back in, kissing him with more urgency this time, my hands slipping from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my fingertips. His body was firm under my touch, and the sensation sent another rush of heat through me. I pressed closer to him, my lips hungry for more, and he responded in kind, his hands roaming over my back.

My pulse raced, and I felt the world narrowing down to just the two of us—the heat of our bodies, the taste of his lips, the way his hands moved over me, every touch igniting something deeper, something I couldn’t control.

Then, out of nowhere, his phone buzzed.

We both froze, breathless, still tangled together. I pulled back just slightly, still feeling the heat of his breath on my lips. "You should get that," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart pounding in my ears.

Hugh let out a low groan of frustration but reluctantly reached for his phone. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “It’s Ryan.”

I smirked, trying to catch my breath. Of course, it was Ryan.

Hugh answered, still holding me close as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “Hey, mate.” he greeted casually, though I could hear the slight edge of impatience in his voice.

Ryan’s voice was loud enough that I could hear him through the phone. “So, dinner at our place today? You and y/n should come by.”

Hugh blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard. “How do you know y/n's with me?”

Ryan’s laugh was almost smug. “Call it a hunch.”

Hugh shook his head, glancing at me with a playful smile. “You in?”

I nodded, still a bit breathless, my fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt. “Sure.”

He confirmed with Ryan and then hung up, looking back at me with a soft smile. “Let’s go for a walk before dinner.”

I grinned. The idea of sneaking through the streets with him was somehow exciting. But then reality hit. “You should probably… go get changed." I suggested, glancing down at the clothes he was wearing. "Something more undercover."

Hugh nodded, gently setting me next to him and standing up. "I'll swing by my place and change. Give me a few minutes, and I'll come back for you."

He pressed one more quick kiss to my forehead before heading out the door, leaving me sitting there, my heart still racing from the kiss. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to calm the fire that was still burning inside me. It was impossible to believe that just a few moments ago, I had been straddling Hugh Jackman in my living room, kissing him like my life depended on it.

True to his word, Hugh returned not long after, dressed down in a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a hoodie, looking like a celebrity who's trying to avoid attention. I slipped on a casual jacket and sunglasses, and we headed out, blending into the afternoon crowds as we walked through the streets of New York.

As we wandered, the conversation flowed easily. We talked about work—how his latest project was going, how I was handling mine. We shared stories and joked about the craziness of the industry, but somewhere along the way, the conversation grew more personal. Hugh asked me about my childhood, about the things that made me who I was, and I found myself opening up to him in a way I hadn’t expected.

He told me stories about his kids, about how Oscar was so curious about everything, how Ava was growing into her own person, full of ideas and opinions. Hearing him talk about them made me see another side of him—so caring, so deeply connected to his family. It only made me like him more.

We asked each other questions that weren’t surface level, diving into the things that really mattered, like what we wanted in life, what we were afraid of. The more we talked, the more I realized again how easy it was to be with him, how natural it felt.

Before I knew it, hours had passed, and the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky. We made our way back to my apartment, where Hugh dropped me off so I could get ready for dinner at Blake and Ryan’s. He gave me one short peck before heading back to his place to change.

As I stood in front of my mirror, touching up my makeup and fixing my hair, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, about how right it had felt. Today had been full of surprises, but for the first time, I wasn’t scared of where this might lead. Hugh and I were taking it slow, figuring things out as we went, and somehow, that was enough for now.

When Hugh came back to pick me up, we were both ready for whatever the rest of the day had in store. We were in this together.

The moment we stepped through the door at Blake and Ryan’s, the familiar sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor reached my ears. Before I knew it, all three of their daughters—James, Betty, and Inez—came running toward us, their faces lighting up in excitement.

“Y/n! Hugh!” they squealed in unison, their voices high-pitched with joy.

I couldn’t help but grin as I bent down to greet them, enveloping each one of them in a warm hug. Hugh followed suit, gently embracing them, his face soft with affection. Ryan stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a playful smile on his face.

“I swear, they get more excited when you two show up than when Blake and I come home." Ryan quipped, shaking his head as if the betrayal was real.

I chuckled, ruffling Betty’s hair as she beamed up at me. “Well, I mean, we are the fun ones.”

Blake walked up behind him, smirking as she shrugged her shoulders. “Can you really blame them?” she said, giving Ryan a teasing nudge.

Before I could respond, the seven-year-old James grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the living room. “Come on, y/n! I want to show you something!”

I let her guide me into the cozy room, where Penny and Baxter, the two dogs, were lounging lazily on the floor. James hurried over to a corner piled high with toys and grabbed two Barbie dolls, her excitement radiating off her.

“Look!” she said, holding up the first Barbie. “This one looks just like you!” The doll was dressed in sporty clothes that reminded me of what I’d worn in my recent Instagram post. “And this one." she added, grabbing the second doll, “looks like Mommy.”

I laughed softly, touched by her creativity. “Wow, you nailed it! I can totally see the resemblance.”

As I sat down with her to admire her Barbie collection, I noticed Hugh standing in the doorway, his smile widening as he watched us. But before he could come over, Betty and Inez had already ambushed him, grabbing onto his legs and giggling uncontrollably.

“Hugh! Hugh!” Inez exclaimed, her arms wrapped tightly around one of his legs. “Can we watch the Minions again? Please? Pleeease?”

Betty chimed in, nodding with equal enthusiasm. “Yeah, can we?”

Ryan strolled into the room, laughing as he leaned against the doorframe. “Again? How many times have you guys watched that now? Fifty? Sixty?”

Hugh chuckled, ruffling Betty’s hair. “Maybe after dinner, alright? You two might know it better than I do at this point.”

Just then, Blake called out from the dining room, “Okay, everyone, dinner’s ready! Let’s give Hugh a break and get some food in your bellies first.”

We all made our way to the dining room, and as I sat down at the beautifully set table, I couldn’t help but admire the spread. Blake had outdone herself again.

“This looks incredible!" I commented as I took my seat, glancing appreciatively at the dishes laid out before us.

Blake smiled, waving off the compliment. “Ah, it’s nothing. Ryan helped, too.”

Ryan straightened in his chair, pretending to be the world’s greatest chef. “Yeah, I practically made the entire thing,” he boasted, earning a playful elbow to the side from Blake.

While we ate and talked about today's events, I noticed that James, Betty, and Inez had already finished their meals. The three of them looked up at Blake and Ryan with wide, pleading eyes.

"Mom, Dad, can we go play with Penny and Baxter now? Please?" James asked, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

Ryan exchanged a glance with Blake before nodding. "Alright, you three can go. Just don’t feed the dogs under the table again." he added with a mock sternness that made the girls giggle.

The kids squealed and scrambled out of their chairs, racing back toward the living room where the dogs were waiting for them. Blake shook her head fondly as she watched them go, and we all settled back into the conversation.

I was right in the middle of talking about something funny that had happened at work when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I excused myself, stepping outside to take the call. When I saw Chris Evans’ name on the screen, I smiled.

“Hey, Chris!” I greeted, leaning against the side of the house.

“Y/n!" Chris’s voice came through with its usual warmth. “I’m heading down to New York tomorrow. Wanna grab a beer?”

I smiled. “Absolutely! Let’s meet at the pub we always go to. How’s 7 p.m.?”

“Perfect!" Chris replied. “Looking forward to catching up.”

We wrapped up the conversation, and I headed back inside. As I slipped into my seat, Hugh gave me a gentle smile and placed his hand on my leg under the table, his touch grounding me.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking my thigh in a way that sent a small wave of comfort through me.

I nodded, returning his smile. “Yeah, all good. Just Chris Evans. He’s coming to New York tomorrow, so we’re grabbing a drink.”

Ryan’s ears perked up immediately, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, Captain America, huh? Should Hugh be worried?”

Blake chuckled beside him, clearly in on the joke. I rolled my eyes, laughing. “No, no need to worry. Chris is like an older brother to me.”

Hugh looked intrigued, glancing between Ryan and me. “You and Chris go way back?”

I nodded, leaning back in my chair as I began to explain. “Yeah, Chris, Scarlett Johansson, and I studied together in New York when we were both starting out. They were a few years ahead of me, but we ended up in the same acting workshops. We hit it off and became good friends.”

Blake leaned forward, curiosity written all over her face. “Oh, you never told me your stories of university! You must have some great ones.”

Ryan grinned. “Come on, spill! Any embarrassing moments with Captain America and Black Widow?”

I laughed. “Oh, tons. Like the time they got lost in Central Park for two hours and missed class. Scarlett shook it off, but Chris was so mortified, and we all gave him a hard time for it.”

Ryan cracked up at the image, and Hugh smiled, though I could tell he was focused on every word. “That sounds like him." Ryan said. “Always such a big goof.”

Blake leaned closer, clearly digging for more. “Didn’t you two do a movie together a few years back? Weren’t there some pretty steamy scenes in that one?”

I felt my cheeks warm slightly at the memory. “Yeah, we did." I admitted, chuckling. “It was a bit... awkward, though, because by then, Chris really did feel more like a brother to me.”

Ryan, however, wasn’t about to let me off the hook that easily. “Wait, so it wasn’t always that way?”

I hesitated for a beat, then shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Well.. back when we were in school, we might’ve had a little... thing. You know, one of those fleeting ‘we’re young and in New York’ flings. But it didn’t last long. Now, he’s definitely more of a brother figure.”

Blake’s eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth as she burst out laughing. “Y/n! You never told me you and Chris had a fling!”

Ryan nearly doubled over in laughter, slapping the table. “Oh my god, Hugh, you hearing this? Captain America and y/n!”

Hugh laughed, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and I noticed the slight tension in his jaw. He gave a half-hearted chuckle, glancing at me with a mix of amusement and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

Blake continued to laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you kept that from me!”

I shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed but laughing along with them. “It was a long time ago! And honestly, when we filmed that movie, it just felt... weird. I mean, trying to be sexy with someone who you now see as a brother? Not the easiest thing.”

Ryan wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “I bet those scenes were really uncomfortable to shoot.”

“They were." I admitted, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. “But Chris was a total professional about it.”

Hugh remained quiet for a moment, still smiling, but I could tell something about the story didn’t sit quite right with him.

“So, what was it like studying here in New York? It sounds like it was a pretty wild time.” Blake wiggled with her eyebrows.

I grinned, thinking back to those chaotic, exciting days. “It definitely had its moments. The city was also back then a constant whirlwind. We were all broke, doing odd jobs between auditions, but somehow, it was the best time of my life.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I bet. Was it all method acting and deep emotional discovery, or were you guys just trying to out-party each other?”

I laughed. “A little bit of both, honestly. There were definitely nights when we all showed up to class with way too little sleep.”

Ryan smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “And Captain America was part of those late-night adventures?”

I rolled my eyes. “Chris was usually the responsible one, believe it or not. He’d be the guy dragging everyone out of some dive bar at 2 a.m., telling us we had early classes. Of course, he wasn’t always that responsible...”

Hugh’s interest was piqued, his eyes twinkling. “You and Chris really went through it together, huh?”

I nodded, smiling at the memories. “Yeah, we had a lot of fun. We’d rehearse scenes together, mess around in the park, just being broke, and ambitious kids trying to make it.”

Ryan, never missing a beat, chimed in again. “So what you’re saying is, if Chris wasn’t Captain America, he could’ve been, I dunno, some Shakespearean actor, dragging everyone through intense rehearsals and then buying them all hot dogs afterward?”

I laughed. “Exactly! The perfect balance of intense and laid-back.”

"What other stories do you have up your sleeve?" Ryan grinned and put his arm around his wife.

“Well.. while studying, I also worked as a barista, and believe me, I was a terrible barista.” I started, chuckling at the memory.

Blake raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Wait, you worked at a coffee shop?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I needed to pay rent somehow, so I got a job at this little café near campus. It was my first day, and I was already a nervous wreck. The owner was this sweet, older man—kind of like a grandpa figure to everyone. But I was so jittery that when he came over to check how I was doing, I somehow managed to spill an entire tray of coffee and raspberry cake all over him.”

Everyone at the table burst into laughter, especially Ryan, who wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Oh, that’s priceless. What did he do?”

I grinned at the memory. “He just stood there for a second, covered in coffee, and then he started laughing. He looked at me and said, ‘Well, at least you didn’t burn me.’ From then on, he teased me about it every single shift. He’d walk past me and say, ‘Careful, y/n, hot beverages on the loose!’ It was actually really sweet.”

Blake smiled, shaking her head. “Sounds like he was a good guy.”

“Yeah, he was the best." I agreed. “Honestly, he was one of the reasons I stuck around for so long.”

Hugh, who had been listening intently, suddenly leaned forward with a small smile. “Well, since we’re sharing job stories… the ladies might not know this, but before I became an actor, I was a P.E. teacher in England.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? You were a teacher? That’s crazy!”

Ryan immediately jumped in with a wide grin. “Oh man, y/n, can you imagine if Hugh had been your teacher back then? You would’ve been the star student in P.E., right?”

I felt my cheeks flush, laughing at the absurd thought. “Honestly, if Hugh had been my teacher, I think I would’ve suddenly developed an intense love for sports.”

Blake burst out laughing while Hugh chuckled, shaking his head at our comments. “Yeah, I can’t imagine that would’ve been appropriate,” Hugh said, still smiling, though his ears were a little pink.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “Hey, you never know. Maybe you’d have inspired her to get into, I don’t know, gymnastics or something.”

Blake swatted Ryan on the arm, but she was laughing just as hard. “Leave them alone! Besides, I bet Hugh was an amazing teacher.”

Hugh shrugged modestly. “It was a good job, honestly. I loved working with the kids, but eventually, I realized my passion was acting.”

I turned to him, still amazed. “That’s so cool, though. I would’ve never guessed. You’ve had quite the journey.”

He smiled warmly at me, and I could see a glimmer of pride in his eyes, as if the memories of his teaching days still meant something to him. “It was definitely a unique chapter in my life. But hey, everything leads you somewhere, right?”

Ryan couldn’t resist one more joke, leaning in with a sly grin. “Yeah, and luckily, it led you to us, huh?”

The conversation slowed down after that, everyone quietly soaking in the warmth of the room and each other’s company. Blake glanced around the table, then clapped her hands together.

“Well, how about we clear the table and grab some wine?”

Hugh and I immediately stood up, ready to help, but Blake waved us off. “Oh no, you two relax. Ryan and I have it covered.”

Ryan was already stacking plates and giving us a wink. “Yeah, sit tight, lovebirds.”

As we sat back down, Hugh placed his hand gently on my thigh, his touch making me feel all warm and cozy inside. He smiled at me, that tender look in his eyes that always made my heart skip a beat.

Feeling a bit giddy, I leaned in closer to him and whispered. “Do you think we should tell them about us now? Or wait until another time?”

Hugh’s thumb rubbed small circles against my leg as he considered it. “Yeah, let’s tell them. They’re our best friends—they should know we’re giving this a shot.”

His quiet confidence soothed the last of my nerves, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, just as the door to the dining room swung open, and Ryan strutted back in, carrying wine glasses.

“Ohohoh! What’s this? What did I just miss?” he teased, his voice dripping with mock shock. “And don’t forget, there are children in this house!”

Blake followed right behind him, her eyes darting between us, a curious smile playing on her lips. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, setting down a bottle of wine.

Hugh chuckled softly and glanced at me before addressing them both. “Actually, we wanted to tell you guys something. Y/n and I... well, we’re trying this thing out. We’re seeing where it goes.”

There was a brief moment of silence as Blake and Ryan exchanged looks, their expressions quickly morphing into wide grins. Blake let out a little squeal of excitement.

“Oh my god! You talked!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You two are adorable!”

Ryan set down the glasses with a loud clink, looking between Hugh and me with that signature playful grin of his. “Well, it’s about damn time! You guys have been giving off major will-they-won’t-they vibes for ages.”

Blake nodded enthusiastically. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

Their support and enthusiasm washed over me, easing any lingering uncertainty I had. Hugh squeezed my hand under the table, and I couldn’t help but smile up at him, grateful for how effortlessly everything seemed to fall into place.

Ryan, never one to miss a joke, raised his glass toward us. “Here’s to y/n and Hugh—and to all the future awkward family dinners where we can tease you both relentlessly.”

Blake snorted with laughter, pouring everyone a glass of wine. “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you. Sometimes.”

We all raised our glasses, clinking them together in a toast to new beginnings.

The conversation flowed easily as we all continued to drink our wine, sharing more stories and laughing until our glasses were empty. Eventually, we decided to join the kids in the living room. As soon as we walked in, Inez grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her pile of Barbies, while Penny and Baxter trotted over to greet us.

I sat on the floor with one hand helping Inez arrange her Barbies while my other hand stroked Baxter, who had curled up next to me. The rest of the group settled on the couches, chatting and laughing as the kids played around us.

We spent a while there enjoying the comfortable, laid-back atmosphere, but eventually, I felt a yawn escape me. Ryan noticed it immediately and pointed dramatically.

“Alright, I think it’s official—time for all the kids to head to bed!” he teased, earning a laugh from Blake and a chorus of giggles from the actual children.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I guess I walked right into that one.”

Blake stood up and stretched, signaling that the evening was winding down. “Yeah, we should probably wrap things up before we have to carry anyone out of here.”

We all said our goodbyes, exchanging hugs and thanking each other for the great night. As we stepped outside, Hugh and I found ourselves standing by our cars, lingering in the cool night air.

I smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the evening still lingering between us. “So, what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”

Hugh shrugged lightly. “Not too exciting, honestly. I’m helping a friend with some work on his house in the morning, then I’ve got a doctor’s appointment and after that, I’m calling my brother to talk about my visit in Sydney to catch up with my family.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a busy day. Hometown huh?"

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen everyone." he said softly, then smiled at me. “What about you? Plans with Chris?”

I grinned, the thought of seeing Chris again making me feel both nostalgic and excited. “Yeah, but we’re not meeting until the evening for a drink. Until then I'll call my parents because I promised them last week and after that I'll meet up with my management."

For a moment, we stood there, the air between us feeling charged in a quiet, tender way. After a small pause, we leaned into each other at the same time. He wrapped one arm around my waist, and the other hand found its way to my cheek. Our lips met in a slow, tentative kiss.

When we pulled away, there was a comfortable silence between us, our eyes lingering on each other as if neither of us wanted to say goodbye just yet. I gently stroked my hands over his shoulders down to his chest.

“Well." I said, my voice a little softer than usual. "I guess I’ll see you soon. Good night."

Hugh nodded, his smile warm and easy. “Yeah, good night y/n. Text me when you're home."

"Will do." I smiled.

With that, we each got into our cars, and as I drove home, my mind wandered back to the evening—Blake and Ryan’s support, the kids, the laughter, the stories, and of course, the kisses. My heart felt lighter than it had in a long time, and I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about tomorrow’s meeting with Chris.

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

Tags: @spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris

Next part

[vhagarys]

The Conquerer

brother!aegon x reader, sister!helaena x reader

summary: aegon decreed he’d take both his sisters for wives. luckily, you and helaena were already quite taken with each other.

warnings: smut, canon-typical incest, oral, breeding kink, oral fixation, voyeurism, licking?, reader LOVES her brother and sister <3

MDNI

Following in Aegon the Conqueror’s footsteps, your older brother Aegon decreed he would take both his sisters to be his wives.

This decision was not met joyfully by his mother nor the hand. However, his position warranted no argument and soon he exchanged vows and blood in the tradition of your house.

Luckily for him, you and Helaena had taken a fondness to each other from a young age. Practically tied at the hip, you two were rarely found without the other at their side.

As the years went by, that fondness began to morph into something deeper. A twisted desire for one another that never seemed to wither.

Behind closed doors you and your sister ravaged each other like men starved. Devouring each other body and soul, with an almost endearing desperation to please one another.

The two Targaryen girls each harbored the blood of dragons and fire, showing itself in their unwavering passions for one another.

This arrangement soon became common knowledge to the other members of your family. Your brothers Aemond and Aegon never batted an eye. Such incestuous endeavors had remained common practice in your house for generations.

Aegon knew any attempt to separate the pair of you would prove futile, thus wedding you both seemed a kindness on his part.

After a night of drink, feast, and revelry, the bedding ceremony was soon announced. With a faint blush to your cheeks, you and Helaena were both escorted to your shared chambers to prepare yourselves for your lord husband.

“You lucky bastard,” Ser Criston Cole slurred as he sat down next to the king.

Aegon smirked and lifted his goblet, “Given the title of king must come with some benefit, should it not?” he took a large swig of his wine.

“Who am I to marry now that you’ve stolen both of our sisters away,” his brother Aemond scowled at him, jealously etched all over his features.

“Perhaps a new tradition is in order, hm? I shall not only marry to my sisters, but i shall take my brother as a husband,” wine escaped through ser criston’s nostrils as he howled in laughter.

With a disdainful scoff, Aemond promptly stormed out of the room.

“I must take my leave to bed my two beautiful, blushing brides,” Aegon loudly announced before his made his way out of the room and towards his chambers.

As if the prospect of bedding you both did not excite him already, upon peeking through the doors he almost released in his trousers untouched.

You were completely bare, you lower body hanging off of the bed as your older sister held your hips with her mouth attached to your cunt.

You whimpered and wreathed beneath Helaena who aggressively licked and slurped at you like a man deprived of water for days.

A sheen of sweat appeared on your hairline as you held tightly onto your sisters silver tresses.

She reached up to pinch and pull at your nipples and your moans grew louder, whinier.

Seven hells, he gaped to himself.

He stood right at the doorway, though he knew neither of you had an inkling of his presence.

His mind blanked save for the scene before him. he stood frozen in place, immediately reaching to release his cock from its confines and began to stroke himself.

“Kostilus ivestragī issa māzigon jorrāelagon mandia,” you cried out. Your body beginning to spasm and chasing after your incoming peak. (please let me cum sister)

Offering no more than a hum, Helaena tightened her grip on your hips and pushed her face deeper between lips. Her harsh sucking on your clit sent you barreling into climax.

Aegon fared no better. He was hypnotized by the erotic scene, his wives caught in the throes of pleasure.

After a moment, your breathing began to steady and you sat up. A gasp escaped you as you registered your brother pleasuring himself, eyes feasting on the pair of you.

A low growl left him as he tugged at his dripping cock. You briefly met each others gaze and just as quickly you and your sister climbed from the bed and stalked over to him.

A cruel smirk graced your lips as you stood behind him and lightly pressed your nose to the sensitive spot of his neck.

“It seems our husband is quite the pervert, mandia. He’s been watching us,” your hand delicately pushed a lock of his hair behind his reddening ears. (sister)

Aegon couldn’t bring himself to stop. He stroked himself faster, aroused at the proximity of the two of you.

“I’d say he’s enjoying himself. Tell me, did you like watching me devour our little sister, lekia,” Helaena muttered in his ear as her nails scraped down his chest. (Brother)

“Gods,” Aegon practically whined as he felt both of your hands roaming over his body.

“Relieve yourself, husband. Let me see you make a mess of yourself,” you whispered with a hint of cruel delight in your tone.

With a final grunt, he spilled his spend all over his hand and trousers, knees on the verge of collapse after experiencing such a strong release.

Helaena grabbed his hand and led him to sit on the bed. With no more than a quick exchange in glance, the two of you kneeled between his parted legs, admiring his soaked clothes.

Your mouth began to water at the sight of your brothers spent cock. Helaena could see the hunger cloud your eyes and a wicked idea soon made its way out of her mouth.

“As his wife, it is your duty to clean your husband, sweet sister. You don’t wish for him to be uncomfortable, hm?” Helaena mused, a devilish grin consuming her features.

Already feeling a pool of arousal in your small clothes, you met Aegon’s exhausted yet wide eyed gaze.

“Of course, my king. I live to serve you,” and you leaned forward and began to hungrily lick his seed that began to stain through his trousers.

Never breaking eye contact, you moaned at the addictive taste of him. You could feel your slick began to seep through your small clothes and onto the floor.

You didn’t care, you were consumed with the need to please your brother and sister.

After you deemed his clothes cleaned, you immediately moved to his shaft, lapping up each drop like a kitten.

Aegon could feel himself hardening once more. He watched in sick delight at his baby sister, lost in the taste of him.

If only I knew what a slut for cock you were sooner, he thought.

Your sister couldn’t help but grow aroused at the depravity before her.

Grabbing you by the nape of your neck, she turned your head to face her.

“Show me,” helaena commanded. Ever the obedient sister, you stuck out your tongue and presented the sticky, white substance that coated your tongue.

Beyond impatient to taste, she surged forward and met your lips in a filthy swap of tongues. You groaned as you felt her wet muscle lap up the remaining seed in your mouth.

You both gripped onto each other for dear life, lost in the lustful moment.

Consumed with the need to claim both of his wives, Aegon pulled you away from one another.

“Desperate little things, aren’t you,” he cooed.

Both of you gazed up at him with ferocity. he almost came once again at the sight.

He watched a line of drool slip from your lips and promptly scooped it up with his thumb. without being told, you obediently opened your mouth and allowed Aegon to push his digit inside.

Eyes glossy, you suckled at his finger until clean and swallowed. Aegon couldn’t hide his fondness for your easy submission, knowing you’ll take whatever he gives you.

“This marriage must be consummated, and I must fulfill my duty as your husband and pump my seed into your little cunts until you swell with my heirs, hm?”

You both whined at the dirty words.

Extending his hand, he roughly pulled you both on the bed and began to tear through the layers of your sister’s gown. Exchanging in a ferocious kiss, you watched the two dragons battle for dominance.

Your brother reached down to rub his fingers through her wetness and soon your sister was reduced a whining mess beneath him.

You watched them consume each other, and when both pairs of eyes landed upon you, your cunt throbbed at the prospect of what was to come.

authors note: i need more helaena content !!!!! also, enjoy!

- alice +++

[leilanihours]

# I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU SAY IF YOU SAY IT WITH YOUR HANDS

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

word count: 642

warnings: none !

summary: sleepy paige doesn't want you (her favorite pillow) to leave.

⭑ from lani: heres a super duper short fluffy blurb before i drop "imgonnagetyouback" tmr ! also this was not proofread so it might suck a bit..

masterlist !

THE WARM SPRING sun spills into your room, hugging you and your girlfriend as you lay entangled underneath your white comforter. paige's off-season has been treating you both so well.

with finals being over and graduation right around the corner, the two of you finally have a breath to relax and truly focus on each other.

you've been spending countless hours together, some of your friends commenting that they miss your appearances at their casual hangouts. regardless, you and paige have been all over each other, savoring the calm before the inevitable storm that is graduating.

when paige announced her decision to stay at uconn for a fifth year, it rocked everyone's worlds, including your own. not only did this mean that both of you would be separated, but it meant that you would have to leave her. the stressful thought has been stuck in your mind, and it is currently what keeps you from falling back asleep in the early hours of the morning.

anyone with eyes could see how much you truly loved each other. whether paige is picking up coffee for you in the middle of the night or you're rebounding for her as she practices on weekends, your relationship has never been so rich in affection.

but of course, there's nothing you love more than having your arms wrapped around your favorite person. gazing down at paige, you observe her soft features illuminated by the sun peeking through your blinds. her smooth skin, slightly pink cheeks, and fluttering eyelashes all adding up to make her undeniably beautiful profile.

gently, you place a kiss on her forehead and begin to slowly twist out from under her. she stirs from the sudden movement, snuggling even further into your frame.

"paige," you whisper.

"mm.." she mumbles, still fast asleep in your chest.

“i have to get up, baby.”

“no you don’t.”

“how do you know that?” you tease.

“because you belong in this bed, with me, sleeping,” she replies in a raspy voice, still not fully awake.

“i have to meet up with nika.”

“cancel on her.”

“sorry?” you laugh.

“y’heard me,” she says, adjusting her position so that she’s now fully on top of you.

“paige.”

“hi.”

“you gotta let me up, babe.”

“but i’m so comfortable. you’re so comfortable. so warm and soft. like a pillow,” she breathes in your scent and sighs in content, bearing the most adorable sleepy smile. she’s practically drunk on sleep - on you.

“c’mon, i’ve already canceled on her once,” you beg, “she’s gonna hate me and you if i cancel again.” 

after a beat of silence you tilt your head down only to be met with paige being knocked out again. you wrap your arms around her large frame as you roll the both of you to the empty side of the bed. now paige is underneath you, giving you the perfect escape route. you carefully retract your arms and sit up to head to the bathroom.

you failed.

“where do you think you’re goin?” the blonde’s arms are secure around yours, preventing you from moving at all.

“paige.”

“hi.”

“nope, i’m not doing this again.”

“then just stay here.”

“paige-“

“please?” you falter as her cold hands work their way under your hoodie, softly rubbing your bare back. you release a deep breath as you feel her hands begin to massage your shoulders gently, closing your eyes from the feeling.

“hand me my phone, will you, babe?”

she removes one of her hands from your skin to reach for your phone on the bedside table. she hands it to you with a confused look on her face as you raise your head from her chest to scroll through your contacts.

“hey nika? i’m gonna have to move our hike to tomorrow morning,” you feel paige squeeze your shoulders at this, “maybe next week.”

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[llamagoddessofficial]

Swamp God Skull! I missed him a lot. Do you have any headcanons for when he likes the mc? Sorry if you have done them before. I can't find them, tumblr's search is very bad.

Oh, Anon, I missed him too. Our boggy boy. I'm riding high on inspiration from @desktopdinosaur's art.

For those who came to the party late, the Forest God boys are ancient and scary nature deities, who are in desperate need of someone to give them little kissy-wissies

He's shy. So, so shy. If he likes you and your path regularly takes you through his swamp, he will linger out of sight and watch you, hiding where the fog shrouds him almost entirely and moving between trees so his massive misshapen body is disguised in the maze of twisting trunks.

... Unfortunately, with that hulking body, single glowing eye and thousand-yard-stare, his 'shyness' can come across as unsettling at best and absolutely terrifying at worst. If you don't know he means no harm it's hard not to think he's a monster, and you're being stalked for dinner. Especially with the way he stares, once he knows you know he's there.

You'd think a God would have a little more confidence. But it's just been so long since he engaged with anyone - and especially with anyone he likes. Last time he spoke to a human he didn't hate people still rode around in horse-drawn wagons. What if he botches it? How many more years will he have to wait until he meets someone like you? Hundreds, probably

If you'd like to show him you don't mind his presence, just talk to him. You might not be able to see him, but trust me - if you're talking aloud in his swamp, he's listening.

The first sure sign Skull likes you (aside from the trailing) is that the bog very clearly likes you just as much as he does. You'll hear birds and frogs, you'll see newts and lizards, butterflies and dragonflies. Everything will smell mossy and soft rather than dank and rotten... water flowers will bloom in and around the path you take, sometimes literally filling your footprints from the day before. The whole place will feel so alive, so welcoming. Like your presence is bringing it back to life.

It'll also never be truly dark when you're there. In the day the sun is allowed to peek through the veil of fog, and at night, ghostly blue will-o-wisps light your way home. It probably makes you the only person who can follow the wisps in his swamp and live to tell the tale.

If you keep returning to the bog regardless of him following you, he'll start drumming up the courage to 'flirt'.

... It's mostly in very strange, ancient ways - incomprehensible carvings on trees you walk past, strange trinkets appearing in your pockets, hearing unearthly humming at dusk, your home never suffering from damp/mould, cats following you around. But some of his methods are more recognisably romantic. Like the big, beautiful white water lilies he leaves for you.

He also flirts with fireflies. They're versatile! He can make them hang around you, lighting up your face and eyes, distracting you while he admires how pretty you are. He also finds that humans tend to find him less scary when he has ambling fireflies drifting around him.

He's not got much to woo you with, really. He's a Swamp God, he hasn't got jewels and castles and silks. But he has got some pretty plants. Maybe, once he's sure enough that you won't run away in terror, he'll get the confidence to give you some flowers in person.

A massive ancient fae beast, bending down to offer you a slightly squashed water hyacinth... how could you not reciprocate?

[cheollipop]

⚜ 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 6.5k

genre: mafia au, smut, mutual pining, some fluff, tiny bit of angst, some dark themes, slightly ambiguous ending

In a city where the mere whisper of his name sent shivers of terror through its core, Choi San's barbarous reputation proved powerless to dissuade you from delving deeper, the glint in the feline eyes cast upon you exposing a sliver tenderness hidden beneath the façade of bloodlust.

⚜ warnings: mentioned death/murder (no one significant), insensitivity from all major characters to said murder, san is lowkey psychotic, and an asshole, reader is a badass bitch, gun play (kinda?), service/soft dom!san, bratty!reader, unprotected sex (👎), kinda public sex, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, creampie, begging, praise, some cockwarming, san gets whiny, he is whipped your honour, not your typical mafia boss ehehe, nicknames (baby, darling; sannie), I believe that's it. ^^

⚜ A/N: this is entirely self-indulgent. who doesn't want a psychotic mafia boss obsessing over their very being? happy reading! ^_^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Another day dragging on for far too long, tedious — incompetent employees getting paid to induce headaches rather than doing their jobs, new clients unaware of who they’d gotten themselves involved with, augmenting the torturous panging against San’s skull. His eyebrow twitched, a bead of sweat hanging onto the thick hairs, another trailing down the ink decorating his slick chest. He’d thought a late-night rendezvous would silence the ringing in his head, but the cheap perfume, the bright lipstick, the obnoxious, high-pitched tone of her voice only amplified it. And yet, the woman now laid beneath him, his fingers digging into one of her tits while pornographic moans rolled off her tongue. With her head thrown back, she missed the grimace painting San’s features, but his hips were undeterred, continuing their ruthless rhythm while her ringing voice pierced through his eardrums. He just needed release, even if it were aided by a woman he had not a lick of interest in.

The door cracked open, a bleached head of hair peeking into the hotel room before his tall frame followed to stand in the doorway. San didn’t stop, simply shutting his eyes to drown out his surroundings and the pain shooting through his head.

“We’ve got trouble, boss,” the gravelly tone dragged San’s attention away from the distractions he attempted to draw up in his mind, eyes cracking open with an irked exhale.

“Important enough for you to interrupt me?” he spat, his thrusts now pointed in aggravation.

The man’s gulp masked under the continuous moans, he averted his gaze off the woman’s spread legs to explain, “a fight broke out in our Seoul location.”

San’s rhythm faltered, an unnoticeable hitch, but enough to stir up images of a familiar face, sly grin and confident walk followed by the sweet scent of vanilla and cheap tobacco. A subtle wink as you replaced the drinks his men had ordered for him with ones that would spare him the added flush, ears and chest tinted a dusty pink while he fought off the heaviness weighing down his eyelids. Sultry voice and swaying hips, the memory of fleeting touches and fluttering eyelashes sent urgent waves of heat scorching through San’s body, unwanted, vivid images of your haunting form flashing in his mind before he could stop them. But he pushed them away, prominent vein trailing down his forehead as he fought off the unrelieved headache, slapping a palm over smudged, red-tinted lips to muffle the agitating sound.

“Is that all, Mingi-ya?” he moved his gaze to the man at his side without twisting his head, watching as he straightened up at the sudden eye-contact.

“We’ve got casualties, Sir,” Mingi added, drawing a frustrated sigh out of San.

Pistoning his hips once, twice more, he pulled out, swiping his saliva-coated palm over the woman’s trembling thigh before finding his footing over the carpeted floor. He tossed the condom into some random corner, tucking himself back into his pants before snatching the luxury coat dangling from Mingi’s hand, the taller man’s eyes flitting to the side to avoid ogling at all the exposed skin. Just as they were about to take their leave, manicured fingers grasped San’s sleeve, arms drawn closer to her body to cram her breasts together in an act of seduction, bedroom eyes peering up at the tattooed man.

“Are you just going to leave me here like this?”

San didn’t hide his grimace, “it’s late, go home,” he retrieved his coat, tugging his arm away rougher than intended to make his way to the room’s exit. He paused at the doorway, turning his head slightly to address the dejected woman abandoned on the lush, silk bedsheets, “and call your husband back, he must be worried sick.”

He didn’t wait for a response, walking into the hallway to meet with two more guards, Mingi following closely behind. “Jongho, you’re coming with me,” he addressed the broader of the two, then turned to the other, “and you,” he angled his chin towards the door left ajar, “get rid of her.”

--

Walking past the swung-open door resting against the frame with broken hinges, glass shards cracking underneath heavyset boots, San took in the scattered bodies splayed out over the wooden floor. He grimaced, thousands of dollars’ worth of imported liquor pooling under shattered bottles, blending into a concoction reeking of alcohol poisoning. Bullets lodged into the polished bar reflected the orange hue in which the room basked in, stools broken and thrown into the walls and windows, splintered pieces of wood lying amongst the lifeless figures scattered over the floorboards.

“What a mess,” Mingi muttered, taking in the scene with repugnance unhidden in his expression.

“Looks exactly like something the both of you would do,” San’s retort was instant, “wasn’t it just last week, Jongho?”

His tone was void of any judgement, simply recalling his men’s afternoon endeavors, and yet, Jongho’s ears flashed red as he stuttered through a flustered response, reaffirming San’s memory of the incident. His eyes shot a glare up at the taller man as soon as San looked away, “just keep your mouth shut, Mingi-ya,” he elbowed his side, unappreciative of Mingi’s attempts at earning him another lecture about the improper use of his gun.

While the two bickered wordlessly, pinching and shoving the other’s side, San walked further into the bar, looking around for another sign of life while gnawing at his bottom lip, evidence of his night-long rendezvous trickling down his temples in salty beads of sweat.

“Where’s our staff?” his voice cut through the silence, as well as the guards’ banter, the two straightening up to address his inquiry.

“Changbin called it in, ‘said most were okay but a few got caught in the crossfire,” Mingi spoke, tone steady and hooded eyes focused on San, “they’ve all left already, I believe.”

“You believe?” Narrowing his eyes at the two men, he snarled before huffing in umbrage. “I don’t pay you to fucking believe.” It wasn’t Mingi’s doing, he knew, but he’d rather berate the two men before him than admit to the anxiety crawling up his chest, blocking his airway with a lump large enough to restrict his breathing. “Did he say anything about—” he attempted to maintain the resonance in which he spoke in, clearing his throat before proceeding, “what about—”

“—Looking for me?”

A sharp turn to his side was all it took to ease the tension stiffening his shoulders, a deep breath escaping his lungs when his eyes settled on you: hand on your hip while leaning you weight onto one leg, the corners of your glossy lips upturned into a smile that sent his heart racing.

“Y/n,” he sighed, rotating his body to face yours, arms limp at his sides while his features softened at the mere sight of you before him. Choi San with his guard down was a luxury not many could revel in.

“What’s with your face? Don’t tell me you were worried about me?” you teased, swaying your hips as you took a few steps towards his broad form, only a few inches separating your bodies where you were stood now.

Close enough to run a hand over the hair covering the side of your head, San’s lips curled into a playful smirk, “oh baby, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hummed pleasantly at the gentle fingers gliding over your scalp, teeth digging into your bottom lip before releasing to purr back a response, “very much so.”

The aroma of cheap cigarettes followed you, laced with hints of vanilla and caramel, the specs of ash dusting the sunken collar of your top exposing the smoke break you’d taken while chaos unfolded during your late shift.

The bullets lodged into wood glimmered in his peripheral, and his amusement dwindled as he pushed through the intoxicating haze your proximity cast upon his senses. Eyebrows furrowed, his gaze traveled over your body while firm hands ran over your sides and waist, peering over your shoulder and twisting you in front of him while he questioned, “fuck, are you hurt?”

To his surprise, you exhaled a breathy laugh, mischief glinting in your irises, “hurt?” The coyness in your tone didn’t go unnoticed, but the arm reaching behind you did, and before he could react, you had San at your mercy with the nose of your pistol dug into the skin underneath his chin. Leaning further into his space, your lips stretched further at the raised hand stopping the two men at the door from reaching for their own weapons. You tilted your head while addressing him, faux innocence painting your features, “who do you think finally killed that bastard while the men you hired were too busy shitting their pants?”

His eyes followed yours to his right, the bastard in question sprawled out near the entrance with a bullet rooted between his eyebrows. Even with the pistol firmly boring into his skin, the corners of San’s lips quirked upwards, redirecting his focus to take you in with dazed, unreadable eyes. “Oh, darling,” rough, broken knuckles grazed your jaw, his lips widening as you unconsciously leaned into the touch, “just when I thought I couldn’t want you more.”

Eyebrows shooting up — the first hint of surprise flashing over your features — a blend of amusement and curiosity seeped into your expression, “oh?”

He walked you backwards, guiding you with the pistol pressing an indent into his flesh and a hand spreading warmth over your lower back, stopping his pointed steps once the wooden edge of the bar replaced the heated touch. He towered over you, leaning you back slightly over the glossy surface with lidded eyes studying your unchanging expression, the tip of his pointer tracing a languid line down the side of your face. Despite the gruesome scene surrounding you, and the firmness in which you held onto the pistol’s handle, your features were relaxed, easy smile gracing your lips and head tilted slightly in a discrete attempt to chase the gentle gesture. Choi San was not gentle, but one thing he did was make exceptions, unconcealable tenderness breaking through a rigid exterior to bleed into his calloused touch, to glimmer within narrowed eyes, and shape the honeyed words rolling off his otherwise sharp tongue.

Choi San didn’t make exceptions, scratch that. He made an exception.

To say he had been intrigued by you would be an understatement, years passing with him making time to drop by when he rarely ever needed to, making excuses to conceal his interest in a particular bartender who knew about his low-tolerance — classified information only a select few knew of —sneaking non-alcoholic beverages his way when he got pressured into drinking after a successful deal had been made in her presence. And despite the confidence oozing off you, shoulders straight and chin lifted as you batted your eyelashes flirtatiously at various customers, San noted the tremors shaking your fingers, the wary eyes darting in each direction while the men you worked with grazed against you while passing by, and those slurring their words drunkenly calling out to you from their booths. He noticed the tension in your shoulders even as the years went by, and regulars became familiar, their orders sliding across the bar seconds after they’d found an empty seat, before a greeting could slip out their smiling lips, pleased to be served by you once again. You knew the respect this façade had brought upon you, and yet your eyes remained sharp, solid walls built up behind the sultry smiles you handed these desperate men on a gold platter. And in the restless fight to break them down, San found himself too deep into a pit he could no longer pick himself up from. A pit brimming with burning want, a yearning so fervid, it ate at him from the inside out the more he pushed it away, cheap whores and endless mistresses futile in their attempts to simmer it down.

But now, the woman he so desperately wanted to break down between rough palms was trapped between his firm chest and the bar, still holding him at gunpoint while her free arm wrapped around his shoulder. It felt like hours, the steady ticking of the vintage clock hung on the bullet-riddled wall fading the deeper San peered into your eyes, looking up at him through curled eyelashes as the longer hand continued its clicking. Playfulness glimmered in your irises the longer San dragged his silence, as though he had no intention of building on his prior statement.

“What’s this about the great Choi San wanting me?”

Your tone indicated a challenge, a ‘how will he avert the situation to his advantage this time?’ while you kept your eyes on him, fingers tangling into the short hair at his nape to watch his eyelids droop even further at the pleasant stimulation. And perhaps what he needed was a pistol threatening to blow through his brain, realizing — after a chase lasting too many years — that he was tired of the endless back and forth, tired of the eager hands brushing over your body while he sipped on some fizzy beverage you’d handed him, watching as you basked under others’ attention, his own bullheadedness and pride pushing him further away from you when all he wanted to do was break every audacious finger that dared touch your skin in his presence.

Leaning closer, until his hot breath mingled with yours in the negligible gap he’d left between your faces, his hand curved over your jaw, thumb caressing the skin of your cheek, “baby, I’d give you the whole world if you’d just ask.”

The sudden confession surprised you, eyebrows flying up and jaw slackening under his touch, but you swiftly picked yourself up, a pleased smile stretching your lips as you bumped noses with him, “Mm, I’ll hold you up to that, Mr. Choi.”

Unlike the gradually deepening kisses shared in romance novels, teeth clanged and tongues pushed against one another, San’s hand travelling down your side to grab at your thigh until your feet lifted off the wooden floorboards. He set you down on the bar, fingers digging into the washed-out denim gathered at your hips while his teeth nipped at your bottom lip. Placing the pistol somewhere to your side, your hands wandered down San’s sculpted body and over the expanse of honey skin peeking through his open coat, fingertips grazing his nipples to elicit a sudden groan from the man’s lips, parting against your own. You made a mental note of his response, the corner of your mouth lifting as you repeated the action, the hungry clash of lips dwindling into interval pecks as you toyed with San’s chest, flushed and heated under your touch.

“About time you started thinking with your cock,” wrapping your legs around his frame, you dragged his pelvis closer to feel him against your core, hard and heavy within the confines of his pants.

He rolled his hips, eyes dazed as he took you in through the negligible gap separating you, breathing the same air as the friction and lust glazed over his lidded eyes. “Who said this was my cock speaking?”

Fingers pausing over his chest, you took in the implication behind his words, his heartbeat frenzied and erratic against your palm as though it was communicating in its own language, desperate to be heard amongst the chaos that was your nonexistent relationship with Choi San — a game of cat and mouse, with the roles reversing each time you’d crossed paths. Playful banter and meaningless flirting remaining at surface level with no endpoint in sight, both players stuck in a turmoil of pridefulness and cowardice, none willing to relent.

If you’d known a cheap, rusted pistol would push San onto his knees before you, you would’ve blown a bullet through someone’s head three years ago. It wasn’t the game you wanted to win for the sake of your treasured ego, but the thrashing muscle beneath your palm, one many would assume didn’t beat, cold-heartedness and dispassionate eyes only a few could see through. And perhaps that’s what drew him to you, your willingness to look past the blood on his hands and the barbarism in which he carried out his business, your eyes sparkling in interest rather than fear as you sneaked an unknown drink into his hand, treating him like a customer you wanted to woo into becoming a regular, and not as Choi San.

The silence stretched, until San’s mutter broke through the stillness, “do you fear me?”

You blinked up at him, pondering over his question for barely a second before whispering back, “no.”

Huffing out a small laugh, he cradled your jaw in one of his palms while his thumb caressed the skin of your cheek, “that’s reckless.” Perhaps his response should have scared you, or at least sent an icy chill down your spine, but your heart only ached for the man before you as you took in his feeble, half-hearted attempt at pushing you away. Ironic, considering he’d unconsciously leaned into you while he spoke, chest brushing against yours with every breath he inhaled. “You know I can’t be trusted.”

“Not when you look at me the way you do.”

A dangerous glint sparked in the dark of his irises, burning as he silently went over your words in his mind, the few seconds’ wait stirring up butterflies in your gut as you resisted cowering under his fierce gaze. And before you could question his speechlessness, or attempt a teasing remark to lessen the rigid tension beginning to choke you, San’s face was lurching forwards to capture your lips in another kiss. Hungrier, greedier, as though he’d been starved of you — and he’d argue he was — and was finally offered a taste, teeth clashing with his nose pressed against the side of yours as he sucked out the last of the oxygen in your lungs.

Emotion flooded into San’s chest, and he allowed it to seep through into his actions, hands restless and wandering over your frame while his tongue busied itself with exploring your mouth after you’d given him access. Short, breathy moans left your lips when his fingers tucked into the denim waistband of your jeans, eliciting a desperate groan from his as he struggled to undo the button separating him from your heat. The dizzying haze San’s soft lips on yours cast upon your mind broke, his eyes closed as he chased your retreating touch when the sudden awareness of your surroundings jerked you away from him. Despite your sudden rigidness, he didn’t allow you to move too far, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume masking the sharpness of the three cigarettes you’d smoked earlier.

His mouth found your pulse, tongue peeking out to drag kitten licks over the delicate skin in between the gentle pecks pressed onto the column of your throat. His breath warmed the stripes of saliva he’d left behind, “what’s wrong?”

San’s mouth stretched against your skin when your button finally popped open between his fingers, his thumb and index dragging the zipper down until black lace peeked through the opening. You flinched slightly, eyes wandering to the side while a bashful flush rode up your chest.

“San we—” you cleared your throat, “what about…?”

The thumb toying with the dainty lace paused when you’d placed your hand over his, directing his gaze over his shoulder with a faint nod of your head, eyes fixed onto your denim-clad lap. The two guards stood awkwardly by the entrance — Jongho appeared to be unfazed, yet the red tinting the tips of his ears betrayed his nonchalant attitude, intermittent coughs to relieve the dryness of his throat not going unnoticed under San’s watchful gaze. Mingi, on the other hand, fidgeted uncomfortably in hopes of relieving the suffocating tightness in his ironed dress pants, shifting his weight from one leg onto the other in a futile attempt to be discrete, the heavy arousal pressing against his zipper too tricky to conceal.

Moving his attention back to you, San lifted your gaze back to his softened eyes with a finger under your chin, “don’t worry, my darling, they wouldn’t dare look at what’s mine,” the words rolled off his tongue laced with dizzying sweetness. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you noted the averted gazes of the two men, as well as the obvious arousal bulging in the blonde’s pants. San’s finger guided your focus back onto him, “uh-uh, eyes on me.”

With a gentle grip around your wrist, he guided your hand down the toned muscle of his abdomen and over the luxury, leather belt, his hand cupping the back of yours to press it into the twitching lust tenting his pants. Your eyelashes fluttered at the rush of arousal drenching your panties, wrapping your fingers around the clothed girth to elicit a shaky exhale from the parted, plush lips mere centimeters away from yours, leaning forward to close the gap between them. No longer minding the two spectators, your low moan vibrated over San’s mouth, tongue running over his front teeth while you palmed over his hardness, his chest shuddering against yours at the friction. With an arm around your waist, San lifted your hips just enough to tug the bothersome denim off you, leaving you to kick it off while he revelled in the gentle friction you provided him.

He rolled his hips into your touch, one hand still covering yours at his crotch while the other hurriedly pulled your shirt up to your chest, followed by your bra to watch your tits spill out under the band. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You hummed, watching as he’d begun leaning down towards your exposed chest before your hand shot up from his pants to grab his jaw, watching as he confusedly looked up at you, cheeks smushed between your fingers and eyes glazed over with want.

“Mm, I bet you’d like that,” tilting your head to the side, a playful smile curving your lips as you watched him process the mocking tone he’d previously used on you — your refusal to comply bewildered him, but most of all, it sent shocks of burning arousal straight to his core.

The arm around your waist dragged you closer to the edge of the bar, his other hand raking through the hair at the side of your head, desperation leaking into his tone as he sucked in a sharp breath, “god, you’re fucking perfect.”

His pouted lips found yours in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, bodies colliding as his urgency and yearning revealed themselves in hungry nips and bites. You carded your fingers through the dark strands, wrapping your legs around his hips once he’d slotted himself between your thighs, heavy bulge pressed and rutting against your overwhelming heat.

Your own impatience clawed at your cracking composure, a man you’d watched from afar, unobtainable to all but those he’d handpicked himself, only to toss away the morning after. And for as long as you’d remembered, you’d hoped he’d never pick you, afraid of the lingering feelings he’d leave behind as his broad frame walked out the room, his scent permeating the sheets still covering your sweaty figure, fingers entangled into the cotton in a hasty attempt at preserving the memory of  a man you’d wanted for years, but who only wanted you for a night.

Drawing back to take him in, the dystopian scenario your mind had drew up faded into dust as said man chased your lips, feline eyes shut, eyebrows drawn in as he registered the unreturning loss of your touch. While Choi San’s warmth may very well still be torn away from you, the morning sun shining over the world while leaving you alone in the chilling shade, you wondered if the memory of the burning body heat radiating off his soft skin would accompany you during those frosty, weary days. Barely weighing your options, you pressed yourself to the man before you, dragging him impossibly closer with the legs around his waist.

If the dawn of a new day were to illuminate the shards of your shattered heart, at least the moon would have borne witness to your undoing within Choi San’s fervid embrace.

“How about you be good and fuck me already?”

Digging his teeth into his bottom lip, San allowed you to guide his hands past the lacey waistband until your sweet arousal coated his fingertips, running them through your folds to feel you throbbing against him. His response was delayed, breathy as he struggled to focus with his hand in your panties, “be patient.”

Unlike any other statement that had left his plush lips, San’s tone was lacking, the noted detail stretching the corners of your mouth. “I can feel you shaking, Sir.”

The accusation earned you a firm glare, his gaze shifting from the indents of his knuckles against the lace to the cockiness painting your features. Was it nerves, or the anticipation? You wondered if Choi San ever felt any of those emotion, let alone allowed them to translate into his body language. And yet the unsubtle trembling continued, even as the deep baritone sounded in the negligible space separating you.

“Call me by my name.”

It seemed as though your choice of nickname was more alerting to him than the implication associated with his jitters. You wondered if this was his way of showing vulnerability, and the thought of another noticing his quivering irked you, “don’t wanna.”

To your surprise, San’s eyes softened, taking your jaw into his free hand and running his thumb beneath your bottom lip, “please, baby.” He circled his middle finger around your fluttering hole before breaching it, sinking all the way inside while his eyes studied your features. Letting out a breath at the stretch, your lips parted further when San’s thumb ran along the cracking skin, tongue peeking out to run over his nailbed. The sternness in his voice vanished and subtle whines mixed into his tone, “please, ‘wanna hear you saying my name.”

He slid another finger alongside the first, curving and running them over your walls until he grazed the spongy surface he’d been seeking, noting the flutter of your eyelashes, thighs tensing around his waist before spreading to allow him further access.

“C’mon,” he urged, fingertips digging into your g-spot as he shallowly thrusted them into your cunt, studying your face for encouragement as your eyebrows drew in and soft exhales quickened in pace. His thumb pressed into your bottom lip, and he leaned forward to leave an upwards trail of wet kisses over the slope of your jaw, mumbling against the flushed skin, “say my name, baby, let me hear it.”

You were putty in San’s arms, pleasure building in your gut as he fucked his fingers into your pussy, his hand trapped behind the lace and grinding his palm into your clit, the single syllable rolling off your tongue before you could help it, an airy repetition of his name, “San, San, San—” so sweet, melodic, bucking his hips into nothing at the sound, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and groaning into your skin, deep and gravelly, before sinking his teeth into the flesh.

A high-pitched whimper followed the echoes of his name, your walls clamping up around him as a sudden orgasm rushed through you, thighs shaking and back arching, head thrown backwards as he guided you back down with slow glides against your walls and tender kisses over the bitemark he’d left as a keepsake. Just as the tension in your muscles dwindled, San’s hand retreated out of your panties, hurriedly tugging the fabric down your legs and ignoring the audible tearing at the frantic action. He interrupted the complaint at the tip of your tongue with a look, berserk and brimming with searing lust,

“I need to fuck you right now,” his breathing was heavy, rapid, fingers digging into the flesh of your hip while his free hand rid him of his belt, tossing the leather to the side before undoing his pants and leaving them to fall to his ankles. “Can I, baby? I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out in a whine, wrapping your fingers around his biceps after he’d shrugged off his coat, revealing the wide expanse of soft, tan skin and bulging muscle, “want that, want you.”

San’s boxers gathered around his mid-thighs before his impatience became too much to handle, wrapping his arms around you to drag your hips closer before the burning heat of your core met his leaking cock. You breathed the same air, panting into the gap separating you as San ran his length through the slick coating your folds, once, twice, before his eagerness could no longer be held down. A visible shudder shook his toned figure as he breached your clenching hole, his cock stretching you open while you held onto his shoulders for stability, head angled downwards to watch your cunt swallow his cock whole.

“Fuck—darling, you gotta relax for me,” he bumped his forehead with yours, pressing tender kisses to your lips while you adjusted to his girth, unclenching your muscles and allowing the fullness to take over your senses. “Good girl,” he squeezed the back of your neck soothingly, planting a few pecks onto your cheekbone and temple.

He moved in shallow thrusts, craving the friction but refusing to part from the magnetic warmth of your cunt, slick squelching every time he pushed in and soft grunts leaving his lips as he cast his gaze onto your contorting face. He could tell you were still trying to hold your ground, but the pleasure soaring through your body at the languid grazes of his cockhead over your clenching walls dismantled the front you’d built up. And Choi San proved relentless in his pursuit, wanting nothing but to have you falling apart in his arms.

He snapped his hips without warning, a choked moan echoing in the back of your throat, “You’re mine, aren’t you?” he was so close, so deep, building up to a rhythm that rendered you momentarily speechless. “My own pretty girl to ruin.”

You made no effort in concealing your voice, intermittent ah’s making San’s insides flutter as he pounded into you, arms holding you firmly against his body as he seeked the tight squeeze of your cunt.

“You fucking wish,” lidded eyes not moving off him, you rolled your hips in sync with his, meeting his thrusts with just as much urgency, the heavy presence of his cock continuously fucking into you satisfying a years-long hunger you’d endured in silence.

“You can pretend all you want, but I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself,” the hand on your nape moved to the back of your head, pushing it down to vaunt his slick-coated cock peeking out of your pussy before stuffing it back inside, toned pelvis and snail trail glistening with your arousal as he grinded against your clit every time he sheathed himself within you. Leaning forward once again, San’s lips pressed against your cheekbone, moving over the skin as he rephrased his previous question into a sure statement, “you’re mine.”

And this time, you didn’t protest, didn’t tease, but simply nodded your head and breathed out a defeated, “yeah, ‘m all yours.”

San’s cock twitched, his hand dropping to your thigh to dig his fingers into the flesh, the other still wrapped possessively around you while he pistoned his hips into your sopping cunt, sweat beading over his temples while your foreheads remained flush, hot air circulating between your mouths as you pressed them against each other in breathless kisses, swallowing each other’s moans as ecstasy soared through your bodies.

“San—nngh fuck—" the more your back arched you away from him, the closer San drew you in, as though he couldn’t function without every patch of your skin glued to his own; until your nipples pressed together and his scent was all-consuming.

San prided himself in his stamina, but with your walls wrapped around him, his cock pulsed violently and all he could think about was fucking you full. “Gonna give you all I have,” he grunted, rhythm faltering and growing sloppy as the build of his orgasm blinded him, “you’ll take it all, won’t you?”

It seemed as though all you could do was nod, the sound of your synced breaths and skin-on-skin reverberating in the air surrounding your intertwined frame. All you could think about was San, so full of San, his scent, his warmth, his secure hold. San, San, San. The man noticed the sudden trance consuming you, moving his head back to hold your face in his palm, waiting until your eyes focused back on him to speak again,

“There you are,” it was barely a whisper, but you released a deep breath you’d unintentionally been holding, muscles relaxing despite the hurried pace of his hips pounding into you, “’m gonna fill you up, yeah?” Though you were on the brink of delirium, wanting nothing more but San’s thick cum deep within you, you remained quiet, watching as desperation seeped into his expression. “Please, baby—fuck—please let me, let me make a mess of you.”

You ran your fingers through his damp locks, scratching at his scalp to watch the feline eyes droop further. “Begging looks good on you,” you giggled, noting his slowed pace as he staved off his orgasm, a creamy ring of white forming around his cock.

An exasperated whine escaped his throat, his hips betraying him as they chased a pleasure he’d been delaying, “you’ll look so pretty full of my cum, you’ll take it so well.”

The furrow of his eyebrows, pretty pink tinting his skin and fingers trembling where he replaced them at your nape, you couldn’t find it in you to refuse him anymore, the familiar tingle of your impending orgasm breaching your brittle mask of nonchalance.

“Give it to me, Sannie, I’ll take it all.”

That was all San needed, the nickname blurring his vision as he stuffed his length into your cunt, pelvis pressed against your clit as he painted your walls with sticky ribbons of pearly white, his cock throbbing while he fed his load into your womb. You watched his eyes flutter shut and mouth form a perfect ‘o’ as he used your warm hole to milk himself of every last drop, graced with the opportunity to watch him unravel for only a few moments before he dragged you into his body, tucking your head into his neck while he grinded his twitching cock into your cum-soaked pussy. It was so much, so warm as he flooded your insides with his seed, a thin stream dribbling out of your stretched entrance while he shot a few more pathetic spurts.

You tangled your fingers into the short locks at his nape, reveling in the untamed, successive moans San let out into your ear, the mix of his deep baritone and high-pitched whimpers leading your pussy to clench around him. And despite the building overstimulation, he started up a steady rhythm once again, pulling out before slamming back inside. You felt the thick cum flooding out of you, only to be fucked back into your needy cunt. An orgasm you’d thought had dwindled away built right back up as San’s cockhead pounded relentlessly into your g-spot, thighs clamping around his hips as they guided you towards the edge.

You clung to his shoulders, hesitantly pushing your head back when he’d gripped the hair at your nape, shaky breath blowing against your skin as he watched you melt in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, “gonna come for me?”

“mhmm,” your cunt pulsed sporadically as he pumped it full of his sensitive cock, and he leaned down to pepper kisses over your eyelids.

“Don’t close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” he muttered over the delicate skin, his smile dripping with sweetness once you’d done as he asked, faltering slightly when your walls finally clamped up around him, “that’s it—fuck—that’s a good girl.”

Vivid flashes of colour painted your vision, muscles spasming in San’s hold as you finally tumbled over the edge. He coaxed you through it with languid glides over your trembling walls, honeyed voice mumbling praise into your ear while ecstasy rocketed through your body, going completely silent through the first wave before a broken moan ripped through your chest. Your cunt squelched with the added slick, a mixture of your release and San’s simultaneously being fucked into and out of the used hole, and San wanted nothing but to spread you open and swallow your combined taste until you squirmed and thrashed under him, pulling at his hair and squeezing his head between your thighs. But exhaustion was apparent in your eyes, body going limp in his arms as you finally came down, spasming and whimpering while weakly pushing at his bicep.

San didn’t pull out, but simply slid his whole length back inside you and stilled, waiting until your features relaxed before leaning in for a kiss — slow, deep, breaking apart to plant a succession of feathery pecks over your pouted lips.

As he tucked you closer once again, nuzzling your nose into his pulse point, you wondered if this was how Choi San treated all his women, lulling them into a false sense of security before ripping their heart out of their chest, leaving them with the bitter memory of what could have been and the retreating shadow of his broad frame. But one peek over his shoulder, you took in the wordless conversation shared between the two guards, bewilderment and questioning glinting in their widened eyes, frantic hands flailing at their sides in an attempt to dissect the situation. The peculiar scene eased your concerns, and the steady heartbeat of the man you’d longed to hold you for so long laced the air around you with a comforting aroma.

Twisting his head, San studied your dazed expression for a few moments before you’d met his eyes, earning you an easy smile and dimpled cheeks that sent your heartrate on a frenzy, and with your chests flush, San’s lips only smiled further at the realization. The man had warned you about the recklessness of trusting him, and while you knew it to be as such, you were content to live in this warm aura of comfort he’d provided you so long as you could bare witness to this side of vulnerability unknown to many. And even if this moment were to be fleeting, leaving you to grieve the short-live tenderness instead of revel within it, San’s overwhelming warmth and the fervency of his embrace would eternally linger, casting a comforting glow on any desolate, bitter days to come.

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[kittenintheden]

how to lose your mind

WE HAVE LIFTOFF. yeah I. it's a companion piece to how to train your brat and can be considered a future NYS teaser-spoiler. read the tags. enjoy.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Ori (female Tav/OC) Word Count: 5k Content: 18+, pegging Astarion into an absolute puddle, sex toys, anal, handjob, multiple orgasms, facesitting, oral sex, overstimulation, prostate stimulation, idiots in love and so horny about it, future NYS content

That old Harper druid is a bloody harpy. Sniping, judgmental, disdainful. Eager to tell him exactly where his shortfalls lie and rebuff him like a child, smirking all the while.

Heroes. Who has need of them? Certainly not him.

Astarion bursts into their private room at the Elfsong like there’s a storm cloud over his head. Ori’s reading in an overlarge armchair near the small fireplace clad in one of her short robes. Her legs dangle off the side of the chair.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “I sense there’s a story here,” she says.

He flails his hands through the air in exasperation and stalks over to the cabinet, snatching up the crystal decanter he’s been keeping his spare blood supply in lately. He turns around and points the neck of the bottle at her.

“That Jaheira is nasty,” he gripes, removing the stopper from the decanter and turning back around to pour himself a glass. “She called me, and I quote, a ‘homicidal imp easily distracted by shiny things.’” He waves his hand through the air for effect and glances over his shoulder at her.

Ori lets the hand holding her book fall to her chest and gives him a fond smile. “Is that inaccurate?”

“She’s not allowed to say it,” he says. “She hasn’t earned the right.”

He picks his goblet up by the rim and turns, resting back against the cupboard and properly looking at her as he brings it to his lips. The hem of her robe rides up her bare legs and stops just before her arse. If he had to guess, he’d say she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“And what have you been doing this afternoon, darling?” he says, pitching his voice lower and taking another drink as he holds her eye.

Ori shrugs. “Sorting through our chest of assorted nonsense.” She holds up her book. “Reading a bit. Enjoying the lack of whinging.”

He tuts at her. “I come to my partner for support in my time of need and all I get is teasing,” he pouts. “Woe, for I am alone in all things.”

She lolls her head back and laughs. Rolling her body toward him, she lets her book dangle from her fingers and gives him bedroom eyes from beneath her lashes. The split in her robe separates between her breasts and gives him a peek at her cleavage.

“That’s too bad,” she says coquettishly, running the fingers on her free hand over the vine tattoos twisting over her collarbone. “Here I thought I had company and that he might want to spend quality time with me tonight.”

Astarion hums at her and knocks back the rest of his refreshment. “He’ll think about it.” He turns around to pour himself another, tapping his toe against the wooden floor as he does. Over his shoulder, he says, “What were you reading, anyway?”

“Something I picked up at Sharess’ Caress,” she says.

His mouth tics up in a half-grin as he watches blood refill his silver goblet. “Ah, it all makes sense.” He sets down the decanter. “Give you any ideas for the evening’s activities?”

“One or two,” she says, a tingle going up his spine at the sultry lilt in her voice.

He looks over his shoulder to throw another quip and it sticks on his tongue when he sees that she’s sitting perched on the edge of the chair. The robe’s untied and laid fully open, revealing her bare, freckled chest and full breasts, her legs stretched out in front of her. She has her hands on the cushion behind her and arches her back so he gets the full effect as his eyes follow the natural path down from her parted lips to the valley between her breasts to the plane of her stomach to-

Ori glances down to the place his eyes have settled and says, “I thought maybe, if you wanted to, you’d like to come sit on my lap while we consider our options.”

Astarion chokes a little on his own saliva and coughs to cover it, glancing away. He clears his throat and looks back to the space between her legs, feeling a wave of surprised arousal ripple down his torso, leaving heat in its wake.

“Is that, erm.” He gestures at the dark gray, exquisitely shaped cock she’s attached to her hips with a black leather harness. “Is that the one…”

She lets her head fall to one side and grins at him. “The one I saw you eyeing when we were out before?” she says. “It is. The D-”

He waves a hand in front of him and shakes his head. “Don’t… please don’t say the name again. I can’t handle it.”

Ori giggles, head thrown back and toy bouncing teasingly in her lap. When she rights herself, her smile goes soft. She lifts a hand and holds it out to him. “Come here,” she says.

He does, leaving his second drink on the cupboard as he approaches, taking her hand. She pulls him to her gently, just enough to indicate that she’d like a kiss as she tilts her face up for him. He bends at the waist and presses his mouth to hers once, then a second time. Then he drops his gaze to the toy and reaches down to touch it.

It’s hard in a way that makes his own cock respond in kind at its promise, but softer than he’d thought it would be, as if it’s covered in a thin layer of well-conditioned leather. He runs his fingers over it, mapping its shape. Good. Very good shape. Very good size.

“Mmmn,” he breathes before he can catch the sound in his throat.

Ori leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It’s an option. If you want. Or we can do something else.”

He laughs through his teeth. “No, this, uh. This is. I like it.” He meets her eye. “I think I would like to do that. With you.”

She smiles and waits.

“Now,” Astarion specifies. “I would like to do it now.”

“Lucky you,” she purrs, twisting her fingers in the front of his shirt and pulling him against her for another kiss.

Their tongues tangle together and he falls to his knees between her legs. He pulls the robe off her shoulders so he can run his lips and tongue along her collarbone and up over the place where her neck meets her shoulder. Another rush of arousal throbs through his core as his body and mind remember that this can feel good, it can feel so good, and he trusts that she’ll take care of him.

Ori’s hands go up under his shirt and she helps him get it off over his head, their mouths only parting long enough to remove it. She twines both hands around the nape of his neck and strokes her tongue sweetly against his. He groans as he presses his body to hers and feels the cock pressed between their bellies.

Half-reluctantly, half-eagerly, he breaks away and pushes himself to standing, going to undo his fastenings. Ori’s hands fall over his and he lets her take over, loosening his ties. As she does, she presses soft kisses along the line between his navel and his pelvis, further igniting his need. It’s all he can do not to whine at her.

She chuckles and gets his laces undone, hooking her fingers under the hem of his breeches and pulling them down until his hard cock springs free, the head swollen tight and pink with want.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, observing him mere inches from her face. “I thought you might like this, but I had no idea.”

He murmurs his approval as she pokes out her tongue and runs it sweetly over the slit on the underside of him, his pre-fluid creating a tiny pool in the center of her tongue. Then she looks up at him and swallows.

“How would you like it, dearest?” she says. “This is for you.”

It fully hits him, then. His gaze shifts to the side table where she’s set out a few things – towels, a basin, vials. The toy she’s wearing won’t give her any pleasure of her own, at least not the way she’s offering it to him.

“You planned this,” he breathes. “For me.”

She nods.

His throat bobs, desire and adoration swirling together inside him. He doesn’t know how to thank her. For this, for everything. But he’ll figure it out. Every day until it all ends, he’ll figure it out.

“I can be on top?” he asks softly.

“Of course you can, love,” she says, running her hands up the outsides of his thighs. She helps him remove his remaining clothes and then reaches for one of the vials.

Astarion lifts one of his legs and sets his foot on the chair beside her, leaving the other on the floor. Ori takes his hint and applies lubricating oil to her fingers before she reaches between his legs, continuing to press open-mouthed kisses to his stomach as she runs her middle finger along the cleft of his arse. His breath catches when she finds the opening and massages it gently with the pad of her finger.

He closes his eyes and relaxes into the feeling, letting himself enjoy the way she’s touching him. His thigh falls open wider, giving her better access. She takes her time, completely unhurried, letting him shiver and sigh for her. She touches him, kisses him, sings him his praises.

When he begins to squirm impatiently and cracks his eyes to give her a heated look, she gives the head of his cock another lick and pushes her finger inside slowly, up to the first knuckle to start. He clenches on instinct, then in pleasure, then relaxes as she pushes deeper, past the second ring of muscle.

He didn’t have doubts about her experience, really, but any he might have had evaporate when she curls her finger and finds his pleasure center almost immediately.

“Oh,” he breathes, curling over her slightly and gripping the arms of the chair. “Yes, there, right there.”

She works him slowly with one finger, then two, stroking circles along the place inside him that makes his toes curl. A low, aching, insistent tension begins deep inside him. The feverish need for more.

Instinctively, hard-coded from years of experience, Astarion reaches out blindly for her cock to stroke along its length, to bring her in closer to his body. It takes him a murky moment to realize it’s likely for naught, but he does it anyway. He feels oil against his fingers and realizes she’s added more, this time to the phallus she wears. He swallows hard and spreads it, pumping like he would if she could feel him.

Ori reaches up to the back of his head with her free hand and presses their foreheads together. “Whenever you’re ready, love.”

“Ready,” he pants. “Gods, so ready.”

She carefully removes her fingers from him so he can crawl up onto the chair with her, his knees on either side of her hips as he straddles her. Ori puts her hands on his hips while he holds on to the back of the chair and helps him line up, the phallus held firm in its harness. He finds it and sinks down, his breath coming rapidly as the head of it stretches him.

He rocks softly down, down, and down again, and then she’s partway inside him, the curve of the toy hitting him just right.

“Uuuuhhh fuck me,” he grits out as he moves.

“Trying, baby,” she says.

She puts her forearm against the chair for leverage and rolls herself up into him, her torso undulating in a smooth wave. Astarion shudders out his breath and lets his eyes fall closed as she works the full length inside him, stroking firmly along his hot spot on the way in and out. His fingers tighten against the chair and he turns his head to the side to gently bite down on his own arm to stifle the noises threatening to spill from his lips.

He works his hips in tandem with her, finding an easy rhythm that feels absolutely delicious. Ori’s hands run up his chest and around his ribs to his back. She brings her face in close to him, licking her tongue over his pectoral until she finds his nipple, and pauses there to gently suck.

“Hmmmmn-ah,” Astarion moans, releasing his arm where he’s biting it and letting sound rise out of his throat once more. Too focused on the tension building within him to be anything resembling coherent. His head feels far too heavy as he presses it against the side of her face.

With his mouth near her ear, she can pick out a select few words – mostly Elvish, with her name peppered in for good measure.

She takes her mouth from his chest and turns to kiss him quiet. He continues to rock against her, occasionally bobbing up and down. His timing goes increasingly spotty.

When they break, she whispers, “This must feel good. You’re doing the garbled Elvish thing.”

“Mmmm sh-shhh,” he shushes her, leaning in to cover her mouth with his, kissing between shallow gasps. For once, he has no clever comeback on deck. The only thing currently top of mind is that the combination of riding good cock and knowing the good cock belongs to the person he loves is driving him out of his absolute mind with pleasure.

He releases a hand from the chair and lets one arm fall to his side, dangling it as he leans back and rolls his hips against her, panting out a steady stream of hah, hah, hah as he lets the sensations wash through him.

While she watches him lose himself from below, Ori rubs circles into his lower back and around his hips. “So beautiful,” she murmurs. “Beautiful and riding me so well.”

He brokenly cries out her name. The tension inside him is swelling and rising, threatening to burst. He reaches around to take his cock in hand and finish himself off, but Ori stays him, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m ready to come,” he gasps. “I’m… right there.”

“I know,” she says gently back. “You can. You can come for me, love.”

“I need to…” He tries to touch himself again.

She holds him. “Trust me, baby. You can. You can come, just like this.”

“I… I…”

Ori continues to slowly fuck him through his overwhelm. When he relaxes against her again to let the pleasure continue, she releases his hand and reaches between his legs, not quite touching his cock. She briefly cups him before moving a knuckle behind his balls to massage the spot right at the base of his cock.

Astarion’s eyebrows tick up and his jaw goes fully slack as the additional stimulation tips him over, the tension releasing from him as he clenches down around the toy, riding out the heavenly pulses sending ripples through his entire body.

His cock leaks a bit, fluid trailing over the tip and down the underside, but continues to stand rock-hard and at attention.

“Bleeding gods above and below,” he groans. He’s only had one of those a handful of times in his life. For good measure, his body gives one last mild clench.

Ori lightly runs her fingers over his skin. “Did I do okay?” she teases.

He heaves a breath and hums at the feeling of her still inside him, the need already starting to prickle at the edges of his awareness.

“I just came so well that I don’t think I could pretend I didn’t if I tried,” he says, deadpan.

“So, yes, then.”

“Yes.”

She takes one of his hands back in hers and brings it to her mouth to kiss. “Do you need to take a breather?”

“Also yes,” he says.

With her help, he gets his legs back under him and carefully rises up off her, whining a little at the loss. It felt good and he’s still so hard.

But he also genuinely needs a moment to catch his breath.

Astarion helps her to standing and she gives him a kiss before she moves to the side table. He moves to flop down onto their shared bed, flat on his back. The blankets are cool against his sex-heated skin.

Ori takes a moment to do a quick cleanup with her gathered supplies before she comes to stand between his spread legs where they hang over the edge of the mattress. She lays two towels down on the bed beside him.

With a pleased sigh, she runs the pads of her fingers down the dip in his abdomen, making him jump beneath her touch as she nears his leaking cock. She doesn’t quite touch and he flops his head back in mock disappointment, his blissed smile giving him away.

“I think…” she says as she crawls up to straddle him, holding his eye. “... you could do another of those. If you wanted.”

“Gods,” Astatrion groans, his core clenching in memory and anticipation. “I don’t know that I could.”

She places her hands on either side of his head and bends down to kiss him. He feels the rigid tip of her phallus against his hip and subconsciously nips at her lip with a growl.

“Would you like to try?” she asks sweetly, batting her eyes at him. “Before the big finish.”

A rumbling hum rises from deep in his throat and he reaches up to move a curl out of her eyes. “You don’t have to keep going.”

Ori smiles fondly. “I want to.” She lays on top of him and he gives a gravely moan as her weight settles across his erection, trapping it between their bodies. She reaches up and traces her fingers over his face, gazing at him like she’s enchanted. “If you knew how gorgeous you looked just now, you’d want to make it happen again, too.”

He barks out a laugh and swallows. “Always knew you liked them pretty.”

She puffs a breath out through her nose and leans in to kiss his cheek. “I like them well-loved,” she says. Another kiss. “And fucked the way they deserve.”

His body responds to that like a reflex, arousal stretching and purring under his skin, his cock insistently reminding him of its need. He kisses her with a hum, breaking to rest his head back against the bed so he can look up at her with lidded eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love making you feel good. Will you let me?”

Gods, he adores her.

“I’ll allow it,” he says with a slow smile.

Ori raises her eyebrows. “Good.”

She goes to fetch another vial and spends a moment prepping them both again, running her heated palm over the back of his thigh and guiding him to bend his knee to open himself back up for her. When he’s ready, she puts her hands on either side of him and pushes cautiously back inside, careful not to go too hard or too fast as she lowers herself over his body.

Astarion instantly tightens his leg around her and draws her in closer, groaning out his desire. It’s wonderful, but it’s also overwhelming. He’s so gods damned sensitive, the head of his cock nearly purple with unspent arousal.

“I don’t know if I…” he whispers.

Ori slowly rolls one more time, brushing her hand along the side of his face and whispering into the opposite ear, “You’re all right, dearest. Whenever you’re ready to let go, I’m right here.”

He sputters out a tearful sound and arches into her, lifting his leg higher up to wrap along her hip. The adjusted angle makes him gasp, igniting the tension to build anew, higher and more maddening this time. With a whine, he grips her upper arm and turns his face toward hers.

“Love me,” he says, breath warm on her cheek. “Love me, Ori, love me.”

“I will love you so well,” she says, closing the distance to kiss him deep. “You remember our word?”

“Yes,” he breathes, nodding a little for good measure.

“Say it for me, one time,” she says, voice soothing.

Without hesitation, he says, “Weavemoss.”

Ori kisses him again. “Any reason we want to stop, no matter what, that’s our word.”

He presses hard into the kiss, then says, “I understand. Now fuck me again.”

“Whatever my sweetheart wants,” she purrs, pivoting her hips to set a slow, reverent pace.

It’s too much and not enough at once, sticky-sweet with an edge. He wants to both melt into the feeling and cling to it desperately.

He hadn’t exactly been quiet before, but he’d maintained a sliver of control over his utterances. This time, he doesn’t have the capacity to care. He leverages himself to grind back against her, whining and huffing and groaning out his pleasure.

“That’s it,” she says, her voice winded from the exertion. “You’re incredible. What a good, beautiful boy you are.”

“I am,” he agrees, huffing out a delirious laugh. She adjusts her angle slightly and gives him a series of quick, shallow thrusts followed by a long roll and he loses himself.

“Gods, arsurinyas, gods,” he gasps, head thrown back. “How are you doing that?”

“Practice,” she huffs, leaning heavily on her arms and increasing her pace.

From there, it’s only a simple of matter of time before his pleasure catches him again, the thread drawing tighter and tighter until it snaps once more. The whole of his pelvis and abdomen goes sore from its clenching, but in the way that feels like the high after a run, after a kill, after an unbelievable fuck.

And still, and still, his bullocks ache with unspilled seed. He’s nearly mindless from it.

While he comes down from his latest high, he feels Ori pull out and he tries to tell her no, come back, it’s so much but it’s also so wonderful, but he needn’t have worried. She takes his hands and uses her bodyweight to pull him up to sitting. He lolls there, blissed out and feral with need. 

“Think you can turn around for me, love?” she asks, giving his hands one more gentle yank. “I’ve got you.”

He groans and does as asked, thoughts too muddled to argue or attempt anything but her request. His leg is heavy as he lifts it and flips himself, feet now on the floor as he puts his palms on the edge of the bed. Ori approaches behind him and he barely registers her spreading the towels out under him, but then her hands are rubbing his back and he goes jelly-boned under her touch, a completely pliant mess.

“Ready?” she says. He feels her palms spread over his hips, holding him together.

He arches his deep in response. “Yes,” he breathes, barely audible.

When she enters him again, his mind hollows out and he instantly clenches down around the toy. She gives his body a moment to settle before she begins to move again. Her hands slide from his hips to the divots in his lower back, her thumbs massaging into the muscles there in the most deliriously enjoyable way, relaxing him and drawing a reedy purr from his throat.

Ori presses her breasts up against his back as she rocks into him yet again, kissing between his shoulder blades. He whimpers, overstimulated and desperate and continually dripping onto the towels below. 

“You’re being so good,” she croons. “Such a good boy. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” he sighs, rocking back into her. “I’ll be whatever you want.”

Another kiss on his spine. “Good boys get good things.”

His hair is damp with sweat, breath puffing from his lips in his lustful haze. “Please,” he whispers. 

Ori rolls up on her tiptoes and puts her mouth against his ear. She gives the lobe a little suck and enjoys his shuddering whine before she says, “Good boys get to come on my cock thrice.”

“Fuck,” Astation gasps, dropping his chin and feeling his cock pulse and twitch, his balls pulling in tight. 

Then Ori reaches around and takes him in hand and his mouth falls open with a guttural moan.

The remaining oil on her hand and his own slick spread under her touch, offering a splendid glide as she jerks him, making sure to brush up against the slit with her thumb as she works.

“Aaaa-aaaahh,” he manages as he thrusts into her hand.

She follows his hips with hers and together the set a rhythm, him fucking into her hand while she fucks into him, a perfect storm. There’s no drawing this out. He’s already hurtling toward the end, eyes squeezed shut until tears trail from the corners.

“Ori, gods, Ori,” he whimpers. “I’m going to cuh- gods-”

Like a shiver, it runs down the length of him from the crown of his head all the way to his toes. He breaks apart like so much stardust, his release spilling out in an incredible rush, then again, again, and again as Ori pumps him through it until it slows to a trickle. Everything goes soft and quiet, his body sated at last.

He doesn’t speak and neither does she, their heavy breathing the only sound. Ori wraps her arms around him and holds him close, peppering kisses over his shoulders, his back, his neck. Slowly, softly, she trails her fingers over his lower belly, soothing the soreness there.

When she pulls out, the only thing he feels fit to do is drag his burdensome body up onto the mattress and collapse into the pillows. He hears her soft laugh as she removes her harness and collects the messed towels, setting everything aside for a proper cleaning later. She takes some time to wipe herself down with water and mild soap from the basin, then brings a damp cloth over to do the same to him.

His breathing slows as she turns him onto his back, helping him tent a leg so she can carefully clean up the oil and spend from his skin. Astarion blows a breath between his lips and cracks his eyes open to look up at her, curls falling limp and sweaty against her head. Her skin is dewy with lust and exertion.

It’s been a minute since anyone’s fucked him so well, so selflessly. He reaches up a hand to brush against the side of her face, taking the cloth from her and tossing it aside so he can guide her down into his waiting kiss. They’re drunk on one another, lips and tongue and touch.

They make out for several minutes before Astarion runs a hand down her body and between her legs, finally. He finds her completely drenched with slick.

“Hmmm,” he hums against her mouth. “Someone enjoyed that almost as much as I did, I think.”

“What can I say,” she sighs, hitching her breath as he runs a finger along the seam of her. “It’s a bit of a rush to get your love off three times in a row, especially when he looks so pretty coming apart.”

“I can relate,” he says, voice low. He reaches around to palm her just below her arse and pulls her up higher. “Get up here.”

She chuckles. “This was for you, sweetheart.”

“The hells it was,” he lilts, pulling her with slightly more insistence. “If you think I’m going to let you get away with all that without making you scream your pretty heart out, you don’t know me at all.”

“Promises,” she teases. But she relents, letting him guide her as he scoots himself down the mattress and lifts her leg until she’s settled directly on his face.

He runs the entire flat of his tongue along her heated cunt, savoring the moaning gasp she makes, and moves his hands up over her sides, counting every rib as he goes before he lowers one hand to her waist and palms her breast with the other. Ori offers little resistance before she begins rutting against his mouth, chasing relief he’s all too happy to offer.

His tongue works magic as he curls it up into her, stroking along the rough place just inside before drawing back up to lave at her clit.

Ori puts her hand over his on her chest, making him squeeze her tighter there as she begins to bounce a bit. “Gods damn it, you have such a sweet mouth,” she pants.

He smiles and continues to work her, using everything at his disposal to light her up – the flats of his teeth, the whole of his tongue, the suction of his lips. Her clit goes pebble-hard under his ministrations and she whines out his name.

“Gods, gods, gods,” she huffs out between bounces, her voice tight with need. “Gods, Astarion, that’s so fucking…”

He redoubles his efforts, moving both hands to the globes of her arse and gipping hard so he can help her fuck his face to her content. And she does, she does and she does until her thighs quake.

Astarion rolls three circles in quick succession, a delightful swirl that he knows will drive her mad, and she throws her head back and gives a rewarding, sobbing cry to the ceiling as she comes, her slick coating his chin.

After, they lay side by side naked on top of the covers, Astarion wrapped around her from behind with a hand still palming one of her breasts, softly snoring.

They don’t wake until midnight, and they don’t talk about the fact that for all his disdain for heroes, he certainly doesn’t mind being fucked by one.

[musicallisto]

Could I please please please ask for a lil thing about Lewis comforting his partner when they’re feeling insecure 🥺 👉🏻👈🏻

· · · · ♡ PRE-SEASON JITTERS (lh44)

… starring lewis hamilton x gn!reader (and roscoe !!)

... 1.4k words

... in which the bleak pre-season period has you feeling all sorts of anxious, but a homemade meal and affection from your favorite person (and dog!) could be just the thing you need.

... i love this request and I think we could all use a little bit of lewis reassurance every now and then 🥹 let's all forget this horrendous weekend for him btw

The pitter-patter of Roscoe's claws on the linoleum floors is what reveals your presence first. Slumbering in the kitchen amidst the fumes from the extractor hood, the bulldog suddenly straightens up, stares at the front door, ears pricked up for no apparent reason, and disappears into the hallway with a snort. That's when Lewis knows he has to set the table, add pepper to the risotto. He's not the best cook, and usually the private chef would be in charge of dinner... but in the week preceding each new season, the British driver prefers to keep his evenings and his hands busy.

Your steps are heavy, keys turning in the door laboriously—"Hi Roscoe, oh, you're a sleepy boy, aren't you?" faint between huffs and puffs. Lewis can read you like an open book after so many years: it's not just the bleak mid-February evening weighing you down.

You've had a shit day.

"Hi, Lew," you sigh as you step into the kitchen to wash your hands, something like weary relief peeking from your tone.

"Hi, love." In the cozy penthouse lights, your tense figure and slumped shoulders look out of place, too harrowed to belong in this neat space that the London night outside can't traverse. "I made dinner, nothing too fancy, sorry, but..."

"It's perfect," you cut him off gently, with those shiny eyes he adores so much, eyes that only ever seem to catch his light and nothing else's. A quick peck to his cheek unravels your twisted face a little more. "Wish it were pre-season jitters every week."

"I don't," he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your shoulder like a gentle caress. "Poor Bono's going to have a heart attack any day now... you'd think we haven't done this ten times over already."

Dinner is a ritual, almost a sacralized place for Lewis and you—and Roscoe, wagging his tail back and forth between your legs to see what he can puppy-look his humans into slipping him underneath the table. And it works, Lewis never having been one to resist him for long; Roscoe licks his chops with each mushroom he eagerly steals from the driver's fingers. Easy conversation turns into soft jokes and his latest media duty drama, your favorite to dissect after a long day... but he notices the spark in your smile doesn't reach your eyes, and your mouth contorts into a downtrodden pout when he leans over to scratch the top of Roscoe's big head.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks in earnest, and as long as you don't meet those big, soulful brown eyes, you know you can get through the conversation without crumbling.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired-"

"No," he shakes his head, smiling ever so slightly, as his hand reaches out to cradle your fingers on the table. "Come on, I know you by heart. I know you're upset. You know you can tell me everything that's on your mind, right?"

Moonlight filters through the large glass windows, mixing with the ceiling light's warm glow and casting a hundred different hues on your cheeks—fractals of white and gold softening the blacks of your eye bags. Lewis aches to see you so—gorgeous and exhausted, yet unwaveringly surrendered to him, willing to crash headfirst into his safe haven. His hand clasps yours at the same time as Roscoe rests a warm, heavy head on your lap.

"It's just... this stupid thing at work. I'm so... behind on everything, and there's this new guy who's always being passive-aggressive towards me in front of our boss, and he's a fucking idiot but—everyone loves him and his ideas, and I feel like no one... appreciates anything I do or even just values my presence, and..." Quivers in your voice you barely control anymore. "And also, you're gonna be leaving next week and I hate it so much when you're gone because then I feel sad but being sad makes me feel like a big burden to you because you're supposed to be focusing on racing and not... not babysitting me or listening to me drag you down, and then I—"

"Hey," he interrupts before your tirade degenerates, and you almost don't notice him getting up from his chair, shapes moving beyond the blurry veil of your eyelashes.

You rush to wipe them; in the blink of an eye he's there, with a gentle hand on your shoulder; its weight grounds you, much like Roscoe's chin pressing a little deeper against your thigh. As if sensing your distress.

"I think you may be getting into your own head a little. Don't you think?"

He speaks softly, but nothing paternalistic; a conciliatory hum that echoes the steady purring of the washing machine, and down below, all these cars full of people headed back to their own little warm huts. Words don't come to your tongue, blocked by the acerbic shame that bubbles in the pit of your throat—how many times must you fall to pieces over nothing in front of him like this? Instead, you shake your head, and that's good enough for him.

"You're not a burden, love."

You've heard it before, from unremarkable social media influencers and good-natured friends, but it's only when Lewis says it, with the perfect balance of pragmatism and warmth, that you truly let the meaning seep in.

"Not now, and not ever. I listen to you because I choose to listen to you, because I want to be there for you. And about work—look at it this way. Do you really think they'd keep you around if you contributed nothing? I know I'd get axed."

You laugh despite yourself, which Roscoe takes as a sign that the sudden sour mood is gone and everyone's attention will soon return to the food if the content little yelp he lets out is any indication.

"No one would ever axe you, Lew, you can't be bothered to do media day like every other week and have never been told anything. But I'm not a seven-time world champion of anything."

"You don't need to!" he chuckles too, raising his hands in mock innocence. "I'm just being realistic here. You're valued. You really do matter. Who do you trust more, some pathetic high school bully or a seven-time world champion?"

"You just want me to stroke your ego," you retort, rolling your eyes, though a small smile creeps on you lips when Lewis leans even closer, eye to eye with you.

"Well you brought it up first, and I can't exactly help being the greatest at what I do."

"Shut up," more giggles escape through your pursed lips.

Lewis' eyes crinkle a little brighter with each of your chuckles, but his grin fades into tenderness when he kisses your forehead. As he pulls back, his features are more relaxed, more quiet, but no less expressive for all that.

"Whenever I start beating myself up after a particularly shit weekend, you always tell me you wish I could see myself through your eyes, right? How admirable it is that I always give it my all, and that I always strive to be the best I possibly can? Well, that goes both ways. You get all caught up in your own head and don't realize how people see you... but I love you, and I do. From outside your head," he ends with a playful tap to the tip of your nose, where a few gleaming tears have dug a bed.

Your fingers intertwine with his out of habit, without really thinking about it, and you lean into his side just as his arms close around your frame, one hand cradling the back of your head. It's indescribable, the tranquility that overwhelms you whenever you're in Lewis' arms, like his strong heart is enough to numb all your aching nerves and wounds.

Time can't pass slow enough in his comforting embrace... much to Roscoe's dismay.

"Oh, sorry, big boy, you must be starving," Lewis laughs at the bulldog's disgruntled bark, "it's been at least ten minutes since you last ate anything..."

You ruffle Roscoe's thick neck as he nonchalantly trots behind Lewis and the treats he always smells on his clothes; though the dog's attention is too captivated by the prospect of food to pay you much attention now, you swear he rubs up against your leg like an approximative hug. Blinking away the last tears, you take in the domestic scene, Lewis mumbling sweet nothings to his waddling companion, the familiar sound of his food bowl scraping against the floor.

At least you do hold some significance in your small corner of London, you think. In between these walls, in the depths of their hearts—hearts that have, somewhat and somehow, chosen you. And it won't be easy to understand just yet... but at least, for now, it will be enough to treasure.

... f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

[heizlut]

Monsterfucking with full form enjou

i’m obsessed with this and with everything you added when you messaged me! so i present to you:

Sacrificial Lamb

cw: blood, monster fucking, two tongues, degradation, size difference, belly bulge, squirting, loss of virginity, breeding, corruption, insecurity/comfort, labelling this as dark due to the blood

tags: virgin sub fem!reader, dom!enjou/abyss lector, mostly proofread (i tried my best)

m!list here

nsfw under the cut

a/n: this is a long one, so buckle up, keep both hands on the device, and enjoy the ride😉

.𖥔 ๋ .•⋆.𖤍.⋆•. ๋𖥔. .𖥔 ๋ 𖤍.

You weren’t unaccustomed to the traditions your people from the Dark Sea had when it came to worshipping those from the abyss. You grew up being told that in order for the abyss to live on and grow even stronger, women of your people were sent as a sacrifice to become an abyssal being’s bride. Whether that was a fact or not, the information intrigued you.

As you grew older, your fascination with the abyss and the creatures that come from it grew into an obsession. You prayed to whatever was listening that you, too, could be the sacrificed bride to one of their beings. Little did you know, your prayers were being answered.

Enjou was the one who heard your pleas to the abyss and he had taken quite an interest in you. He made sure to stay hidden as he watched you go about your days; enamored with the way you looked, talked, laughed, especially the way you often had your head buried in piles of books as you read anything you could find that had to do with the abyss. You were perfect for him.

It didn’t take long for you to get the news that your dreams were finally coming true. Your people dressed you in beautiful, thin white dress that grazed the ground as you walked. When they were done with their preparations, they wished you all the best with bright smiles, yet you failed to catch the hint of fear in their eyes. They knew it wasn’t likely that they’d ever see you again.

Once you reached the edge of your nation, a dark, swirling portal appeared in front of you. You were practically shaking with anticipation; the moment you've been dreaming about for years... From the portal steps a...regular looking human? Sure he stood tall at 6'1", but he seemed so..regular for something that was coming from the abyss.

He looked down at you with the most elated expression, but quickly schooled it as to not alarm you. He pushes his glasses up his nose and gives a soft smile, "Hello, dear~ Let me introduce myself, I am Enjou." You study him for a moment with furrowed eyebrows. Although confused by his appearance, you feel something in your heart pulling you to him.

Your expression shifts into one of sweet innocence as you smile and introduce yourself, "So, I'm your bride or..." You peek around his shoulder at the swirling portal. Enjou chuckles, amused by you, "Are you not satisfied with what you see? Were you expecting me to appear as a monster for our first introduction?" Your cheeks go red and you look down, too embarrassed to meet his golden eyes.

You were so innocent... Twisted thoughts flooded Enjou's mind and he reaches out, gently taking your jaw between his fingers and raising your head, "No need to be embarrassed, darling~ Come with me and I'll show you everything." The sound of his voice and the way he interacted with you made you feel as though you were melting. He releases your jaw, holding his hand out for you to take. With your hand in his, he takes you through the dark portal.

You feel a bit dizzy once you make it through, instinctively leaning your body against his toned one. Enjou laughs softly, feeling like he's falling even harder for you. You were so sweet, naive, and fragile. He wanted to ruin you, but with the best of intentions of course. Once your blurry vision adjusts and you regain your footing, you find yourself in a grand hall. It was dimly lit and seemed to pulse with the energy that feeds into the abyssal realm.

Your breath seems to get caught in your throat from the overwhelming power within and you wince. Enjou stops, standing in front of you now with a look that seemed to be a combination of pity and perverted delight, "You'll get used to this feeling." He leans down, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks in a low, suggestive tone, "You may even grow to crave it." You shiver at his words, but can't help the arousal that begins to pool between your legs.

Enjou straightens up and beckons you to follow him. He leads you to a large bedroom that was bigger than the home you used to reside in, "Welcome home, darling..." You look up at him with round eyes, your lips parted slightly, "This is for me?" That look on your face made his cock twitch and he has to restrain himself from ruining you right then and there, "For us", he corrects you.

Your gaze falls to Enjou, studying him once more, "Can I... See your other form?" Enjou's smile grows wide as he takes a step back, "Eager to see your husband in his true form?" His laugh is dark as his transformation begins. Now standing before you, much taller than his human form at almost 10' tall. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the pyro abyss lector with sharp, long fingers, a dark mask adorned with five curved horns that hid his face, and glowing orange eyes.

Enjou's laugh is much deeper now, "See something you like?" Even in his abyssal form, he was still a tease. You nod timidly and he steps towards you, "I'm sure you're aware that in order to consummate our marriage, you'll need to take me in both forms. And once we do so, the abyssal energy will make you immortal like me." "Yes, I'm aware...", your voice was soft as usual, but your cunt pulsated at the thought of taking him in his current state. "Then be a dear for me and take off that dress~"

You freeze. Obviously you knew you had to be bare before him, but you had always been particularly insecure about the little scars left all over your body from insect bites and the body hair between your legs. You feared he would find you unappealing and send you back. Sensing your hesitation, Enjou tilts his head slightly, "Is something the matter?" You sigh as you fidget with the material of your dress, "What if you don't like how I look? What if you..." You trail off and he takes your small hand in his large one, "I highly doubt that."

His tone was so sincere despite being distorted by his abyssal form. You chew at your bottom lip and finally give in. You slowly slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders, letting the thin, white material fall gracefully to your feet. Enjou is speechless at the sight as he took in every inch, every scar, and the cute patch of hair between your legs. You took his silence as disgust and you quickly reach down for your dress, but he stops you with the sound of your name.

You look up at him in shame that you had no real reason to be feeling. "I've never seen one as beautiful as you. Please... Don't cover yourself from me", his voice deep, but soft. You look up at him as if he hung the stars themselves, "Then... Where do we begin?" If Enjou could smile in this form he would, "Lay on the bed and spread your legs." Your breath catches once more as you lay on the bed, shaking slightly when you spread your legs open for him. The view alone made him want to devour you, but he couldn't discount the fact that you were a virgin. Oh how he planned to take his time teasing and corrupting your sweet little body and mind...

Enjou squats down, now eye-level your untouched cunt. Your eyes widen when two unnatural, pointed tongues slithered out from under his mask. Enjou chuckles darkly, "You'll enjoy this, darling. Trust me." Before you could protest, one tongue begins to leisurely flick against your clit while the other begins to prod at your tight hole. A drawn out moan escapes your lips, a noise you'd never heard yourself make before.

The sensations were so overwhelming, you dropped your hold on your thighs, making them squeeze against Enjou's mask. Without pulling away, he smacks your thigh and his voice growls from within him, "I told you keep those legs spread." With a whimper, you regain your grip on your thighs, trying your best to keep them spread as he demanded. "There's a good girl~", his tone dark and dripping with lust as his tongues begin to move with more fervor.

It doesn't take long for you to come undone, your juices coating the tongue that had been poking at your hole. To his surprise and great delight, the taste of your virginal blood was on his tongue. Your legs shake with overstimulation when Enjou gives a final flick of his other tongue on your swollen clit.

He leans back, satisfied with his work, and begins removing his cock from under his armor. Your lips part slightly as your eyes take in the throbbing length. Enjou's large hand encircles it, squeezing the clear pre cum from it's tip as he lets out a breathy groan, "Look at you... Fucked out already when I haven't even gotten to the best part~ Go on. Lemme hear you beg for me to ruin you." Your own arousal begins to leak onto the sheets, "Please make me yours..."

Your sweet voice carrying such a naughty request drives him wild and he wants to keep teasing to hear more filthy things comes from your lips, "Be specific, dear~ What do you want and where do you want it?" Your voice trembles, not just from nervousness, but from unbridled desire, "I... want your cock in my pussy." Enjou's laughter is twisted and dark as he positions his large body over your small one. One tongue licks its way up your neck while the other trails over your breasts, "As you wish~"

Enjou lines his reddened tip against your glistening entrance, gently pressing against it. You squirm as you feel a newfound pressure, "Wait, no! It won't fit, please!" "I'll make it fit", and with that Enjou, pushes his length into your tight, gummy walls with growl that claws at his throat. You cry out as you're stretched beyond what you could handle and you desperately claw at his shoulders. Once his cock is buried to the hilt, he speaks, "I'm going to move now."

You try your best to protest, but he begins to thrust in and out, slowly at first. Enjou looks down to where you two are connected, letting out a choked laugh that morphs into a groan when he sees your blood and sticky arousal cover his cock, "Look at the mess you're making all over my cock~ I want more."

He pulls out, leaving just the tip inside, then slams into you, beginning a ruthless pace. He was going feral at the sight of your lower abdomen bulging with the outline of his dick. If Enjou had been in his human form, you certainly would have drawn blood from the way you clawed at his back.

Your cries morph into moans of pleasure as his cock bullies into you, shaping it to fit only him. The flood of abyssal energy bleeds into your mind as something begins to shift inside of you. What was originally blinding pain came a new, dark and twisted sensation of uncontrollable lust. You wrap your legs around Enjou's toned waist, pulling him ever closer to you. Needing to feel every inch of his cock as it ruined you forever.

With a deep growl, Enjou's cock throbs wildly inside of you as his orgasm draws closer, "I'm gonna breed this slutty hole. Fuck you so full of my cum til your stomach aches with how full it is." He presses his hand to the outline in your lower abdomen, "Look how full of me you are already. Your body is so greedy~" Your eyes roll back as you let out a loud moan. Your cunt clenching around his length as you reach your climax, squirting all over his cock.

The mess before him and the way you clench so tightly around him bring him over the edge. Seemingly endless spurts of hot cum fill you up as the abyssal energy surrounding you two grows even stronger. After giving you both a moment to catch your breaths and come down from your highs, he slowly pulls out of you. A mix of both your releases and blood leak from your ruined hole. He simply can't resist using one of his tongues to lick it up, not caring that his own cum was amongst the mix.

After licking you clean, Enjou stands up and shifts into a semi-human form. Your eyes were glossy as you tried to prop yourself up on your forearms. You were fully affected by the abyssal energy that consumed the both of you and you needed more. Needed him. Enjou's golden eyes take you in. You looked even more beautiful panting and looking so desperate. He gives you a soft smile as he gets on top of you again, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "I hope you haven't forgotten that you need to take me in this form too."

Your lips curl into a tired smile, the new energy within you giving you confidence you didn't know you had. You take Enjou by surprise when you straddle his lap, grinding your pussy against his still oversized length. Enjou's surprised expression turns to a smirk as he places his hands on your hips, grinding up into you to meet your pace, "My beautiful bride... Are you really so needy for me~?" You nod you head as you keep up your movements on top of him, letting your slick coat his length.

Enjou chuckles, his voice gritty and low, "Then by all means, take what you desire." You reach behind you, taking hold of his thick cock, lining it up to your core once more. Your head rolls back and your eyes flutter as you sink down onto him. His grip on your hips tightens, letting out a hiss when he fills you up. Once you adjust to the feeling again, you being to move. Bouncing on his cock with your hands on his chest to keep you steady.

Enjou is mesmerized by the way you move. He leans up, opening his mouth to let his two tongues explore your breasts. One tongue flicks one nipple as the other wraps itself around the other nipple. You open your eyes, meeting his lustful gaze makes him smirk at you. Fuck, he was really something else. The tongues toying with your breasts and the way his cock makes your lower abdomen bulge as it drags against your walls...

It doesn't take much longer for your cunt to squeeze his length again as you let out a such a filthy sound when you cum. Enjou groans deeply when he releases inside of you for the second time that evening. You collapse on top of him, breathless and not caring that he was still inside of you. Your head rests against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Enjou runs his fingers through your hair, peppering your forehead with kisses. The action makes you nuzzle into him with an embarrassed groan, "Quit that..."

You were so cute, Enjou couldn't help the laugh that escaped as he puts his fingers under your chin to have you look up at him, "Why would I quit kissing my bride when she's the most beautiful and sexy thing that I'm lucky enough to have?" Your cheeks blossom with red, but before you can hide your face in his chest once more, he kisses you on the lips with a gentle passion that makes you feel whole. Enjou looks deep into your eyes with a look of undying love for you, "My sacrificial lamb... Forever mine."

.𖥔 ๋ .•⋆.𖤍.⋆•. ๋𖥔. .𖥔 ๋ 𖤍.

a/n: whew, i put my heart and soul into this one. i would’ve kept going but it’s long enough as it is 😅

[anna-the-undertaker]

Adrenaline

When the human body is under a great amount of stress, induced by fear or anger or desperation, the brain releases adrenaline into the bloodstream in an effort to keep us alive, forcing our body to perform at its full potential.

Part 2: Indomitable Will

MC and Luke navigated the bustling streets of the Devildom, the perpetual night casting everything in shades of deep blue and violet. The young angel’s face lit up with excitement as they gathered the last of the ingredients for his newest culinary creation. The market was alive with activity, but as they made their way back, the lively atmosphere took a dark turn.

They had just turned down a quieter path when a group of demons ambushed them. Before MC could react, rough hands grabbed them both, dragging them deep into the Devildom’s forbidden forest—a place so dangerous that even seasoned demons avoided it.

MC's heart pounded as they were forced further into the dark, twisted woods. They knew the others would come looking for them, but the forest was vast and treacherous. The demons had chosen their hiding spot well.

As they were shoved into a clearing, MC looked at Luke, who was trembling beside them. They knew what had to be done. With a surge of determination, MC created an opening in the demon's formation, shoving Luke through it.

"Run, Luke! Get help!" MC shouted, their voice strained with urgency.

Luke hesitated, his eyes wide with fear. "I can't leave you here! They'll—"

"RUN!" MC screamed, just as one of the demons lunged for Luke.

Finally, Luke obeyed, sprinting before taking flight with tears streaming down his cheeks. MC turned back to face the demons, their body trembling with fear but fueled by something stronger—the need to protect the young angel and everyone they had come to love.

As the demons advanced, a whirlwind of thoughts rushed through MC's mind. They saw the faces of all the friends they had made since coming to the Devildom: Diavolo’s encouraging smile, Barbatos’ quiet support, Lucifer’s stern but caring gaze, and the warmth of each brother and the angels who had become their family.

They had already lost so much, survived so much, and learned so much. Diavolo, Barbatos, and Lucifer had worked tirelessly for the success of this exchange program, striving for peace between realms. They had all fought so hard for every new experience, every friendship, all the knowledge that had been gained.

MC felt the weight of it all—the importance of what they had built together. Their instincts screamed at them to run, to find safety, but they couldn’t. Not now. They had to fight. They had to protect what mattered.

The first blow landed hard against their side, knocking the wind out of them. Pain exploded through their body, but they couldn’t fall. Not here. Not now. If they died, Luke would blame himself, and the others... it would destroy them.

Fueled by a surge of desperation, MC fought back with everything they had. Their heart raced, adrenaline flooding their system, making them move faster, hit harder, and react with a precision they didn’t know they possessed. Their magic, bolstered by the pacts they had formed, surged within them, giving them strength beyond what they thought possible.

Time lost meaning in the forest's darkness. It felt like hours had passed, but it could have been mere minutes. The forest's living energy twisted around them, making everything uncertain and surreal. They fought until the demons lay sprawled on the forest floor, barely breathing and unconscious.

MC stood there, gasping for breath, their body screaming in pain. Every muscle ached, their vision blurred, and their head spun. They looked up at the stars that peeked through the canopy of trees, trying to calm themselves, but the adrenaline had worn off, and the shaking in their limbs returned with a vengeance. They felt both heavy and weightless, and they marveled at how they were still standing.

"My magic most likely," they whispered to themselves, their voice barely audible. "I was told the pacts would change me in some ways..."

In the distance, MC heard the sound of shouts. They turned their head weakly towards the noise, catching sight of a group rushing towards them. The figures became clearer, and relief washed over them as they recognized Solomon, Simeon, Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and the others. Luke was with them, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm so happy you're okay..." MC murmured, their voice soft and strained as they smiled at Luke.

No one said anything at first. They were all staring at MC, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

"Why is everyone staring at me like I've grown three heads?" MC wondered, glancing down at themselves.

They were covered in blood—some of it theirs, but most of it from the demons they had just faced. They looked back at the crumpled forms of the demons around them. One of them groaned, clutching his side in pain.

MC turned back to the others, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over them. Their vision darkened at the edges, and they swayed on their feet.

"Can someone help me... please..." MC's voice was faint, barely a whisper. "I think I'm gonna—"

Before they could finish, their knees buckled, and they collapsed. Several of the brothers rushed forward to catch them while the others moved to deal with the demons.

The group was stunned by the scene before them. MC’s injuries were significant, but the damage they had inflicted on the demons was far greater. They all knew MC was strong—they had learned that humans were far from weak—but this... this was something else entirely.

As they carried MC back, the reality of what had happened settled over them like a shroud. The most important lesson had been learned: humans were peaceful only when they chose to be, not because they had to be. And MC had just proven that to devastating effect.

[ranhaitanisgf]

hi!! can you write an oneshot of yuuji confessing his love to reader with the help of the first years and gojo? you are my fav writer!! ily bye<3

just confess already!!

synopsis: yuuji just can't get you out of his head!! maybe his friends and teacher can help?

☆ a/n ˎˊ˗ first req for jjk !! it took a long time to write this bc i wasnt sure if i was characterizing everybody right, so lmk how i did !! thank you so much anon for requesting this idea; it was soso cute !! i hope you all enjoy ! xoxo

☆ characters ˎˊ˗ yuuji itadori x fem!reader

☆ wc ˎˊ˗ 2.1k+

masterlist

“idiot.” a harsh slap on the back of his head made yuuji yelp out in surprise and slight pain, clutching the back of his head. “if you keep staring like that she’s gonna notice, y’know.” he pouted a bit as nobara sat herself next to him, sipping a smoothie as the two of them watched you train with maki. 

“whatever…” he mumbled, setting his head on his hand. nobara watched him for a moment, the kicked puppy look on his face making her let out a breath, sighing. 

“i can’t enjoy your struggle with love if you look like that.” yuuji didn’t respond to her comment, making her roll her eyes. “hey, stop ignoring me and listen. you have the love expert sitting right next to you and you’re not even gonna ask me anything?” 

“you’ve never even had a boyfriend.” 

“hey!! i’m not gonna help you if you start being a little shit!” she yelled, huffing as she took another sip of her smoothie. 

as nobara looked at yuuji, she had to admit that it was strange to see him like this. it was odd to see yuuji so down in the dumps and not talking excitedly about something stupid, (not that she really cared. it was just an observation). 

“...you gonna confess to her?” 

“confess to who?!” 

“aah!” nobara screamed as she jumped, her cup almost slipping from her grasp. gojo peeked his head out between yuuji and nobara, his face twisting in feigned pain. 

“woah! don’t go screaming so loud, nobara! you’re gonna burst my eardrums!” the man whined, dramatically clutching his ears. 

“well maybe don’t go sneaking up on people like that!! i could’ve dropped my smoothie!!” she complained, clutching her smoothie much closer. despite the sudden appearance and scare from gojo, yuuji hadn’t even moved a muscle, his cheek still squished up against his hand as he watched you, your training partner now being panda. 

“sorry! but what’s got our vessel so down in the dumps? he get rejected?” 

“he’s gotten himself rejected in his mind before even confessing.” 

“ahhh, young love. so tragic!” gojo exclaimed dramatically. “so, who is it? hmmm…” gojo’s head turned to yuuji, matching his gaze until he saw you. “woah, (y/n)! what’re you gonna do?” 

“dunno…panda said she’s totally into some guy from kyoto…” nobara raised a brow at his words, scrunching her brows as she thought for a moment. 

“panda is a big fat liar. (y/n)-chan does have a crush on someone, but-” 

“you know who she has a crush on?!” yuuji suddenly asked, his voice raising two octaves and his jaw almost dropping. “who is it?!” 

“i’m not gonna break girl code for you, stupid! all i’ll say is that panda is completely wrong and that you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” she stated, making an ‘x’ symbol with her fingers. “you’ll be fine, so just confess already.” 

“i don’t even know how to do that! it looks so easy in those romance movies…” yuuji said, completely unaware of what she had just implied. 

“you watch romance movies? actually, why does that make complete sense- nevermind! stop being a coward! girls don’t like men who are cowards!” nobara confidently stated. “you’ve gotta be confident and tell your feelings unashamedly! be bold! be fearless!” 

the little pep talk had no effect on yuuji, the boy just sighing and standing up when he noticed that you were finished with training. before he could get up and walk away, gojo suddenly grabbed him from under his armpits, easily lifting him up and walking away with him, (yuuji’s flapping and flailing had absolutely no effect). 

nobara had stayed seated, staring at the scene for a couple moments and wondering if she should get herself involved, (teenage boys are so much trouble, after all). despite the fact that she could do much better things with her time, she ultimately decides to get up and follow them. see, she’s thinking for her future self! the future her wouldn’t be able to enjoy the small moments of peace and quiet if yuuji was constantly moping and feeling sorry for himself, so she has to intervene now for her own self preservation! 

“hey, let go of me!” 

“we have to fix this, stat! i wouldn’t be a good teacher if i didn’t help you out!” 

“i’m not asking for your stupid help! have you even had a girlfriend before, sensei?!” gojo gasped at yuuji’s words, shaking him a bit as he continued to carry him to wherever he was taking him, (nobara isn’t sure why she decided to help, actually. this was ruining her peace and quiet). 

“ouch! you don’t think your own mentor is hot with the ladies?!” gojo suddenly stopped walking when he noticed a familiar black-haired first year who stopped in the doorway to the school, staring at the scene in front of him. 

for a few seconds, megumi stared at gojo, hoping that silence would hopefully be enough to exclude him from whatever was going on right now. 

“megumiii~! come help us with yuuji~!” 

“no thanks.”

“me~gu~mi~!” 

“i’m busy.” 

--

you’re not sure what’s going on right now. 

you had been walking with maki and panda back from training, the three of you talking about getting a bite to eat somewhere good after taking showers and freshening up, (you felt pretty cool that you were able to hang out with the second-years, so you were pretty excited about it). 

when the three of you had heard a giant racket from behind you, none of you had expected to turn around and find gojo and the other first years restraining yuuji as they were sprinting your way at quite the alarming speed, (gojo was holding yuuji like a cat, his hands under his armpits while megumi and nobara were half-heartedly crouch-running while holding his legs). 

“aahhh!! let me go!! let go!!” yuuji was yelling, trying his best to wrangle himself out of gojo’s grip. 

“what in the world…” you said in shock, preparing to get out of the way since they didn’t seem to be slowing down, (would they willingly crash into all you? nah…right?). 

they all suddenly stopped right in front of you, unceremoniously dropping yuuji. he didn’t lose his balance though, standing up straight away and throwing his hands up in anger. 

“hey!! what’s the big idea here?!” he was yelling, his face twisted in confusion and frustration. “you can’t just pick me up and take me wherever you want!!”

“actually, i can! maki, panda!! let’s scram!!” gojo said, a big smile on his face as he started shooing them off. 

“hah? why should we-?” 

“c’mon c’monnnn! listen to your teacher for once!” gojo interrupted, taking hold of both of their shoulders and pulling them along with him. “ oh, and (y/n)! yuuji has something to say to you!” megumi and nobara followed behind him as they shook their heads, leaving you and yuuji staring at them in shock as they all walked away. 

“what the hell just happened…?” you asked, your question hanging in the air as you watched them all promptly exit the scene, (you could still hear maki arguing with gojo in the distance which you thought was a bit funny). 

yuuji didn’t answer your question, his jaw hanging wide open as he watched everyone walk away and leave him there. 

“uh, yuuji…? you alright? gojo-sensei said you have something to say?” you asked, a bit concerned. yuuji was finally looking at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to say something, (were his cheeks pink? are you imagining things?). it was odd to see him acting so timid, especially when he was usually so excited and friendly. maybe he was finally making a move? 

no, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. 

“i…uhh…” he managed to let out, his hands moving to his head to mess with his hair. you nodded patiently, waiting for him to say something. 

“yes?” 

“i…you…uhhhh…” he shook his head, his hands suddenly slapping his cheeks. “i like you!!” he exclaimed, his eyes screwed shut. “i really like you and panda said that you liked a guy from kyoto so i wasn’t going to say anything but nobara said i should go for it and i wasn’t going to but then gojo-sensei dragged me all the way here so i kinda feel like i have to say it now! i’m sorry!!!” you stared as he talked, not even taking a breath between his sentences as words poured out of his mouth. at the end of it he bowed deeply to you, his arms stiff at his sides. 

all you could do was stare at him for a few moments, his talking being too fast for your brain to process all at once. the silence was thick over the two of you as he anxiously waited for an answer from you, whose eyes were blown wide as you realized what was happening right now. 

the first thing you did was gently grab his shoulders, pulling him up from his bow and smiling at him, your hands moving to hold his, (you found it cute that his palms were sweating a bit). 

the second thing you did was giggle a bit at his flushed and embarrassed expression; you didn’t think you’d ever see him like this, but you were glad that you were. 

“yuuji! i thought you would never say anything! i like you too~!” now he was the one staring at you with wide eyes, his gaze flicking down to look at your joined hands, then back up to your smiling face. 

“me? you like me?!” he asked in shock. 

“of course, silly!” you answered, squeezing his hands a bit. “i’ve liked you since the first day i met you. i was waiting for you to realize!” yuuji continued gaping at you, his shock extremely evident on his face. “was it really not that obvious?” 

“i’m kinda stupid, so i didn’t know…” he mumbled, his eyes staring deeply into your own, almost as if he was searching for your feelings in them. a smile suddenly bloomed on his face, his shock melting away as he gave you the most genuine and happy grin you’ve ever seen in your life, (you’re being blinded!!). 

“will you let me be your boyfriend?” he asked, lacing your fingers together. “i can’t say that i’m the smartest and i can’t say that i’m the strongest, but i will do my best to make you happy!” 

there was a particular shine of complete and utter love in his brown eyes that beamed a light straight into your heart; a complete k.o!

“guh, yuuji…” you said, your head dropping down. “my heart…” 

“what?! are you okay, (y/n)??” 

“ahhh, you’re so cute…!” you exclaimed, popping your head back up to beam at him. “let’s go do something!! right now!” 

“r-right now!? where-?!” you cut his words off by starting to drag him with you, beginning to jog a bit. he confusedly jogged behind you, but despite his confusion his hand held yours in a firm grip, blindly following your lead as you led the both of you down the halls. 

“somewhere! wherever we find something cool!” you giggled, going outside the school and leading him in the direction of the city. “let’s get some good food! oh, and maybe we can watch a movie or something! didn’t you want to watch that worm movie?” 

“human earthworm 4? seriously?! you’ll see it with me??” yuuji asked, his expression dumbfounded and elated at the same time. 

“of course! i would do anything if it was with you!” 

“h-huh?! anything?!”

“yep! anything!” you smiled, looking back at him. his cheeks were completely flushed by this point, the pink shade being darker than his hair color. even more obvious than his flustered state though was how happy he was; his face was contorted in the most beautiful grin you think you’ve ever seen and you almost trip over your own feet because you’re so happy too. 

“...i-i would do anything too! if it was with you!” he exclaimed, unconsciously helping you jump over a big root in the pathway. “i think anything would be good if it had you!” 

“do you mean it?” 

“of course i do!! i feel like you always have this sort of aura that’s just like whoosh! and then i just feel better, even if my lunch got stolen out of the fridge!” 

“haha, i have an aura? don’t worry though, i’ll protect your lunches from now on!! you won’t need my aura because-!” 

“no, i do need your aura! always!” 

“hmm, well i guess we could arrange that, right?” you mused, giggling. yuuji’s eyes drifted to his view of your smile, your joyful expression making his heart go ten times faster than it already was. 

hey! not that he’s complaining…it’s really nice, so….his heart rate be damned!! 

yuuji doesn’t know if there’s a god out there or a higher power, but he hopes that he can be able to relive this moment with you forever, (would it be too much for him to ask to be with you forever? it would be, right?).

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Four (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three,

Y/N Perspective.

The walk home was quiet, filled only with the sounds of the woods and the clicking noises he made. I knew where he was taking me: that den. Despite the haze that clouded my mind when I woke up this morning, I managed to recall certain details I noticed while trying to quietly escape.

It was just as you would expect from a cryptid living deep in the woods. The den was secluded, hidden by a tree line, and resembled an ominous cave. It appeared cold and empty, nothing that would stand out if you happened to notice it.

The inside told a different story. It was warm, with the floor lined with coarse furs and wool from other animals. It remained dark for the most part unless a fire was lit or the sun managed to peek through. Towards the back was the “nest” he spoke of; he said he made it for me, for us.

It was exactly what it sounded like: a nest. It was large, with a base of sticks and wood, topped with furs that were different--much softer and plush to the touch. Truthfully, with some blankets, it could be the most comfortable place to be during the cold winter months.

I’ve also noticed that Kyojuro is quite comfortable himself. His fur is soft, and he radiates warmth like any fire. Sure, he’s a ruthless, psychotic monster, but at least he’s nice to sleep with.

It didn’t take long for us to reach our destination. Once we arrived, he led me straight to the nest, sitting me down inside it. Before I could say anything, I felt his tail wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me against him. He curled up around me, holding me close.

"I’m not going to run," I reassured him.

He scoffed, as if I'd just told a ridiculous joke.

"You really expect me to believe that after the stunt you pulled this morning?" His eyes narrowed at me.

"You don’t understand. It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t leave because I wanted to escape. I needed to leave because--"

"Tamayo." He growled her name as if she were the bane of his existence.

"You do not belong to this Tamayo woman. You belong to me." His tail tightened around my waist, starting to hurt.

"It’s not like that. She gives me a place to stay. She’s been extremely good to me."

"I also provide for you." His pointed ear twitched in annoyance.

"I will always provide for my mate. No matter what some human can do for you, I can do more!" He sat up straighter, his voice loud and confident.

I glanced over at the opening of the den. Through the vines, I could see the sky turning orange. It would be late soon.

While I’m completely aware I’m not much assistance to Tamayo as a whole, I can’t just abandon her. She has every right to throw me out and tell me to fend for myself, but she doesn’t. She gives me grace every time. I don’t know her well enough to call her a friend, but I can say she is a good person--a mentor with a passion for monster hunting.

I can’t just disappear.

I have to help her, find something, anything to aid her research. I owe it to her. A hundred times over.

I turn back to look at Kyojuro, his red eyes staring holes into me. Glowing red.

“You are not going anywhere,” he said sharply and to the point.

I could feel my body tense up. This was a cryptid’s influence--the influence of a mate.

Even if I wanted to sneak off now, my body wouldn’t let me, or it would make me sick until I came crawling back. If I wanted to make things right, I had to convince Kyojuro it was a good idea.

“Will you please, please just hear me out at least? Just let me explain.” I sounded pathetic, begging like a damn dog.

I could see his gaze soften slightly as he sat back to get a better look at me.

“Fine, I’ll let my mate explain why she needs to go gallivanting off to this woman so desperately.”

I thought for a moment about how to make him understand. I wasn't sure how well a cryptid could grasp human emotions, let alone human relationships.

To him, anyone who interacts with me seems like a threat, someone who could take me away. Of course, that isn't true, but it must be his animalistic instincts.

"Kyojuro, before I met you, I was living alone, just trying to get by on the streets of that village you saw."

I saw a slight shift in his gaze, a mix of confusion and maybe pity.

"My point in telling you this is because Tamayo was the one who helped me. She saw I was struggling and took me in, gave me a place to stay and food to eat. All she asked in return was my assistance."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the clicking sounds starting up more intensely as I went on. The sob story wasn’t working. I needed a different approach.

"Without Tamayo, it's very possible I would never have met you, Kyojuro. It’s because of her that we found each other."

I saw a slight change in his demeanor; his tail loosened a bit.

"Tamayo isn’t a bad person, Kyojuro. She has helped me a lot, and I haven’t been able to do a single thing to return those favors."

I looked at him desperately.

"Please, I'll be your mate, I’ll come here every night, whenever I can, but please don’t make me never see her again.”

He looked conflicted, seemingly considering it for a moment, until his tail lifted me off the ground to look me in the eyes.

“Y/N, as my mate, you are to stay here. No exceptions. I marked you as mine, I claimed you as mine. And you agreed to it.” His face was so close to mine.

I couldn’t deny it. It was true. All of this, I agreed to it. I wanted to tell myself I did it out of fear, afraid of what would happen if I said no. But I knew that was a lie.

The hard truth is that I am attracted to him. I genuinely have feelings and a sexual attraction to this cryptid monster, one of the nine most dangerous in the region.

"I know, I know I agreed to be your mate. I still want to be. But can’t there be a way for you to meet me in the middle? After all her kindness and patience with me, I can’t let her think I took advantage of that and abandoned her.”

He hesitated, looking at me as if he needed to process my words.

“Please… mate, please let me make this right.”

His eyes immediately softened at my words. He set me down gently on the nest before hovering over me.

“Y/N L/N,” he growled my name in a way that sent shivers down my spine, his voice echoing and causing my heart to race.

“I will allow you to pay your debts that you feel you owe. I am not cruel.”

I could practically feel my body relax.

“However.”

I looked up at him.

“As I said, you belong to me. You are bound to me.” He growled as he leaned down closer and closer to me. “What I say goes. You will be allowed to see this Tamayo woman during the day and aid her in whatever it is she wishes to prove, but at night, you will be here with me, in our nest. Without exception.”

I took a deep breath. His demands would be difficult, but I had to make it work. This was the best compromise I could hope for with him.

"Yes, okay. I can do that," I agreed quickly.

He stared at me for a moment before slowly rising. He looked out and finally noticed the darkening sky.

"The sun is setting. You may return tonight. Blame your tardiness on 'your old friend' from the market," he scoffed.

I stood up, glancing at my tattered clothing. I wasn't sure how I would explain it this time, but I’d figure something out.

I felt his eyes burning into me, making me uncomfortable and a little hot and bothered.

His large hand grabbed my face firmly, his claws digging slightly into my cheeks.

"That man you were with in the market today. Stay away from him," he spoke lowly.

I knew cryptids were possessive, but I never realized they could get jealous. Oh, if only he knew how little Yushiro liked me.

I nodded to show I understood. He let go and took a step back, looking me over.

"Your visit will be brief. You will return here tonight, or I will drag you here myself." The threat was clear and immediate.

“Okay, I’ll return later tonight, you won’t have to come get me.” I reassure.

His intense gaze never faltered. Now that I know kyojuro has a human form he can change to at will, I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me around everywhere.

He gives me the approval to leave.

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

The walk back was just as annoying as I remembered, hiking out of the woods only to return the same night.

This sucked. I know I’m not in a position to complain, but I feel like he forgets I’m human. My body is sore and tired; all I want is sleep.

Once the house was in sight, I made my way in, passing a few of the other people Tamayo has recruited, until I spotted Yushiro.

He looked up and saw me. As soon as he looked me up and down, he gave me his usual look of judgment.

“What the hell happened to your clothes? And where have you been?” His tone was skeptical but with a hint of concern.

“I’m sorry, I was with my friend and…” I hesitated, unsure how to explain my torn clothes.

“…we decided to go for a walk in the woods while we talked. I accidentally tripped.” I gave a sheepish smile.

What a dumb lie.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at my clothes again.

“I’d say it’s impossible to mess up your clothes that badly from a trip, but knowing you, you’d find a way.” He scoffed.

Before he could walk away, I gently grabbed his shoulder.

“Wait, where is Tamayo? Is she in?”

Yushiro nodded.

“She’s in her study, probably settling in for the night. If you’re going to bother her, do it quickly.” He shrugged my hand off his shoulder.

Before I could say anything else, he was already halfway down the hall.

This shouldn’t take long. I just need to understand Tamayo’s plan and coordinate it with Kyojuro’s demands.

I stood in front of her study door and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” came her faint voice from behind the door.

When I entered, she was standing behind her desk, putting away some books. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze softening when she saw me.

“Ah, Y/N. How was the market with Yushiro? He said you ran into an old friend,” she said casually.

“It was fine. I’m sorry for taking so long. Did Yushiro give you the supplies I got?”

She nodded as she placed the last book on the shelf and turned to face me.

“Yes, I got everything. I was pleased to hear you have someone to talk to outside of the group,” she said with a smile.

I started to feel awkward. Any time Kyojuro was mentioned, guilt washed over me. Tamayo had been searching for these creatures her whole life, and here I was, sharing a nest with one of them, keeping it a secret from her.

“Yes, it was very nice to see him again. It had been quite some time,” I said, playing along with the story I made up.

Tamayo's gaze swept over me. “Looks like you had a nice time indeed.” Her teasing was unexpected.

Tamayo rarely discussed anything with me other than monster hunting, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I needed to focus on why I was here.

“Tamayo, I actually needed to talk to you about your next steps for the group. Is there anything you need me to do?”

She looked a bit surprised; it wasn’t often I showed much interest in her projects.

She grabbed a small map off her desk and unrolled it, pointing to the northeast.

“We didn’t have much luck in the northern area, so I think it’ll be better if we start going east. I intend to cover the whole region.”

A worry gnawed at my chest. Kyojuro's demands about what I can and cannot do echoed in my mind. He had expressed his anger with me for going north--the same night he marked me and claimed me as his mate.

“So, how can I help with that?”

“You’ll travel with Yushiro and me. It’ll just be us.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. Why me? Yushiro hates me every other day, and I contribute nothing more than eating their food.

“Why do you want me to go? Wouldn’t it be better to send some of the more experienced hunters with you?”

She gave me a slight nod.

“Yes, usually that would be the case. However, those hunters are only ‘experienced’ because they’ve had the chance to gain that experience. You, Y/N, need to get some under your belt as well.”

Well, I guess that makes sense.

“Another reason is I need some of the people who have been here longer to keep an eye on the woods around this place. We’ve noticed some strange noises and activity lately. It’s quite possible there could be something out there, so close, and we wouldn’t even know it.”

I had to keep a straight face, but my heart sank. It had to be Kyojuro; he keeps coming around because I’m here. He’s going to blow his cover and be found out.

I needed to talk to him, to explain that Tamayo and the others were catching on to his presence. I had to warn him to stay away.

Tamayo tilted her head, noticing I was lost in thought.

“Y/N?” She called my name softly.

I met her eyes for a moment before speaking. “When will we start our journey? Is it soon?”

She shrugged. “I’m still working on the details. Give me a day or so to get everything lined out, and I can give you a proper timeline.”

I felt a little relief. At least I had two days to process this with Kyojuro. Maybe with more time, he wouldn’t be as aggressive or angry. At least, that’s what I hoped.

----------

The walk back to the den wasn’t as bad as I expected. It was hard to see in the dark, but I was starting to memorize the path.

Sneaking out of my room was going to be annoying. They weren’t exactly keeping tabs on me, but people would get suspicious if they saw me walking into the woods every night and not returning until morning.

Everything about this felt complicated, but I was sure I’d get used to it. I still didn’t know how to convince Kyojuro to let me go east with Tamayo and Yushiro--probably two of his most disliked humans at the moment.

Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure another Hashira lives in that area, mainly near water. Tomioka...something like that. I remember reading about him in the books I found while trying to learn more about Kyojuro.

The only thing I remember about Tomioka is that he looks like some kind of kraken/human hybrid. Probably like a creepier, more unsettling mermaid. But the book never mentioned he was aggressive or dangerous like Shinazugawa.

Maybe Kyojuro wouldn’t be so opposed to it this time.

I could see the den, a faint light peeking through the vines that covered the entrance. When I walked in, I saw Kyojuro sitting by the fire he had started, which lit up most of the den.

He looked at me, his ears perking up, and smiled with his sharp teeth.

“Ah! So you can follow orders correctly!” he laughed enthusiastically.

I was caught off guard by his demeanor. Before everything that had happened recently, Kyojuro and I had talked casually in the woods. I wouldn’t call us friends exactly, but he was always playful and entertaining.

Given the recent circumstances, I hadn't seen this side of him in a while. He must be relaxing a little bit.

Do I really want to ruin his mood by asking to travel?

He got up from his spot by the fire and walked over to me, his tail wrapping around my waist to pull me closer. He lifted me up in his arms, nuzzling his head against my cheek.

“My mate has returned to me, just as she promised. Now we can spend the night together!” His voice echoed in the den, amplifying his excitement, and his clicking was loud.

Damn, he’s being cute.

He seems so happy; I can't talk to him about leaving right now. I miss this side of him. Sure, his looks are strangely attractive, but what really drew me to Kyojuro was his personality--fun, happy, and confident. Traits I wish I had more of.

I petted the top of his head, scratching behind his ears a little. He started making a growling purr, so I guess he liked it.

“What did you do while I was gone?” I asked, continuing to pet him.

His bright red eyes widened, and he smiled. “I hunted for you. You’re human and very small, so I made sure to bring you plenty!”

I couldn’t help but smile. He’s so happy to do things for me. Even when Kyojuro was angry with me, he’s been attentive since he claimed me. He makes sure I’m fed, that I’m not cold, that I’m safe. He doesn’t let his anger get in the way of being a provider.

Honestly, I know a lot of human men who could use a lesson in that as well...

“Thank you, Kyojuro, I’ll be sure to enjoy it.”

He set me down near the fire where some raw meat and a wooden skewer were laid out.

As I started to cook the meat, his tail draped around me, and his glowing red eyes stared into mine as he smiled. It was a little creepy, but I knew he was just happy.

The meat was good; I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now. Dealing with monsters and monster hunters can make you forget you’re a human who gets tired and hungry.

I could feel myself slightly dozing off as I ate. Curling up in the nest with my cryptid mate didn’t sound so bad right now.

Once I finished, I looked up at Kyojuro, who was still staring at me.

“I’m getting a little tired. Do you think we could go to bed now?”

His eyes flashed, and his expression changed. This smile was different--mischievous and full of lust.

“My mate wishes to sleep already? The night is still young for us, my dear...” He stood over me like a giant, his clawed hand gently grabbing my arm and pulling me up. He leaned down close to my face.

“You forget, I haven’t eaten yet. I’ve been waiting for my meal to return to me since she left.” His growl was low and seductive.

My mind was a mix of fear and arousal at his words. I couldn’t tell if he meant literally or figuratively, but I guess I was ready for either.

“What do you mean?” I struggled to find the right words.

His hand moved from my arm to my face, holding it softly.

“It means I’m going to devour you.”

Blood rushed to my face. I didn’t care which way he meant it, I was ready.

He picked me up again and carried me to our nest.

He set me down gently and leaned back to get a good look at me. His eyes darkened, his smile turning stern and commanding. His claws tugged at my already torn-up shirt.

“Take these off,” he growled lowly.

My heart pounded as I lifted my hands to unbutton my shirt. My mind was racing. I’d already let him fuck his aggression into me this morning after the run in at the market. But I could definitely go again.

I started to remove the rest of my clothes, slowly letting the fabric pool at my feet.

I could feel his intense stare his eyes wide with need, his fur standing on end.

Once I was completely bare I looked back up at him. His gaze was predatory, almost scary.

In an instant I found myself being pinned to the floor of the nest and he towered over top of me. One of his large clawed hands held both my wrists above my head while his tail pulled my legs apart.

His eyes taking me in hungrily. I could feel my body heating up.

"You are perfect," he purred.

Before I could react, his long wet tongue ran over my face and down my neck. I could feel his sharp teeth graze my skin as he moved further down my body, licking and biting as he went.

I arched into his touch, wanting more.

Suddenly his mouth closed over one of my nipples, his tongue swirling around it. The sensation made me moan loudly.

Kyojuro smirked against my chest, clearly pleased with my reactions.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" His clicking starting up again.

"Mhm," I whimpered, unable to form a proper response.

"Good." He kissed his way back up to my face, capturing my lips in a deep kiss. I couldn't help but moan again as his tongue invaded my mouth, tasting every inch of me.

I felt him release my hands, his clawed hands traveling down my body.

My body tensed up as he touched me.

"You're mine. All of you."

Kyojuro's tounge pressed against my folds, causing me to gasp.

"Kyojuro!"

I felt a sharp sting as his claws cut into the soft flesh of my thighs.

His eyes darkened, and his grin grew wider.

"My mate is so wet for me already..."

I blushed, embarrassed by his words.

"Do not be ashamed, love. I will take care of you." His purrs in my ear.

I gasped as his tongue finally found my clit, lapping over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

I gripped the fur on his shoulders, unable to keep my hands off of him.

I could hear him growling as his tongue moved faster and harder against me. My hips bucked against him, desperately trying to gain more friction. My orgasm was building quickly, and it wasn't long before I was moaning loudly, my legs shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh, Kyojuro, fuck! Please don't stop!"

my orgasm came so quick, I couldn’t believe it.

I lay there panting trying to catch my breath. It was so fast, I was almost disappointed.

This clicking noise suddenly grew louder his hand releasing my wrists and moving to my waist forcing me to sit up.

“We aren’t done yet, surely my mate can keep going.” That monstrous smile made my heart flutter again. I wasn’t done and neither was he.

As he sat back I found myself crawling between his legs, his cock was huge, hooked, the large knot bulging at the base.

I was practically drooling for it.

His eyes looked down at me amused.

“Does my mate see something she wants?” His voice echoed lowly.

I had never wanted a cock in my mouth so bad.

I couldn’t resist trying to wrap my hand around it, he growled lowly at my touch.

I knew I couldn’t fit much in my mouth but I was willing to try.

I needed it more than anything right now.

I ran my tongue from the base to the lip, looking into his eyes.

He looked so aroused, so primal.

I started to tease his tip with my tongue, flicking it back and forth before wrapping my lips around it.

It wasn’t much but it was enough to get him to groan loudly.

I started moving my head back and forth, sucking on his tip.

heard him growl loudly again as he gripped my hair in his hand, holding it still.

“More.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could, taking as much of his tip in my mouth as I could and started moving my head back and forth.

My gags and moans sounded embarrassing, but the seemed to only edge Kyojuro on.

I could feel myself getting wet again at his pleasure.

I was starting to feel dizzy as I worked my mouth on him. I was drooling all over his cock, spit dripping from my chin.

“My little human, so eager to please me. Get on your hands and knees.”

His voice sent chills down my spine.

I complied immediately.

He positioned himself behind me, his tip pressing against my soaking wet pussy.

“You are so wet, my mate. Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

His hand wrapped around my throat and pulled me back against his chest.

I could barely get the words out.

“Fuck me, please. Fuck me hard, Kyojuro.” I whined.

He chuckled lowly at my begging.

“That’s good, I want you to beg more for me.”

He slid himself in and out of me, teasing me with just the tip.

“Please fuck me, please.” I was desperate.

He pulled out and slammed his cock in me, burying himself to the knot.

I gasped out in pleasure

His tail wrapped around my ankle, holding my legs apart. He started to move in and out of me at a fast pace.

He was going to make me cum again soon and I was sure he would follow suit.

He leaned in close to my ear and started to growl and click as he fucked me.

“Oh fuck, kyojuro...” I moaned, his tail tightening around my ankle.

I was starting to lose control again, my vision blurring as the orgasm hit me again.

His tail quickly moved from my ankle to around my waist, forcing me to stop moving.

Kyojuro’s cock pulsed in me as he released himself, his knot swelling up and locking in place.

I was completely full of his seed, unable to move.

I collapsed forward, my arms and legs giving out.

Kyojuro laid down behind me, pulling me close against him. I was already falling asleep, his warmth and his scent keeping me safe and content.

I had never felt so exhausted and protected in my life.

But I knew tomorrow would be different. I needed to convince Kyojuro to let me go on this hunt with Tamayo.

He wouldn’t be happy and he would probably be angry.

But I couldn’t let him win this time. I needed to be brave enough to hold my own.

I knew Kyojuro didn’t want me to leave, but he needed to understand why I was doing it.

I needed to protect him as much as he protected me.

I knew he would see my point of view.

He just needed to trust me a little bit.

And maybe he would see that I wasn’t going to run from him.

But guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

Next>>

—————

Tags: @fandomenbylover @emmenic726

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Summary: With no friends and the looming threat of losing custody of his son, Eddie's the lowest he's ever been. But you know what they say: “Rock bottom just means there’s nowhere to go except up."

Warnings: angst, visits from CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's

WC: 6k

Chapter 5/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

The phone rings as Eddie wrestles Harris into his jacket. He still hasn’t figured out how to break the news about his classroom change; at this rate, he’ll be dropping him off at school before he works up the nerve. Is there any good way to tell your kid that he no longer gets to spend his days with his favorite teacher?

“Keep that on,” Eddie instructs Harris, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt. “I’ll zip it for you in a sec.” He jogs over to the phone, answering with an irritated, “Hello?”

“Ed?” Wayne’s voice drifts from the receiver. “It’s Wayne.”

Eddie nods before remembering that Wayne can’t see him. “Y-Yeah, hey,” he says, tone softening at his uncle’s familiarity. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of how he willingly shut him out over the last month. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Can’t complain.” Wayne clears his throat. “I’d love to see you and Harris. Whenever you get the chance.” Eddie can hear his concern, the unasked questions that dissolve on his tongue: Are you okay? Is Harris? Do I need to file that custody agreement?

He glances over at his son, who, despite Eddie’s promise, is unsuccessfully trying to thread the zipper with its teeth. He motions him over, cradling the phone to his ear and stretching the cord while he kneels to fasten the jacket. “We were actually about to head to the park if you wanted to meet us there,” he says. “This kid’s got way too much energy to keep him cooped up in the apartment. We’ll both lose our minds.”

Wayne lets out a kind chuckle. “Sounds like a Munson.” Eddie can hear the tinny jangle of his keys. “The park over on Porter Drive?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Harris whines, twisting the doorknob back and forth to emphasize his impatience.

“We’ll be there in ten,” Eddie tells Wayne, catching a glimpse of the neon orange cast peeking out from under Harris’s jacket. It’s now adorned with his classmates’ names. Your signature seems to beckon Eddie, taunt him, even, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because it’s the only one that doesn’t resemble chicken scratch. “Oh, Harris broke his wrist, but he’s fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“Hoo boy,” Wayne breathes. “Definitely a Munson.”

Harris spends the short drive to the park bouncing in his carseat. “Is Grampa Wayne gonna play with me?” he asks, rocking back and forth excitedly.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, keeping his eyes trained on the road. He nervously thrums his fingers along his jean-clad thighs. What if Wayne still didn’t think he was a responsible parent? What if he took one look at Harris’s injury and raced home to call his lawyer? “But I gotta talk with him first, okay? You can play by yourself for a little while.”

Harris hums his agreement, eagerly unbuckling as soon as Eddie parks the car. He starts to run towards the field, and all Eddie can picture is him tripping and hurting himself again.

“Harris, don’t–” he starts, but he then remembers those magic words: “Walking feet, bud. Don’t want you breaking that other wrist.” He grabs the soccer ball from the trunk and kicks it in Harris’s direction.

Wayne pulls up in his truck a few moments later, almost as exuberant as his grandson. “Har-Bear!” he calls out, opening his arms wide for a hug. Harris picks up his pace, slowing down when he remembers his dad’s instructions.

“I’m using my walking feet!” he chirps proudly, and though they’re fast walking feet, Eddie beams at him.

Wayne squeezes Harris so tightly that Eddie worries he’ll inadvertently cut off his oxygen supply. When the boy starts squirming, Wayne laughs and puts him down.

“Go ahead and play,” Eddie tells his son. “Grampa Wayne and I are gonna catch up real quick.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two men sit on the bench, waiting for the other to say something first. Finally, Wayne breaks through the tension.

“Missed you two,” he murmurs, not looking at Eddie. “‘S too quiet around my place without that little rugrat.”

“We missed you, too,” Eddie admits, chewing on his thumbnail. “Harris won’t stop asking for Grampa Wayne.”

Wayne preens slightly at this, shifting in his seat. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since…”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, not wanting to revisit the part of his past that Wayne’s referencing. “I, uh, started working at Rock Records,” he tells him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It sucks, but it’s a job.”

He feels Wayne clap him on the shoulder, pulling him closer to him for a brief side hug. “I’m proud of you, Ed.” He purses his lips before asking, “and no more of the…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I’m done with that. Returned the rest of what I had to Rick; told him I was out.” His gaze drops back to the ground, and he stares intently at the blades of grass as though they might disappear if he blinks. “But that might not matter anymore anyway, so…”

“The hell you talking about?” Wayne pinches his eyebrows together, adjusting his position to face his nephew.

Sighing, Eddie tells him about what happened at the hospital last week. Wayne’s eyes widen when he hears that they filed a report with CPS. “That’s some bullshit,” he mumbles, scratching at his gray beard. “Kids get hurt all the time. Can’t keep ‘em in a bubble.” He shakes his head incredulously. “They’re not gonna take him from you, okay? They’re gonna see how you provide for him, how great you are with him, and they’re gonna be sorry they wasted their time.”

“I’m not great with him,” Eddie mutters, standing up in a feeble attempt to exert some of his nervous energy. “I’m ruining his life.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “He had this teacher, and he adored her. Calls her ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’ And I was just…just a total asshole to her. I accused her of telling people about the CPS thing and said some really fucked up shit about her sick grandma and…fuck, Wayne. She had Harris transferred to another class just so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And now I have to say, ‘Hey, you know that teacher you fuckin’ loved? Well, she’s not your teacher any more, and it’s all my fault.’”

Wayne absorbs the information, contemplating what he says next. “So fix it,” he shrugs.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie argues, plopping back down onto the bench in defeat. The wood digs into his lower back uncomfortably, so he stands up again.

“It’s not?” Wayne questions, digging a pack of Newports out of his jacket pocket and offering one to him. “Because it sounds to me like you owe this ‘Ms. Sweetheart’ an apology.”

Eddie takes a cigarette, toying with it before tucking it between his lips. It takes a few flicks of his old Bic lighter to get a spark, and he lets the nicotine calm his nerves before speaking again. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Never said she would,” Wayne counters, plucking the Bic from Eddie’s hands and bringing the flame to light his own cigarette. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apologize.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie watches his son kick the ball around before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. “My boss asked if I could teach guitar lessons once or twice a week,” he says, using his empty hand to toy with the frayed holes in his jeans. “If…if you wanna, could you watch Harris? I can pay you.”

“Don’t insult me, boy,” Wayne scoffs, but a playful smile dances on his lips. “You’re not gonna pay me to watch my own grandson. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll have a pot of mac and cheese ready to go.”

The pent-up tension dissipates from his body at Wayne’s easy agreement. An unspoken I love you floats between them, and he could cry from the sudden surge of relief.

“Daddy! Grampa!” Harris calls out from across the park. “Let’s play!”

Wayne stands up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up. “You heard the man,” he jokes. “Up and at ‘em.”

It’s your first day off of work since the start of the school year, yet all you can think about are your students. Well, one particular student and his god-awful father. Eddie’s comment replays in your mind, cutting through you like the chilly mid-October air. The sting still hasn’t faded, despite it being three days since he’d said it. 

You say goodbye to your grandma and Elise, her home health aid, grabbing your car keys and closing the door behind you. This morning was already overwhelming; Grandma had woken up at 5 AM, ready to start her day. The sound of her TV blasting at the highest possible volume jolted you from your sleep, and you’d spent the following twenty minutes trying to persuade her to go back to bed. Unsuccessfully, you might add. 

You wince when you see your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, with pouches developing beneath them that only emphasize your exhaustion. You practice smiling a few times before starting the car, peeling out of the parking lot to meet Jess, Viv, and Jeff for lunch.

The pleasant aroma of burgers cooking on a grill wafts past your nose as you push open the doors to the restaurant. It isn’t too crowded when you arrive; you assume that the usual lunchtime rush is quelled by the Columbus Day holiday. Your new friends are already waiting at the table, waving you over excitedly.

“Hey,” you call out, forcing pleasantries into your otherwise flat tone. You slide into the seat next to Jess and across from Jeff. “How’s everyone been?”

“Better, now that I’m out of the first trimester,” Viv says with a small laugh. “Now that I have my appetite back, I’m definitely getting the grilled cheese.” She glances at the menu again, adding, “and a side of fries.”

Jess nods. “I think I’ll do the same.” She turns to you and her cheerful expression shifts to one of concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just tired.” Your lackluster reply is unconvincing, but she doesn’t challenge it in front of Jeff and her sister. “Chasing after kids all day is wearing me out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Viv exclaims, taking a sip of her water. “You’re a preschool teacher. The one with Eddie’s kid in your class!”

“Mhm,” you manage; the mere mention of Eddie’s name turns your throat into sandpaper. “Well, not any more, I guess.” Your throwaway comment is met with inquisitive stares, so you give the group a rundown of last week’s events, watching their eyes grow wide.

“He’s such a fucking douche,” Jess grumbles, resting her hand over yours. It feels like forever since you’ve experienced the simplicity of a kind gesture, and you have to swallow the emotion that comes with it. 

“Seriously,” Viv agrees, looking over at Jeff. “Why were you even friends with him?”

Jeff lets out a terse chuckle and shakes his head. “Believe it or not, he actually used to be a good guy. The best, in my opinion.” Disappointment flashes across his face as he continues. “Something changed when he went to Chicago. He was always on-guard, had his walls up, but it used to be more of an ‘if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you’ attitude. But when he came back home, he was…different.”

“Different how?” Curiosity gets the best of you, and the question slips off of your tongue before you can stop it.

“It was like he was determined to hurt people before they could hurt him. No matter what I did, he never fully believed that I was on his side. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t out to fuck him over.”

Viv drapes an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder. “How long did he live in Chicago, again?”

“Long enough to knock someone up,” Jeff muses, mind wandering for a moment before he brings himself back to the conversation. “About four years, I think? He left to chase his dreams of being a rockstar. Then one day, he shows back up in Hawkins with an infant, trying to act like nothing had changed.” He snorts at the very idea of it. “But it obviously did–I mean, besides the fact that he had a whole child, the rest of us had grown up, too. College, work, all that stuff.

“When he suggested getting Corroded Coffin back together, we figured, why not? It seemed like a decent way to chill out, blow off some steam at the end of the day.”

“Let me guess,” you chime in, cocking your head knowingly. “Eddie had other ideas.”

Jeff nods. “He still wanted to do the rockstar thing. And he’d always get angry at us because we didn’t. Not professionally, anyway. Kept mocking us for having 9-to-5 jobs, like it was the worst thing in the world.” He pauses, screwing up his face in contemplation. “Which, come to think of it, was weird. Because back in high school, he told me that it really messed with him, not having that stability growing up. Y’know, before Wayne took him in.”

There’s so much more you want to know, but the waiter striding over to the table to take orders brings the conversation to a natural conclusion. What you’ve gathered so far is that Eddie Munson is a many-layered man, each one more puzzling than the last. Despite your festering hurt and anger, you can’t help but hope that he untethers himself from his complicated past. If not for his sake, then for Harris’s.

“Daddy, what’s a new cents?”

Eddie’s taking the left turn onto the main road when he hears his son speaking from the back seat. “What’s new since when?” he asks, craning his head to check for oncoming traffic. 

“Noooo,” Harris whines, letting out an exasperated sigh. Eddie has no clue where his new attitude came from, and he can’t say that he’s a fan. “A new cents.”

“That’s not a thing, buddy,” Eddie answers, starting to twist the radio knob. 

“Yes, it is!” Harris insists, clearly growing frustrated. “Ms. Marion told Ms. Paula that I’m a ‘new cents.’”

It suddenly clicks for Eddie, and he grips the steering wheel tighter and hopes Harris doesn’t notice the edge in his voice. “You mean a nuisance?”

“That’s what I said!” Harris groans. “What does it mean?”

Eddie pushes past the question to ask one of his own. “What exactly did Ms. Marion say?” Maybe there was a misunderstanding, he reasons with himself. 

But Harris’s answer only confirms his initial suspicion. “She looked at Ms. Paula and said, ‘this one’s a ‘new cents.’ An’ then she pointed to me.”

“Why the hell would she say that?” Eddie’s speaking to himself, but his son replies, still too young to grasp the concept of rhetorical questions. 

“‘Cause of my shoes being untied. An’ she doesn’t like when I ask her to tie them.”

Eddie cringes. He’d meant to teach Harris how to tie his sneakers, but the lessons had to be put on hold when the kid had broken his wrist. Pausing before posing his next question, Eddie carefully selects his words. “Did…Did Ms. Sweetheart ever do that? Get mad about your shoes or call you a nuisance?”

“Nope,” Harris shakes his head. “An’ Mr. Will didn’t either.” And considering that his laces had always been tied in neat bows when Eddie arrived to pick him up, he can only assume that the two of you did this without a second thought. Jesus, why even bother to be a preschool teacher if you’re gonna bitch about tying shoes?

“So, what is it?” Harris snaps him from his thoughts. 

“Huh?” Eddie’s right foot presses on the brake as he approaches a stop sign. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Sorry, Har.” It’s the second time in as many days that he’s lied to him in order to spare his feelings. Yesterday, he’d waited until they were already in the school to tell Harris that he was picked for a super special project where he’d act as a secret agent in another class. He didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that he’d spent all night thinking of that excuse. 

“‘S’okay,” Harris shrugs, raising and dropping his legs so they bounce off the bottom of his carseat. His ankles are exposed, and Eddie realizes that he must’ve grown. Again. Which means that he needs to scrape together some money and buy him new clothes. Again. “How much more days until I get to go back to Ms. Sweetheart’s class?”

“Not sure.” Lie number three. He flicks on the radio, the sounds of Ozzy effectively distracting Harris for the remainder of the car ride. 

If only it was that easy to fool himself. 

A harsh knock on your classroom door and the formality of your first and last name draws your attention from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. Will left thirty minutes ago with the rest of the TAs, so you’ve been sitting alone, humming a song you’d listened to on the car ride to work.

“Yes, that’s me,” you tell the tall man standing in the doorway. His intimidating stature and sullen disposition juxtapose the orange and yellow hues of autumn-themed artwork lining the walls. “Can I help you?”

He flashes a name tag as he steps into the classroom. “My name is Andrew Smith. I’m here on behalf of Child Protective Services to speak to you regarding one of your students…” he checks his notes, “Harris Munson.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble over your words, “he’s–he’s not my student any more. Not since Tuesday of this week.”

“Right,” the social worker nods slowly, patience already running thin, “but I briefly spoke with his new teacher, and she said that she didn’t have enough information to answer the questions, and directed me to your classroom.” When you don’t respond, he gives the legal rundown about the process and your obligations as a mandated reporter. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed with this, shall we?” He clicks his pen, eyes boring a hole into you as he speaks. “How well would you say you know Harris’s father, Edward Munson?”

More intimately than you know, you bitterly think. “Fairly well. He dropped Harris off and picked him up every day.”

Mr. Smith scribbles that down. “Was Edward Munson punctual? Did he drop off and pick up Harris on time?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and your mind flickers back to the very first day of school. “There was only one time he was late for pick-up, but it’s common for that to happen once in a while with any parent.”

“Right, okay. And how would you describe Harris’s disposition around his father?”

“He adores him. He’s a generally happy kid, but he lights up around his dad. Or even when he’s just talking about him.” One lunchtime conversation in particular centered around how his dad could play anything on the guitar, even “Old MacDonald.” Harris had been bursting with excitement to report that Eddie made the funniest animal sounds, and you’d be lying if you’d said your interest wasn’t piqued. “I’ve never seen Harris act nervous or scared around him.”

Pen flies across the paper, and you swear he’s writing more than you’d even said. “Besides the broken wrist, did you ever notice any injuries or abnormal bruising anywhere on Harris’s body?” 

You shake your head before realizing he’s waiting for a verbal response. “Nope, never. Just the usual bruises that come with being a kid.”

Mr. Smith cocks his eyebrow, pressing his lips together. “And where were those bruises located?”

Shit. Did you say too much? Why can’t you just shut up when you’re nervous? “Knees and calves?” You point to the spots on your own body, as though the social worker needs visual aides, while silently berating your own stupidity.

“And based on your interactions with him, how would you describe Edward Munson as a father?” It’s a loaded question, and its magnitude is a weight on your chest. 

“Caring, attentive, very loving,” you answer honestly. “Responsible. Harris always showed up with lunch and a snack, bathed, clean clothes, whatever supplies he needed. I never worried that Harris was unsafe or in an unhealthy environment.” You force yourself to meet Mr. Smith’s gaze when you say the next part. “We, um, actually were at the hospital at the same time. My grandma got hurt, and we bumped into them when being discharged.”

This grabs his attention. “And did Mr. Munson appear to be impaired or otherwise behaving out of sorts?” The way he looks at you could easily be mistaken for a glare. “Under the influence of any substances, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” You keep your tone firm and even.

He shoves the paperwork at you, pointing to where your signature is required. “Thank you for your time,” he says flatly, leaving the room before you have time to reply. It seems nearly impossible to go back to the task you were working on before the interruption, but you try to push away the intrusive thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong.

An hour later, the heavy-handed knock raps on the door to the Munson’s apartment. Eddie knows the drill; unfortunately, this isn’t his first run-in with Child Protective Services. He’s double, triple, quadruple-checked that every electrical outlet is covered, the matches and lighters are far from Harris’s reach, and there’s no remaining product from his recently-abandoned dealing days. The visit is technically unannounced, but since he’s not getting many visitors these days, there are limited options of who could be at his door.

“Edward Munson?” The social worker asks, giving him the same opening spiel he gave you. “I’ll just need to take a look around your home and make sure it’s a suitable living environment for your son.”

“Of course.” Eddie hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, but he can sense the waver in his voice. “Yeah, come on in.” He opens the door a bit wider and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, drawing unwanted attention from the social worker.

“Something the matter, Mr. Munson?”

“N-No,” Eddie insists, shaking his head. If he confesses to being nervous, this Smith guy could mistake it as an admission of guilt, and that’s the last thing he wants. “Just, um, long day?”

Smith recognizes the response with nothing more than a disbelieving glance as he makes his way through the apartment. Eddie watches silently, pushing down his anxiety with a thick swallow. His mind races when the social worker rummages through the refrigerator. Are there fruits and vegetables in there? Did I throw out that container of leftover spaghetti that overstayed its welcome? His stomach sinks when Smith marks something down in his notes but doesn’t have time to ruminate over it before Harris pokes his head out from the bedroom.

“Daddy? You gonna come back an’ play Hot Wheels with me?” His big brown eyes instantly melt Eddie’s heart, and all he wants to do is scream at the man, See? See how much my kid loves me? See how happy he is? Now, why don’t you go deal with the parents who actually deserve to lose custody and leave me to play with him.

Before Eddie can stop him, Harris traipses out and sees Smith rifling through the pantry. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“Har-Bear, this is Mr. Smith. He’s, uh, one of my friends.” Eddie scrunches his face and shakes his head defeatedly at the blatant lie, but Harris doesn’t notice.

Mr. Smith gives a short wave, neither kind nor impolite. Just one slight movement to acknowledge the boy’s presence. He’s determined to get back to his job, but Harris has other plans.

“I like your glasses.” He points to the wire-rimmed frames on the man’s face. “My Grampa Wayne is s’posed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t. Daddy says it’s ‘cause he’s a mule.”

“Stubborn as a mule, Har,” Eddie gently corrects him, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

But Harris ignores his request, forging towards his dad’s friend. He lifts his arm and flashes an innocent smile. “Look at my cast! It’s from when I jumped on my bed and breaked my arm.”

“Harris!” Eddie hisses, trying to keep his cool. “Can you go play? In the room?” Pleading with him is like negotiating with a terrorist, and he knows his efforts are futile.

“Actually, I do need to take a look at Harris’s bedroom,” the social worker muses, tapping his pen against his lower lip. Eddie has to stifle a scoff at the charade that this just occurred to Smith. Like he didn’t have this mapped out, another bullet point on the list of uninformed judgments he needed to make.

“We, um, we share a room,” Eddie mumbles, as though there would be another possible reason as to why there’s a twin bed nestled into the same space as Harris’s race car bed. “I used to sleep on the couch, it’s just easier to be close to him when he has nightmares an’ stuff.” His heart races when Smith jots this down. “N-Not that he has nightmares a lot. I don’t let him watch scary movies or anything. Just normal kid stuff.”

The man nods, visibly irritated by his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut to inhibit the flow of unnecessary explanations that freely pass through his lips without a second thought.

Harris motions Smith over, using his uninjured hand to grab the stranger’s and leading him into the room. “That’s my bed,” he announces. It sounds like he’s giving a tour, and Eddie almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “And that’s where I falled,” Harris points to the unassuming patch of carpet alongside it. 

“Ouch,” Smith mutters, and Eddie swears he can see a semblance of a smile. Leave it to Harris to thaw the most hardened of hearts. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yeah, but there was no blood,” Harris says nonchalantly. “An’ I didn’t need a shot. Just this cast. All my friends signed it. Even Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Ms. Sweetheart?” Smith repeats.

“She’s my teacher. Well, she was my teacher. Now I’m a super secret spy in Ms. Marion’s class, but don’t tell anyone!”

Eddie scoops up a couple of toy cars off of the floor and hands them to Harris, determined to end the conversation before anything else can be revealed. Can you get your kid taken away for being an asshole to his teacher? He doesn’t want to find out. “Here ya go, bud. Why don’t you get the racetrack set up, and I’ll play with you as soon as Mr. Smith leaves.”

“Actually,” Smith says, “I’m about finished. Mr. Munson,” he says, his natural stoicness settling back in as he turns back to Eddie, “after completing this investigation and conducting our interviews, I’ve determined that Harris may remain in your custody. I’ll just need you to sign a few forms and I’ll be on my way.”

Eddie’s relief is palpable. He sweeps Harris into a hug, clutching him to his chest and wordlessly swears to never put him back down. “Th-thank you,” he mumbles, acutely aware of the tears leaking from his eyes. “Wait–what interviews? No one interviewed me.”

Smith nods. “Yes, we spoke with Harris’s teacher. She only had great things to say about how well you take care of him.”

She did? He barely knows the woman; Harris has only been in her class for two full days, and she never indicated any partiality towards him. He makes a mental note to thank her tomorrow at drop-off. For now, all he wants to do is treasure every moment with his boy.

Eddie doesn’t want to let Harris out of his sight, but he begrudgingly takes him to school, not wanting to add a truancy charge to his growing list of misgivings. 

Ms. Marion greets both Munsons with a muted stare, harsh enough to drain Harris of the excited energy that typically buzzes through his little body. “Are we going to listen today?” she quips.

“Yes,” Harris says.

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris’s affect is robotic and monotone, and the uncharacteristic spiritlessness nearly distracts Eddie from thanking the older woman for her interview.

“The guy–um, the social worker–he told me that you said some nice things about me. About how I am with Harris,” he stammers. “So, uh, thank you.”

Ms. Marion crosses her arms over her faded pink sweater, pursing her overlined lips. Her forehead is marred with frown lines. “That wasn’t me, Mr. Munson. I directed him to speak to Harris’s previous teacher, since she spent more time with him.”

Ms. Sweetheart.

After everything he’d said and done, you’d still vouched for him. Spoken so highly of his parenting abilities that CPS allowed him to keep custody of his son. You could’ve easily ruined his life, but you didn’t. 

What Eddie doesn’t understand is why.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to; at least, not immediately. Right now, he just needs to fix this. And he knows exactly where to start.

Friday marks one week since your blowout fight with Eddie. One week since he’d caught you pathetically crying in your car because of the venom he’d spewed. One week since you’d informed him that you’d had Harris transferred to another class.

Which is why you’re confused when the boy bounds up to your classroom door, shouting, “Ms. Sweetheart! Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Hey, Harris,” you greet him, unable to mask your confusion. “What are you doing here? You’re in Ms. Marion’s class now, remember?”

Harris nods, his curls bouncing with each movement. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud and unfastens the zipper, tongue poking from between his lips as he digs through it to brandish a cassette. “This is for you.”

You take it from him, eyes widening as you take in Toni Braxton’s face staring back at you. “Harris…where did you get this?”

“My daddy put it there and said to give it to you. So I did,” he answers with a shrug. He looks up at you, innocuous and angelic as he adds, “I miss you. I wish you could be my teacher again.”

“Me, too,” you reply before thinking. Clearing your throat, you kneel down to meet him at his height. “Thank you for my gift. It was very sweet. Go ahead and head to class now, okay? I don’t want you to be late.”

“Mmkay!” he chirps, slinging his still-opened bag over his shoulder. “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart.”

Why would Eddie buy you a tape? Why this tape, the one you’d come in for when he’d said such malicious things to you? You can’t make sense of it, regardless of how many times you try to piece together the puzzle.

At dismissal, you find yourself waiting by the door, hoping to catch Eddie before he can dash out of the school. There’s no logic to his actions: he despised you enough to weaponize your grandma’s cognitive decline, and then he gives you a gift with no further explanation. 

You distractedly hand parents the sign-out sheet, barely registering when Joshua Harrington’s dad asks you about any upcoming plans for a class Halloween party. 

“Is there gonna be a list of things you need? Candy or cupcakes or something?”

“Oh, uh, I’m gonna send home information about that next week,” you stumble over your words as you try not to make it obvious that your mind is elsewhere. 

“Great,” he says, stretching out the word as he tracks your gaze to the spot behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yup.” You slap a smile on your face just as you spot the mane of frizzy curls you’d been searching for. “Um, excuse me for a second.” You call out to Will, letting him know you’ll be right back, before sprinting down the hallway. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris’s eager face twists into a frown. “You gotta use your walking feet in school. Or you could get hurt.”

Eddie moves to correct him, but you just smile sweetly. “You’re right, Harris. Thanks for reminding me.”

You allow your gaze to travel upwards, eyes locking onto Eddie’s. You can’t quite read his expression; his brows are furrowed in confusion but the flush in his face indicates that he knows why you’re here. 

“Harris gave me the tape. The Toni Braxton one.” Like he’d gifted you myriad cassettes that required this distinction. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The right corner of his lips turns up into a half-smile. “Besides, I  should probably be the one thanking you.”

“Me?” What is he talking about? As far as you know, you’re the bane of his existence. 

“Yeah. For, uh, what you said to that social worker guy. Even after I treated you like a piece of…” he presses his palms to Harris’s ears and lowers his voice, “shit.”

That makes sense; he was relieved that you’d sang his praises when it had mattered most. This was an expression of gratitude; nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re a good parent, even if you’re mean to me,” you say nonchalantly. “I wasn’t going to make up lies and ruin your lives out of spite.”

The statement hangs in the air, gathering an awkward silence that has you and Eddie both grappling for ways to end the conversation. 

He’s the one to interject. “Well, anyway, I hope you like the tape.”

“Mhm.” It’s all you allow yourself to utter in front of Harris. A thousand questions swarm your head, threatening to spill off your tongue, the first of which is simply: why? “I’ve gotta get back. But, um, enjoy your weekend.” You pivot on your heel before Eddie can wish you the same. With the necessary chaos of your life, you can’t invest any more time trying to unravel him. 

“Daddy, when is Ms. Sweetheart gonna be my teacher again?”

Eddie knew it was inevitable that Harris would ask about going back to your class, but he thought he’d bought himself more time with the spy game he’d concocted. He can’t delay the truth any longer. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can switch back.” There’s a pang in his heart when his son drops his hand, digging his heels into the parking lot asphalt. 

“Is it because you were mean to her?”

His question catches Eddie off-guard. “Wh-What?”

“In there,” Harris points towards the school, “she said you’re mean to her.” He squints when he looks up at his father, the midday sun shining in his eyes. “Why were you mean?”

Eddie exhales, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes grownups accidentally hurt each others’ feelings.” Or purposely, in his case, but he omits the complexities from his explanation. He reaches out to once again take Harris’s hand, but the boy pulls back. 

“Ms. Sweetheart says that when we hurt someone’s feelings, we gotta say sorry. Even if it’s on accident.”

“I did,” Eddie counters, raising his brows. “I gave her the tape.”

But Harris remains unconvinced. “That’s not saying sorry. You gotta actually say it. Or else it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. “All right, I’ll say it the next time I see her.”

“And then you can be friends?” The question is posed innocently, but it rattles Eddie. Friends? Did he even know how to be a decent friend any more? He’d fucked it all up with Gareth, Jeff, and Danny, and he’s known them for forever. “Daddy?” “Uh, maybe,” Eddie replies meekly; this time, Harris grabs his hand when he offers it. “We’ll just have to see.”

--

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[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part FIVE!

Well seems like Y/n is in the middle of two of the Vee's and there seems to be a bit of a competition going on here ...

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

“That unfortunate soul would be me” you smile nervously at him, watching as his screen glitched slightly. That was weird. His bored expression disappeared with the glitch and in its place was his usual charming smile.

“Ah Miss Y/n what a pleasure to see you! What was that you just said?” Velvette appeared at your side, wrapping an arm through yours you watched his screen glitch a little again.

“She’s mine now Voxxie” she smirked at the glitching demon.

“She’s WHAT?!”  

“Vox don’t sound so hostile – me and Y/n here have just made a very lucrative deal together, you should be congratulating us” she flashed you a wink while Vox started stuttering.

“What? What Deal?”

“Oh, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it Y/n? After all, some things are just better kept between girls,” the double entendre was not lost on you as she carried on teasing Vox, squeezing your arm as she did. Amused at her behaviour you had to try and hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Cut the bullshit Vel!” His smooth voice deepened and started crackling with static – okay. Hot. His one blue eye started to warp into that weird mind control thing that Angel Dust had warned you about, quickly adverting your gaze to avoid eye contact you chose to watch the other sinners running around sorting out different jobs while ignoring the two Vee’s. No one was really batting an eyelid at this mini show down, must be a regular occurrence.

“Chill out Vox! All Y/n is going to do is show off some of my clothes and sing at my Catwalk next month to help boost her public image. That’s all. No need to get your wires all twisted babe,” leaning against you she smirked at the now bemused Demon.

“You sold your soul for some clothes?” Velvette twitched in what you assumed was agitation at Vox’s dismissal.

“Do I look like the kinda girl that would sell the only valuable thing I have for clothes? Uh no. I don’t give up my soul quite that easily, no matter how gorgeous the clothes might be” you tell Vox, feeling a little braver with Velvette at your side, who was currently giving him a victorious smirk. Why do you feel like you have entered some kind of pissing match?

“Yeah Vox, do you really think she would just give it up just like that”, closing your eyes in bewilderment you really start to question the deal that you have gotten into with Velvette.

“Of course not! No, our y/n is much to clever and classy to do that. She showed that the other day when she refused Valentino twice about a job”, and there was you thinking he might have forgotten that little bit of information. Giving Vox your attention his charismatic smile grew. “Ah, Val hasn’t stopped going on about it. You are really going to have to make it up to him, especially when he hears you’ve taken up a job with Vel and not him” he points a blue clawlike finger at you. Shit. Peeking down at Velvette for confirmation, she gives you a naughty smirk and a shrug. Well. She was a lot of help.

“I’m sure Mr Valentino will understand the difference of doing porn OR showing off designer clothes plus I’ll be using my singing talents for Velvette which is my forte. I can assure you that I would not do well as a porn star” you chuckle at the thought. Someone filming you when you are at one of your most vulnerable states was not a fun idea – plus the fact you knew you pulled weird faces at the best of times.

“Now I can’t actually take your word on that my dear”, he had taken a few steps forwards. Velvette’s arm was now anchoring you to the spot and you weren’t feeling quite as brave as you were before. Tilting your chin up to face him head on as he came to a stop in front of you, a blue finger twirled a piece of your hair around it. “In fact, I’d love to see you prove yourself wrong” his voice deepened again making your cheeks flush. Jeez what is with all the blushing and touching?

Clearing your throat, you try to move back but Vel wasn’t moving and kept you there. Throwing her a quick annoyed glance you look back into Vox’s eyes. His smile was creeping more towards a smirk at my movements. “I guess we will never know” keeping my voice steady even with my nerves.

“Hmm … never say never kiddo”. He murmurs, breath brushing a few hairs away from your face. Why was he getting so close.

As you go to say something else Velvette’s phone started ringing breaking you all out of this little spell you were in. Vox who looked a bit displeased at Vel stayed where he was, the small piece of your hair still wrapped around his fingers as he played with it, but Velvette moved away from us both answering her phone with a sharp tone.

“I feel a little felt out I will be honest”, at Vox’s soft voice you give him your full attention once more. Raising your eyebrows as a question as he pulled on the piece of hair. “I am the only one who hasn’t offered you a job yet, perhaps I should find something for you?” You weren’t expecting that. These Vee’s are full of surprises.

“I think my schedule might be full up at the moment what with my singing jobs and now Velvette and her catwalk” you chuckle lowly at his pout.

“Even if it was to be on one of my shows showcasing that lovely voice of yours?” Pretty sure you have lost your eyebrows in your hair.

“You are offering me a part on one of your shows to sing? You haven’t even heard me sing?” You ask dumbfounded. Tugging you closer by your hair he gives you a winning smile.

“Then sing me a song, songbird?” Blinking up at his screen you question your life. Was this real? Are you dreaming?

“Uh…” right that was intelligent wasn’t it y/n! At your stuttering he chuckled, letting go of your hair and instead running a finger down your cheek leaving little tingles in its wake.

“The offer will be there if you want it Y/n, now I’m sure it’s time for you to get yourself off home. You must be exhausted after the long day you’ve had, that last show you did looked tiring, but I did love your last song – you have such a soulful voice” he tapped your chin playfully.

“Wait what how did you kn-“

“Sweetheart, I own numerous cameras in Pentagram City so I know many things, you can trust me on that” he smirks down at you. His gaze flickered over your face before letting out a little sigh when a buzzing noise starts from his jacket pocket.

“Duty calls?” you joke, ready to take a step back but not before his hand suddenly reaches up and cradles the side of your face. You freeze in place. Pretty sure you look like a deer in headlights at the moment.

“Mhmm, I will be seeing you soon our little Songbird, get home safely” he squeezes your cheek softly before striding away, his phone to his ear.

That could have gone a lot worse. Giving yourself a good shake to get moving you look around and see Velvette still on her phone gesturing wildly. Now seems like a good time to escape before any other Vee’s appear. Picking up your purse, that had managed to slip back onto the chaise lounge during your short conversation with the Vee’s you wave to Velvette making your way to the elevator. Holding the phone away from her face she gives you a mischievous grin:

“Bye darling, see you tomorrow, kisses!” Blowing you a cheeky air kiss she carries on with her phone call, while her eyes stayed on you as you got in the elevator. Waving goodbye as the doors shut you let out a breath. Mindful of the small little threat that Vox had said about owning lots of the cameras you kept your expression blank the entire ride and all the way out of the building. Hailing another taxi you give them your address.

Trying to go through everything that happened tonight you completely miss the entire journey until the taxi driver snarled at you to get out. Rude.

Stumbling up the flight of stairs to your door you were in a bit of a daze. Catching sight of a few cameras in the corner of the hallway you huff. Letting yourself into your flat you slam the door behind you.

Where the fuck was that bottle of whiskey?

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