#and me holding the pen with my toes

[woso-dreamzzz]

Melting Pot II

Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Child!Reader

woso-dreamzzz Kids x Child!Reader (Nena)

Summary: A day in the life of the Engen-Leóns

You have a big house because you have a big family.

Or...Ingrid has a big house because she has a big family.

Your Mama says Ingrid has a fancy job which means she's very busy and gets lots of money. You think she's lying because Ingrid always has time to hang out with you and your nieces.

You have a lot of nieces.

Cub was Mapi's belly baby but that doesn't make her any less your niece. Then there's the twins, Bebita and Skatt. They were oopsy babies like you. Sunshine is next and then Teeny.

That makes five.

You have five nieces and you love them so much.

You keep a tight grip on Sunshine's hand as you're all led outside for pickup. You're her auntie and Ingrid says she's fragile after having her heart transplant so you make sure you don't lose her in the group of bodies heading outside.

Cub is up further ahead with your sister's twins following after her. Teeny lags behind because she's hanging back with one of Tia Alexia's twins.

But you keep a tight grip on Sunshine's hand because she's vulnerable and you're a good auntie.

Mapi is there waiting at the school gates and she hugs each and every one of you individually. You all get kisses too and her lips flutter around your face before you push her away.

"Really, Nena?" She says," I'm feeling a little offended here."

You giggle. "Silly, Mapi!"

"I'm not silly!"

"You are, Mami!" Cub agrees. She's hanging off of one of Mapi's strong arms and Mapi rolls her eyes.

"Let's agree to disagree," She says," Now, has everyone got everything? Bags? Bottles? Toes and fingers?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Alright, then. Buddy up, please. Hold someone's hand."

Bebita and Skatt crowd together and you keep Sunshine while Cub grabs Teeny, who whines a little while waving goodbye to her friend.

It's a very long walk back to the house so you only walk a little bit before Mapi gets you all into the car together.

You get to sit in the front because you're not one of Mapi's babies. You're her sister-in-law (although Ingrid always says you're not Mapi's sister-in-law yet) and then Cub and Sunshine sit in the way back because they're a pair.

Teeny, Skatt and Bebita sit in the middle because they're still little and Mapi needs to keep an eye on them.

"Is Ingrid home yet?" You ask as Mapi hands out snacks before driving off.

"Sorry, Nena," She says," Not just yet. Soon, though. She's been stuck in meetings today."

"What's for dinner?" Bebita asks.

"Spaghetti."

"I want lots of cheese on mine!" Skatt butts in and suddenly everyone is yelling their own choices and you giggle.

Your family is very big and very loud.

Ingrid says it's chaotic.

You think that means there's a lot of love to go around.

"Can I make Mama a picture?" Teeny pipes up suddenly.

She's been a little sad since leaving her friend behind at school. Teeny is the niece who spends the most time out of the house. She hangs out with Tia Alexia and her twins a lot.

Ingrid says it's because she's good with Pequeñita. They're painting buddies.

Teeny is always drawing and painting and if she's not drawing and painting then she's playing with Mr Pina, her hedgehog.

"Can we make Mama a picture too?" Bebita asks.

"Er...I don't know girls," Mapi says as she drives up the hill to the house," Have we got the supplies?"

"I've got paper in my room," You say.

"I sharpened my pencils last night." Teeny now.

"Mama got me new pens last week," Skatt adds.

"I've got glitter!" Sunshine says.

"And I've got the glue for the glitter!" That's Cub in the way-back.

"Mama bought us all new aprons too!" Bebita tacks on.

Mapi sighs. "Sometimes," She says," I think you lot gang up on me."

"Please, Mami?" Teeny asks," We won't get messy."

That's a lie, or, at least half a lie because Teeny is always messy. The others aren't though. Just Teeny.

It seems Mapi is thinking that too so you jump in.

"I can keep Teeny clean!"

She pretends to think about for a moment, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. She sighs.

"I guess so. But-"

Her words are drowned out by the cheering of you and your nieces and she struggles to get you all out of the car quick enough when she pulls up to the house.

It's dark by the time Ingrid gets home and she curses herself as soon as she locks the car.

She hadn't meant to stay so late but she'd had meetings with Frido and the rest of her heads of department and then the website went down a few hours before the new sale went up so she'd had to call Caro up from her IT cave to get her to fix it.

It had been meeting on top of meeting on top of meeting getting everything ready for the launch next month that she'd hardly had time to stop and eat, let alone make it to the school with enough time for pick up.

She slips into the house.

"Hi, Bagheera," Ingrid says as the cat meanders towards her, tail flicking against her leg," It's good to see you too."

Mapi's in the living room, aimlessly flicking through channels. "You're home."

"Sorry I'm late. Work-"

"I know. Frido called. It's fine."

"No," Ingrid says," It's not. I said I'd pick up the girls today and-"

"Ingrid," Mapi laughs," Trust me, it's fine. You're practically single-handedly keeping us afloat. I'd hate to think about where we'd be living if you didn't have such an important job."

Ingrid's cheeks flush. "What did I do to deserve you, huh? You're such a smooth talker."

Mapi grins. "It's just one of my charms." She winks. "I'm your sexy arm candy, remember?"

Ingrid laughs. "Yes, you do look very good in a suit, don't you?"

"Want me to model some more for you?"

"I certainly want you to model something for me," Ingrid says," But it's not a suit."

She leans forward to kiss Mapi before freezing, pulling back suddenly.

"Ingrid? What is it?"

"I..."

Her eyes roves around the room.

Something's different.

The floor is spotless. The kitchen is clean. There's the lingering smell of whatever Mapi cooked the girls for dinner and-

The girls.

That's what's different.

Six little girls live in this house and yet there is practically no noise whatsoever. There's no giggling and laughing from Ingrid's twins. There's no running from Cub. There's no rhythmic thumping of a ball being kicked from your room. There are no spills of paint from Teeny's projects and there's no clicking of Sunshine's camera.

It's just...calm.

"Where are the girls?"

"Huh? The girls? Oh...They wanted to surprise you with something they made. I think they took it up to our room."

Ingrid strains her ears but still can't hear anything.

It's embarrassing how quickly she hurries up the stairs.

It's never good when a house of six girls goes silent.

Mapi follows after her and Ingrid wrenches the bedroom door open.

She stops, a smile appearing on her face.

Her girls are asleep on her and Mapi's bed, all cuddled up together under a massive portrait.

It's made up of several pieces of paper taped together and Ingrid knows it's meant to be of her.

"They wanted to draw you a picture," Mapi says," I didn't realise how big it was until they brought it up here."

"It's perfect," Ingrid says," Thank you for helping them."

"I didn't do much. Just taped it all together and-oh!"

It's nice that Ingrid can still make Mapi blush with just a simple kiss to the cheek.

"You're such a good mami, Mapi," Ingrid says," You're so good with them."

Mapi gives her a bashful smile. "It's bedtime. I can take them."

"No," Ingrid says," You've been with them since school ended. I'll take them to bed."

"Are you-"

"Mapi," Ingrid says," Go downstairs and watch some tv with Bagheera. When I come back, maybe you can model what I want you to model."

Mapi's face goes bright red and it's almost like she can't get downstairs quick enough.

Ingrid takes her time putting her girls to bed.

Cub is first, taken into her bedroom and put up high in her cabin bed. Garfield is splayed out on the middle of the carpet. León-León is already asleep too, taking up half the bed but Cub immediately curls around him in her sleep.

Bebita is next and Ingrid has to be careful walking through her room because it's like a minefield and she makes a mental note to make Bebita clean it up in the morning.

Skatt comes after her and Ingrid has to check that all her terrariums are closed so none of her bugs escape in the night.

Teeny follows after and Ingrid spares a glance over at Mr Pina's enclosure to make sure the little hedgehog's food bowl is filled up and his water is fresh.

Sunshine is put to bed after Teeny and Ingrid makes sure to flick on her fairy lights on in case she wakes up in the middle of the night.

You're last and wake as Ingrid lifts you.

"Ingrid," You mumble.

"Yes, Nena," She says," It's me."

"Did you see your picture?" You ask, still groggy as your head lolls on her shoulder.

"I did. You girls did such a good job with it."

"Made sure Teeny stayed clean."

"I could tell. You did such a good job, Nena."

She sets you down in your bed, pulling the covers up all the way to your chin as you yawn.

"Made sure Sunshine didn't get lost at school too."

"You're such a good auntie," She tells you, kiss your forehead," But it's bedtime now."

She goes to leave.

"Ingrid!"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Ingrid flicks off your light. "I love you too, Nena."

[vanesycho]

I really had a hard time finding an idea ;( I actually just wanted to write jay smut lol

f!reader x tutor!jay

Warning:Smut, fingering, dirty talk

wc:1,1k

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"I'm Jay, nice to meet you." You took the man's hand and shook it, offering a slight smile. "Nice to meet you. Y/n." Jay stepped into your house and took a look around, he followed you as you headed towards your room.

Your university exam was coming up and you clearly needed help. That's why you were so glad you found Jay, a private tutor on the social media. Wearing a white shirt and rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, he gently pushed his fallen glasses and sat on a chair. "Shall we start without wasting any time?"

──────────────────────

Half an hour had passed, you had almost grasped most of the topic, but you couldn't get past the part where you were stuck. Jay stopped helping you. 'We're not continuing until you do, you have to pass here.' you sighed in annoyance, you had called him for help and this was how you were being treated.He watched as you brought the tip of the pen to your mouth and bit it nervously, shifting his hips on chair and moving into a more comfortable position, crossing his arms and continuing to examine you.

You were sitting with your upper body bent over the table, his eyes drifting towards your prominent hips, bit his lower lip involuntarily. When he heard your groan in exasperation, he grinned and approached you. "How about I make it easy for you?" You turned to him. “How?” He pulled back and leaned back, nodding towards his lap. "Come and let me show you." You looked at him for a while, was he serious or was he making fun of you? Your eyes fell on his lap, his cock that was obvious even through the pants he was wearing made you swallow hard, you stood up and sat on his lap with your back to him. He grabbed you by the waist and made you sit up properly, you held your breath for a moment, one of his hands caressed your leg while the other hand took the pen. "Don't worry, this will help you learn faster."

Oh you had no doubt about it, you looked at the question but it seemed impossible to focus with his breath on your neck. His hand started to move in your thigh, you took a deep breath. “Jay- I think that’s enough for today." You squeezed your legs together as he hummed into your ear with his deep voice, grinning as his hand squeezed between your legs. "Oh, how sweet, do you want to end the lesson so quickly? We still have half an hour left." His fingers went to your pussy, he started caressing you over your clothes, he continued talking as if he never did this and it was normal "What should we do with the remaining half hour?"

Jay grabbed your knees and spread your legs while you were still on his lap, giving him easier access to your pussy. This time his hand reached your clit through your shorts. "W-wait." He raised his eyebrows slightly in question. “Wait?” You pressed your lips together to keep from making any noise as his finger slowly circled your clit. "A slut who tries to hold herself back, but you're all wet under my fingers. Are you sure you want me to stop?" When he inserted a finger into your pussy you couldn't hold yourself back anymore and let out a moan. "Jay- fuck." He smiled slightly at your reaction, talking to himself as he slowly pushed it in and out. "I thought so too."

You looked at him as he took his finger out. "Take off your pants, princess." You stood up without hesitation, he watched you as you took off your pants, felt embarrassed when he examined your body from head to toe, you settled back into his lap. This time your legs were more comfortably spread apart, one of Jay's hands went to your breast and started caressing it, while he continued to take care of your pussy. He pointed two fingers towards your mouth, "Open your mouth darling." Slightly opened, he put two fingers in your mouth without waiting, your tongue moved between his fingers and wet them thoroughly, he groaned deeply while watching this "Fuck, I bet you'd take my dick perfectly in your mouth." You whined as his fingers went deeper into your mouth, he chuckled at how cute you looked even in pain, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and guided them to your pussy.

Jay inserted two fingers without waiting, you moaned in pain at first, he swallowed hard when he felt the tightness of your pussy on his fingers. "So fucking tight and warm, you can barely take my fingers. If I put my dick in you and fucked you until I destroyed you, I bet you wouldn't even be able to stand it, am i right darling?" His fingers were moving quickly inside your pussy without getting used to you at all, the wetness was so intense that it was flowing from Jay's fingers.

"Please...I can't take it.." You couldn't even form a proper sentence, your eyes were filled with pain and pleasure, his large and veiny hands were wrapped around your body, his fingers were moving non-stop.

"You can't take? Of course you can take it, princess. Look how nicely you wrap my fingers with your pretty little pussy." Your breathing was irregular, he didn’t stop as your moans turned into screams, his fingers continued to destroy you. “Please..I- I’m so close, please..." he hummed and started to kiss your neck "Cum on my fingers baby, show me how much mess you can make." It didn't take long for you to cum after that, you came on his fingers as you let out one last tearful moan, Jay watched how the liquid went through his fingers. "Ah, good job baby."

You both looked at your phone when your alarm went off, indicating that your 'class' time was over. You stood up, put on your pants and tried to pull yourself together, Jay watched you with his eyes fixed on you, you glanced at the test books on the table "So...Will there be another lesson?" He approached you and leaned in. "Of course, I can't miss the opportunity to fuck this beautiful tight pussy." He placed a kiss on the corner of your lips and spoke one last time before leaving your room. "And you'd better get ready for the next lesson, if I see that you still can't do the same subject, good things won't happen to you."

[celabi]

So uh scummy scara hehehehe, cockwarming scummy scara while he begs for the reader to ride him ehehehhe crying and shaking... Ehehehhehehehe

i’m so late lmfao si mi amor 🫡 short nsfw

“please, oh god—” he wants so, so badly to just ram his hips up into you and finally get that salvation you’ve been dangling in front of his face like a slab of meat, but no, he’s such a good boy, and he’ll… he’ll do as he’s told… with some struggle, of course, because it’s never smooth sailing with him. “so tight— c-come on, my love, can I fuck you…?” he pants, tongue lulled out as if he were some dog in heat.

perched on his lap, sucking his cock in deep so effortlessly has him clawing at the chairs arm rests. toes curled, breath short, scara leans forward and presses his chest to your back, lips to your neck.

you sigh, adjusting, moulding your warm insides around his length like plaster. “i have work to do… be patient and take what i’m giving you.” you murmur, barely hearing pen to paper as his ragged whines fill your ears. he sobs, his fingers moving to grip your thighs to try and lift you up and down, but you interrupt by placing your feet over his, keeping you grounded.

he sucks on your neck, literally salivating as he drools all over your skin, soaking your shirts colar. he doesn’t care, in too deep, too blinded by pleasure to spew his apologies. but what’s the point? he’s always so messy.

“baby, angel, sweetheart—” a groan escapes him, silencing his string of endearments he wants to shove down your throat. “love you so much, everything to me, so tight and wet…” he sniffles, circling his arms around your midriff, holding you tightly.

his hair is sticking to his face, sweat glistening his skin. he feels sticky. he feels hot: but oh god the way you hold his cock so deeply inside shakes all those yucky feelings away, because he can only focus on the way your womb just entices his cock deeper.

you gaze over your shoulder, watching him loose himself in pleasure. bite marks below his lip from his sharp canines. tears merging together on top of his eyelids. the radiant flush that spreads over his face and down his neck. gosh, what a mess. you almost feel bad.

unfortunately, not bad enough to do something about it.

“be good and patient, kuni. i have to finish my work.”

he sobs, nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he nods absentmindedly.

“o-okay, sorry.. i’m sorry, i’ll be a good boy. i swear—”

[xlpoww]

Jealousy, Jealousy

i really loved how bad for business turned out, and it seems you all did too!! so here's a continuation of the bfb universe/storyline :) it's not exactly a part two

warnings! jealousy (sanji's)

word count: 1,720

opla! sanji x f! reader

i actually took the time to reference back to this scene in the live action to make sure i got their orders right :) !! also hi i am alive !!! i just got busy with work- and i had a mini con to go to this weekend and i cosplayed nami! :D -> i have also been struggling with tremendous writers block, and was trying to force myself to write about zoro for days! but i couldn't, and i was frustrated with myself untill i rememebred this isnt a job, this is for fun for me and you guys. so i went back to some of the things i've written and felt like i could continue this one :) the story really flowed from there and i wrote a lot in a short span sooooooo &lt;3 ily all! thanks for reading as always <3333

sanji vinsmoke is jealous. 

the cook is used to woman falling at his feet, swooning over his flirty personality. either that or they get annoyed at him and clearly show disinterest. (oftentimes calling him names and sometimes resulting in him getting hit)

but you, the one girl he actually held a candle for, he couldn’t even seem to get a rejection from you. that would’ve made things so much easier for him and his heart. it’s gotten to the point he’s wishing you would tell him you don’t return his feelings. sure it would hurt in the moment, but at least he could have (hopefully) forced himself to move on.

but no, you won’t reject him; nor will you swoon at his advances. they seem to roll right off you like beads of rain on a window. never a hint of blush on your cheeks, no angrily quirked brows. how was he meant to understand? there are two reasonable reactions to such a forward man, either interest or not. how do you manage to toe the line so perfectly?

it drove him mad, not only were you horribly hard to read, every once in a while you would flirt aggressively back at him. it would always catch the poor boy off guard, leaving him stunned and blushing standing wherever he was. oftentimes you did it right in the middle of the kitchen, leaving him to deal with the playful teasing of the other workers, walking off to continue doing your job. 

you would be the death of him surely.

especially when the sight of you smiling so sweetly at that stupid swordsman causes a painful squeeze in his chest. his grip on the tray he was holding is bruising, and there’s a jealous rage brewing inside of him.

-

“hello my name is y/n, and i’ll be your waitress today. can i start you guys with any refreshments?” you flip over a page on your notepad, ready to write down the group's requests. what a charming bunch they were, with just a glance you could tell they really cared for one another.

“i’ll take a beer,” the green haired man speaks up, and you nod with a smile.

“i’ll take two beers, i normally have three but..” he trails off as the woman at the table speaks up.

“i’ll take a water.”

“and a glass of milk!” the endearing boy with a straw hat adds on, his words are muffled by the bun he was still chewing. when coming to greet them you’d brough over a basket of perfectly warmed buns with butter. nodding at them all, your pen into your apron as you repeat back to them. 

“three beers, milk and water, coming right up you guys.” you step back with a bow, turning towards the kitchen. doing so you notice your best friend is glaring in your direction, and as you walk back you tilt your head at him. when you get closer you realize his glare wasn't directed towards you, but the swordsman you had taken the order from. he doesn’t even seem to pay you any mind as you approach him, too focused on the table you had just walked away from. when you reach him where he stands in front of the doorway, you snap your fingers in his face. it seems to snap him out of it, and he looks down at you with a charming smile.

“hello my love, what can i do for you?” his hand is placed on your shoulder sweetly. the touch warms your body, but you shake it off to cross your arms. 

“what’s up with you, why were you glaring at my table? do you know them?” you gesture back towards your table, and a flush washes over his face when he realizes he’d been caught. he straightens his tie in an attempt to shake off his shame,

“not a clue who they are darling.” your eyebrow raises in suspicion, you’re not buying it. he seems to know you won’t, and he tucks his hand into his pockets as he shrugs.

“you just glare at people you don’t know now sanj?” a pout forms out of frustration. while you were wondering why he was lying to you so blatantly, he was internally swooning at how adorable you looked in that moment, and the sweet way you'd shortend his name. the grip you had over his heart was the strongest in all the seas.

“don’t worry, pretty lady, it’s nothing. now if you’ll excuse me i’ve got my own tables to wait on.” he’s internally scrambling to figure out how to distract you from what he was caught doing, in a moment of boldness (or a crazy attempt to change the subject), he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head.

the action causes your eyes to almost bulge out of your head as you begin to blush. a smug smile forms on sanji’s face at the sight, he’d never felt more accomplished than he did in that moment. not only had he distracted you, he’d made your face light up all pretty and embarrassed. he winked at you before brushing past you to do his job, pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen behind you.

you’re left in shock trying to wrap your brain around his actions, ‘what had gotten into him?’ as bold and flirtatious as he was, you would have never expected a display like that in front of all the customers.

oh shit, the customers. ‘had anyone seen that? oh gods.’ your hands clench into fists as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality and calm down, and you push past the doors of the kitchen. your eyes are focused on the ground as you collect the drinks needed for your table, placing them all on a tray and balancing them on one hand. you take a moment to breathe in and compose yourself before walking back out into the dining room. 

you eyes scan the room and find your favorite blond waiting on a table on the opposite side of the room of your own. his location makes it easy to return to the table without incident, placing down the three beers before the milk and water. with a smile, you tuck the tray under your arm and pull out your notepad again to continue taking their orders. maybe doing your job could distract from the rapid beating in your chest.

“you guys decided on food yet?” 

“one of everything!” the boy with a straw hat speaks up, and you quirk your eyebrow. they didn't look like the big spenders you were used too, but it wasn’t really your place to mention that. your smile never slips as you nod, writing it down and once again bowing before you leave. by your luck sanji seems to be waiting for you at the doorway of the kitchen. so much for the idea you had to avoid him until you’d calmed down.

he holds his hand out, offering to take your tray from you. his kind offer brings a smile to your lips, and you decide to shove down whatever inner turmoil was happening and act like what he did hadn’t happened. (he sure was.)

“any interesting orders?” he smiles, quirking a brow at you as you offer him your serving tray. you laugh, holding out your notepad to show him where you had written down ‘one of everything’ sanji’s heart squeezes at how cute your handwriting is, and he can’t help the chuckle. “well it looks like you’ll need some help taking out this order then, love.” the pet name causes the usual skip in your heartbeat, and you smile, nodding in acceptance of his offer for help, pushing past him into the kitchen to get your cooks started on the order of everything.

-

the food gets taken out in waves, sanji always accompanying you with an extra plate or two. the table is rather nice about it, they’re always caught up in conversation. even still they thank you for every plate you place down, they seem like genuine people. it warms your heart to see such a close group of friends. 

you can’t help but notice the way sanji doesn’t even pay the girl at the table any mind, too busy glaring at the green haired man, his hands lingering on your shoulder or back longer than they needed to. how he’d managed to add on to his unusual behavior, you wouldnt understand.

not that he really had any reason to be placing a tender hand on your back while you were serving guests. the third time it happens you turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he turns to smile down at you sweetly, his hand on your back rubbing up and down. you look at him incredulously, sanji steps back, bowing before walking back towards the kitchen. before he left his gaze lingered on the man longer than should have been acceptable. you have to hold back a frustrated huff, turning back to the table with a plastered smile

“don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything! i hope you enjoy your meal.” you finish off the sentence with a bow, turning to look at the swordsman when he speaks up with a snort. “are you sure, wouldn’t want to make your busboy anymore jealous than he already is?” your eyes widen in confusion, not only at the notion, but the unnecessary insult towards your sanji.

“whatever could you mean.” the whole table turns to you, and the redhead quirks a brow at you, adding on.

“you’re not really that clueless, are you?” your mouth drops open, and a blush begins to cover your cheeks.

“no, i didn’t think i was.”

and then you’re even more confused. what reason would he have to be jealous over you and a random guest? it’s not like the man had even given you the time of day, or you’d even wanted it?  all you’d done was take his orders. 

the thought feels so impossible, even so it has already quickly begun eating away at your brain and heart. it was the only logical explanation for all his odd behaviors tonight.

sanji vinsmoke, was jealous. over you.

taglist: @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @teenyforestfairy @gothicuwusposts @cheesesoda @scentisterror @shuujin @gcldtom

[nouearth]

love in the making.

grant gustin x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the talk of the town is the production of a new picture starring hollywood's elite star, grant gustin and his co-star, you! as the chemistry between you and grant escalates, so do the tabloids, and the executives aren't happy. what will happen to your relationship with grant when the studio takes matters into their own hands?

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 13.6k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 mid 1950s!au 〳 coworkers!au 〳 movie star!grant 〳 up and coming actor!reader 〳 smoking 〳 yearning 〳 slow-burn(?) 〳 gossip columns 〳 soap opera type of drama 〳 sexual content: top!grant, bottom!reader, anal penetration, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), praising, body worship, snowballing.

The leathery smell of cigar permeated the room. Grant added to the thickness in the air with several puffs, then suddenly modulated his breath when he realized it was his turn to run through his lines.

“Pardon me, Katharine. Your voice was so mesmerizing, I nearly fell to a slumber. Where were you when my mother ran out of bedtime stories to tell?” Grant cleared his throat, fulfilled by the laughter scattering from one person to the next while Katharine Scott, the leading lady of the picture, turned scarlet.

He began reading his dialogue.

It was half of the truth. Grant just didn’t bother mentioning that you’d been on his mind since the minute you walked in and introduced yourself -- that would’ve garnered a peculiar reaction. Aside from the screenplay, Grant’s eyes often meandered to you when they needed a break. The words on the script were beginning to scramble like alphabet blocks.

Before the tables were pushed together for the read-through, he noticed how your feet were crossed at the ankles, toes tapping to a rhythm he never noticed. In moments where the writer consulted with the director about the wooden dialogue, Grant could hear your muted taps speed up. Were you nervous? You had to be; you only had your foot in the industry for barely more than a year -- which was apparent.

You still had that humility in your smile.

Maybe it was frustration? Grant chewed on a pen he was holding as he attempted to decipher those pursed lips of yours. It was the color of flesh -- as it should be -- but why did he find them so… entrancing? It wasn’t just the color that got to him, but also the texture. They looked soft, really soft, as you ran through your lines with Katharine. Soft like your voice when you said your name for the first time. Soft like the grip of your handshake, which Grant knew you were well-aware of because you suddenly tensed your fingers at his fingers, nails into his palm, to compensate for your lack of callous. Soft like the ham and cheese bagel he had this morning, you would bite your own lip from how indistinguishable the bread roll and your mouth were from one other.

He chewed harder at the thought. Why does Grant want to see that happen?

“Grant? It’s your line.”

When Grant’s vision focused harder on your lips, he realized your mouth was aiming directly at him. Separating and closing, all for him. He immediately perked up.

“What—oh. Right. Where were we…” Grant felt warmth creeping up his neck, rubbing at it to ward off the heat. He only made it worse as it climbed to his chin and mouth, the taste of heat almost perceptible when he fought it off with a lick of his lips. “Gross, what the hell is—“

Metallic, acidic, and bitter on his tongue -- it was a taste that made him fully alert to the blue stain on his script. Then quickly after, the peculiar heat dripping off the corner of his mouth.

“Grant, you have—“ He watched you conceal a gasp when he turned to you, but your eyes -- everyone’s eyes -- made it perfectly clear that he needed to break this habit of chewing pens.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will excuse me…”

He should’ve listened to his mother when he was little.

“Just my luck…”

Grant was bent over the sink, scrubbing away at his face with a soapy hand. He was dressed down to his undershirt, figuring he’d address the stain on his dress shirt later in the evening.

It was almost like there was an invisible force field around his chin because the ink stain was refusing to wash out. Grant was certainly in a better position than before, but he could still make out that splotch of grey-blue, muted from his unrelenting efforts to look somewhat presentable again.

“Grant, you all right? I’m coming in,” He recognized your voice immediately and perked up at the prospect of seeing you again, even if he really ought to know better than to be happy to see someone in this predicament.

Especially a handsome one.

“I think it’s coming off, you think? Could be my flesh that I’m tearing away at, but if it works…”

It was natural to glance at someone when they enter the bathroom. Humans are naturally inquisitive people. Innovation and evolution weren’t the result of keeping to oneself. What wasn’t natural was staring, particularly when it came to a man’s face, which seemed to have been exasperated from adrenaline.

You were panting and heaving as you made your way to counter. Grant took notice of your necktie, swinging from side to side with every step you took. You must’ve forgotten a tie clip. If not, then it must’ve fallen sometime between the moment he left the room and you entering the bathroom.

He had to admit, you looked—

“Keep at it and you’ll find the city of Atlantis,” you stifled a chuckle when Grant washed off the soap suds again, only to reveal what many would presume to be a rather strange five o’clock shadow.

Well, half of one.

“Speaking of finds,” he grabbed a handful of paper towels to dry his face, then nodded towards the paper bag that you had set on the counter. “What’s the loot?” Grant asked, partly because he wanted to distract you from watching him any longer and because he was simply curious.

Once again, inquisitive people drove evolution. In this context, Grant would like to get to know you more -- for the sake of the motion picture, of course.

“Went to the general store and thought you might need these,” you began unpacking the bag one by one.

A package of bar soap, a tin of cold cream, and a modest bag of assorted fruit chews. “Soap? We have soap right here.” Grant recognized the logo on the bag, there was a candy store west of the studio lot. He wondered where you went first. Did you get hungry during your brisk shopping trip, or was the general goods store on the way and you needed to kill time?

“Yes, well, that’s hand soap. You need Ivory soap, which is hydrating and better for your face. Hand soap will dry you out.”

He also wondered why you were helping him out. Not that people don’t go out of their way to help a celebrity of his status, but often, he could tell when someone was contriving flattery.

“What about the tin?” Grant asked. With one hand, he picked up the tin and analyzed the engraved packaging against the light.

You began rummaging through your bag of fruit chews. “Cold cream. It’s what my mother uses to remove her makeup. Use that before you wash your face. It should help melt the stain,” Pink wrapper, it was a strawberry chew. Grant deduced that it also must have been your favorite flavor since you searched high and low for it, flicking past the greens, blues, oranges, and yellows.

Replaying it back in his mind made him chuckle. He had been inside the candy store before, usually spending a few cents on chocolates for his dates. Still, the store was a marquee for locals who wanted to self-serve their candy bags and that hadn’t gone unnoticed. A buffet of confectionery to put it persuasively, which made Grant laugh again at the thought of you picking out the strawberry chews.

You could’ve avoided the trouble by not packing the other flavors at all.

“It’s for women… ‘She’s engaged, she’s lovely, she uses cold cream,’” The irony of the tagline shared a brief fit of laughter between you and Grant.

It felt good to hear you laugh, even if it was quite apparent that you were restraining yourself to lower the chances of choking on a fruit chew. Death was inevitable as much as it was arbitrary, and Grant was not letting a handsome man like yourself be the first case of ‘death by candy, and a badly timed joke.’

Besides the point, you were benign. Your knowledge in women’s beauty products caused a case of interest, and that made Grant want to excavate your formality even more.

“You look like you belong in the Looney Tunes, Gustin. That should be the least of your worries,” he watched you primp yourself in front of the mirror, minor adjustments to your hair where the gel had fallen loose. “Anyway, I’ll get us some lunch. They said we’ll resume in a bit. You like salami? I know a place that makes a great Italian sandwich. Good fries too.”

With autumn approaching, the weather was only getting windier. By dint of the way a strand of hair fell delicately over your forehead like the stem of a cherry, Grant figured he should make amends with the upcoming season if it meant he would be seeing more of you fixing your tousled hair.

“Actually—wait for me, yeah? I prefer dining in for lunch, can’t stand soggy fries,” Grant opened the tin of cold cream and was instantly hit with a whiff of nostalgia -- something of gardenia and vanilla all at once. He must have smelled this at his mother’s vanity at some point in his life.

“Well, you must hurry because I had nothing but double the allotment of caffeine. I feel like Lucy in that one run where all she had for dinner were mints,” you were referencing an episode of I Love Lucy, adjusting your tie in between glances.

He slathered on the white paste and rubbed at the stain on his chin. Grant wouldn’t have guessed this was part of a woman’s nightly routine. If he ignored the floral notes, the product resembled shaving cream for the most part.

“‘There’s nothing quite like a good after-dinner mint,’” Grant quoted a line from the same episode you had mentioned. In retrospect, he was glad he shelled out a couple hundred bucks for the hottest commodity of the decade. He had never seen someone’s eyes light up the way yours did.

If the building was set on fire and everyone had to be evacuated, Grant wouldn’t have known by virtue of your radiant smile -- it was disorienting. Whether or not he would’ve made it out in time… the matter of the fact was that his fate was entirely dependent on you, and Grant was surprisingly at ease with that proposition.

You cleared your throat when it registered that the stare shared between the two of you had stopped you in your tracks, Grant in his. The silence was almost tangible. Grant wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring at your eyes, then your nose, and then your lips again. That information served no purpose, only to embarrass him with the strong chance that it might’ve been too long.

Much too long for him, he began noticing your delightful cologne and not the smell of floral and vanilla. If he took a step closer, maybe he could—

“You can wash it off now. I’m curious to see if it works.”

For now, Grant was content on watching you at arm’s length, eating your favorite piece of candy and laughing as you tidied yourself.

It seemed like he was only beginning to scratch the surface.

It had only been a little more than a week of principal photography, but Grant was quick to inform himself of the director’s social cues. Sucking in his bottom lip meant that something regarding the scene was off -- whether it be the lighting, the wrinkle in a shirt, the fumble of dialogue, or the stiff movement of the actors. He was a meticulous man, stopping a take when Grant’s hair wasn’t as slicked back as he had envisioned. Imposing at times, but the general kindness kept the set rather freeing.

Today, Grant received a firm nod behind the camera.

“You got a light?” Grant asked with a cigarette between his lips, patting his pockets only to leave with empty hands. He pulled a chair next to where you had been studiously scribbling notes on your script. He couldn’t have read it if he tried -- and he had tried once -- chicken scratch hadn’t left your fine motor skills anytime soon.

“Uh-huh. Every apartment has one if you find the right landlord,” you said dryly, flashing a cheeky grin and continuing to annotate the script in your hand.

“Cute,” he snickered while you fished a lighter out of your pant pocket. It wasn’t your scheduled smoke break yet, it was often reserved right before lunch. You figured that you mind as well get one out of the way since the clock was nearing lunch time anyhow.

Lighting up your cigarette, you drew in a breath of tobacco and felt it cloud over your brain after, tempering the stress signals with warmth. “Here,” your thumb remained on the flint wheel while your free hand hovered over the flame to block the desk fan. The wick of fire bridged the distance between you and Grant as you both leant forward to ignite his cigarette.

His hand rested on yours, gently bringing the lighter closer to the end of his cigarette stick, and stabilized itself until the tobacco was lit.

It shouldn’t have felt intimate. It was probably from the smoke, wasn’t it? The type of buzz that made Grant hallucinate all and everything around him -- black crows if he was in a troubled sate. In this case, it was the tremble of your hand when Grant held it, unsteady like the lighter’s flame before you had capped it. It was the look you gave him, aggravated if it was from most men, but almost imploring on your end. It was the silence that bestowed between the two of you, the type where Grant knew you could tell he was staring at you now, because you began scribbling arbitrary patterns on the margins of your script.

He should probably tell you that the scribbles were merging with your annotations, but Grant had to be careful. Otherwise, he was going to open his mouth and give you an earful of lunacy, starting with “Your hands are cold” and ending with “Can I hold them for longer?”

“So, what’s for lunch today?” You asked, stretching your arms overhead. Grant watched your fingers closely as they fanned out and held nothing but air.

“I could go for a hamburger. You?”

“Something light for me… think I’m coming down with a bug. My stomach suddenly hurts.”

Grant regretted letting go now.

“We missed you at shooting today. And yesterday. And the day before that. Mainly Wilder though—he likes how you can get scenes done in one take.”

You were caught off-guard hearing Grant’s voice through the handset. Even if he was calling from the other side of town, there was something about his presence that made you sit up and spruce up your surroundings, not forgetting your own appearance, of course.

“Well, that’s comforting. I’m sorry—how exactly did you get my telephone, Grant? Where are you calling from?” It must have been the hoarse sound of your voice that made Grant laugh into the handset. You could see it now, his smile.

“Don’t worry about that—and from my hotel. What you should be worrying about is your health. Why are you still up?” Grant started out lighthearted at first, but then muttered, like the weight of his concern strung his voice along.

Really, you ought to sleep. The positive of being sick meant that you could leisure all day and not feel guilty about watching television, even if you had outdone your daily average by a margin. The negative? Your senses were heightened by tenfold, which was ironic because your sinuses were blocked. That didn’t matter whatsoever. What did matter was that you kept waking multiple times throughout the night because your bed was either too warm, too cold, too soft, or too hard.

Now, sleep was as elusive as seeing Grant. It had only been a couple of days, yet you began to feel off -- which could be another symptom of the flu in hindsight.

“It’s wash day. I’m soaking my clothes as we speak,” you flicked off the television to hear Grant better. The rain was pouring down hard on your window.

“You do your own laundry?” Grant asked. He sounded genuinely astonished.

Picturing his expression alongside, you couldn’t contain your laughter any longer. “I am an adult, Grant.” Your toes said otherwise as they wiggled in your socks in complete bliss.

Hearing Grant’s voice was a much-needed energy boost -- way more effective than the oranges you had been eating, but not on par with the programs you had been watching. He’ll get there soon.

“I usually have my housekeeper do it for me,” he confessed.

It was no surprise. You read all about it in the papers before, how the wealthy hires a live-in help, or a nanny if the household contained a family with more than enough kids. They were all cut from the same cloth either way.

“And have you noticed any silk ties going missing?” You asked in jest.

“Now that you mentioned it—“ Before Grant could finish, you laughed, picturing his expression screw into realization that he hadn’t worn his red necktie in a bit.

Objectively, it made sense. The last thing you would want to do is clean the bathroom after coming home from work. It was a luxury you would like to have the option to afford one day, but for now, having a housekeeper was merely that—an option.

You had a much more ambitious goal in mind, and that was making an impact on Hollywood. “Case adjourned.”

Grant’s laugh suggested defeat, and you were all too familiar of the long silence that would come after. If he was here face-to-face, you both would sit in the sound of white noise, or the beating rain in this case, and simply stare at each other.

You weren’t sure when or how it came to fruition, and in the end that didn’t matter—because it was nice.

It was nice to be free from all things interfering with Grant.

“What was for dinner?” He asked, instantly reminding you of the emptiness in your stomach.

“I overslept—well, as overslept as one could be when all they have on their agenda for the day is to die in bed while watching re-runs.”

“Dying to one of Lucille Ball’s shenanigans doesn’t sound too bad. If you time it right, the audience can laugh when you exhale your very last breath,” you laughed at Grant’s morbid mind. “I’ll come over then.”

“You don’t know where I live, Grant. And no, I might pass the bug to you. You’re the production’s biggest asset. We can’t afford any more delays if you fall sick too.”

“I do, actually. The apartment with the orange accents. It’s all everyone talks about because it’s so bright. And I’ll be fine, (M/N). I shot quite a bit of my scenes already. I know you’re a rising star, but the whole world doesn’t stop for you, sweetheart.”

Hearing Grant call you ‘sweetheart’, even if it was said in jest, had you thinking of several different situations in which he would say it again -- preferably in earnest.

“It should. All the take-out places in my neighborhood closed early. What I would do if I had the world in my palm…” From the couch, you looked solemnly out your window, watching blocks of buildings sleep in the shadow of the moon. Your stomach growled as the rain poured harder.

“Even as a dictator, you wouldn’t be able to stop me from coming over. I’ll be there in a split.”

“But it’s raining—“

The line ended with a buzz.

“You know, you don’t have to keep checking up on me, or even bring me food for the matter. I stocked up on some ‘TV Dinner,’” you took a whiff at the steaming bowl of lobster bisque, putting your sinuses to the test. Still nothing. Giving up, you took a sip.

“No wonder you’ve been complaining about your throat! At least buy the meatloaf one,” Grant poured you a cup of orange juice before putting the jug back, rummaging through your freezer after. “And since we’re on the subject… I’ll try one of these bad boys out.”

It was strange seeing someone in your kitchen, let alone your apartment. As unfamiliar was it was, you couldn’t lie and say that you hated it. It was easier to talk to Grant, on the couch and eating a meal together, than it was with a bunch of people interrupting their conversation for either one of them, sometimes both, to do another take.

“Have you ever been offered the chance of being a mystery guest?” After finishing dinner, you curled up on one end of the sofa while Grant sat on the other, arms sprawled over the back and feet cushioned separately by a foot stool.

You and Grant were watching a late night re-run of ‘What’s My Line?’ Four panelists had to question contestants to determine their line of work with only yes-no questions. Toward the last round of every episode, there would be a celebrity mystery guest in which the panelists sought to determine the identity of while blindfolded. For tonight’s episode, the panelists were still stumped on the first contestant’s ‘occupation’—which hardly seemed fair because it was then revealed that she was a victim of a knife-throwing accident.

They let anyone participate these days.

“I have. I wanted to partake in it, but the studio rejected the idea.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, aghast.

Frankly, if you were in Grant’s shoes, you wouldn’t have take ‘no’ for an answer. Anyone who was anyone guested on that show. And if you were Grant’s manager, somehow scarcely able to believe you would even have the energy to be in meetings all day, you would have made his dreams come true. All of them, no matter how absurd they could be.

“They thought I’d be confused at the questions given to me,” Grant sounded aggrieved. You looked over. In the guise of his smile, you could tell those words still affected him. “I think I’m capable. I just lose my train of thought in front of a crowd sometimes.”

Which made the passing thought of being Grant’s manager only a fantasy as the guilt suddenly festered -- you believed those horde of headlines insulting his intellect once. Luckily, it had since dissipated once befriending him.

“Well, when the day comes, I don’t want you to tell me,” you confessed. “Leave the surprise to the broadcast.”

Though, it wasn’t like you thought lowly of him or made any disparaging remarks on his character because of those articles. Rather, you simply pitied. You weren’t going to tell him that, however. He doesn’t need to know how deep your affection for his films and personages go. That he gave you the kick you needed to pursue this strange, yet fulling path -- you could taste the accolades right around the corner, even if you were still living in a dingy apartment.

The awful truth was that Grant also didn’t need to know that you had fallen harder for him -- the real him -- than any other roles he had played. Maybe it was his gorgeous looks that projectors couldn’t do justice. Or the clumsy nature that strangely fit his otherworldly persona -- something had to humble him. Or how he was doing this, bringing you soup every day and making himself comfortable in your own home, like it was his as well.

Or how he was looking at you right now, curled up on the other end of the sofa, his foot accidentally brushing over yours in midst of finding a comfortable spot.

You stretched your legs out when you suddenly felt tense in the body, turning away from the television set to face your body to the ceiling, your chin to your chest to keep your eyes on Grant, who began mirroring your position. It was like you two discovered telepathy for the first time; your leg occupying the gap between his thighs, Grant between yours. He turned the TV off like you had been wanting, filling the living space with complete darkness, and blindly skimmed his sock over your own.

Feeling his sock rub against your ankle stirred something inside of you, and it wasn’t reassuring that this urge only bloomed when Grant did it again. Once at your ankle, two at your calf. Whether this was his idea of a sick joke, you didn’t want that to be answered. Your senses were already heightened from the flu, the stillness in the room deafening, but the intertwined pairs of feet -- the sound of cotton caressing cotton -- alerting. Enticing.

It was an urge that seemed confined to Grant, you realized that when your body responded out of instinct and nudged his ankle and calf in retaliation. Not to get him to stop, but to silently convince him to resist -- because you were frightened you couldn’t any longer.

After a few more cycles of this—whatever activity you two were engaging in—Grant straightened his legs by your hips, seemingly complacent in this exchange by the sound of his chuckle.

“I’ll leave by dawn.”

“Good night, Grant.”

For the past couple of days, you had gotten into the habit of looking forward to Grant’s daily delivery of soups from a restaurant not too far from where he lived—three meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner respectively. You had to admit, as delicious as they were, you were beginning to exhaust your taste buds of anything broth related. Substance was much needed, especially for a bite of the sandwiches that Grant had graciously introduced you to a couple weeks back.

However, you were feeling better, and that was the most important part—actually, scratch that.

The most important part was who was helping you recover from this aggravating bug. Sipping on the last spoonful of tomato soup, in hopes that your next meal would involve using your teeth, you were itching to resume filming.

At least you thought you did before you flipped through the daily paper. It was a still shot of Grant—blurry, walking down a sidewalk, hand in one pocket while the other was carrying a bag. That was normal, you had seen many of those in your lifetime.

What wasn’t normal was that you recognized the restaurant logo on the bag, the row of evergreens surrounding the perimeter, the distinct branding of the entrance of the building he was near.

Even if the photograph was in black and white, you could tell the handles and windows were painted with a shade darker than white. It made for a rather intriguing backdrop if you could choose to ignore the tightening feeling in your chest.

You started to panic as it became more apparent.

Orange.

“Shit.”

You braced yourself and read the headline.

HOLLYWOOD PLAYBOY STRIKES AGAIN: GRANT GUSTIN SPOTTED AT NEW ALLEGED LOVER’S RESIDENCE!

At first Grant thought he must have misunderstood. When he picked up today’s daily, he was half-expecting a gossip column regarding another one of his romantic adventures with a former co-star, the other half wishing the paper had focused on someone else for a change.

Last month’s column produced a rather in-depth, and slightly creepy, overview of his dinner with Miss Patton. He knew he had good reason to feel peculiar about the waiter serving them. If it hadn’t been for Miss Patton’s desperate plea to get a meal in her stomach as soon as possible, Grant would’ve demanded a switcheroo, effective immediately. The lanky, young man lingered far too long and asked too many questions for his liking, his presence alone made Grant’s Negroni Spritz go flat.

Did Grant’s reputation need to take another hit after finally recovering from those multitudes of fender benders a year and a half ago? Probably not -- Grant didn’t need to endure another hour-long chastising session about how his actions could damage the movie studio. It was all bluff anyway. Grant and the studio head both knew that scandals ushered in huge numbers, record-breaking attendances when it came to his most recent pictures.

Either way, had he known his private conversation with Miss Patton would become… well, not so private, Grant would’ve committed arson to the studio the night of. At least the executives could file an insurance claim based on the physical damage. Grant doubted there would be much validity to the claim if the reason provided was his inability to hold his tongue.

Luckily, Grant had since stopped pursuing after risks. It was what made a dent to his once speck-less Mercedes-Benz in the first place.

Dear God… my sweet Iris, what have I done to you?!

What he wasn’t expecting was—

“‘The Gustin Effect! Hollywood Heartthrob Grant Gustin Helps Local Restaurant Sell Out… Soups?,’” Grant repeated to himself. He was sweating as his eyes went over the large serif font for the nth time like skates on ice. He had to give it to The Daily Spring -- it wasn’t exactly an intriguing headline, but it made his heart race knowing the context. Regardless, it wasn’t exactly how he wanted to start off his day.

He suddenly felt compelled to pour another packet of sugar into his coffee.

“Keep reading, it’s a rather heart-warming article,” Grant’s manager said through the handset with a peculiar enthusiasm, as if the man wasn’t scolding him a few days ago for wandering about without telling him first. “Looks like we’re back on track, don’t you think?”

“As my manager, you’re supposed to be—I don’t know—warding off any worries that I might have. Not unsettle me any more than I already am…” Grant frowned, tucking the handset between his shoulder and ear before briefing into the rest of the gossip piece.

“What are you talking about? This is great news!”

“‘Local restaurant ‘The Cloud Room’ saw an unexpected surge in business after a photograph was published in the newspaper, showing movie star Grant Gustin holding a bag of the restaurant’s soups while en route to a secret rendezvous.

The image caught the attention of the public, leading to a wave of curious customers eager to try the same dish, dubbing the star’s powerful influence as ‘The Gustin Effect.’

With lines stretching down the block for the past three days, the possibility of the effect faltering anytime soon seems slim to none. The owners are considering expanding their hours to accommodate the growing number of customers drawn by the star's casual endorsement.’”

There were several more paragraphs, but Grant couldn’t be bothered to read any more of it. A sudden migraine had been festering the moment he laid eyes on the headline.

“Christ, Kid. You’re on a roll these days. I’d have to use both of my hands to count the number of articles written about you this past week. It’s impressive. If we play it right, then the upcoming picture could be your biggest hit yet. I know you’ve been clamoring for this moment, Kid.”

“Listen, I think I should—“ he groaned, rubbing at his temples.

“Oh, Grant. It’s just your typical fling, wasn’t it? Usually you sweeten a lady up with chocolates, but I guess… soup has its merit too. Nothing to worry about.”

Throbbing -- Grant’s head was throbbing now. He didn’t have the freedom to be indifferent to other people’s opinions. In fact, his career relied on it—on the public, on his manager, on his manager’s manager.

“No, the thing is—“

Now his hands were clamming up. He could feel the handset in his palm slipping, but he tightened his hold—because that was what people in his line of work did, right? If he was on the game show you and Grant were watching the other day, one of the questions would have been:

“Do you portray yourself as who you really are in your line of work?” “Are you free to express yourself however you wished in your occupation?” “Would people like the real person behind this persona of yours? Your parents, perhaps? Grandparents?” “Would you risk the comfort of your career for love?”

“I’ll run it by with the studio. Thank God for your little lady’s soup obsession because they were on my neck for letting you off my leash.”

Maybe his manager was correct in inducing this fear of the press, of anything that provided a space for a cluster of inquisitive people who sought for a piece of his life to sell.

Grant braced himself and exhaled, “It’s not a lady.”

Because Grant would answer all those questions with a resounding ‘No.’

“What, your brother in town? Do you even have a brother? Oh, it must’ve been your father then! Well, that will certainly fare better with the heads—”

All except one.

“It was (M/N).”

All the things Grant wasn’t saying sat heavy in his mouth. He wasn’t used to holding his tongue like this. Under normal circumstances, Grant would ramble non-stop about his favorite pastimes, like going up to Colorado to challenge the steepest ski run, or modestly luxuriating near the poolside at his mansion. It always got the conversation to a flying start with you.

Now, all of his efforts of building some kind of relationship with you seemed to be in vain.

Since Grant had revealed to his manager about his frequent visits to your apartment, there had been a constant stream of articles, propagated by the studio, about his love life, about his philanthropic efforts, about his wishes to build a family with a loving wife and four kids; all in the effort to bury his truth had it ever leak.

They brought his past flings back to the spotlight, even if he hadn’t communicated with these women in months. They brazenly brought you into the picture, gossip columnists regurgitating all types of bogus stories such as: your ego-trip when you demanded filming to stop because of your illness, your tantrum on set when Grant forgot his lines, your need to berate your assistant when she was as little of a second too late in fetching your coffee.

‘Inside sources,’ they’d call it—when really, these were excerpts manufactured from the publicity agent’s fictitious and unpublished novel, later trashed somewhere in the building to start a new one -- to find a new story for so-called ‘journalists’ would hound you with.

Articles about the alleged feud between you and Grant had only gotten more vicious and scathing on your end, and all Grant could do was watch in agony as the studio lot became a media circus, increasing day by day, week by week, with more photographers and reporters desperate to encounter these alleged incivilities. As a newcomer in the industry, it certainly raised your profile, but it was also to the detriment of your reputation -- a fact that everyone was content with considering the amount of coverage the film was receiving.

He had held onto your presence as a small comfort throughout the past bleak month, but even that necessity was taken away from him. More executives began coming onto set under the guise of quality assurance as shooting headed for its last week. Their intention became very much apparent whenever Grant would be inconvenienced with another obligation of shooting for more publicity stills.

Upon realizing you had done all your promotional material in solitude, there was nothing Grant had wanted more than to join you by your side. More so, when in a cursory attempt to blend in with your surroundings, you helped yourself to the catering service and tried to become interested in the employees. Grant knew you didn’t have enough energy in you to exchange more than a “How are you?” and some complimentary words about the food.

You didn’t stay much longer for the wrap party.

Nor were you even welcomed.

He was rarely in a situation where he could physically harm someone, but seeing the headlines the past month, how ostracized you had become during the last few weeks of filming, maybe the circumstances of his life would issue a free pass to do such heinous crimes out of the goodness of their heart -- especially since it pertained to you.

“You shouldn’t be here, Grant. Christ—someone could see you! How did you get here without someone following you?”

Before Grant was being sharply pulled into your apartment, he was contemplating on whether he should greet you with a reasonable “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” a pleading “It’s all my fault, please forgive me,” or a simple “Hi.”

The door clicked shut, and Grant mentally slapped himself out of his thoughts. Instead, it was none of that.

“Everyone got wasted by nine,” Grant revealed lightly; there was some apprehension that any louder, he would break you based on your meek appearance. “Your eyes are red.”

You made a dismissive noise, brushing Grant off as you passed him on your way to the bedroom. “It’s only been a month and you’re already forgetting the color of my eyes, Grant? I’ve been telling you to go to the doctor.

Grant followed. By simply watching your back, Grant noticed your walk had changed. “Stop. Stop that.” You walked too fast for your own good at times, missing shops because you had tunnel-visioned toward the front, but Grant easily caught up to grab your arm and stop you in your tracks.

Or maybe he was just getting accustomed to your pace before shit hit the fan.

“Stop what?” You turned, facing him as you leaned against your bedroom door with crossed arms. At your lower eyelids, Grant caught sight of tears forming along the waterline. He shouldn’t think that crying looked lovely on you, so he kept that thought to himself.

But it really did put him in a trance for a moment. During that moment of attraction, it couldn’t be helped that the open collar of your shirt also led various prospects nearly consume him and all of his being, making him take a step closer. His fingers brushed by the tip of yours, the wattage of the slightest physical touch making you flex your fingers like you were upholstered by secrets.

A month shouldn’t have felt that long, but this was the moment when it all came into fruition -- that Grant hadn’t properly spoken or seen you in a month. He remembered how he felt when you looked at him for the first time, something like a sensation coming painfully back to a numb limb. As torturous as it was, it made Grant feel alive.

“Stop pretending like you’re okay,” Grant swallowed hard, finding himself in a dilemma between wiping your tears for you or giving you the space you clearly needed, even if Grant had involuntarily done enough of that.

You scoffed, using the back of your sleeve to wipe your eyes. “I’m not pretending. I don’t even have stray cats in my balcony like I used to anymore to be okay for.”

“Stray cats would’ve brought you much more comfort than I ever could, I have to admit that,” Grant said, your face assuming an expression that led Grant to plausibly assume you would have disagreed. That, or he was simply toying with his delusions, knowing he couldn’t fathom the tangible truth of the damage his relationship with you had undergone.

He meant it when he didn’t want anything more than to join you by your side. Grant followed you to the sofa and sat next to you, knees and thighs touching. Hands—pairs of hand wishing they could hold you in between the passing silence.

“Why didn’t you call?” Grant didn’t think you mean for the reasonable question to sound as despondent as it did. He also didn’t think he has a lapse of control left, because you looked so fragile and nebulous—that despite his best efforts, Grant eventually slipped a hand into your palm because he was afraid acknowledging your existence would make you disappear.

He held you tighter.

“My hotel was under supervision… it’s not an excuse, I know. I should’ve tried to find a loophole. I couldn’t even write to you without the possibility of being caught. And when I was, they released more of those horrid articles about you. They were breathing down my neck, (M/N). I swear. I didn’t know what to do other than to… be complicit. I’m sorry. Truly. I’m a coward.”

“You’re not,” you sighed with eyes fixated on Grant’s hand in yours. “You have a lot more to lose than I do. I get it.”

He caressed his thumb over your palm, sparking some kind of will to exist by which he had the gentle squeeze of your hand to judge by. “Doesn’t mean it’s right, though. I don’t know, it all happened so fast. If I would’ve shut my damn mouth, none of this would have happened. I just—panicked. For God’s sake, it’s not like we’re…”

Lovers. Grant doesn’t think it was his imagination that something in you seemed to have unwound after the implication. If Grant hadn’t mentioned that he wasn’t great at comforting people, which he was confident that he had never told you, it counted for something when he was struck by the relief in your shoulders and hand, your palm seemingly sinking—but you didn’t have to fret, because Grant was there to catch you.

He was more capable at this than he had thought.

You chuckled over Grant’s reservation to even say the unspoken word, so you left him be. “My manager told me to lay low for the time-being and wait for the storm to pass. It’s nice to know I’m not fired or anything, they know it’s all deceptive.”

There was something so comforting in the ability to be physically touching you, in knowing that from here on out, Grant could simply take you by the hand, shut the door between the two of you and the rest of the world, and share your thoughts.

Maybe if all went swell, hand-holding wouldn’t be confined to a sad set of affairs. In Grant’s ideal world, holding your hand would also be the preface of something more, a bridge that allows him to cross his way over to you and explore all facets negative and positive, intimately so.

“We’re all pawns to the studio anyway. Vehicles that put in an extra floor to the building. Bad publicity is good publicity. It’s free marketing for the film. Scandals make stars, and you’re halfway there.”

Grant was sure of it. He had seen many other actors and actresses recover their careers with far worse rumors. The main priority was money, and as long as it didn’t stop the audience from filling up the theaters, there was no reason to drop a talent.

You brought your legs onto the sofa and crossed your legs facing Grant. “Is that supposed to be comfort me, Mister Fender Bender?”

“That was only three times—and, mind you, no one got hurt.” Grant followed suit. His bent knees pressed against yours. He had your hands opened in his palms as if telling fortune was second nature to him, tracing the lines embedded in your palm with an inquisitive index. “How am I supposed to comfort you, then? Tell me.”

Your hands weren’t much smaller than Grant’s, the fact had been known since the very moment you two had exchanged handshakes for the first time. Still, those beautiful appendages visited his dreams often. It hadn’t meant anything to Grant until one night, he was dreaming about the day he had his hand over yours as you lit his cigarette. The second night, he dreamed of you testing his temperature via the back of your hand to Grant’s forehead. The third night… well, Grant was ashamed to admit that his attraction had breached far into indecent territories by which helped him solve a night of endless tossing and turning in a matter of minutes.

Then multiple nights, because Grant since wholeheartedly accepted that this infatuation for your hands had actually preceded his deep affection for you.

Unless someone brought good reason that Grant should stop playing with your hands and obsessing over them, it wasn’t in his agenda to ever let go.

“You’ve done enough. I guess… I’m a little upset that I splurged on a new suit for nothing. I was going to wear it to the wrap party,” you huffed, idly playing a game of ‘Try To Catch Grant’s Finger.’ No prize money would be offered, just bragging rights—which did have some merit.

So far, you were losing.

Grant smirked as he managed to wriggle a finger out of your grip. Five points for him, two points for you. “Who said there can’t be one with just us two?”

“Cheater! And that’s called a date, Grant.”

“I would’ve stayed then.” Suddenly, the solution to end your pitiful evening slotted in place.

He sprung up from the sofa with a hop, smiling graciously at you. “Come on. On your feet. We’re bringing it to a place I know.”

For Grant to call his residence something as pedestrian and humdrum like ‘a place,’ as if all the great virtues and grandeur of the mansion had been entirely diminished because the construction of expanding his already-massive pool had been halted for whatever reason—you questioned, and was rather frightened to know, about what his idea of a party was. It soon became a momentary thought when Grant began giving you a brief tour around his mansion—and the amenities that came with it.

With its manicured gardens, gold-plated fixtures, towering columns that couldn’t have prepared you for the imposing entryway, Grant’s stately mansion exuded an aura of refinement and exclusivity, and you were in awe by the sense of splendor. You felt out of your element. It was extremely telling as you walked over the imported marble floors like they were made of crystals. Delicately caressed ornate sculptures stoned near every corridor because it would have been irresponsible for you to only observe the complex lines that made their forms so irresistible. It was the epitome of a lifestyle that you would never be able to afford, yet you weren’t jealous at all.

It was a spectacle for sure, but you couldn’t have possibly felt comfortable living with such large quantities of upkeep. Grant mentioned that his bedroom was his favorite, and that was what you could get behind. It wasn’t opulent like the rest of the resident was. It felt lived in, homely, comfortable, even though you were hyper-aware of the fact that his balcony practically contained another living space.

“Get changed in the bathroom. I’ll wait here,” Grant said, sitting on the end of his bed. You had never seen a king-size bed before, but the magazines weren’t lying when one of the print advertisements likened their mattress of that size to a cumulonimbus cloud.

The color of your bespoke formal wear spoke softly; champagne at the blazer and cedar at your slacks. The fabric so light, they almost seemed without substance. The great craftsmanship nearly made you empty a week’s worth of cigarettes in a day, but the tailoring of your suit, alongside the cut and detail, quickly separated you from the past appearance of a boy who had yet outgrown his father’s hand-me-downs to a well-dressed and confident man who paid his bills on time. Once you slicked your hair back for the final touch, you walked out of Grant’s bathroom to reveal yourself.

“I forgot my tie on your bed.”

Grant had opened his mouth to take another gulp of whiskey, but when he turned to look at you, his tongue was seemingly paralyzed in the back of his throat, suddenly coughing up the previous sip he had taken.

You laughed while you made your way to his full length mirror stationed by his closet. He was quick to follow behind, subsiding his raw throat with the last ounce of liquor and grabbing your tie on the way over.

“You look nice. Though, I didn’t take you to be someone who was keen on light colors. You always wore navy,” Grant said, turning you to face him by a gentle hold on your shoulders.

You tipped your head when Grant began to slip the necktie beneath your shirt collar. “Most of my clothes are from my father’s. I will say—as much as it made a dent in my wallet, it was nice buying something for myself for once.”

You tried not to be too obvious about looking at all facets of Grant; the careful attention of his gaze; the veins in his hands as he looped the cloth. In this moment, you came to realize that you wanted Grant in all the ways you were used to ignoring. This was different in the past, different from those peculiar exchanges between the two of you where playing footsie and skimming hands were simply done in the guise of naivety.

He caressed the green cloth in his hand while his gaze focused on yours, utterly complacent about how he compelled you to part your lips with a single look.“Well, you made a great choice. You look terrific. Handsome.” All so alluring, when he stalled further, slowly passing the fibers of silk between inquisitive fingertips. With one firm tug, Grant knotted the tie at your throat, pulling you closer to him in the process. “Beautiful.”

This was different because you knew Grant felt the same way.

“Beautiful?” You repeated for clarification. The word that came out of his mouth littered you goosebumps over your skin. Nobody had ever called you beautiful, you were sure you were the first man in history to be called as such.

You refused to believe this was a serious statement, but then Grant repeated cooly, “Beautiful,” and before you could counter, he pulled on your tie again, nearly closing the small distance between the two of you, and settled his lips on yours.

You collapsed into the kiss, like it was taking all the effort not to kiss Grant, and you were finally giving up. Grant knew that you wanted this, that by any sensible measure desperate for the taste of liquor to come from his mouth and pass into yours with the swap of his tongue. He knew it the way he knew that the Western End had the best suits in the city and that you needed a reservation for almost every restaurant in the district—it was a fact that he didn’t have to think about, and which everybody else knows, too.

You didn’t mean to make that noise come out of your mouth, but after suffering a lapse in Grant’s presence, his lips on yours felt like a whiskey sour on a hard day. It was much needed gift with the past few months you had been having. The softness and care in Grant’s lips made your breath shudder, one would think you had been laved by the cold sea, whereas you were actually melting, in Grant’s arms, gripping his lapel for balance.

“I missed you,” Grant said softly. He circled his arms over your hips, his hands sliding beneath your blazer because he needed to feel every muscle in your body tensing, to pull you impossibly closer to memorize how you fit in his arms.

You supposed you had to credit the liquor for his brazenness.

“I missed you too,” you collapsed into his arms, trusting the warmth of his embrace.

He kissed you in between breaths. “I missed you so much, I couldn’t function properly knowing you were hurting. Guilt was hollowing me from within,” Harder on your mouth, apparently coming to the conclusion that you relished in the roughness of his embrace, in the bruising link between your mouth and his, from the way you gasped and pulled more of him into you. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Palm deep against his nape, you pushed his head toward the slant of your jaw because you needed to recover your breath. Quickly, before you would risk the chance of collapsing on behalf of lost time, dispelling your last remaining breath inside Grant’s mouth out of desperation to overcompensate.

“I told you it was fine, Grant—“ You groaned when he began nibbling at the underside of your jaw. By virtue of his unstoppable desire, Grant propelled forward, holding you tight, and you stumbled back into the corner until your back collided with the wall, the impact drawing out a pleasurable hiss from your throat.

“It’s not. It’s absolutely not. You nearly drove me into talking to a shrink about you.” You nearly stopped Grant to have a proper conversation, without all these interruptions. Between his kisses and the gripping, you were an incoherent mess if the tightness in your slacks had something to go by, but you instead followed along, entranced by how Grant could look so stunning when all he was doing was undressing you.

He started with the tie. “But then, that would’ve made matters entirely worse upon the realization that… I was so in love with you,” he whispered over your bare throat after sliding the cloth off. Next, was your shirt. “And that it can’t be fixed. I can’t be fixed. I can’t fix myself now knowing that you feel the same way. You do, don’t you?” Then, your undershirt.

You swallowed hard. “I do. I entirely do, am so much in love with you. Grant—” You struggled to get the words out without giving into Grant’s delirious kisses on your bare body. Maybe if you had stumbled, it would’ve delayed his ravenous appetite for your body a second or so longer—but even then, you weren’t sure if you were capable of witnessing and being at the hands of a man who was so clearly starving.

“Oh, Grant—that’s very…” Good. Erotic. Attractive. At least one of those words you were meant to say, but it would’ve been a relic of a bygone touch. Being mouthed at your perky nubs was as indescribable a feeling could get, but then when Grant began licking over your body, slowly sinking onto his knees as he worked his way down your torso, sucking spots and licking marks you hadn’t had the faintest idea about—you were reduced to the role of a whimpering bystander by which ultimately stripped your brain beyond words.

Grant undressed the lower half of you—all but your brown socks—and you had long accepted the fact that it was inevitable in showing Grant how much you enjoyed giving him free rein to your body. Your erection was strong, a reveal of flesh that made him suck in his lips to keep himself from ravishing you already.

“You’re leaking,” you wanted to hide and crawl in a ditch somewhere. It was embarrassing as Grant marveled over the thick trail of pre-cum that tagged over his fingertip when he curiously dipped a finger over your glans.

“Well, don’t comment on it…”It was like he read your mind, because Grant placed a warm palm on your stomach to prevent you from enacting on your wishes, ultimately trapping you in place by the gentle strokes over your cock. “Fuck…” you watched with bleary eyes, all sorts of feelings stockpiling to feed your endorphins

In turn, you felt your skin blossom with heat, patches on your neck and chest burning, because Grant refused to take his eyes off of you. He stroked your cock ardently while assuming an expression of treacly sentiment, like he couldn’t believe his dreams had become a reality. Watching you writhe over the wall, leak over his twisting fist, bite your moans into your hand; these were the exact amenities you would’ve have wanted had you sought for a mansion of your own. Not the towering stairwells, or the ornate carved fountain, or even a separate room for the live-in housekeeper.

Just Grant, his presence, and his magical touch. That was all you needed.

“Wait, wait. Grant, stop—“ You begged a second too late. Your balls tightened when Grant’s hand was only more relentless upon your desperate pleas. His hand massaged your thighs, lips mouthed at the underside of your sack. The prospect of you returning the favor for Grant—or better, with your mouth, hoarding what had yet to be revealed deep down your throat—made you shudder with a release. “Fuck—”

“It’s okay. I’ve been meaning to taste you…” Upon the violent tremble of your thighs, Grant scooted closer, deftly angling and pumping your cock over his open mouth, and let you shoot. You blinked past tears as you felt yourself spill thick shots in Grant’s mouth, over his tongue as he cradled your seeds like they were precious metals, and at the last second, over his face because you stumbled out of his grasp and caught yourself on the wall, heaving.

It had taken a moment for you to catch your breath, shutting your eyes as the tremor in your body would jolt from out of the blue. It was all too much, the sweet relief courteous by the man you loved. You were embarrassed by how quickly Grant had unraveled you, but that was certainly a testament to your attraction to him, or to his skills.

When you opened your eyes, Grant pulled you by the hips for another kiss. A strong embrace to control the tides in your body. Then, a wet and sloppy kiss to clarify that Grant wasn’t done yet, as he breached your mouth with his tongue and surprised you by passing cum into your mouth. It was an ongoing battle, the thick substance swapping from tongue to another, the bitter notes subsiding as more saliva snowballed into the mixture. Between the lewd exchange, Grant began undressing himself out of anticipation of what would come next.

“Swallow,” Grant broke the kiss with a whisper, resting his forehead on yours to feast his eyes on the very prospect of you fulfilling his demand. It was an immense pull of attraction, the slow cascade of his hand over your spine following along with it, that made you gulp the thick content in your mouth. He seemed satisfied when your throat bobbed, smiling. “Good?”

“I imagine yours would taste better,” you rested a hand over your his head, coming his hair back with your fingers until they reached the back of his neck, offering you leverage for another kiss—sweet and clean on Grant’s lips.

“I wouldn’t mind if you tried me out,” Grant was already down to his briefs, his eyes subtly pleading for the sake of his thickened bulge. Prior to noticing, you had been roaming your hand over his lean body. His bare chest, the well-defined muscles breaking you of your fantasies—because it was better than you could have imagined. Grant looked about two seconds away from forcing you on your knees himself, but lucky for him, you were just as eager.

Sinking onto your knees, you carefully pulled down his briefs. Slowly at first, to compose yourself, but then to test your patience, because the length of Grant’s shaft seemed never-ending. When you fully stripped him of his briefs, you had to take a scoot back in fear that his impressive cock would hit you in the face.

Grant was massive, the weight of his length making it stoop forward and dangle with every step he took. There was one protruding vein that nearly made you drop everything and sucked him off right then and there, until he was fully hard in your mouth and you could feel more veins throbbing—but again, you needed to show him some type of restraint, even though at this point, you doubted that he cared.

“So, the rumors are true, then?” Instantly, you were taken back to a gossip column regarding Grant’s size. Whoever tipped those writers off should win a Pulitzer Prize.

Grant shrugged, apparently nonchalant at the fact that he could practically cover the length of your face with such ease. “Had no idea where that came from, honestly…” Holding his thighs, you briefly trialed the theory out under the guise of kissing the underside of his thick shaft. Between licking the flesh, kissing his balls, and fondling his cock, you were also completely immersed in the smell of his cock. He smelled like pure arousal, a peculiar saltiness in your nostrils as you breathed him in, from unkempt pubic hairs to the leaking tip. Nonetheless, it was gratifying as your cock responded in several twitches.

“I don’t think I can fit you in my mouth,” you said, aware that you were grinning like a fool.

“It’s the effort that matters,” he chuckled, his hand smoothening over your head to rest on your nape, pushing your mouth closer to his hardening cock. With one hand braced on his thigh and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, you felt Grant tense when you cradled the tip into your mouth with your tongue, sucking. “Your mouth is so warm, (M/N)…”

He was as salty as he smelled. The pre-cum coated your tongue nicely, resembling the taste of your cum prior, but somehow ten times more potent, as if you were drinking sex directly from concentrate. What was even nicer was how heavy your mouth felt when you took more of Grant in. It was like the weight of him had its own gravitational pull, separating your mouth wider to accommodate the massive girth like sucking a cock this big came second-hand nature to you. You reckoned that you should become quickly accustomed to it though, because you couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving Grant disappointed.

You and Grant were like this for a couple of minutes; Grant pushing out drips of spit with his mouth to add onto the wetness and you doing the same thing, pushing your saliva out and spreading the thick layer over his shaft with your hand to help ease the slide into your mouth. You could barely fit more than a few inches, your cheeks hallowing for as long as they could before the strain of the stretch had gotten to the nerves.

“Oh, fuck…” Grant moaned, having had enough of your sloppy strokes by robbing you of your recovery once more and greedily pushing his cock back into your warm mouth.

God, the way it looked… a reddened, fat swollen cock straining in the grip of your fist, a drop of pre-cum glistening heavy on the tip, a thick layer of saliva over the thicker size of his staff… the fact that you could see your own fingers struggling to wrap around his cock as you sucked him off—it all felt so very surreal, and so very real.

“You’re so big, Grant. Fuck…” You lifted your gaze and stared into Grant’s nebulous eyes. Somehow, it made the act ten times more obscene upon realizing that you were practically servicing him, on your knees, worshiping all facets of his body. His calves were toned against your lips, thighs sturdier as Grant made an effort to stabilize his stance following your teasing mouth working up his legs with ticklish kisses, then back to the head of his cock, where you began nibbling at the swollen head.

“Christ, (M/N)…”

He was always very expressive, but in the moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Dumbfounded, as you began using two hands to stroke what you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth. Swiveling and twirling his wet cock with your fists, all while you sucked and licked on his swollen tip, feeding into the rush that made his cock throb so hard in your mouth and hands, into the delightful sounds that revived your sensitive cock back with life.

Grant bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making any sound. What came out were staggered breaths, clear evidence of his indulgence while his hips were moving without his volition. Your plump lips stretched wide around his pistoning cock, sucking and slobbering over the hot ample flesh, eyes wide and disbelieving, as if you couldn’t believe you could fit this much of Grant inside of your mouth.

It was endgame the moment Grant hissed and sunk in his stomach, flexing his abdomen under way—everything was building to the perfect eruption. You had your mouth opened, stroking him over your face to catch him with your tongue as he had done with you. Grant was close—so close that his face could make you spill for the second time of the night on the strength of his twisted expressions.

Your delusions consequently settled you in for a rude awakening when Grant suddenly pulled you up on your feet and kissed you hard, yet almost apologetically on the mouth. You whined against his lips, ultimately kissing him back because you couldn’t get a word in from how relentless he was being by which you couldn’t blame—the agony of being nearly relieved would’ve wrecked havoc on your mental state.

“I need to be inside of you first, please—“ Grant begged hot on your neck. He backed you into his bed until your backside collided with the mattress upon the push of his hand. Then your chest, when Grant took free liberty of your body and bent you over.

The first thing on your mind was that, “God, this mattress was lovely,” but the second you felt something wet spread over your hole, all the compliments you had reserved dissipated and expelled through a shuddering breath. You were blinded by the soft bedding, burying your moans into the sheets, but you could conjure up the holiest image of Grant spreading your asscheeks open and exploring you with eager licks.

“You’re so good at this,“ you sighed, curling your toes into your socks.

“You bring out the best in me, you know…” Grant muttered, squeezing your ass cheeks as a sign of affection when you looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. His mouth was much too busy to verbalize his feelings.

You wondered if Grant was aware of how obscene he had sounded—these wet, slurpy sounds that his mouth made while tasting your insides. His hot breath was beckoning, pushing your hips out by inclination for Grant to give you more. More, more, more. It seemed like he listened to your body because you stiffened immediately, barely suppressing a surprised gasp, when his slicked finger entered you.

You felt like you were in a free fall. Finally. This was exactly what you needed. Your mind went utterly blank, unable to comprehend the single digit curling inside of you. It was thought-annihilating, the way Grant had curled his fingers inside of you—two now, after deciding for himself that you had been clamoring for a bigger fill, that you needed to feel a stretch.

“Please, Grant—that’s enough, please. Need you,” you whimpered, self-conscious at the sound of his wet fingers slipping in and out of you. He liked playing with your body, screwing his fingers deep inside of you, only to yank them out because it made you yelp.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he brought the rest of your body onto the bed, bringing immediate relief to your legs. “One more.”

It made your tight hole beckon for more with a pucker.

With such control, forcefulness, and precision, your mouth fell open in a silent moan and your eyes went wide at the push of Grant’s third finger. You could barely keep your hips still, even with Grant’s efforts to hold you down with a palm on your lower back. It was all too much, your whole world seemed to have narrowed down to your sensitive hole; the sound of his hard fingers pumping in and out of you; the slick sounds obscene and alerting in your ear; the sweet stretch that made the discomfort all the worthwhile—because Grant was just as anguished as you were. You could hear him stroking his slicked cock, the anticipation of the inevitable building as you felt yourself loosened on account of his efforts.

You knew you were well-primed because your body still craved more.

“No more… need you,” you bit out, breathing unsteadily when Grant pulled his fingers out and flipped you onto your back. Your eyes naturally fell to Grant’s cock, and it looked as mouthwatering as it did a few moments ago. Your hole clenched at the likely chance that you’d be feeling the ramifications of taking such a well-endowed man well into the next day, and the day after that. “Please,” you begged once more, reaching low to prevail him with lazy to his erection.

“Other than getting over that nasty cold, I’ve never seen you so desperate for something,” Grant was kneeling on the bed, adjusting your position so your legs were wrapped around his hips, his cock teasing your entrance with careful ruts. You felt the head press ever so gently when he leaned forward and captured your lips for a soft kiss. “I find it really, really, really charming.”

“Mm…” Your fingers, tentative and slow, cupped the edge of Grant’s jaw. This was just the beginning, you realized. A new chapter for you and Grant where the idea of dropping hints of attraction was no longer needed because everything came unraveling, faster than you had anticipated, but nonetheless, it was exciting.

Grant put a free hand on the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, securing his place on top of you. When Grant broke the kiss to look into your eyes, it made all the difference between lust and love as he slowly pressed his cock into your hole, unlatching some kind of internal safety mechanism within you until it had clasped over the plump head after getting cold feet.

“Slowly,” you groaned, sweating bullets beneath the shower of his kisses. You built up a strong resistance to Grant’s hips, reluctant, and to put it quite plainly, frightened to take him in stride. But it was Grant’s silent promise to take care of you that took the edge off your apprehension bit-by-bit.

Grant followed a pattern. He pushed deeper, paused, then found a place on your body to distract you from the discomforting stretch, reeled back a bit, then thrusted deeper than before, gradually opening you up. Adding on the pleasing strokes to your hard cock, you felt your muscles relax, the sweat bullets cooling your body.

“More…” you mumbled on his lips, and at times you regretted asking for it, because Grant made your stomach turn. His cock was so deep inside of you, too deep when the stretch nearly became unbearable, yet your cock pulsed and your hole clenched for the exact opposite.

You noticed he liked talking you through it especially, whispering bone-chilling compliments like, “You’re taking my cock so well,” “Look at you, you’re so beautiful…” and your favorite, “You’re driving me crazy. Do you have any idea how hard I’m restraining myself?”

Grant was listening to your body. He knew what it meant when you were clenching so tight around him, panting for him with that wide-eyed look of yours, supplying his broad back with unrelenting scratches. It meant that you weren’t full enough—it meant that you covertly indulged in the stretch he was providing you with.

It was the best and worst feeling in the world, because you knew with suddenly clarity that you wouldn’t be able to live without this. You would crave this feeling always, especially when Grant fully breached your hole with a thrust that filled you to the brim.

You were full. So fucking full.

“Oh, God—“ The cock in you was thick and throbbing, easily brushing your prostate without so much of a motion. You nearly passed out from how intense the sensation was, having your inner walls be massaged from within as Grant finally started moving.

“You took all of my cock, fuck—I knew you could. I know you so well,” Grant grunted against your mouth, pistoning in and out of you with hard thrusts. Your arms had dropped to Grant’s sides, fingers digging into Grant’s toned buttocks, trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

Instead, he reeled himself back.

Your legs dangled in the air as Grant pushed your knees to your chest, leveraging the back of your thighs hard to properly pile-drive his cock into your hole. Your feet sweltered in the confines of your socks, but you didn’t mind because you were getting accustomed to the humidity in the air.

Grant didn’t hesitate anymore. There was wild fury in his face, the imposing strength and passion managing to be its only rival as they equally sought for one purpose and one purpose only, which was to fuck you into oblivion. Grant looked dangerous, delirious, and you feared him as much as you wanted him. In your folded position, you spread your buttocks apart for Grant to see how well he was fucking you. How deep he was stroking your insides with his thick cock, making you gape when he completely pulled out, then making your body shiver—when he screwed himself in with one hard thrust, overfilling your guts.

“You put a smell on me, didn’t you?” His voice sounded spiteful, but what he does to you was pure love. He growled into one of your calves between pants, smooching and grazing his teeth at the toned muscle.

The bed creaked with every thrust of his, loud and heavy enough that you wouldn’t be surprised that the corridors of his mansion were echoing from it.

“F-fuck—if only. You would’ve d-done this sooner,” Tiny tremors and tingles exploded as Grant pummeled deep into your body and brushed over your prostate. You were stroking yourself to the sound of his ravenous moans, to the sound of his heavy balls slapping over your taint, to the sound of his sweaty thighs coming into contact with yours, warning you of a sensation of pin-needles sticking into the area by virtue of the thunderous claps.

Grant couldn’t have looked more beautiful than this. The gel in his hair loosened, letting delicate strands of brown locks to fall over his forehead. Every so often, he would push his fringe back with a careless swoop, and you whimpered at how effortlessly handsome he was at everything.

It lit you up inside, your body bursting with raw energy with the brutal impaling that Grant was feeding you. Your cock throbbed in your fist, and your hole squeezed at the unveiling of untamed passion. Grant must have seen the desire written on your face, because he was triumphant in the smile he had given you, leaning down to wake you from your state of stupor by means of a sloppy kiss.

“G-Grant, I-I’m so, I can’t—“ Grant took over your mind and body. He was everywhere, inside and around you. It was like you existed only for him, and his massive cock. His tongue pushed your lips apart and began cradling the flesh that had held your garbled moans from being remotely coherent.

“I can’t hear you,” Then, he fucked you like he wanted to gut you. Grant reached deep, hammering into your prostate every time his hips collided against yours. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give it to you. You know I will.”

Your eyes rolled until Grant could only see the whites of them. Your toes curled into your cotton of your socks at the contrasting affection in his voice. Your hands sprawled and crumpled a spot in the bed sheets, pulling and tugging hard enough for one corner of the satin bedding to untuck.

“Come. I need to come—“ you gasped out, struggling to breathe. Your world had shrunk to one sensation, the spot inside of you that had been gifted the ruthless beating of Grant’s cock. It was like he was chastising you for causing such feelings to stir inside of him. If that was the case, you needed to memorize the recipe, and quickly, because you were desperate to reduce the chances of ever being stripped of this sensation to a selfish zero.

“I’ll help you come,” he seized your body once again, hooked your legs over his shoulders, and pushed his total body weight on top of you. He blatantly disregarded the fact that your limbs had never been stretched this far before, but it was all worthwhile when Grant satisfied your longing by wrapping his warm hand over your cock and pumped. “I’ll make you come.”

“S-shit, Grant!” Each thrust harder than the last, his cockhead repeatedly hitting that golden spot, and your cock ached with desire in the lovely pulling of Grant’s hand. Your entire body seized, writhing as the familiar feeling in your stomach kept building and building without the intention to ever stop. It embarrassingly only took a few more strokes before you would spill thick all over his fist. All over your body, cumshots joining your sweat in layering your moist skin, when Grant kept stroking with the intent to empty your balls until they had tightened into your body.

Only then did Grant slow his thrusts and pull himself out. Did he change his mind about coming inside of you. Over your body? Face? You couldn’t tell what he was planning as you just began recovering from the daze your orgasm had put you into.

“You’re going to like this,” Grant grunted, pecking you on the lips before reaching down to angle himself back at your entrance.

Your gaze was casted with a mixture of utter bliss and wonder, chuckling. “What are you—fuck…“

Your hole felt warm and wet all over again when Grant pushed himself back inside of you with ease. Furthermore, it was a peculiar feeling, like there was an extra weight to his cock, the sound of the sticky substance—

You gasped, suddenly alert and clenching as you felt something viscous leak out of you.

Grant was fucking you with your own cum.

You couldn’t have been more turned on. Grant rolled his hips just right, slow and firm, coating your raw hole over and over with your seed, building back his stamina in the process. His cock pulsated in you. It was apparent that it was feeding into Grant’s satisfaction considering his gaze had been fixated on the translucent sheen of your cum passing back and forth on the girth of his cock and your internal walls.

“So beautiful…” Grant moaned out, clearly overwhelmed with the state of his arousal.

With every thrust, you swallowed him whole, the long glide of his thick, cum-covered shaft, the kiss to your prostate; you gyrated your hips to prolong his orgasm and allow him to recover his strength as Grant freed his hands from your body and tucked them behind his head, giving you free rein on his cock.

You rolled your hips, using your core to swing your ass forward and back on his throbbing cock, drawing out deep and guttural moans from the connection.

“Darling, (M/N), fuck—“ Hissing, he suddenly seized your waist and gripped hard, impaling you onto his cock with a rough pull, and you watched his stomach tighten, wrapping your legs back around his waist in preparation of his orgasm.

You watched in awe as you lost yourself in Grant’s fill. He came hard, gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into your thighs. It was a marvelous ache, both at your flesh and your hole, and you could feel his cock pumping multiple heavy loads deep inside of you and flooding your guts as reparation for your pain.

Even though Grant’s legs gave out, making him topple over your sweaty body, the strain in his thighs didn’t falter the desperate need to sow your insides with his warm seed. It was as if he was marking his territory, moving his hips slow and relaxed because he knew you were bound to him the moment he kissed you. Milking his cock inside of you was just a simple reminder, and you hugged his hard, spilling cock with gratitude.

His lips were slow and gentle, a contradictory to the merciless invasion of your guts. Nonetheless, you rocked on his shaft, blissfully spreading his love from deep within, and savored his shuddering breath.

“You’re heavy,” you groaned out, rubbing your hands from his shoulders to his sweaty back. Despite your complaint, you didn’t make much of an effort—if any at all—to push him away. It was peaceful like this, feeling his heart beat come to a somewhat normal pace while you two were stickily intertwined at the hip. “Some kind of confession…”

The sound of Grant’s muffled laughter into your neck made you smile. It was light and feathery, like the way you had always felt when you were with him.

“First kiss and sex, all on the same night. Who’s doing it like us?”

“No one. Absolutely no one.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[musouie]

grinding against old man toji’s knee while he’s playing a word puzzle…

he has one hand on your waist, the other holding a pen, and your arms circle around his neck as you lazily drag your cunt along his muscled thigh. a trail of slick left in your wake.

at first glance, he appears uninterested. eyes lidded and focused on the crossword before him, breaths escaping his nose in long, measured huffs. but he’s been on the same square for a while now, and when you look down, you see his cock tenting in his joggers, begging to be let out. the poor thing :(

“i’m tryna think,” he groans, a hiss following shortly after. “and i can’t do that with ya’ grindin’ on me like this.”

but his body betrays him. his meaty thigh tenses beneath you, lifts ever-so-slightly to offer better friction, the movement making you whimper in turn.

“it’s not going anywhere. just a few minutes,” you whine, lips pressing into his jaw. they wander along its ruggedness before planting themselves over a particularly inviting patch of skin, where his adam’s apple bobs temptingly as he swallows.

“hnnm.”

he attempts a huff, as if in an attempt to stay stern, but the gesture peters off into a gritted whimper when you close your teeth around his jugular, worrying his flesh. a curse leaves him, a hiss in the crook of his throat, and his grip on his pen tightens, white-knuckled and rigid, threatening to break.

“yer a selfish girl, aint’cha?” toji rasps, voice nothing short of gravel. “won’t even gimme a moment to myself, won’t listen. makin’ my dick hard and leavin’ the task half-finished.”

you don’t deny the sentiment; can only manage a pleased hum when he curls one arm around you and presses you even closer to him. sighing when he places his pen down and his other hand joins.

“then we’re gunna do this on my terms,” his fingers dig into your flesh — squeeze. “ain’t that fair?”

and with a small smirk tugging at his lips, his fingers dig into the pliant flesh of your hip, urging you to move. he directs your motions himself: the grinds, the presses, the gyrates until you catch the rhythm, the one he prefers.

it leaves you sore. clit rolling roughly against his hardened thigh, your flesh chafed, your moans trapped in your throat. but the pain feels too good. his hands too coarse, fingers too firm, touch too bruising, breaths too hot against your nape to voice a thing.

so, you acquiesce.

allow your head to loll forwards and rest in the junction between his neck and shoulders while he nuzzles and bites at your own delicate skin between the two. his fingertips creep under your panties, knuckles gliding through your sopping cunt before toying with your clitoris, teasing and flicking until you almost fall off his lap with the force of a shudder.

it all becomes too much, then — the roughness, the fervour, the bites, his clothed length rubbing against your front. all that you can do is fist his shirt and keen.

you come, harsh and brutal, stars bursting behind the darkness of your lids, toes curling so hard you’re surprised your ankles don’t snap. your arms tighten, becoming a vice around toji, and you bite his skin in an attempt to not scream as his fingers relentlessly attack your bundle of nerves.

eventually, your wails, full-throated and inarticulate, dissipate and fade. toji remains the constant — still rubbing, still tracing his mouth across any expanse of skin he can get, and when he realises that you can’t possibly endure anymore, he captures your lips instead, nipping and tugging at them with a smirk.

“look at the mess ya’ made of my pants, filthy girl. now ya gunna help me clean it up.”

masterlist <3

[pervcoded]

untitled #1 starring your favorite bully.

──☆*:・ﾟcontent warning: harassment and intimidation, non-consensual touching, attempted soliciting, possessive aggressor, yandere-esque vibes, reader wears a blouse. minor/ageless/blanks dni!

wc: less than 300 words

How much to touch?

is what the note says. A torn corner of the mathematics pop quiz turned to flying projectile turned to smack dab in the middle of your test. You duck your head over it and cover the paper with a hand, so that when the teacher glares down the face of the room, scouting out potential cheaters, he doesn't give you that second glance. You scoff looking down at it. Messy blue pen ink scrawled on printer paper; fingerprints left on a particularly thick wrinkle. You scrunch it in your hand and toss it up when the teacher isn't looking.

As if he could afford you.

"You know, you really ought to listen to your fucking elders, dolly." He reaches a few fingers under your blouse and you forget yourself and flinch away, the side of your rib clattering against the locker as he yanks your chin up 'till you are about eye height. "When I ask you a question, you answer." He sniffs, earning a murmur of approval from the onlooking entourage. Then he twists his lips and purses them up, mulling over a thought, "or maybe," he packs himself between you like a blunt; knee separating thigh from thigh as you're forced onto your tippy toes.

"You don't wanna name a price?" He savors the taste of your humiliation on his tongue and likes the way it feels behind his eyes, fanged toothy grin almost amiable in the yellowed hall light. "Must be free use, then." He gets a few chuckles out his friends while his eyes hold no mirth, just beady and steady and devouring you whole. a kindness is not sharing you with the rest of them; maybe you'll cost something then.

all content written by me @pervcoded, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤand put it on Wattpad. thank you.

[mydearesthrry]

Would you ever write about Harry’s love language being physical touch ? I feel like you would write him so cuteee like him all needy and clingy and wanting to feel her all the time and even biting her because he just gets so consumed by his love for her 🥰

a/n: this was fun. thank u for the request! <3 new universe if u lot like this one?

warnings; nothing, fluff, brieffff suggestive content

“hi starlight,” harry murmured as he threw his keys onto his desk, smiling tiredly at his girlfriend sitting on his bed. “what’re y’doing?”

“studying,” she sighed, “my english midterm is next friday.”

“mm, i see. need any help studying?”

“really?”

harry chuckled, toeing off his shoes and pushing down his jeans down his legs, walking over to his bed. bending down to Y/N’s face level, he placed small kisses on the expanse of her cheeks, up to her cheekbones and down her ear towards her neck, placing his chin on her shoulder. her free hand that wasn’t holding a pen came up to wind into his hair, scratching softly at his scalp.

“you okay?” she mumbled, trying not to break the peaceful atmosphere.

harry hummed, inhaling deeply which led the scent of her body wash through his nose, covering his body in coconut scented chills. “jus’ missed you, s’all. practice was really bad today.”

“wanna talk about it?” she asked, placing butterfly kisses on the side of his head, his face still burrowed in the crook of her neck.

“i’d rather not, if that’s okay. jus’ wanna unwind and have some peace with you.” he admitted, head moving up from its place of solace in her shoulder, pressing another kiss to her lips before patting a hand on her back, silently telling her to move up in her space. the second she did, he slid between the small space that was left between her sitting figure and the headboard, situating himself with his legs splayed around her body.

“lean back, pretty girl,” placing his hands on her shoulders, he softly pulled her back, her head resting just below his head. “okay, what’re we studying?”

“um, just some quick facts about the odyssey, that’s what we have to analyze for the english major course.” she explained, waving her hand dismissively.

harry nodded before placing his chin on the top of her head, his arms wounding around her waist and his hands sneaking under her shirt, scratching softly at the skin of her stomach.

“god h, can you get any closer?” she laughed, not moving from her spot against his front.

“no. i actually need t’be in your skin,” he said sarcastically, although the genuine undertone didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. “i can’t promise i’ll be much help, but i’ll be here for cuddles and to cheer you on?”

“that’s perfect baby, thank you.” she giggled back, burrowing herself deeper into harry’s hold and getting comfortable against the soft material of his hoodie.

“love you, sweetheart.”

“love you, h.”

——

harry awoke to harsh beams of light assaulting him through his windows, a groan ripping from his throat. reaching out an arm behind him, he was met with cold sheets, making him turn his head in confusion. he was expecting the warmth of his girlfriend, but she was nowhere to be found.

until he heard the shrill sound of her laugh.

a grin covered his face as he ripped off the duvet from on top of him, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed to leave the room.

trudging down the stairs, he pulled his sweatpants up and tied them, just barely covering his fern tattoos. “starlight?”

“good morning sunsh- niall, stop! get away from here!” she scolded, slapping his hand away from the bacon she had bubbling on the stove.

“starlight!” niall whined, all but stomping out of the kitchen. “your girlfriend’s bullying me.”

“definitely not bullying you,” she defended, looking at the back of his head accusingly with a spatula in her hand. “hi baby, how’d you sleep?”

“would’ve been better if y’were in m’bed when i woke up,” harry grumbled, making his way into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist. “hi.”

“hello again,” she grinned, pressing her lips to his chastely. “missed you.”

“was jus’ sleeping,” he murmured against her. “but i missed y’too.”

“what are we doing today?” he asked, moving his head up but leaving his arms wrapped around her.

“uh, i’m not sure,” setting the spatula down, she rested her hands on harry’s arms, running her nails up and down the expanse of his biceps. “i really, really have to study today. i keep putting it off to hang out with you so i haven’t done any since wednesday. its sunday and my test is on friday!”

“okay baby, we can study if y’want. go to the library maybe?” he offered. they had a rule that the library was the one place that they had to study in, which meant no distracting kisses or cuddles. it was the one place harry promised he wouldn’t go on his phone in, and for his girlfriend, that said a lot.

“really?! you hate the library!” she gasped, eyes twinkling in excitement. it was true, he really did.

“really, starlight. if y’need the study time, you’ll get the study time. as long as i can be there with you.” he promised.

“ah! i love you, i love you,” placing small kisses all over his face, harry giggled and turned bright red. “i love you so much!”

“love you too, sweet girl,” he smiled and grabbed her face in his hands. “love y’so much.”

a gleam set itself in y/n’s eyes, twinkling with adoration. “you’re so pretty.”

“oh shut up,” he rolled his eyes, ducking his face into her neck and biting teasingly at the soft skin.

“harry!” she squealed, giggling as she tried to push him away, feeling his teeth pinch at her skin over and over again. “am i a dog toy?”

“mhmm,” harry hummed, placing kisses over the fading bite marks that were left behind. “m’favorite toy.”

“hey! no shagging in the kitchen!”

“fuck off, niall!”

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Donuts (A Surprise Story)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: afab body parts/breastfeeding, baby times, hospital times, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.3k

Summary: The BAU team visits you and Emily at the hospital and meets baby Eve for the first time.

“Knock, knock!”

You’d know that bright voice anywhere. Penelope slid open the door to the hospital room, holding up a drink tray with cups of coffee.

“You’re my hero,” you gushed as she handed you a cup of decaf. “The coffee here sucks.”

The rest of the BAU trickled into the room behind her, all smiles and congratulations.

Penelope looked around. “Uh… not that I’m not over the moon to see you, my love, but… where is the sweet, tiny baby?”

Emily emerged from the bathroom, holding Eve gently in her arms.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” she complained, smiling, as her team swarmed around her, smiling and giggling and cooing at Eve.

“Diaper duty?” Rossi asked, winking at Emily.

“I’m telling you, it’s a feat of nature that someone so small can produce something so stinky.”

Emily looked around the room, then furrowed her eyebrows. “Where’s Morgan?”

“Ugh, who needs him? He’s whisking some girl to breakfast. He said he’d be by with lunch as usual.” Penelope was nearly bouncing on her toes. “Can I hold her, Emily!? Or is it too soon? It’s okay if it is.”

“Yeah,” Emily encouraged, beaming. “Just wash your hands really well first.” You’d never seen Penelope move faster than she did to the sink. After washing up, she settled herself into the room’s one chair, and Emily softly placed a gurgling Eve in her arms. The baby squirmed and nestled against Penelope’s chest.

“Oh,” Penelope breathed, looking for all the world as if she might start crying. “She’s so tiny. I’ve never held such a tiny baby! Hi, Eve! Hi, sweetheart! I’m your Aunt Pen!”

Hotch placed a box on the counter, gesturing vaguely to it. “Donuts, if anyone wants one.”

Emily and the others circled the donuts and sipped their coffee while you sat on the bed and watched Penelope play with Eve’s fingers.

JJ perched on the edge of the bed and squeezed your hand. “How are you doing?” she asked. “Really?”

You exhaled heavily and nodded. “Good. It doesn’t feel real yet exactly.”

“I mean, you are on some drugs,” she pointed out, chuckling.

“True.” You sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel… really in love. I mean, head over heels, with Eve and Emily. But also really tired and in pain and kind of weepy?”

JJ nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Well, you know we’re here for you guys, right? Whatever you need. Food, coffee, a babysitter. Anything.”

“I know.” You smiled at her, heart full. “Thanks, JJ.”

“Now, I need a turn with little Miss Eve,” she declared, switching places with Penelope and cooing over Eve. JJ grinned at you, booping Eve’s tiny nose. “Makes me want another one.”

You shrugged, smiling. “I mean, it’d be nice for Eve to have a BAU friend her age.”

“Don’t tempt me,” JJ protested, patting Eve’s skinny little thigh.

Rossi bent over JJ’s shoulder to pinch Eve’s cheek gently. “Bellissima,” he whispered, before approaching you and kissing your cheek.

“Congratulations, kid. She’s lovely. You both are. All three of you, a beautiful family.”

“Want to hold her, Rossi?” JJ said, gesturing toward Eve.

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Oh, sure you can,” you said, patting his arm as JJ stood and handed Eve off to him. “She needs to meet her Papa Pasta.”

He stared at you. “Who the hell’s Papa Pasta?!”

You giggled and blushed. “You. You’re Papa Pasta.”

“Why didn’t I get any input in my grandpa name?” he protested, and Eve’s voice cracked, like she was about to cry.

“You better zip it, Papa Pasta,” JJ said, pointing at him. “You’re gonna upset the little tortellini.”

He bounced Eve gently around the room, quietly crooning Frank Sinatra to her, before joining Hotch, Spencer, and Emily as they bent over a file folder spread open on top of the donut box.

Bits of their conversation drifted over to you, and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“And there’s no indication as to what they’re strangled with?” Emily asked.

“We’re waiting on forensic analysis,” Hotch said. “But no prints, no DNA evidence whatsoever.”

“Hey!” you called, and the team looked back at you as if they’d been caught skipping school. “No serial killer talk in front of the baby, Em. We talked about this.”

“Sorry,” she said, sheepishly, organizing the papers and shutting the file folder.

Rossi handed the baby to Reid, and Eve immediately bunched up her face and wailed.

“Uh, hey!” he said, alarmed. “Hey, she’s crying. She’s crying, something’s wrong here. Can someone…”

“I’ve got her,” Hotch insisted, drying off his hands after washing them. He took Eve and smiled softly at her as she cried. “I know,” he said quietly, walking slowly toward you. “I’m not as good-looking as either of your moms. Who is this guy!?”

Eve fussed and squalled, and you knew she was sleepy and overwhelmed and hungry. She wouldn’t calm down until you’d fed her, and as much as you were a feminist and all for public breastfeeding, you didn’t exactly want your wife’s entire work family seeing your boobs.

You made eye contact with Emily across the room and, as if she could read your mind, Emily stood and clapped her hands together and said, “Well, guys, I can’t thank you enough for coming, but I think it’s just about time for this little lady’s breakfast and nap.”

The team got the hint, standing and fluttering about and gathering their things. There were hugs and handshakes and heartfelt well-wishes. Hotch lowered Eve into your arms and your heart swelled at her little hiccup of recognition when she felt herself in her mama’s arms again.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” Hotch said, squeezing your shoulder. He ushered the rest of the team out, and you felt almost overwhelmed by the quiet now.

You’d been nearly a week in the hospital now and, besides the daily visits from Derek (“Uncle Derek,” he insisted now) and your parents, you and Emily and Eve had been mostly left to yourselves. Eve squalled in your arms, and you opened your shirt and bra so she could latch to your nipple. You let out a sigh of contentment as she gurgled and gulped, and as Emily slid into the bed next to you, handing you a donut.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your mouth already full.

She kissed your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient with everyone. I know it was a lot.”

You raised your eyebrows at her. “Yeah, I thought visitors were capped at two at a time?” She blushed and fought off a smile. You nudged her, careful not to jostle Eve. “You want to tell me how you managed to get an entire FBI unit in here?”

“I had them flash their badges,” she admitted, grinning softly.

“That’s an abuse of power, you know,” you joked.

“Oh, an abuse of power, huh?” Emily grinned and pressed her lips to yours, tracing her fingers along the sides of your face. “I’ll show you an abuse of power.”

“Hey,” you giggled as she kissed you again and again, surging into you, until poor Eve was all but pushed out of the way, grumbling as her little mouth strained toward the nipple. “Hey! I’ll have you know you’re disrupting your daughter’s feeding.”

“Oh,” Emily cooed, helping to guide Eve’s mouth back and kissing the soft top of her head. “I’m sorry, Evie. Get back in there, sweet pea. It’s good stuff.”

You smacked Emily’s arm softly. “Don’t tell her that boobs are good stuff.”

“They are, though,” she protested. “I’m just giving her the facts.”

You yawned and shook your head. “I’m sorry, Em. I’m too tired to be funny.”

Emily positioned herself behind you so that she could support your back, pulling your head back gently until it rested on her chest.

“You just relax, honey,” she said, her voice warm, one of her hands cradled behind yours to help you hold Eve’s head up. “I’ve got you, okay? Both of you.”

And you knew she did. She always had, and she always would.

[lady-djarin]

home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

~

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

~

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

~

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

[najenvhs]

hi:) can I request mark + hair pulling

oh my gosh yes you can ! but office sex (bc i think thats hot)

mdi ! afab reader !

this is how i feel like it would play out—

you go and visit Mark at work, as you walk into his office you close the door behind you making sure it is locked.

“what are you doing here” he asked putting his pen down and looking up from the papers he was working on.

“Oh, me?, well I came here because Haechan called me telling me that it's been a long day for you—“ you responded as you dropped the jacket on the floor revealing a silky black dress underneath “and that you needed some stress relief,” you said tilting your head causing your ponytail to sway with you.

“oh? is that so?” Mark said standing up from his seat, walking around to the front of his desk, leaning against it as he looked at you from head to toe. “and how will you do that?”

“well Mr. Lee, one of two ways—“ you say as you slowly pull the strap of your dress down causing your side boob to show more of itself, you hold the dress close to you with one hand. “we can sit here and just talk,” so say softly

“or?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“or Mr. Lee,” you said walking past the two chairs he had in front of the desk, making it to where you are right in between his legs, you grab his tie as he grabs your waist having to stand on your tippy toes to reach his ear do you say “you can fuck me right here right now against this desk”

and like that is how you end up with both hands on his desk reaching for something to hold on to, as he thrusts in and out of your wet folds. dress pulled up your black lace panties around your ankles, meeting up with the black (and red bottoms) heels you were wearing.

as he was fucking you from behind, both hands on your hips for control, you felt one of his hands drag itself from your hips to your ass and find its resting place on your back, putting pressure and causing you to stick your ass up more.

“a-ah mark, r-right there” you moan out, forehead pressed down against his brown wooded desk.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he says losing himself. “s-so wet”

you moan again just from the words that spill from his mouth, ever since he's gotten this office job this is all you have dreamt of doing. he fucking you, or you going down on him as he sits in his office chair behind his desk.

“m-mark” you sing out.

“y-you like this don’t you?—“ he asks, only causing you to let out a cry. “you’re such a n-naughty girl” Mark grunted out. you felt his hand let up from your lower back.

you were readjusted on his cock, lifting yourself (as much as you could) so your face wasn’t one with the desk. looking forward is when you feel something, something you were not expecting.

“We are almost done baby,” Mark said, as he got a hold of your ponytail making sure his hand had a good grip. just like that he pulls out to where his tip is barely in your hole, pulls your head back by your ponytail, and rams back in.

you moan so loud, knowing that whoever is still in the office, definitely heard you. “f-fuck, yn, you were made for me” Mark yells out.

your hair was how he held you up, chest spilling out of your dress, mark thrusting in and out with long strokes. he has always loved your hair, he would pull on it now and then to tease you at home, or when you were out to get your attention he would kindly tug on your hair to make you look at something he saw. but all of that led up to this moment your soft silky long hair in the palm of his hands being used as a way to fuck you as much as he can.

“i-i love you,” he says as he thrusts in one last time spilling everything he has in the condom wrapped around him.

you scream in satisfaction, as you meet him at his climax. coming down from his high he lets go of your ponytail causing you to fall onto the desk unable to hold yourself up anymore. his hands are back on your hips as he slowly pulls out of you. making you both moan again.

after he cleaned himself up fast, he then helped you pull your dress down, as he helped you sit down in one of the seats you had previously walked past. As you were seated he kneeled in front of you, “Thank you, baby, I love you so much” he said as he brushed your bangs out of your face, then grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“I love you more Mr. Lee” You look over at him with a lazy smile. truly feeling fucked out.

[oo i hope you liked this,,, hehehehe]

leave something in my ask

[fanaticsnail]

Chastity: Buggy

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 1,500+

Themes: Buggy x gn!reader, smut, mdni, 18+, NSFW, Buggy is in a chastity belt, you are tasked to dominate him, inappropriate use of devil fruit, creampie (Buggy receiving and giving), masturbation, bondage.

Notes: This clown has once again found his way back into my heart. I love him.

“Please.”

Sitting cross legged, reading over several new bounties produced and notated by Sir Crocodile in your plush, buttoned armchair, you pay the man on his knees no mind as he comes to terms with the circumstances that lead him to that moment.

Knees spread and thighs bound to his ankles beneath him, hands obediently lulled at his hips, neck tilted back and eyes watering with desperation, sat Buggy the Clown. The Face of Cross-Guild, chest heaving as his crotch was clapped in an iron belt and nothing else covering his body, was resolved into a heaving pile of flesh as his own cock buried itself into his puckered asshole.

He had not moved an inch since you first started this small amount of torture for him. Behaving as well as he could as you removed his cock and bound his legs, you had worked him with your fingers and lubricant while he was brought to the precipice of release without toppling over the edge.

Buggy was put through too much pain and markings at the hands of your boss, Dracule Mihawk, and his associate, Sir Crocodile. Being the face of an organization: beaten, battered and bruised was not in the best interest of the three of them when garnering popularity.

Under the guise that matters would be taken into your own hands regarding punishment and discipline, Mihawk placed the blue-haired clown in your charge to break him into submission.

This task was easier done than you had thought. A few choice words, simple heavy kisses, and the promise of a well-earned orgasm was enough to have the Clown immediately at your mercy.

“Not yet. I'm afraid you're just going to have to wait until I'm done with this page,” you utter honestly, taking your red, felt-tip pen to the parchment and slashing out an incorrect word. “If you didn't make so many mistakes, you could've been cumming inside yourself by now. But, fortunately for my own entertainment, you did.”

“Please,” he stuttered, tensing his bare abdomen as his blue-fuzz covered pectorals spasmed while he made to move forward. “Please, starlight. My cock has been shoved in my ass for over an hour. It's so fuckin-... Nghhmm-... It's warm, its tense, it's tight. Please let me cum?”

“No.”

“For fucks sake,” he whimpered, scrunching his paint-lined eyes shut while he attempted to rock his hips to no avail.

With the ropes binding his legs, and the iron belt holding his cock inside his ass, he had no way for friction to occur to bring him over that edge of ecstasy. He whimpered, his nipples pebbled and skin christened in beaded goose-flesh as he huffed and panted at the feeling.

“Calm yourself,” you uttered sharply down at him, pressing your covered toes on his bare chest while you scowled at him. “Honestly, have you no self control, clown?”

Buggy darted his teal eyes between yours, his bruises finally beginning to heal up and scars crust over from the beating days before that had this dynamic begin between you. Rolling your eyes, you remove your foot from his chest and peer once more down at the page.

“Please, Starlight,” he whimpered softly, “How much longer will you be? I-I-I need you. I need this. I nee-... I need-...”

Buffy's eyes took in every inch of you. Your toes, your ankles, your thighs, your crotch, your stomach, chest, arms, hands, face and head: all of those elements that made you distinctly you, Buggy was consumed by.

He didn't expect Mihawk’s former World Government Public Relations officer to stick with him after the disbandment of the warlords, yet here you were: slashing away at another wanted sign while he felt his need becoming almost painful. Nowhere near as painful as the beatings, but an ache enough to have him uncomfortable.

All Buggy wanted was to cum. Far from the initial embarrassment that came along with being naked with his own cock in his ass, he was feral for that one moment where you would release him from his chains and be permitted to ride his cock for your entertainment.

Finally complete with the pile of wanted posters, you placed the tan sheets at your side and tilted your head at the clown. His lengthy, blue eyelashes fluttered, his cerulean hair messy and clinging to his face and neck in bunches. His eyes were glazed, as was the shine from his rotund, red nose.

“Clown?” you spoke, breaking him out of his concentration and causing his ass to clench around himself. He groaned at the feeling, the edge still there after all this time.

“Y-Yes?” He stuttered. “Yes, Starlight?” Rapidly blinking, he focussed his attention onto you while attempting to remain perfectly still.

“I'm done with my work,” you nodded, uncurling your knees and switching your top-leg in front of him. Leaning down, you offer him the key to his belt in his hand, to which he shakily took it in his covered digits. “Be a good boy and put on a show for me?”

“Oh, fuck yes,” he uttered softly, his hands stumbling as he unclasped his chastity belt and watched as the iron slunk to the ground with a clang.

His thighs and ankles were still bound together, but his cock was now free to move with his Devil-Fruit powers. He wasted no time as the lubricant made sinking in and out of his puckered hole easier.

Each time his cock fucked itself in, his mushroomed tip hit his prostate and caused a small leak of precum to dribble from his slit. His tongue caught itself on the roof of his mouth while his shaft was squeezed by the tense of muscle around his skin.

“There you go,” you praised him with a soft click of your tongue. “Good boy, clown. I can see how close you're making yourself.”

“Uh huh,” Buggy uttered dumbly, his whole mind now focussed wholeheartedly on the show he was producing for you. He was a mess of moans, groans, mewls and whimpers as he desperately clawed his way to his release.

Soon enough, the clown began to bounce himself on his cock, eyes scrunched shut while he experienced everything all at once. Cock, ass, restriction, and filthy encouragement from your lips was more than enough to feel the call of his climax beckoning him into his oblivion.

“You gonna be a good boy and cum in that tight little hole of yours?” you purred at him, leaning forward and tapping his chin with your index finger, “Gonna cum on your own cock?”

Buffy's eyes fluttered open, peering down his nose at your lips and eyes as he rose and fell on his cock while fucking into himself from beneath him. The slickened ‘plaps’ grew more manic as he desperately found his high, eyes searching yours for that final wave of permission from you to topple him over.

“Show me, clown,” you taunt him, moving your lips to hover over his own, “Move those hands up and tease your nipples before I do. Grab onto them and cum all over and into yourself. Go on, clown. Show me how good you can be-.”

“-Ah, fuck-!” Buggy screamed, his voice cracking as he shot that first rope into his asshole. His cock slapped his prostate, the muscle causing his ecstasy to amplify as he felt his own ass milk himself of his release.

Reaching up, he clutched and clawed at his nipples while rocking up and down over his own cock in time of his released. Pawing at his pectorals, his face flushed a vibrant red while he cried out in euphoria.

Pearlescent ribbons fled his cock as his vision split white. He didn't know if he called your name, screamed out profanity, or simply shouted incohesive babbles while he painted his insides with his own cum. All he knew was he had never felt this pent up, this needy, and this good in some time.

Chest heaving, absent crotch shrouded in cerulean curls tensing, Buggy felt himself nearly pass out while he rode the tide his orgasm managed to swell inside himself. Before he could find himself falling onto the floor in a pile of bliss, you surged forward and caught his shoulders.

Immediately, your hands flung into action to unbind him of his ropes and fish out his own cock from being buried in his ass. You were not unaffected by his little display, but you forced your arousal back while tending to the aftercare needed by the face of Cross-Guild.

As you softly coax him back to the land of the living by wiping him down with pre-prepared towels and washcloths, Buggy peered at you with an unhinged glint in his eye. Unbeknownst to you, his hand popped from his wrist-link and slowly crept along the floor towards your thighs and crotch.

If you were going to have him beg and plead for release, without him able to do anything about it until you granted him permission, it was only fair he was to do the same to you.

And just as you finally met his gaze once again with your own, his digits disappeared down the front of your waistband and caused your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Your turn, Starlight,” he uttered sinisterly, his smirk ticking up in the corners of his lips and illuminating his face with mischief, “Now be good and put on a show for me.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

“Buggy-!”

🎶Happy Birthday to Me🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[maxillness]

╰┈➤Darling Hassu || KR7 x wife!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Angst, nipple play, oral (f), fingering

Wordcount: 1.3k

Kimi would say he was fine, if it wasn’t for the way he had noticed his wife was starting to drift away from him

She stood at the kitchen island, writing stuff down on a piece of paper

Kimi walked up to her, snaking his arms around her waist, putting his chin on her shoulder

“I was thinking, that we could get your sister take the kids, and we could go out” He said low, kissing the spot on her shoulder that were bare

“I have that meeting tomorrow” She said, not once putting her pen down, or showing any kind of hurt or guilt, or any kind of change in her voice

“Mh. Forgot about that. Okay. You coming to bed?” He asked, kissing her cheekbone

“Yeah. A minute. Just need to finish this up” She sighed, shifting slightly on her feet

30 minutes went by before she slid into bed, making sure not to wake her sleeping husband

She was fast asleep, but felt a big hand on her hip before she did, holding her body flushed against his

The next morning, Kimi woke up by his alarm. He turned it off before realising her side of the bed was empty

He turned on his phone, seeing a message from his missing wife

I went to work early

No ‘I love you’. No ‘see you later’. No heart emoji. No nothing

He sighed and put down his phone before he got out of bed

“Daddy, where’s mommy?” Their daughter asked as they sat to eat breakfast

“She went to work early, hassu” He said, smiling, knowing damn well he wondered if she actually were at work

“She’s gonna be out late, isn’t she?” Their son asked, sighing

He nodded “She’s got a meeting tonight” He sighed, putting his spoon down into his bowl

“But it’s Friday” The girl whined “It’s movie night” You could see the tears start to swell in her eyes

“I know, baby” He brushed her hair out of her face “But… We can go to your aunts and watch movies with her instead” The girl’s eyes shot up and she smiled while nodding quickly

“Good. Hurry up or you’re gonna be late for school”

Kimi had gotten home that night without the kids. They wanted to stay at their aunt’s for the weekend

He sat on the back porch with a glass of some liquor as he heard the front door open and close inside

He stood up and got inside. He discarded of his glass in the kitchen as he made his way into her study

He stood in the doorway, watching as she didn’t notice him there

“Are you still in love, my darling?” He asked, standing in his spot fiddling with his fingers. She didn’t look up, almost like she didn’t hear him

“Did you fall out of love, my darling” He said, this time making her look up. She saw the way his eyes turned glossy

“What?” She asked confused, not knowing what the fuck he was talking about

“Please don’t run away, don’t leave” Her facial expression turned into something with guilt as a tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek

“Are you still in love, my darling? Did you fall out of love, my darling?” She turned her whole body so that she was facing him

“N-no. It’s not like that, hassu” She stood up, making her way over to him “I love you so, so, so much” Her own eyes were swelling up as well “I could never imagine a life without you” She took his face into both of her hands

“Then what? I miss you” He said, putting his hands on her hips, squeezing her softly

“I-I’ve just been stressed. Work is killing me at the moment. I’m so sorry, baby” She stood slightly on her toes, pulling herself up to kiss him softly

He snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her further into the kiss, making her arms fall around his neck

“I know we haven’t been intimate for weeks, b-but, I’ve just been so tired lately” She said as she pulled back

“Then let me take care of you” He said low “Let me make you scream so loud the neighbours will hear you”

She was surprised by his comment “The kids-“

“At your sisters until Sunday” She looked up into his eyes, pupils blown wide, hiding the colour in the iris

She barely got to nod before she was dragged into the bedroom and thrown onto the bed

Kimi hovered over her, kissing her roughly as his hands made work of her shirt, pulling it over her head before attaching his lips to her neck

She whimpered as his thumb went over her clothed nipples. His hands went behind her, unhooking her bra and throwing it to the floor with her shirt

His lips immediately went around one of her nipples while his hand played with the other, drawing all kind out soft sounds out of her

“K-Kimi. Please. Hassu, please” Her eyes were closed as arched her back up into his touch

He caved in, trailing his lips and hands down her body. His lips settled on her lower abdomen above the waistband of her pants as his hands worked on getting them off of her

He pressed his tongue to her clit through her panties, drawing out a high-pitched moan out of her

She gripped the sheets tightly as he started pulling her panties down, his fingertips ghosting slightly over her skin

He started kissing the insides of her thighs, kissing all the way up to attach his lips around her clit, tongue flicking it, drawing out loud moan from her

“Yes. Fuck. Hassu, please” She moaned, bucking her hips up into his mouth, making him dig his nails into her thighs, pulling her down to the bed again

“Kimi, p-please” She pleaded, wanting his fingers so badly inside of her

He gave in on her plead, teasing her entrance with two of his fingers, his tongue still toying with her clit

She gripped the sheets so tight as he entered her fingers, that she was afraid she’d rip them

He started with slow motions as he kissed her thighs again, earning a whine from the loss of the contact

He started going faster, curling his fingers as well, hitting the spot inside her that made her see stars as her thighs shook

She was moaning so loud she was sure she’d have a throat burn tomorrow, and wouldn’t be able to speak for at least a couple of days

He had missed to hear her loud sounds. She would normally never hold back, but after they had gotten the kids, she’d had to keep her sounds at bay

“F-fuck. Kimi, ‘m so close. P-please- ah” Her body shook as she was nearing her orgasm, clenching down around his fingers as he sped up his curling of his fingers

She didn’t get another word out before she was coming around his fingers, body shaking rapidly as she clenched around him

He slowed down, riding her orgasm out. She whimpered as he pulled out of her

She looked down at him, watching as he wiped her juices off his lower part of his face

He gave the inside of her thigh a quick kiss before getting off of the bed

He got himself into a pair of sweats before going over to the bed with some clean clothes for her to sleep in

She sat up and pulled the fresh panties on and the oversized t-shirt over her torso

“I feel bad I can’t help you” She said, noticing the very obvious boner in his sweats

“Don’t fuss about it, hassu. Tonight was all about you” He said, pulling her body into his as they laid under the sheets

[bunnyywritings]

kento's birthday surprise

NANAMI KENTO x FEM!READER

[a/n: here's a late birthday fic for everyone's husband, nanami kento]

warnings: none really, curseless!au, no use of (y/n), reader is referred to as: mrs. nanamin, sweetheart, honey, love/my love, dove, also gets a little suggestive at the end but nothing graphic

The click-clacking of your keyboard was the only thing to be heard in your office as you typed up a few reports for Higuruma. Your manicured nails blurring at the speed you had been typing, determined to get it done before 5pm. The thought of having to work overtime sent an annoyance through your veins.

Just as you shook the thought from your head, your landline started to ring. 

Pursing your lips, you reluctantly pulled your hands from their place and picked up the receiver, placing it by your ear. 

“Law offices of Higuruma, Akira, and Nanami. How can I help you?” You answered, shifting to hold the receiver up with your shoulder and sliding your keyboard out of the way. A legal pad and pen taking its place, your eyebrows pulling together at the silence on the line. 

“...Hello?” 

“Uhm-uh hello…hi, is this-is this Mrs. Nanamin?” The clearly juvenile voice on the other end of the call was amusing, the use of Nanamin instead of Nanami told you all you needed to know about who it belonged to.

“That’s me! Is this Itadori, by chance? One of Kento’s students?” You put your pen down and relaxed in your seat. 

“Oh! Yeah, that’s-that’s me…wait? Does Nanamin talk about me?” 

“Of course! I know all about you! And Megumi, and Nobara. How can I help you, Itadori?” 

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you at work but…it’s Nanamin’s birthday next week…” 

“It is.” You waited for him to continue. 

“I was wondering if you’d-if uhm, you’d help me…well us, surprise Nanamin for-for his birthday?” 

Your heart swelled, tears threatening to fill your eyes. You knew how much Kento secretly adored those kids, even going as far as thinking of them as his own. Clearing the growing lump in your throat, you eagerly responded. “Of course I can help you! What were you thinking?” 

And so, after spending a few lunch breaks talking with the kids and getting Ijichi on board, you came up with a plan. 

As the first week of the month approached, you became restless. You hated keeping secrets from your husband but he was none the wiser, going about his days like usual. Until July 2nd. 

He hadn’t heard from you since you had left the apartment that morning, seeing him off at the door with a rushed kiss and an excuse about an emergency at the office. 

In reality, you were at the Airbnb you had rented for the week, helping Ijichi and the kids unload the car of all the pool floaties and loungers, stocking the fridge and cabinets with food and drinks, and decorating the beautiful back patio and yard with birthday banners, balloons and other party paraphernalia. It was a picture perfect sight with the beautifully large pool glistening in the sunlight. 

Your shrill ringtone brought you back to the present, heart dropping down to your toes when the contact ‘husband <3’ flashed across your screen. “E-Everyone! Shhh! Shh!” You answered the call and shakily pressed it to your ear, “H-Hello?...Hi Ken…yeah, yeah, we’ve almost got it resolved. I should be back in about an hour…dinner? Uhm yeah, yeah. I can pick up-” 

“Kugisaki, quit it!” Itadori’s hushed whine made your heart stop, quickly clearing your throat in an attempt to cover it up. 

“What was that?” 

“Oh uhm not-it’s nothing! I’ll pick up dinner on my way home, okay? Hiro is calling me over, I gotta go!” 

“Okay, bye darl-”

“Bye sweetheart!” You rushed to hang up, chest heaving slightly with nervous breaths. 

“Wow…that was bad.” You glared at Gojo, his amusement irritating at the moment. 

“Way to go, idiot.” Megumi muttered, glaring similarly at Itadori, to which the boy pouted. 

“Hey! That’s not fair! Kugisaki kept elbowing me in the ribs!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kugisaki crossed her arms, slyly turning her nose up at the two. 

You scoffed a laugh, nerves easing the slightest bit. “Whatever, let’s finish this up quick. I’m on dinner duty.” 

-

Once the call had ended, Kento stared wearily at his phone. Maybe his ears were playing tricks on him. Why would Itadori be at your offices? 

You had also been a little flighty lately, dodging his calls at lunch and hiding your laptop screen or phone from him when he’d come up behind you to lay a kiss on your cheek or shoulder. And you had been bringing work home…something you had always hated having to do. He had no reason to doubt you or assume anything but he couldn’t help the confused anxiety in his stomach. 

You were a little frazzled upon arriving home but his anxious mind was quelled when you held him close, eyes full of adoration and love. 

He slept content, warm, and with a full belly. 

-

 Bright and early the next morning, you disabled Kento’s alarm and let him sleep in while you packed the car with necessities for a few days. Clothes, toiletries, extra bedding, and whatnot before heading to his favorite bakery and picking up some coffee and pastries. 

You were relieved to find that he was still sound asleep when you returned, so you put a candle in the cheese danish you had bought him and lit it, carrying it on a foldable tray along with some fresh fruit and his coffee. 

Kento shifted awake when he heard your voice, singing softly and a little off key. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday my dear Kento! Happy birthday to you!” 

You watched as his sleepy eyes welled with grateful tears, cheeks flushed, and his lips curling upwards in a tender smile. “Go on, Ken. Make a wish…” You prodded, holding the tray closer to him. 

Chuckling, he closed his eyes, thanking God that he got to spend the rest of his life with you before opening them back up and blowing out the candle. Taking the tray from your hands, he carefully placed it onto your side of the bed before tugging you into his lap. Enjoying the giggled, “Ken!” that escaped your throat as you straddled his lap. 

Cupping your cheeks, he pulled your forehead to his. “Thank you, my love. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my birthday.” 

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, his lips were a little chapped and he had yet to brush his teeth but you couldn’t care less. Letting him deepen the kiss and pull you impossibly closer into his broad chest. “Well, actually-” You pulled away, interrupted when he pressed his lips to yours once more. “Hmmm K-Kento!” You laughed, watching as he chased your lips, a bashful smile on his face. “I have one more surprise, okay? Have your breakfast and get changed.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes before climbing off his lap to retrieve your breakfast. 

-

“So, why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” He glanced at you from the passenger’s seat, enjoying his ‘passenger princess treatment.’ 

“Because, Kento, it’s supposed to be a secret getaway-” You sighed, having just somewhat ruined the surprise. “Dammit, I wasn’t supposed to say that…” 

“Getaway? Honey…I didn’t pack anything.” He was trying so hard to keep his tone from portraying any kind of ungratefulness. 

“I took care of all of that, silly.” You laughed, patting his thigh gingerly. “I packed everything we need.” 

He grinned for what seemed like the billionth time that morning, grasping the hand that was on his leg and bringing it to his lips. Pecking your knuckles and the back of your hand. “How did I get so lucky?” He murmured, loving the flustered expression on your face before something dawned on him. “Is that why you laid my outfit out for me in the laundry room?” 

“Well yeah, I couldn’t have you wondering why your drawers were suddenly half empty…plus, that outfit looks great on you.” As you stopped at a red light, you turned to look at him, eyeing him up and down. Enjoying the way the linen shorts wrapped around his thick thighs, his summer floral button up just opened enough at the top to get a peak at his delicious chest and-

The honking of a horn snapped you out of your distracted haze, head jerking straight ahead to see that the light had changed. Your face burned as you held up a hand in an apology and peeled away from the intersection, Kento couldn’t help the howling laughter that shook his entire body, barely able to mutter out a playful, “Eyes-Eyes on the road, d-darling!” at your expense. 

The hour and a half car ride went by in a flash and you were pulling into the driveway, forever grateful that Ijichi hadn’t needed to be told to park his car out of sight. 

“Wow…honey, this place is wonderful!” He was in awe before his eyebrows pulled into a soft frown. “How much did-” 

“Nuh uh! Nope, don’t you worry about any of that! Nothing is too expensive for my husband…” He gripped your waist and pulled you into him, lips pressed to yours once more. 

-

“Oh yuck…eughh, yeah. They’re here.” Gojo shivered as he watched the two of you make out through the patio doors, but once you two pulled away, he told everyone to get ready. Rushing to light the candles on the cake. 

-

“Why don’t you look outside, there’s a gorgeous backyard.” You gently pushed him towards the patio door, following behind him with your phone up and recording. 

He slid the door open and stepped out, a blur of familiar pink hair made him freeze.

“SURPRISE!” 

He stood frozen in shock, eyes wide as he took in the sight of his students, along with the third years and his friends. Higuruma, Gojo, Geto, Takuma, Haibara, Ijichi, Shoko. 

“Happy birthday Nanamin!” Itadori stood proud, balancing the cake in his hands. 

Kento’s bottom lip wobbled, taking it all in. 

Tears instantly fell from your eyes, he was overwhelmed. Severely. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to fight his own tears but it hadn’t worked. They slowly trickled down his cheeks as he bowed deeply, before standing straight up again. 

“T-Thank you…e-everyone, this was quite unexpected….” 

He blew out his candles and as Itadori placed the cake down onto the table, Kento pulled you into a bear hug. “I can’t believe you did this for me…I-I have no words to even begin to describe how grateful I am.” 

Fresh tears threatened to fall once more before you leaned up and pecked his nose. “This was all Itadori’s idea, he called me about a week ago and asked for my help.” 

Kento was shocked, “Yuji?” 

“Mhmm, all his idea.” 

Kento looked on at the boy lovingly, watching as Gojo chased him around with icing on his finger. “I’ll have to give him my thanks, then.” 

And so, Kento changed into the swim trunks you had packed for him and he let himself loosen up.

The kids had already been in the water and when he had returned outside, Itadori shouted excitedly. “Nanamin! Do a cannonball!” 

“Yeah Nanamin!” Gojo teased from his seat on a lounge chair, “Why don’t you jump in!” 

“I think I will.” 

And to the kids’ surprise, Nanami took a few steps back before running full speed at the pool. Jumping and catching impressive air time before pulling his knees to his chest and splashing down into the deep end, creating a huge tsunami that had drenched his white haired friend from head to toe. 

“Oh come on!” Satoru whines were drowned out by the kids’ shouts of excitement and shock. 

Nanami emerged from the water with a closed eye smile, shoulder shaking in laughter. 

Sipping the lemonade that Hiro handed you, you watched as Yuji and Megumi brawled atop Ijichi and Kento. 

“That seems like an unfair matchup.” 

Higuruma peeked over his sunglasses as you scoffed a laugh. “I’m surprised they roped Ijichi into that…” 

Later on that night after you two watched the kids sleepily pile into Ijichi’s car, the both of you had gotten into bed with you in his lap, just like that morning. 

“Did you enjoy your birthday Ken?”

“I did, thank you, my love. This might be the best birthday I’ve had.” 

“That’s good…although I definitely won’t be able to top that next year…” As you trailed off, he ran his warm hands up and down your sides. 

“Oh don’t worry your pretty little head, as long as you’re with me, that’s all I’ll need.” 

Biting your lip, you shifted upward to sit directly on his hardening length. “I have one more surprise for you…” 

“Oh really? What-” He groaned quietly as you ground your hips against him. 

You pulled the knot on your robe and it fell open, sliding off your shoulders. You had a beautiful set of lingerie wrapped around your body in the same blue of his favorite dress shirt. 

His jaw fell open. 

“Do you like it? I bought it just for- Ken!” 

You squealed as he flipped the two of you over, lips devouring yours hungrily. “Forgive me, dove. I didn’t seem to get my fill of cake today. I’m still quite famished…” He sucked at your neck, hands firmly gripping your breasts before lowering himself down between your gorgeous thighs. “Now stay still while I have my dessert.”

“Ah K-Kento!” 

[ectologia]

have you ever tried a makeup smear fic? one where the yandere makes her wear like lipgloss and eyeliner then smears it over her face like she’s lowkey a whore lmao

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝒫𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒯𝐼𝒩𝒢 ؛ 𝓀𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓀𝒾 𝒷𝒶𝓀𝓊𝑔𝑜𝓊

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ﾉ noncon ﾉ humiliation ﾉ mocking ﾉ forced cunnilingus ﾉ name calling ﾉ bullying ﾉ crazy bakugou ﾉ mean bakugou ﾉ profanity

“Awh, look at you..” Katsuki coos, popping the cap of your eyeliner and holding it between his teeth. Your eyelids are pulled back to the hilt by his thumb, leaving you a teary mess as he oafishly free hands a string of ink across your lash-line. He pulls away with a triumphant grin, admiring his handy work as you blink away the black seeping into your pupils. The dainty pen is snapped in his fist, discarded onto the floor much like the rest of your make-up, shades of pink and brown left crushed into your carpet with their cases in fragments.

“Who’s a pretty girl?” He sneers, ruffling your hair with a big palm before taking hold of your bound ankles.

The metal clinks as he tugs the chains over his neck, allowing your trembling feet to rest on his shoulders, gracing you no escape.

“Wish I could say the same about this filthy little muff though..” Katsuki tuts, pressing your pussy-lips down to inspect your distorted hole. He slides a finger through the sticky webbing, flicking off at your clit. “Tsk.”

You don’t get a chance to reply before he’s dipping down, snorting like a pig. Engulfing with teeth and a fat tongue as he sticks it to your wet slit. Immediately, he’s shaking his head side to side, nuzzling his creased nose into your swollen bud as he sucks on your cunny hole with an unjust violence.

You cry out an incoherent plea, writhing in the stained sheets smudged with concealer and lipstick, the same colours he’d just finished caking your face in previously.

His head bobs up and down, routinely hacking a glob of foamy saliva onto your folds only to slurp it back up again.

“There we go...” He scrubs his chin of any fluid, sniffing his fingers as-well in a subtle fashion. “Nice ‘n’ sloppy.”

He stays preoccupied with slapping his heavy cock-head against your twitchy clit, even as you snivel into your shoulder, wincing and jerking beneath the heavy weight of his tip spanking your puffy pussy up and down. Pearly teeth bare at the wet splatters that jump from where you connect, spitting back up at him.

“You gonna’ behave?” He questions, leaving his stiff erection to flop onto your stomach as he raises two hands towards your face. Your skin is rolled and tugged on by a set of invasive digits, smudging black clouds of ink from your eyelids to your ears. “You gonna’ be a good little prostitute for me?”

You can’t feel your toes where they’ve gone numb from their ascended position, kicking up into the air as he sheathes his length into the pocket of your choke-hole.

Even as you scream raw from your throat, he can’t help but froth at the pair of pink glossy lips crying out for him. All shiny and glistening in the light, specks of glitter jumbled about inside the glass-like coating that paints them corner to corner. It turns him on, the thick globules of transparent gloop looking all to familiar to something else.

He’s compelled to spread the stickiness around, creating an exaggerated ark over what would usually be your smile, leaving a stripe of gloss in it’s wake.

“Awh..” He chuckles through his nose. “Such a lil’ cutie, you like getting your pussy fucked? Yeah you do, look at that smile.”

“Ngh.. ‘suki..” You keen, jostling the chains keeping your leather-cuffed wrists pinned to the headboard.

“Oh, ‘suki! ‘suki!” He mimics you as you sob, turning his mouth down and squinting his eyes in the same pitiful way you do, only without the crystalline tears dragging pounds of blush and bronzer down your cheekbones. “Please make love to my pussy harder!.. Yeah? ‘s that what you’re tryna’ say you little bitch?”

Even as you shake your head, he ignores you. To busy flicking at the artificial eyelashes he’d shoddily stuck to your lash-line, dramatic and bold like butterflies, nothing you’d ever dare to wear yourself, were it your decision.

“Please Katuki! It hurts, you’re hurting me!”

Your attempt to reason with him falls on deaf ears.

“Oh, I’m hurting you am I?” He only responds by pressing your knees back further. “Good.”

[bluebeetless]

econ

ethan landry/reader

summary: you’re trying to help your boyfriend study using unique methods.

tags: cockwarming, riding, p in v sex, ethan is low-key a bottom in this, creampie, lowercase intended, sex in a chair, sex over a desk, aftercare, cuddling, minors dni

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, use of the word cunt, talks of ghostface at the end, (almost) panic attack at the end

smut under cut

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ bluebeetless’ writing ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

ethan whimpers, hands grabbing your waist, face buried in your shoulder. “pay attention.” you whisper, tapping the page with your pen. “sorry…” you hear your boyfriend whimper. right now, he’s rock hard and buried inside your soft cunt. you’re sat stationary in his lap, walls clenched around his throbbing cock. you’re trying to help him study for his end of year exam, which was easier said than done. ethan had a tendency to drift off, daydream, or get extremely distracted; so you came up with a more unique way to get his attention.

ethan’s chin rests upon your shoulder, he’s panting softly, breathing fanning over the left side of your face. “what’s the answer to this question?” you ask softly, tapping the page of your notebook. “uh..- b?” ethan asks. you smile softly. “well done baby.” you purr, ticking answer b. “please-“ ethan whines, hands squeezing your hips. “not yet baby, just a few more questions.” you move your non-dominant hand down so you could hold his hand, squeezing softly. he’s whining again, it’s very soft and desperate. “you’re doing so well for me, e. just answer these questions.” you try to pull his attention to the notebook, and so he abides. “a?” he doesn’t sound very confident, yet he got it correct either way.

instead of verbally praising him, you clench your walls around him, listening to his soft moans. “c’mon, sweetie, you can do it.” you encourage, listening to him regain his composure. “i cant- baby, please-“ ethan grinds up against you, whimpering uncontrollably. you roll your eyes, yet you’re smiling fondly. “you did very well today, e. i’m proud of you.” you mumble, closing your notebook. “can i have my reward now?” ethan asks, squeezing your hands as he practically vibrates in his desk chair. “alright, sweetheart.” you smile, leaning back against his chest as you angle your head to kiss his jaw. ethan let’s out a pornographic moan, bucking up against you as you roll your hips.

“feels good-“ he stammers, hands gripping yours tightly as you bounce in his lap. you can’t help your own soft moans as he throbs inside you, squeezing around his cock. “good boy, you’re fucking me so good.” you purr, letting him stand. ethan bends you over his desk, your tits pressing against the notebook, his chest heaving as he thrusts into you desperately. it’s your turn to whimper as his cock hits your g-spot perfectly, head lifting as ethan grabs your hair; something he learnt you had liked after a long night out. ethan moans loudly, and you’re glad that chad is out for the night. ethan’s hand moves under your hips, fingers finding your clit as he stimulates you.

“i wanna-“ he pauses to take a soft gasp. “wanna fun at the same time with you.” ethan whimpers, cock twitching harshly. you moan in response, hands gripping his desk to steady yourself. he thrusts into you so hard you feel your feet lift slightly, toes grazing against the floor as you lean on his desk. ethan groans, precum seeping into you. “close- m’close, eth.” you moan, legs spreading for him to give your boyfriend more room to rub your clit. “come on- fuckfuckfuck..!” ethan moans, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. the feeling of you cumming makes ethan come undone, his cum spilling into you. “good boy…” you can’t help but whisper softly as his fingers slow down, easing you through your orgasm in a way that made your body twitch and your cunt spasm.

ethan eases your feet onto the floor again, helping you stand up as he kisses your neck. “are you alright?” he asks softly, voice slightly slurred with lust. “mhm, i’m okay.” you reply, leaning back against his chest as his cum seeps down your thigh. “gonna go clean up. go get into bed, we can cuddle.” you turn, kissing his lips gently. ethan kisses you back immediately, and almost whines as you eventually pull away. you smile, thumb stroking his cheek as he kisses you once more before letting you go. ethan puts away his stuff before flopping onto his bed, settling into his soft covers.

you return, smiling as you join him. you lay half on top of ethan, head resting on his shoulder as your legs lay between his. tossing an arm over him, you hug your boyfriend tightly. “love you.” ethan mumbles, sleepily. “i know, baby. i love you too.” you reply, kissing his jaw. ethan hums, rolling over to cuddle into you. “get some sleep, e.” you mumble as he drapes the duvet over the two of you. “i love you.” he repeats, as if it were the lord’s prayer. “i love you too, ethan.” you respond, yawning slightly through your words. “i love you more.” he quips, yawning as well. “i love you sooo much more.” you giggle, kissing him to keep him silent. “goodnight, baby.” he mumbles, closing his eyes as you smile. “goodnight, eth.” you respond easily, lips pressing against his jaw and staying there.

closing your eyes, you fall asleep, huddling against your boyfriend as he stays awake for a while longer; listening to your calm breathing. he ponders for a while, about how he met you, how he began to date you- how he got so lucky. he begins to think about the plan his father hatched, how you were a target. ethan doesn’t think he could ever bring himself to hurt you. you seemed so closed off, so quiet- yet deep down you were tender and sweet, funny and kind. ethan loved you, with all his heart he loved you. “fuck…” he whispers softly, squeezing his eyes shut. “fuck- fuck… what am i gonna do..?” he panics a little, chest beginning to heave. you stir from your sleep, humming sleepily as you hug him tighter. ethan calms in your grip, cradling you close. “i won’t let them hurt you. i love you, baby.” ethan whispers, rolling over slowly so you were between him and the wall. you settle into the new position easily, burying your face in his neck.

how did he get so lucky?