#but they also protect your floors from wear and tear

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

New You Gym - 19

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Michael watched Kylee as her short frame waddled in front of him, large infantile diaper sagging wetly between her legs. Michael wondered to himself whether she even knew her diaper was wet.

As Michael's eyes lingered on his wife's padded ass, he could feel his member growing, making his pants tighter. Michael knew he should be concerned for his wife and maybe even disgusted by the fact that she can't keep her pants dry. However, Michael could feel a new fantasy being awaken in him.

Imagining Kylee humiliated, diapered, and treated like nothing more than a un-potty-trained toddler made him feel more aroused then he could ever remember.

However, as Kylee turned the corner towards their bedroom, Michael tried to shake off his feelings. He knew that Kylee had to be mortified by the situation, and that it was his job as her husband to support her through the struggle.

Readjusting the new pink gym bag Emily had handed him, he put on as supportive face as he could muster, suppressed his growing arousal as best he could, and followed Kylee into their bedroom.

As Michael walked in, he saw Kylee standing, legs spread, inspecting her diaper closely with both hands. As Michael looked at her, he noticed tears starting to form in her eyes.

"I… I'm… I mean… It… The diaper… It's wet?" Kylee said, turning to Michael confused.

When Kylee went to untape her diaper, she noticed for the first time that she had wet herself sometime during her trip home from the gym. The fact she was unaware she had pissed herself scared her almost more than the fact that her husband was seeing her in a wet diaper.

Michael walked up to Kylee and embraced her in a hug.

"Yeah, baby, it looks like you had another little accident today. But, I'm sure it was just from the stress of the gym. Do you want me to help you get out of… um… that?" Michael said, gesturing vaguely towards Kylee's diaper.

Kylee wanted to say no. She wanted to run away and hide in shame. She wanted to be anywhere else but here, with the man she loved, dressed like this.

But, she also wanted his attention. She craved experiencing that close, vulnerable feeling she had when Julie had changed her diaper earlier that day, with Michael. She also knew that if things kept progressing as Julie told her they would, it wouldn't be long until this was going to be a more common occurrence.

So, with her mind made up, Kylee's cheeks turned red as she answered her husband. "Yes, please," she said.

"Alright, sweetheart, why don't you lay on the floor. Do we have any wipes anywhere?" Michael asked.

Kylee blushed again. "I think you'll find everything you need in my new… uh… gym bag."

Michael grabbed the bag and looked in. It was now his turn to blush.

The pink satchel clearly wasn't the gym bag of an adult. The only thing it could be reasonably described as was a diaper bag.

Despite the warning he'd received from Emily, Michael hadn't really put together that Kylee would be required to wear diapers to the gym for the foreseeable future. The idea of his wife being forced to continue to wear diapers caused his penis to swell again.

"Oh, wow! They really, uh, set you up here," Michael said, grabbing the wipes from his wife's diaper bag while trying to hide his growing erection, "I know Emily said you'd need protection for the gym, but they really set you up with a lot of dia… I mean… protective underwear."

Kylee turned her head to the side, looking away in embarrassment.

"It's okay. Call them what they are… they're diapers," Kylee responded, trying to bravely face her predicament, "How can I call this wet thing wrapped around my ass anything else?"

"Should I grab out another one… uh… diaper? Or, do you think you can keep your panties dry?" Michael asked hesitantly.

Kylee glared at Michael, her embarrassment overtaken by her indignation.

"Can I keep my panties dry? Of course I can! I'm not a child!" Kylee growled.

Michael raised his hands defensively, then gestured towards Kylee's wet groin.

"I mean, it seems like a fair question, given the circumstances," Michael said, a little more confidence shining through in his tone, "I am not the one lying on the floor, waiting for my husband to change me out of a wet diaper."

"Fine! If you're going to act like this, I don't need your help!" Kylee said starting to sit up, face scrunched in disgust as she felt the wet padding surrounding her crotch squelch as she shifted her weight.

Michael, wipes in hand, kneeled down next to Kylee, placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down.

"Oh, hush! No need to throw a tantrum. Lay down so I can get you out of that wet thing then you can put your panties back on," Michael said, his assertiveness growing along with erection.

Being given this excuse to baby his wife really turned him on.

Kylee complied with his direction. As she laid down, she also found that, despite her embarrassment and anger at her situation, she was also being turned on by the "Daddy" energy her husband was starting to exhude.

"Fine," Kylee said as she laid back down with an exaggerated huff.

"Good girl," Michael responded.

Those words sent a shiver through Kylee's pussy.

Michael patted Kylee's diapered crotch twice and stated, "Let's do this."

Michael carefully ripped open the tapes of Kyle's diaper and pulled the front of the diaper open. The smell of ammonia and rash cream quickly hit his nose, causing him to briefly scrunch his face in disgust before continuing on. What he saw when he opened the diaper though, he wasn't expecting.

"Kylee! Your skin is so red and angry down here? What's going on? Is this what's causing your sudden accidents? Do we need to see a doctor?" Michael asked, staring at the diaper rash covering his wife's most intimate areas but too inexperienced in diapering to know what he was looking at.

A fresh wave of embarrassment pulsed through Kylee, who suddenly remembered the diaper rash she had from her earlier, poopy diaper. Julie's cream really worked wonders on her discomfort, Kylee thought to herself.

"No, it's, it's not causing my accidents," Kylee said, quietly. "I, I fell asleep in a diaper earlier at the gym and woke up with a… uh… rash because of it."

"A diaper rash? Seriously, Kylee?" Michael guffawed. "Let's check your bag. Ah, here it is, some rash cream," Michael said, pulling out some diaper rash cream from Kyle's gym bag. "Are you sure you don't need another diaper? How many times have you wet yourself today?"

Kylee looked up at Michael as defiantly. "Only a couple! But it was just because of stress at the gym! I don't need another, stinking diaper!"

Micheal couldn't help but laugh to himself a little. Kylee, despite her demand to the contrary, sure looked like a woman who needed a diaper. She was laying on the ground, legs splayed apart, rash covered ass laying on a wet diaper, waiting to be wiped clean by another person.

"Sure, baby," Michael said as he began to wipe Kylee's tender skin with the baby wipes.

As Michael wiped the urine off of Kylee's waist, Kylee couldn't help but be surprised from his delicate, caring touch. As Michael wiped, Kylee squirmed as it became clear she was still very sore from her diaper rash. However, Michael did a good job at both being thorough and gentle with Kylee's delicate skin.

Then Michael made his way to Kylee's slit and she started to squirm for another reason. The feeling of Michael's fingers through the wet wipe felt so good to Kylee. It brought back the recent memories of Julie's 'special' changes back at the gym. She started to buck her hips into Michael's hand.

"Oh, baby likes that, huh?" Michael said as he started to pay more attention to Kyle's vagina.

"Don't… call… me… baby!" Kylee moaned out as Michael started to rub her clit more intentionally.

"What should I call you then? Your the one laying here on the ground getting your pissy little pampers changed, aren't you?" Michael asked with a seductively dominant tone.

"Ye… yes…" Kylee moaned out.

"Then what does that make you?" Michael asked as he started to thrust his middle and index finger into Kylee's pussy, while continuing to rub her clit with his thumb.

"A… a… a…" Kylee moaned in rhythm with Michael's fingers.

"A what?" Michael demanded, his cock throbbing at his wife's humiliation and his own sense of power.

"A… a… a… BABY!" Kylee screamed as her body convulsed in pleasure with an epic orgasm.

"That's right," Michael said as he removed his fingers from Kylee and wiped them on a new baby wipe. "But, since you were a good girl and admitted it, I guess we can let you try panties again today," he continued cheekily.

"Thank you, Daddy," Kylee said as Michael finished cleaning her up, helped her stand up, and balled up her diaper.

"Of course sweetheart, why don't you go take a shower though? I got most of it off, but let's not take a risk with that rash," Michael suggested.

Kylee complied.

As Kylee showered, Michael took care of his own arousal. He laid on his bed, put his hand down his pants, and stroked himself, imagining Kylee, sitting in a crib at the end of the bed, looking at him longingly in a wet diaper and childish onesie as he fucked Emily doggy style.

It didn't take long before Michael made a sticky mess in his hand. He used another of Kylee's wipes to clean himself up.

The rest of the day went fairly normally for Kylee and Michael. Kylee put back on a pair of panties, but not before slathering her ass in rash cream. She and Michael went about their normal daily tasks.

The only changes were minimal. Michael would occasionally throw glances at her crotch suspiciously, as if he was making sure she didn't have any more accidents. Kylee also found it a little uncomfortable to sit down due to her diaper rash.

However, with normalcy overtaking her day once again, Kylee almost forgot about the events of the morning when it was time to get ready for bed.

[kaleenbaba]

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[ahqkas]

“NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU BABY — jason todd.

PAIRING! jason todd 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! your roommate is the menacing red hood — who just happens to have a soft spot for you WORD COUNT! 1.5k WARNINGS / TAGS! roommates jason & reader, cursing, smoking, mention of alcohol consumption, reader is described to wear makeup, use of petnames ( doll ) NOTES! i need a vigilante bf sb. based on this req.!! © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THERE IS A STARVED DOG IN THE BACK OF JASON TODD’S THROAT.

It keeps barking, baring its sharp canines at whoever dares to step too close to comfort. It isn’t afraid to bite, to leave permanent marks in its wake because it had been hurt once before and the past hadn’t been so kind. So, it rips things apart, shows its strength to intimidate. A mechanism to keep itself safe. To remain whole.

The dog craves violence and roughness to represent the image it once created. It also craves touch, and not the bittersweet one. The kind that aches to feel, the kind that feels undeserving.

Jason isn’t a violent dog. He doesn’t know why he bites.

He’s chaos wrapped in leather. He’s the rumble of a motorbike tearing down an empty street, the smell of gasoline and adrenaline falling behind him. He’s sharp edges and electricity, the lighting that splits the sky just before the rain comes down. He’s a storm caged in a human shell, unpredictable and restless. Jason is late nights bathed in neon lights and the rush of speed that makes your heart race. He’s fire and fury, a protective shield made of calluses and scars.

You, on the other hand, are the softness in a world that’s far too loud. You’re the quiet that follows the first snowfall, the kind that blankets the earth in white stillness. You’re the warmth of vanilla in a kitchen. You’re the calmness of a gentle breeze, the soft glow of a candle against the darkness. There’s nothing harsh about you; you’re delicate without being fragile, a sweetness that lasts long after you first taste it. You’re a handwritten note, a favorite song played on repeat, kindness that doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Where Jason is a storm, you’re the eye. He’s the clash of thunder, you’re the calmness that follows. He’s leather jackets and combat boots, you’re large sweaters and bare feet on fluffy carpet. He pushes the word back with his fists while you disarm it with your smile.

Maybe that’s why he has such a soft spot for you.

Jason’s large combat boots were heavy on the hardwood as he stepped through the apartment door. He didn’t use one of the windows tonight since he had the luxury to change out of his vigilante clothing. The brown leather jacket still hung from his broad shoulders, but all the other equipment that created the complete look of Red Hood was safely stashed under the stairs of your fire escape.

Red Hood was one side of Jason’s many personalities he tried to shield you from.

He was quiet, mindful of his steps. He avoided the creaking spot on the floor, and he avoided closing the door too roughly. He had told you one too many times that he could take a look at the things that just made your life annoyingly difficult, but you waved him off with sweet words and he obeyed like a man possessed. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for his liking but he shook it off. You were supposed to be out anyway, something about a party your friends dragged you at.

The faint scent of cigarettes hit him before the quiet breeze of the night air rusted the curtains, and Red Hood was instantly on alert. His fingers moved before his mind could even process the situation, feeling the sharpness of his blade tucked in the belf of his pants.

His legs followed, taking him toward the balcony door and stepping outside into the night. He expected anything: a stray cat wandering through various apartments on a hunt for leftovers or even a rookie thief trying to break in. But he didn’t expect you, sitting on a plastic chair with a cigarette between your lips. One his cigarettes.

There you were, knees pulled close to your chest, the heels of your feet digging into the cheap plastic so you wouldn’t fall.

Draped in one of his hoodies he forgot on the couch earlier, you looked like you were ready to call it a day. Still, impossibly beautiful even with that tired look in your eyes. You pulled the cigarette out, puffing a white swirl of smoke into the darkness.

Jason stepped closer, his tall frame easily towering over yours. “You wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doing out here?” The sight of you, your cheeks flushed with alcohol and your hair a little wild from the chill wind, tugged at something buried deep in his chest.

Your glassy eyes met his and your lips tugged into a beaming smile. “Hey, Jason,” you mumbled his name out like it was a melody you hadn’t quite learned yet. “You’re home.”

“Yeah, I’m home. And you’re drunk. Smoking my shit.”

“I stole it from your jacket’s pocket when I did the laundry. I figured you wouldn’t miss one,” you held up the cancer stick towards him, as if to say, ta-da! Look what I found.

You were holding a piece of him. He crouched in front of you, his gloved fingers gently plucking the cigarette from your hand before you could protest. “Smoking’s bad for you, you know. I guess I’m a bad influence for you,” he muttered while his thumb brushed over the filter, the bark of the dog in his throat quieting for a moment. There was a faint pink outline on the white paper. A mark of your lips.

You tilted your head, studying him like you were seeing him for the first time. “You could never be a bad influence.”

Jason didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened as he put the cigarette against the railing, the faint hiss breaking the silence between you. Then, he flicked it over the edge of the railing, watching the embers spiral down into the darkness below. The city roared faintly beneath you, but here, on this tiny balcony, it was just the two of you.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Like what?” your brows knitted into the frown he grew to adore.

“That I’m not a bad influence,” his lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something bittersweet. It was all a big joke to him; you didn’t know his true nature and yet here you were defending the man you thought you knew. The irony wasn’t lost on him. “You don’t know me as well as you think, doll.”

Tilting your head to the side, you gazed up at Jason like he hung the moon just for you. The look in your eyes softened. “I know enough, Jay. I know you’d rather jump off this balcony than let anything happen to me. I know you leave food for the stray cat, even though you complain how she’s too noisy at night. And I know that when you’re quiet like this,” you bumped your knee against his, trailing slightly into a quieter tone of your voice, “it’s because you’re hiding something.”

The dog inside Jason growled lowly, warning him to keep his guard up. To start building thicker walls around his bleeding heart. This would only end in tears and anguish. But you weren’t barking back. You held your heart in an open palm, extended toward him.

You leaned forward after a minute of his silence, hand brushing against his knee, and Jason stiffened. “You’re not mad, right? About the cigarette” you voiced your thoughts hesitantly.

Jason sighed, running a hand through the dark strands of his hair. “I should be. But seeing you out here like this . . . ” he trailed off, his eyes flickering over your face and cataloging every single detail. The flush on your cheeks and glass in your eyes. The aftermath of alcohol. “I can’t be mad. Just–don’t do it again, okay? You don’t need to mess with that shit.”

Your lips parted like you were about to argue, but then you closed them again, nodding slowly. Jason exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He stood up, holding out a calloused hand to you. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold out here.”

You stared at his hand for a moment before slipping your smaller one into it. His grip was warm, steady, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he could feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch. He didn’t let go as he led you back into your shared apartment, the door clicking shut behind the two of you.

The dog in his chest stirred, restless and uneasy. It barked once, softly, a reminder of all the ways he could ruin this. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his jaw tightening against the weight of it. The dog craved destruction, violence, and chaos—it had always craved those things. But now, as he watched you drunkenly lean into him, the dog hesitated.

It whimpered. Then it lay down, its teeth still bared but its growl silenced, if only for tonight. Because for the first time in a long time, Jason felt something strange, something almost unfamiliar.

It wasn’t the absence of violence or the dull ache of longing. It was the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something in this world he didn’t have to break to keep.

[dollfacefantasy]

ADD TO THE COLLECTION ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: rick finds an old halloween mask out on a supply run. he brings it back to you, and the two of you put it to good use

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, mask kink, praise/degradation, cnc sorta

a/n: yes i wrote another ghostface mask kink fic. idc idc. you can pry that idea from my cold dead hands. every single man i simp for will have one if it's the last thing i do <3

kinktober slot: day 4 - mask kink

"Ew. You know that thing probably has like a billion diseases, right?" you say, a wide smile spreading across your face as you look at the raggedy Halloween mask in your boyfriend's hand.

The slender, pale face stares back at you with its motionless expression of horror. You hadn't seen one of them in a long time. Certainly not since the world went to shit.

"A billion? I don't know about that. Maybe a million," he teases.

Rick enters the room and approaches where you sit on the bed, wanting to show off his find from the supply run a bit more.

"Don't bring it too close to me. I don't wanna catch something," you say with a hand raised in defense.

"So dramatic," he mocks, "I'm not gonna put it on you."

The wooden floor creaks below his boots as he steps to the edge of the mattress. He sits down, the foamy surface dipping with the addition of his weight.

You can't help leaning forward a little bit out of curiosity. Scooting closer to his side, you look between his face and the mask.

"Were you guys raiding a Spirit Halloween or something?" you ask, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He chuckles. His hands rotate the mask between them. It actually isn't in horrible condition. Maybe a little dusty, but there aren't any huge stains or tears. Visions of him wearing it rise to the front of your mind. You could imagine his head turning, the hollow black eyes following you as he watched your figure move about. The thin fabric fanning out over his shoulders also comes up. Your favorite though is the thought of how it would look above you while he thrusts in and out of you.

Shaking those images out of your head, you refocus when he answers your question.

"No, nothin' like that. I just saw it and thought of you," he tells you, turning his head and pecking your cheek, "I remembered you tellin' me how you used to love those movies."

You almost visibly swoon. "That's so sweet. Slasher movies make you think of me," you coo, "How did I get so lucky?"

Your arms slide up and drape around his neck, bringing you closer so you can nuzzle the side of his face. His skin scratches at you a little bit. The prickle of stubble was rising again.

He returns your affection and pushes the mask aside in favor of pulling you into his lap. The two of you melt into each other and then back onto the bed. One of the perks of living in Alexandria now was not having to wait until everyone fell asleep for the night to go at it.

Rick could be so soft for you. Ever since the two of you met, he seemed so naturally protective. He always lets you hold his hand. Your safety was his top priority along with that of his kids. Before the world went bad, you'd bet he was the kind of guy to hold the door open on dates and call women "miss" or "ma'am."

You're pretty sure that's why you want to see him in that mask so bad.

You knew Rick had another side to him. Something beneath the mask of being the good guy. You'd seen it before a few times. The nights where he ended up soaked in someone else's blood, the sticky crimson liquid coating his facial hair, staining his clothes.

A week after he first found that mask, he comes to your room at night wearing one of the pieces of clothing that's been marred with someone else's insides.

The mask over his face has been cleaned. He clearly washed away the dust and any other sign of mileage on the thing. The ivory plastic front shines without a spot of grime while the black fabric draped atop his hair sits there, dark as the night sky outside.

It's a sharp contrast to the white t-shirt he has on. The cloth pours down his neck and over his shoulder onto the light garment. But the abdomen of this top isn't as pristine as the collar. Blood speckles across the snowy threading, the pattern spatters in a way that makes it look like one of those ink blot tests. If you were the one being questioned, you'd say it looks sort of like a tree.

He stands there against the frame of the doorway in silence, waiting to be noticed. You had been cleaning your boots. When you finally finish, you rise from your spot on the edge of the bed and tuck them in their normal spot against the wall. Sighing, you lean back and prepare to finally have nothing left on your to-do list.

But you feel the other presence in the room. You catch him in your peripheral vision, and a gasp tears through you. Your heart springs from a calm resting beat to erratic thrashing against your ribcage. Thoughts melt from your head while breaths grow spikes in your lungs.

Once you turn your head fully and give your brain a second to register that it's only him, you start to calm down. You let out a deep sigh and put your hand across your chest.

"God, don't do that," you huff, "You scared me."

He doesn't respond.

You continue to catch your breath before looking over at him again. Your eyes scan up and down his figure. He leans against the wall so casually. His arms cross over his chest while his ankles hook one on top of the other below. Even though you can't see his gaze, you can feel the intensity of his pupils on you.

"You're lucky I didn't have my gun on me," you tell him and narrow your eyes.

Again, you get no words out of him. But this time he does push off the edge of the entryway and step forward. He swings the door shut behind him and continues to stare you down.

It's weird. Having him just stand there, digs a pit in the bottom of your belly. For a split second, your mind floats the possibility that this isn't him. The paranoid sector of your head poses questions like what if this was someone else who just found the mask? What if they just looked like Rick?

But then his arms drop from his chest and you see the silver of his watch glimmer in the pale moonlight. 

It doesn't kill the tingling in your nerves any; rather, it transforms the sensation. It's a different kind of strange seeing Rick act like this. It wasn't the version of him that came out for a true threat.  He was never so silent when that was the case. In moments of desperation, he became feral - eyes darting around, limbs taut with the preparedness to strike. But that's when you realize this isn't a moment of desperation. He's the one in control. He's the threat in this situation.

"You're not even gonna try to run, little girl?" he asks, his voice coming out in that familiar drawl but with a little edge to it.

Your spine lights up like a fuse. Excitement seeps into your bones. Everything feels jittery. You don't know what to do or say. In this moment, you just want.

"You're in the way. I don't have anywhere to run," you say. Your voice waivers almost as if you naturally fall into the role of the helpless victim.

It's weird hearing yourself like that. In the world you lived in, you never wanted to sound like that. Showing weakness meant death. And hearing it from someone you loved meant their time was coming to end. Being able to express it now though, it felt different. You weren't sure how to articulate it, but that could be due to the fact that you'd never been so turned on before in your life.

He approaches you further. The wooden floor boards creak beneath his slow steps. You try to back up but your knees hit the mattress.

"No runnin'? You're gonna make this too easy for me," he chuckles, "Put up a little fight."

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip. He leans in closer to you, reaching up to drag his fingers down your cheek. You try to lean back but end up having to sit on the bed and scoot away on the mattress to create some distance.

He just laughs and grabs your ankle, preventing you from getting too far. You try wriggling your leg a little bit, but he tightens his grip and grabs the other one.

"Tsk, tsk. Pathetic," he taunts, "You're just gonna let me take what I want?"

You try kicking a little harder, but it's of no use. Each jerk of your leg goes to waste. Nothing changes. There would be no difference if you didn't move at all and just made what he said true.

"So cute," he mocks, "Just tirin' yourself out for me."

"It's not fair," you whine. You roll yourself onto your belly and try to drag yourself away by grabbing the edge of the bed. He doesn't let you though. Even though Rick was lean, he didn't lack strength. That coupled with his training as a pre-apocalypse police officer meant he knew how to restrain people. You whimper and buck your hips to try and create some momentum to get away, but it's all of no use.

"You cheated. You didn't give me a chance to run," you continue to pout before repeating your prior sentiment, "Not fair."

He laughs and whips you around onto your back again. This time he leans forward and tugs your hips harshly, dragging you over the collection of blankets so that your ass is flush against his semi-hard bulge.

"Who said I have to play fair, princess?" he asks, "Weak little thing like you wouldn't have made it far anyways."

Another whine bubbles from your lips as you squirm. He looms over you, keeping you accessible to him with the weight of his body. As he closes in, your breathing becomes heavier. The white ghostface stops inches away from the tip of your nose. You stare into the expressionless eyes of the match while your cunt throbs against the heat of his pelvis.

"You're lucky I caught you here. Spares you the embarrassment of getting dragged back, kicking and screaming. Or even worse, me pounding you into the grass out there where anyone could see," he breathes.

You shudder at the images his words create in your head.

He can feel the tremble of your limbs, and he pushes the mask up slightly to bare his lips. For a second, you think he's going in for a kiss. And in a way, that's true. But it's not on your mouth. Instead, he ducks down to your throat. He attacks it with fervor much more intense than what you usually felt from him.

These kisses are hot and open-mouthed. The tip of his tongue tickles your pulsing skin. His lips feather against it while his teeth nip and tug. All you can do is melt under it. You try to keep in character and put up a bit of resistance, but it's not a strong performance.

His fingers hook over the top of your little sleep shorts and panties and pull them down to your mid-thigh. That was all the room he needed. His hand not clutching one of your biceps slides down between your thighs. He can feel the slick on his fingers in seconds, and he huffs out a laugh.

"Oh, you're a bad girl, aren't you? The slightest bit of attention, and you're dripping. I didn't even have to do anything," he says.

After those words hit your ears, he pulls back. He tugs your shorts all the way off to free your legs before he shoves his jeans down far enough that his length can spring free. He's almost fully hard. The sight of your slippery cunt makes it easier to take it from almost to solid.

He strokes it and watches you. It's obvious how ready you are, but he can't help but want to draw it out a little more.

"Take off your top," he commands.

Your breath hitches, and you swear you feel your heart stutter. Of course, he'd seen you naked before, but it felt new here. This wasn't Rick's cool blue eyes gazing down at you with love. It was the dark, empty patches of painted plastic.

Nevertheless, your hands venture down and peel your shirt from your body. Once it's gone, your tits are left exposed to his view. He doesn't touch them, and you can't see if he stares directly at them, but it feels like he does.

He pumps his cock a little faster. A small groan rumbles from his mouth.

"I don't even have to say it twice. You didn't even need to see my face to listen. I either have you so well-trained, or you're just the most natural slut out there, babydoll. Just waiting for orders to follow like a little puppy," he rasps.

He pushes forward and slides his leaky tip against your folds. A small whine sneaks out of you at the pressure on your clit. The head nudges it before gliding down toward your entrance again where it pops in.

You both hiss at the feel. On his part, you're already so warm and tight. For you, it's the mild stretch combined with the satisfaction of having something inside you. Either way, it's just a taste of what's to come.

He sinks in more, guiding the rest of his shaft into your pussy. Whimpering, you arch your back off the bed the tiniest bit. His hand lands on your tummy and pushes you down again though. He forces you to take it all and then rocks his hips back and slams forward again.

"So sensitive," he teases.

His hands curl around your hips before he starts thrusting. Like the earlier kisses, his pelvis snaps against you with more force than usual. Your eyes roll back from the bouncing rhythm while your fingers clutch the linens beneath you.

"Poor baby. You never had any fight in you to begin with," he teases, "You give in so easily."

"It- it's not my fault," you whimper. More moans seep out of you. It feels like every slap of skin on skin knocks a new noise from you.

"Oh yes it is," he grunts, "You didn't even try because you want this. You just wanna be filled up. Don't even care who's doing it."

As he says that, your hazy eyes look up at the mask. "Do too..." you pout.

Your walls squeeze around him tight at the sight of the haunted face watching you. It bobs a little with his motions as well, shaken by the force of them.

He laughs at you from beneath the mask and speeds up a little. You clench around him in tandem with your toes curling. He leans in and bends you further in half on the mattress.

"Ok sure, sweetheart. That's why you didn't even need to see my face before I slid my dick inside you," he breathes.

Your little clit throbs at the words. As if he can sense it, one of his hands rises to thumb at the nub. Your hips buck in response, eager for more. Deep, whiny sighs flood into the air from you. He can't get enough.

"That's right, keep squeezin' me, darlin'" he says, arousal infecting his tone now too.

You nod like you have a real say. The way he was battering your pleasure spots and swiping at your clit had you tightening up involuntarily. He still moans with the feeling though. His head tilts back. You can hear his panting getting louder below that mask.

A few strokes later, he reaches up and yanks it off, dropping it to the floor next to his boot. His hair hangs damp against his forehead while his cheeks are a little flushed from the heat. None of this stops him from fucking into you though. It's as if he can't stop. The chase for release captures him on a deeper level.

Even without the help of ghostface, his stare is intense. His pupils glare into you as he provides you with more pleasure than you know what to do with.

"You think you're gonna cum for me? Gush all over my cock?" he croons mockingly.

You nod. Your arm weakly flies up so you can grab at his wrist. "Need it, Rick," you whine.

He chuckles, a small smirk teasing his lips. "You can have it then. Let it go for me," he says.

Your hips buck in time with the next handful of whimpers that leave your lips. The climb to the top feels so fucking good. Your core sizzles up until it reaches a fever pitch and you explode into white hot pleasure. A low, satisfied hum reverberates from you as your eyelashes dust your cheeks.

He fucks you through the feeling, one hand on your throat, the other down at your clit, swirling around the small nub a few times to give you the extra boost. It makes you nice and tight around his dick. Your walls squeeze like a vise. He has no choice but to let go.

As desperate as he is to fuck it deep inside of you, he stops himself at the last second and pulls out. He grabs his cock at light speed before that feeling can vanish and pumps it at the same rhythm he'd been thrusting into you.

Warm, milky ropes of cum shoot out onto your belly. The splatter across your skin, glimmering in the cool light of the night. You force your eyes open when you hear his deep moan. You're almost certain you've never seen anything as beautiful as Rick's face when he releases. His brows furrow while his jaw relaxes. He parts his lips in a small o. You watch with droopy eyes, the haze of lust still not totally gone yet.

When he's finished, he stares down at you in a similar fashion. His hand cups the back of your neck so he can bring you up to give you a kiss before he goes and grabs a towel. The bloody shirt he'd been wearing is gone when he returns. He cleans the spend off your belly and then crawls back into bed with you.

You snuggle up to him, ready to close your eyes and conk out. But then you think of something.

"I knew it was you before you took off the mask," you say. The flesh of your cheek smooshes against this chest.

He looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Cause your watch," you say proudly, as if you'd discovered some great clue.

The information registers but then his lips break into a grin. "Hmm, smart girl. I'll have to keep that in mind if I ever put on the mask for something secretive," he teases before yawning and tugging you closer to his side.

"Mhm, cause I'd figure you out right away," you murmur.

"I'm sure," he agrees, pressing a few kisses to your head. "Get some sleep, baby."

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

She’s Not So Little Anymore

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: none, dad Lewis yes pls

“You’re not leaving the house until you change your clothes!”

“But dad-“ Harper stammered in a broken voice and teary eyes.

“There’s no but, I said what I said. You can go out with your friends after you put some clothes on. End of discussion.” Lewis told his daughter sternly before turning and heading towards the living room.

“I hate you!!” Harper growled bursting into tears and slamming the door of her room.

“Don’t slam the door at me!” He said in a raised tone. Sitting on the couch he sighed and rubbed his face feeling awful because of the argument between him and his fifteen-year-old daughter.

It was not natural for Lewis to yell and get into heated arguments with his daughter. The two have always had a special relationship - she was daddy's little girl for whom he would remove the stars from the sky just to make her happy. Harper loved and was just as close to you as she was to Lewis, but still, her daddy has always been her number one.

But since Harper entered her teenage phase, it has become very difficult for Lewis to accept that she is actually growing up, that she is changing, that she is interested in some other things that are actually normal for her age.

He really was having a hard time facing the fact that his little girl is not so little anymore. That’s why often broke out arguments between the two of them when Harper would stay out too late with her friends, when she would come home late or mention that she had a crush on a boy or for example like today when she would wear something that Lewis thought was too revealing.

Lewis did all this because he loves her too much and wants to protect her, but, of course, the teenager thinks that her father is working against her and that he is "purposely ruining her life".

Fortunately, not long after the argument, you came back from grocery shopping and found Lewis sitting on the couch looking at the switched off TV.

“Hi, baby” You greeted him happily, but you felt a strange energy in the air.

“Hey” He muttered not turning to look at you.

“Is everything okay?” You ask suspiciously, leaving the heavy bags on the hallway floor.

“Everything is fine except our daughter just told me she hates me”

You immediately knew what it was about. You were aware of how much it affected Lewis. You weren't always happy with some of your daughter's behaviors either, but you understood that it was just a phase and that it would pass, but you also understood that it was difficult for Lewis to face it.

You sighed walking up closer to the couch to Lewis from behind and bent down to wrap your arms around him.

“And that is why?” You asked pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Because she thinks it’s normal to leave the house wearing a short ass dress that doesn’t even have any straps God forbid some sleeves” He says visibly upset and you can’t help but chuckle at him. “That’s not funny, y/n?”

“That’s not, but you are” You say making yourself comfortable in his lap. “You’re being too overprotective of her-“

“Of course I’m overprotective of her, she’s my little girl!” He cuts you off trying to justify his actions.

“Would you let me finish, please?”

“I’m sorry..”

“She’s no longer a little girl, Lew. You have to make your peace with that. Sometimes I don't like her clothing choices or her behavior either, but that's why we're here to guide her. But you forbid her too many things and she sees it as you trying to control her.”

“I just..” He sighs leaning his head against your chest. “I just want to protect her.. I miss the time when she was with me non-stop. We used to do so many things together now she only wants to hang out with her friends.”

“Baby, that’s normal. If it were any different, we would have been worried.” You assure him putting your hands on his cheeks. “You’re still her number one, you’ll always be.”

“Youe ability to calm me down amazes me.” He smiles at your soothing and comforting words. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too, baby” You place a soft kiss on his lips. “Now go and talk to her”

Lewis immediately got up and headed towards Harper's room while you decided to sort the groceries you had brought into the house a little while ago.

“My princess?” Lewis said gently knocking on the door. “Can I come in?”

Almost the same second, the door opened revealing crying Harper who was still sobbing. What Lewis didn't expect was for Harper to give him a tight hug and start crying in his arms.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Lewis asked a little worried.

“Because you made me say that I hate you. And I don’t hate you, daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.” She cried. It stung her as much as it stung Lewis because Harper is aware of how special her relationship with her father is.

“Baby, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry too.” He comforted her rubbing her back. “I don’t like when we can’t talk things out and I hate when we argue. We don’t do that, that’s not us.”

“I know we don’t do that. I don’t like it either” She said quietly.

“It’s hard for me to accept that you’re growing up and that you are no longer my little girl.” He lifts up her head to look at her. “I promise to try to be more understanding of your wishes.”

“Daddy, I’m always gonna be your little girl.” Her words warmed Lewis's heart. She knew what she meant by that. The love Harper has for her dad will always be strong and special and nothing can ever replace it. Lewis was grinning like a child thinking how he is the luckiest man in the world to have the two best girls in his life, Harper and you.

[fancyfeathers]

What if just to mess with the batfam Daughter!Reader starts flinching around them whenever they try touching her, or walk past her, ect. Now, she is smart, she knows they might try and pin the blame on the boy she kissed (related to the other post with the talon boyfriend.). But to really drive down the point she makes sure they see she doesn't flinch around anyone else other than them specifically. How would they react? - 🐈‍⬛Anon

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Well her boyfriend would just be a member of the Court of Owls, not a Talon, cause like the Court are people of wealth and power that control Gotham and his family fits the bill. Some of the leaders of the organization who you see wear those white masks.

But saying this this is after the fact that she found out her boyfriend and his family are members of the Court of Owls, they would probably think it is the shock and fear of it all, having to ram up protections, no in person school, a brother or Bruce staying by here at all time in case a Talon gets sent after her. They all notice her behavior very quickly, jumpy and jittery, flinching whenever they get near or touch her.

Dick and Tim are sure that it is everything catching up to her, after all it is not easy to deal with most of someone’s family being vigilantes and putting themselves at risk every night, not knowing if they will return, it is probably very hard on a little girl, especially having lived in a different environment for years and then having it change suddenly and deal with that new environment for years with everything building up and then this whole boyfriend mess on top of it, oh such a poor thing-

Then they see her mother wrap her arms around her daughter while she is sitting at the dinning room table working on her homeschool work and she does not move a muscle.

The rest of the family have also noticed her behavior but honestly had no doubts that it was an act since she had never been afraid of any sort of threat, even when there were kidnapping threats. Bruce gets tired of it quickly, Jason does not really care cause consequences will catch up to her eventually, but it is Damian who is the one who confronts her about it. It’s when he is spending the night with her, staying back from patrol to keep her and mother safe, it’s time for bed and she is reading in the family room and when he goes to grab to book from her she flinches and he has had enough. Damian grabs her by the collar and pins her to the wall.

“Stop this act, you have no reason to be afraid. We take care of you, protect you, feed you, keep a roof over your head and this is how you repay us?! Ungrateful bra-“

“Damian, stop this at once!”

It is a harsh word from his step mother that gets him to drop her to the floor before he storms off out the door, leaving his step mother to comfort her daughter who is a frightened, crying, shaking mess after that. She gets put back to bed by her mother and when Bruce returns from patrol and is getting ready for bed with his wife she tries to address what happened and he just tells her that it was the consequences of her actions. Those words he told her certainly left a sour taste in her mouth when she was laying in bed that night with him.

But then the next day when Dick comes to sit by her at the breakfast table, she jumps when he pulls out his chair to sit down. Everyone rolls their eyes at first, thinking it’s just her overreacting but when Bruce sees Damian glare at her after that and she starts tearing up, Bruce realizes she is actually terrified of them now…

Being terrified in a time like this is not a good thing, her situation is far from normal and putting more stress on the situation may make her run like a terrified bunny to god knows where and then god knows who could get to her.

[thetxtdevil]

i don’t want to bother…. but im itching to know if you have some more thoughts of strawberry reader and berry kai. im having withdrawals and love that fic so much. thinking of berry kai cumming in strawberry reader soooo much and getting her knocked up. im mind is feeling fuzzy thinking about it OOOH😵‍💫

I'm so happy with my Strawberry Shortcake fic's outcome. Glad you all are enjoying it :))

content: MDNI/NSFW, lots of suggestive details, breeding kink, groping, inaccurate depiction of lactation and pregnancy

The newly found hobby of both Blueberry Boy!Kai and Strawberry Shortcake!You are having you guys doing it anywhere, anytime, in any position. Although you guys weren't the only ones, it seems that Strawberryland's innocence has suddenly tarnished...

Hitting you from the back on the kitchen counter while making your sweets. Doing it in the dressing room in Angel Cake's fashion shop. Riding Kai on the living room floor after he serenades you with a beautiful guitar melody. Sneaking into the bathroom during Frosty Puff's holiday party only to find it preoccupied with Cherry Jam and Watermelon Sorbet.

His cute nose traces the curves of your body, getting a whiff of your intoxicating cake batter scent. While his tongue laps up the sweet, mouth-watering taste of your strawberry skin. You filled the blueberry boy's senses so much that everything became blurry. All he wants to do is to kiss you, love you, eat you up, and fuck you raw.

Strawberryland doesn't have Sex Ed so how was Blueberry Kai supposed to know he was to wear protection? It's not like he would anyway... You were addicted to his blueberry scone cum just as much as he was addicted to the sight of his lilac cum leaking out of your puffy folds.

Constantly slamming his fruit seeds back into your cervix until your blushed cheeks were fully stained with tears. Your whole shortcake body is spent, sore, but always begging for more. There was no stopping Kai, especially when he sensed something different about you and your body...

You were baking more than usual and that's a lot, along with moving your bright crimson furniture throughout your house until it is just right. Becoming extra protective with what Apple Dumpling was doing, but also wanted her out of the house to play, so you could play with Kai while you were horny out of your mind.

Kai couldn't deny that your change wasn't affecting him. Your strawberry scent seemed to intensify even more. Once you two were alone, he stopped to admire your body under him. That's when he noticed, as big hands grazed your swollen breasts and grown plush tummy, You moaned loudly feeling Blueberry's fingers squeeze your sensitive nipple however, you weren't expecting to start to feel wet up there.

Both of you look in awe seeing pink liquid stream down the curve of your tit. The sign of your unexpected lactation made your cheeks glow the deepest shade of red. If Blueberry Boy Kai didn't think he'd be more addicted to you this proved him wrong.

"I guess Strawberryland will be welcoming a mixed-berry baby, hmm?"

Blueberry Kai didn't care that he had knocked up Strawberry Shortcake. In full honesty, he was proud. Kai would walk closer to you than he already did, his hands always rubbing your growing bump. His hands also would ride up to cup your sensitive breasts in hopes he'd get another taste of your addictive strawberry milk.

You'd fully give in to his touches. Leaning your head back, Kai kisses your neck, squeezing your tits watching the milk flow down your belly towards your now hidden cunt, and he would never let a drop go to waste. Kai’s blue tongue would lick you up like an ice cream cone, wanting all the flavors you provide. His muscle dancing along your nipple, a kiss on your baby bump, down to your hormonal needy cunt. 

Blueberry Boy!Kai and Strawberry Shortcake!You would be the cutest and sweetest parents to Mixed-Berry Trifle. There probably will be more to come…

Strawberry Shortcake -> full fic, thoughts

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio

[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+

Welcome to our comprehensive guide on "Epoxy Shine," where we delve into the transformative power of epoxy flooring solutions. In today’s design-driven world, achieving a polished and durable floor is essential for both residential and commercial spaces. Epoxy coatings not only elevate the aesthetic appeal but also provide long-lasting protection against wear and tear. Whether you’re considering a modern upgrade for your home or a robust flooring solution for a bustling business, epoxy shines as a versatile choice that meets a variety of needs. In the following sections, we’ll explore innovative flooring solutions, focusing on the benefits of epoxy flake flooring, which combines functionality with style for a stunning finish that can withstand the test of time. 

Epoxy Shine

When it comes to achieving a brilliant and long-lasting finish, epoxy shine is the ideal solution for various flooring needs. Known for its incredible durability and aesthetic appeal, epoxy shine enhances the overall beauty of a space while providing a protective layer that withstands wear and tear.

The key to attaining that stunning epoxy shine lies in the application process. Proper surface preparation, quality materials, and skilled application techniques combine to create a glossy finish that can transform mundane concrete floors into vibrant, eye-catching surfaces. This shine doesn’t just elevate the design; it also reflects light, making spaces appear larger and more inviting.

Moreover, epoxy shine is not just about looks; it offers significant functional benefits too. The glossy surface is resistant to stains, chemicals, and moisture, making it an excellent choice for high-traffic areas such as garages, warehouses, and commercial spaces. Whether for aesthetic or practical purposes, ensuring your floors have that perfect epoxy shine can significantly enhance your property's value and appeal.

Floor Solutions

When it comes to choosing the right floor solutions, there are numerous options available that cater to various needs and preferences. Whether you are going for aesthetic appeal, durability, or maintenance ease, understanding the different types of flooring can significantly impact your choice.

One popular choice for many homeowners and businesses is epoxy flooring. This option provides a sleek and modern look while ensuring high durability and resistance to wear and tear. Epoxy shine not only enhances the floor's visual appeal but also makes it easier to clean and maintain over time.

Additionally, epoxy flake floors are gaining traction due to their unique aesthetic and customization options. They allow for a blend of colors and textures, giving homeowners the flexibility to create a more personalized look for their spaces. With such a wide array of flooring solutions, it's essential to consider factors like budget, usage, and design preferences before making a decision.

Flooring Solutions

When it comes to choosing the perfect flooring for your space, the options can be overwhelming. Flooring solutions are essential for both aesthetic and functional purposes, ensuring that your space not only looks great but also serves its intended function. From residential to commercial applications, the right flooring choice can make all the difference.

One popular choice in the realm of flooring solutions is epoxy flake floor systems. This type of flooring combines durability and design flexibility, making it a favorite among many homeowners and business owners. With a wide range of colors and patterns available, epoxy flake flooring can be customized to fit any space, providing a unique look that stands out.

For those seeking a brilliant shine, epoxy shine finishes can elevate your flooring game. These finishes not only provide a glossy look but also protect the flooring from wear and tear. Utilizing a performing solution like epoxy ensures that your floors can handle heavy foot traffic while maintaining their stunning appearance.

Epoxy Flake Floor

When it comes to durable and aesthetically pleasing flooring options, epoxy flake floors stand out as a superior choice. These floors are crafted using an epoxy resin mixed with decorative flakes, resulting in a unique finish that is both functional and visually appealing. The versatility of this flooring solution allows it to be used in various settings, from residential garages to commercial spaces.

The main advantage of epoxy flake floors is their resistance to impacts, chemicals, and stains, making them ideal for high-traffic areas. Their seamless nature prevents dirt and grime accumulation, offering a low-maintenance solution that is easy to clean. Furthermore, the aesthetic flexibility of the colored flakes lets homeowners and business owners customize their floors to match existing designs and personal preferences.

In addition to their durability and style, epoxy flake floors also contribute to improved safety. The texture of the flakes can enhance slip resistance, making them a practical choice for spaces where moisture is common. Whether you're looking to upgrade your garage or create a modern showroom, epoxy flake flooring provides an excellent combination of beauty, resilience, and safety.

[heizlut]

Praise kink for kazu? <3

he’s my lil baby, definitely a soft dom for sure that would give you endless praises🥲:

Sweet Little Angel

cw: none, this is cute as hell

tags: shy sub fem!reader, soft dom!kazuha, (also lowkey possessive!kazuha), praise kink, mostly proofread

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*

You were a shy little thing, always clinging to your boyfriend like he could protect you from everything (and he damn well will try his best to do so!). Kazuha loved you, loved everything about you. Especially the way you clutched his arm while you walked or when you’d subtly hide yourself behind him as he socialized with others. You were just too cute for your own good.

Kazuha had recently returned from travelling on the Alcor and made his way to your quaint home in Inazuma. Once you saw him walking up to your home, you practically flew out the door and into his arms making him laugh. You both stayed in each other's arms for a moment before he pulls away first and holds out a wrapped gift and smiles sweetly, "I brought something back for you from Liyue." Your face lights up and you beam at him, pressing little kisses all over his face.

Once inside your home, you unwrap his gift to you, letting the patterned paper flutter to the floor. You pause when you hold up the most beautiful red silk cheongsam-style dress, intricately patterned with golden swirls and leaves. Kazuha sits there smiling as he takes in your reaction but tilts his head slightly when he sees your eyebrows furrow, "Is there something wrong with it, angel?" You study the dress, focused on the cutout that would show off your cleavage and how short the hem of the dress actually was. Your eyes move to Kazuha, "Can I really wear this?" Kazuha looks a little confused but smiles anyways, "Of course, it's for you. Go on, put it on for me."

You peek your head out from behind the bedroom door, cheeks bright red as Kazuha gives you an encouraging soft smile, "Come out. Let me see." You hold your breath as you come out in the beautiful dress, nervous to be wearing something so gorgeous...yet revealing in the right places. Kazuha's breath catches in his throat when he sees you, his vermillion eyes trail down your body. His eyes linger on the little circular cut out in the chest that exposes your cleavage, "Oh, angel... Turn around for me. I want a full view." The blush on your cheeks refuses to go away as you do a slow turn for him. Shit, the dress hugged your curves and your ass so perfectly; the hem sitting pretty on your upper-mid thighs.

"Come here...", Kazuha's words were soft but laced with lust and he holds his hands out to you. You walk over to him and he places his hands on your waist, "Such a pretty angel... Let me take out you in this." You almost choke on absolutely nothing, "In this dress?" Your mind floods with everything that might go wrong if you wore this out, feeling way too shy to wear something like this while walking around Inazuma, "But what if I ruin it, Kazu..." Kazuha's hands slip from your waist and into your hands, "Don't worry about hypotheticals, just let me take you out." He presses his lips to the tops of your hands. You finally relent. Kazuha was just too sweet to deny.

Clutching at his arm as you both walk through Inazuma City, you feel so aware of yourself. You felt the eyes of passersby staring at you and Kazuha was most certainly aware. A surge of pride runs through him that you're on his arm looking the way you do; that you're all his and no one else's. Your confidence was only boosted when Ogura Mio, the lovely woman who ran Ogura Textiles & Kimono's gushed over your dress saying the material, the intricate pattern, and the way it fit you was simply divine. More eyes fell on you when you walked with more confidence instead of leaning into Kazuha's body.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from you when you walked up to Tomoko, the street vendor, and began chatting away, using your little boost in confidence to spur you on. Kazuha was quick to catch Tomoko's eyes wandering down your figure and that bright smile that he flashed you when he told you that he was also offering tri-color dango that day. You smile happily when Tomoko hands you the stick of tri-color dango and you bounce as you excitedly turn back to where Kazuha was standing. Kazuha's affectionate gaze falls on you as you walk back to him, hips swaying and all. Did you know how sexy you looked?

"Got everything you wanted?", Kazuha asks in his usual soft tone. "Mhm!", you express with a cute grin on your face. He hums in acknowledgement and wraps his arm around your waist as you continue to walk. A little crumb of dango sticks to the corner of your lip and Kazuha chuckles, pointing by his own lips to let you know you had a little something. Your cheeks heat up and you giggle, swiping your thumb on the spot then bringing it to your lips, sucking the crumb off your finger.

His cock stirs to life in his pants at the promiscuous action you just pulled with such a doe-eyed look on your face and in that sexy little dress no less..., "Let's go home, angel." You pout a little, "But I was just starting to have fun being out..." Kazuha takes your free hand, "I have something more fun for the both of us at home." You look a little confused because he hadn't brought anything else home with him besides the dress he had gifted you, but you let him lead you home.

As soon as the door shuts, his hands are all over you and he kisses the corner of your lips, down your jaw, and to your neck. You suck in a breath as your fingers tangle in his soft white hair, "Kazu..." He sucks at your neck, leaving a dark hickey in its place as he groans against your skin, "You're too pretty...too cute and sweet..." He trails off as he sucks another mark closer to your collarbone now, "You don't realize what you do to me, angel..." Kazuha's voice was husky as his breath fans over your sensitive skin.

Kazuha presses a hasty kiss to your sweet tasting lips, the flavor of the dango you ate earlier lingered there. He licks his lips as he steps back and starts removing his clothes, tossing them off somewhere in the room, he didn't care at the moment. Your pupils dilate as you watch in awe of the beautiful man in front of you and your hands reach around to the back of your dress, fumbling for the buttons. But Kazuha clicks his tongue, halting your movements, "Keep it on. You look so beautiful wearing my gift."

Arousal pools between your legs, wetting the cute white pair of panties you had put on earlier today. You squeal when Kazuha picks you up and places you on the bed. His vermillion eyes sparkling with affection and desire for you and only you. He crawls up on top of you, kissing you slow but with a heated passion. Kazuha moves down and carefully lifts the dress up to your waist, revealing your cute soaked panties. You whimper his name when he drags the material down your legs and tosses them to the floor, "Be still for me, angel. Let me taste how sweet you are..."

A high-pitched moan falls from your lips as his tongue drags up your wet slit. Kazuha groans against your clit, unable to help himself as he grinds his cock into the mattress at the taste of you alone. He laps at your juices as if he was a starved man, tongue flicking at your clit and prodding your pulsating entrance. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you come undone with the most beautiful noises. Kazuha makes you whimper when he drags his tongue against your entrance, overstimulating you, "You did so well for me, pretty girl. You're always so good for me..."

Kazuha doesn't bother to wipe the sticky slick mess from his lips and chin as he moves up again, capturing you lips in his in a hungry kiss. His tongue licks at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, to which you grant. You part your lips, letting his tongue dance with yours, tasting traces of your own arousal. Kazuha's leaking cock rubs against your pussy; his upper body brushing up against the smooth, silky fabric of your dress. The feeling was overwhelming him, making his mind go blank. He looks deep into your eyes, both sharing a loving and heated gaze. You speak first, your words coming out in little pants of breath, "I want to feel you inside me, Kazu..."

He felt his eyes glaze over at your words and the look on your face and he releases a shaky breath, "Anything for you, angel..." It doesn't take much effort for the fat head of his cock to breach your entrance, making both of you suck in a harsh breath. He's the one that whimpers when he sheathes himself fully inside of you warm, wet walls that flutter around his cock. You wrap your arms around his neck as you look up at him with so much need. Kazuha catches your gaze and whispers sweetly, "Gonna move now, alright?" Your lips part slightly as you nod, "Uh-huh..."

Your expression twists to one of deep pleasure as Kazuha fucks you slow and deep. The drag of his cock in your tight pussy had you seeing stars as his name falls from your lips like a desperate prayer. He does his best to keep quiet as he grunts and moans while your cunt squeezes him so perfectly, wanting to hear each noise you make for him. He simply cannot get enough of you, not daring to tear his eyes away for risk of missing every little expression you make.

Kazuha is mesmerized by you, the way you moan his name, they way the gifted dress bunches at your waist, the way you cling to him desperately as he fucks into you at a sensual pace, and the way your hair is splayed out across the pillow. His heart felt like it could explode with the love he has for you, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. As if you descended directly from Celestia and right into my arms... A beautiful angel taking my cock so well..." Your lips form a lazy smile, finding it cute that his poetic nature remained with him even during such a sinful act. Your smile turns to an "O" and your eyebrows knit together as he hits that spot deep inside of you.

Kazuha feels his end coming near, but he wasn't about to finish before making you cum one more. His thumb moves to your sensitive clit, rubbing frantic circles as he pants above you, his thrusts getting more sloppy, "Cum for me, angel. Let me hear you pretty moans..." Your vision goes white as you arch your back off the mattress, letting out a cry of pleasure as you release all over his length. "That's it, pretty girl... Fuckfuckfuck-", Kazuha almost collapses on top of you as ropes of cum spill inside of you. His cock throbs to the beat of his racing heart as he stills inside of you. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes locked on each other and your heart swells with the way he looks at you, "You did so well for me. My sweet little angel. I love you..."

ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*

a/n: got myself in my own feelings with this one🥹

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

more of jessie lying wetly

chapter one

chapter two

cool art by @hamandeggbun

and brand new shiny chapter three. on god I am not allowed to post another one until I finish writing chapter ten.

The interior decor of One-Eyed Polly’s had changed precious little since the last time Jessie saw it, although the floors were a little more scratched up and the felt on the pool table had acquired some upsetting new stains. The only thing that had changed was the enormous NO SMOKING sign on the back wall, right where everyone could see it. 

The second she stepped inside of the bar the universe conspired to give her the entrance of a stranger blowing into town in an old Western, with the jukebox pausing between songs and conversation hitting a lull just as she stepped on a creaky floorboard, drawing all eyes to herself. She flashed an ice cold Frostbite smile, tossed her hair, and wished desperately that she’d worn her costume. It would make her look like a total douchebag, sure, but it would also remind everyone she was dangerous.  

Jessie strode back to the bar like it was a catwalk anyway, but the whispers and mutters that followed her were not promising.

“Still owes me twenty dollars.”

“Did I tell you she blocked me?”

“I thought she got arrested.”

“What did Sub-Zero say?”

Okay. Okay. Not awesome, but it was fine. They could say anything they wanted about her, but how many of these washouts and wannabes would actually try anything? None of them. They didn’t know that she was unarmed and floundering without her brother. She hadn’t worn her costume because she didn’t need to; her reputation was still strong enough to protect her. Not to mention she wanted all of these dweebs to see her wearing jeans that cost more than their mortgage payments and choke on the jealousy.

Maudie was behind the bar, grayer and butcher than ever. Her face was lined now, enough that it gave Jessie pause. Was her godmother getting old now? When did that happen?

Not that Maud was letting it soften her up at all. She raised a bushy brow at Jessie by way of greeting and launched right into putting her through the wringer. “Well, well. Look at that. A real-deal supervillain graces us with her presence. Thank you for deigning to descend from the gravy train, your highness.” 

“Aww, Maudie, come on. Don’t be like that, it’s my birthday.”

“As if I don’t know. Did you get your card?”

“Did you send one?”

Maud rolled her eyes, hard. “Of course I sent one. What kind of schmuck do you take me for?”

Of course she wouldn’t know; Jessie hadn’t checked her mailbox in at least a week. 

She realized, with despair, that there were tears crowding up around the edges of her eyes, little pinpricks begging to be let loose. When had she gotten so sappy? She wasn’t even most excited about the crisp fifty dollar bill that Maudie always tucked inside of her cards, although that was a relief. It was mostly that someone had even remembered she existed and wanted to do something nice for her that was really turning her into goo. 

“Well, I appreciate it,” she said, choking down her onslaught of emotions. Maudie would hate her making a scene like that; she never knew what to do when people cried. “But, hey, I’m not here to talk about me. How are you doing? Are you feeling alright?”

“The hell do you mean, do I feel alright?”

“Well, you always said that you’d only make people stop smoking in here over your dead body. And now nobody’s smoking, so I figure you must have gotten real close to having a dead body.”

Maudie snorted. “We had a scare last year. Doctor thought he had something, turned out not to be serious. But you know how the dames are. Next thing I know, nobody’s allowed to smoke in here and I’m getting yelled at if I don’t eat vegetables and go for a fuckin’ walking every morning.”

She shook her head, fondly exasperated. The dames were the two iron-tongued femmes Maudie had been in a relationship with for decades, largely considered to be the real masterminds behind One-Eyed Polly’s. According to Maudie, they only kept her around to look pretty and serve the drinks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jessie demanded. “We could have helped with the bills, or I could have brought over soup. Something.”

“I didn’t want to bother you, kid. Your brother made it pretty clear that you were busy.” And then, before Jessie could apologize or otherwise risk making things sentimental, Maudie cleared her throat sharply. “You want a drink, or what? First round’s free for the birthday girl.”

“Yeah? Let’s do a straight whiskey and a burger,” Jessie said, knowing damn well that she’d be drinking nothing but dirt cheap beer for the rest of the night. “Do the fries still come with that, or is it extra?”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I charge people extra for a side of fries. That shit comes with the burger,” Maud said gravely.

There were a lot of things that could stand to be improved about One-Eyed Polly’s, but the food was not one of them. So what if the fry cook telepathically talked with rats? He could work a grill. The basket that arrived in front of Jessie contained a beautifully constructed medium rare burger packing the exact correct amount of grease, surrounded by steak fries that had been seasoned to absolute perfection. Pardon Jessie while she drooled a little bit. 

“Hey, Maudie,” she said, half a burger later. “You still have Joney’s van?”

Her godmother raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch, which for Maud was an expression of profound skepticism. “I’d love to know how the hell you think I could’ve lost it.”

“No no, that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to see if I could grab it from you.”

“Can’t get your car back from Voltzz, huh?”

“Hmm?” Jessie asked, playing dumb.

“Do not try the bimbo act on me, Jessica Jolene. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“God. How did you even hear about that?”

“Are you kidding? I hear about everything in here. We had a bunch of schlubs in here doing shots at noon because they thought Ricochet dragged you off for good.”

“Okay, tacky.” Jessie licked her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry despite an abundance of gloss. “Maudie, can I ask you a question? It seems like I’m maybe, um, not very popular around here.”

Maud stared her down with eyes like chisels. “That’s not a question.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, kiddo. They hate your guts.”

“Maudie!”

Jessie’s complaining was cut short by a sweaty, nervous-looking man appearing from the kitchen and hurrying to Maudie’s side. He shot Jessie a look that could really only be described as distrustful, then leaned in close to deliver his message to Maud. She shrugged him away almost before he finished speaking, peeved by his damp proximity.

“So get her shift covered. Why do you need my permission for that? Call Billy. Or, hell, see if Tash can make it in. She’s always dying for extra shifts. Tell Jordan I’ll come sort her out in a minute and then get your ass back out here to cover the bar. The dishes can wait.”

Maudie sighed and turned back to Jessie as her dishwasher departed, shaking her head. She suddenly looked about a hundred years old. “Kid, I miss the days when the worst I had to deal with was bartenders coming in drunk.”

“What happened?”

“One of my girls, Jordan. She’s got that fucking, what do they call it? Void pox? She kept going see-through when she came in but she swore she’d be fine. Except she’s not fine, she started getting these little cartoon demons popping out of her head. Pretty harmless, only about this big, but if I never have to kill another one with a broom it’ll be too soon. Anyway, I had her sitting down in the back, but now she’s starting to make things levitate and I can’t have that. I need to find her a ride home.”

“Could I come see her?” Jessie asked with, in hindsight, way too much enthusiasm.

Her godmother hit her with a look that was genuinely withering. “You can keep your ass right here and be nice to Nikesh while he tends the bar. And you can leave Jordan alone. It’s a 24-hour bug, she’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“I know that!”

“So drop it, then! For once in your life, don’t get so pushy about this superhero shit.”

Maud ducked back into the kitchen on that deeply unencouraging note, sending poor Nikesh back out to hold down the bar in her stead. He studiously avoided Jessie’s gaze when she asked him how his night was going, spitting out single syllable answers until she gave up and asked for a hard cider, which he provided without once actually turning his face in her direction. Jessie dropped a five in the tip jar anyway, because she believed very firmly that you were supposed to tip generously unless the waiter had purposefully set you on fire and maybe even then. Running through the last of your money in the entire world was no excuse to be a lousy customer.

The problem being, of course, that she had hoped this would be a case of spending money to make money. She’d shell out a little for a night at One-Eyed Polly’s, reestablish herself as a villain of the people, and announce that she was hiring to thunderous applause. Henchpeople out the door, heaps of cash secured, the money that she’d pissed away on bottom shelf booze now a worthwhile investment. 

Unfortunately, all of that had depended on there being someone, anyone, left in town who didn’t hate her guts.

“Hey, Nikesh? Do you like working here?”

“It’s a living,” he said, still looking down. 

“If I offered to pay you, like, five times what you’re making right now, would you work for me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Ten times?” 

He actually looked at her for a fleeting second, his gaze touching off hers for just a moment. Jessie was vomitously aware that there was something that looked a lot like pity in his face. “Look, lady. It’s not about the money. It’s about not wanting to get my ass kicked.”

“Jesus Christ. Am I really that bad for business?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is that why you won’t even look at me?”

“Yeah. You understand. Can’t look like we’re getting friendly.”

“Respect. You gotta look out for number one, Nikesh. I can throw a drink on you, if you want.”

“Yeah? That might be good, actually. We could make people think I said something really nasty to you. That could actually be great for my rep.”

Jessie groaned, resting her face in her hands. This was going to be an absolute non-starter. Polly’s was the biggest rat-hole in town; everyone knew that this was a place where people would turn a blind eye to almost anything. Everyone put aside their beef here, because the place would never function if they didn’t and no one wanted to be the asshole who ruined the only functioning villain bar in town. If a bartender was too scared to even look at her directly, Jessie’s reputation must be worse than dirt.

Why? Because of last night’s embarrassing little tantrum? Couldn’t be it. Nobody complained about the time Voltzz snorted bath salts and went on a rampage, or when Incinerator got drunk and started taking potshots at cop cars. Hell, if anything they’d both gotten more popular after that. Jonas might sneer at the lack of precision and control, but Jessie had tried to tell him a thousand times that people liked to see a supervillain go a little off the rails. It was aspirational, right? It let people imagine what they might do, if they had the power to really cut loose.

Why was she different? Sure, people hated to see a woman having fun, but that couldn’t possibly explain all of it. Maudie could probably explain it, whenever she finished mopping up the poor sap with the void pox. Maudie heard about everything. 

In the meantime, she might as well try to make the most of her evening. If she wasn’t going to be making new friends, she could at least have a little fun. Who cared about her bank account? If she was screwed, she might as well go out with a splash. 

“Nikesh? Open me up a tab. It’s my birthday and I want shots.”

***

Jessie Chilton was not a lightweight. Despite spending most of her early life watching her father get eaten alive by booze she had an exceedingly friendly relationship with alcohol, and could usually hold her drinks pretty well. Jonas had never touched the stuff, erring hard on the side of caution, but Jessie knew that she could stop any time she wanted.

Her miserable 26th birthday was not that time. That night she drank like the world was going to end, because it very possibly was. Her world, at least, and what else was she supposed to worry about? She knew damn well the scope of what she could be held responsible for, and presently it was mostly downing as much tequila as she could.

Which meant she ended up in the bathroom, eventually, because all of that liquid had to go somewhere, and in the time-honored tradition of wasted girls everywhere she got weird about it. While Jessie sat in the cramped and questionably-lit stall she started thinking about how she’d very nearly been born in this very room and what a miserably inauspicious start that was, and how perhaps she should have known that her life was always doomed to go down the toilet despite a decade or so of delusionally believing that she might be meant for something better. She wished that she had some friends to cry to, and briefly regretted the loss of Whirligig. Getting sloppy drunk and crying in club bathrooms together had been about the only thing that friendship was good for, but sometimes that was all she needed it to be. 

In the absence of anywhere else to turn Jessie called the person who had almost always been there for her, until he spectacularly wasn’t.

Hey, Joney. It’s your favorite sister. And I know what you’re thinking: ‘Jessie, you’re my only sister, why are you doing exposition like a lunatic?’ Well, it’s because you haven’t been acting like I’m your favorite sister lately, or like you even know me, so I figured maybe you needed the reminder.

Did you even notice it’s my birthday? You’ve never forgotten it in my entire life. But you know who remembered? Uncle Ray. And Maud. And that’s fucking it. And Ricochet was soooOOOOOOoooo mean to me this morning. Like, you wouldn’t believe. She’s getting way too cocky, if you ask me. You should come back and kick her ass into orbit. Remind her who’s boss around here.

You should come back in general, actually. I miss you. But I’m also mad at you. It’s, like, a real dick move to take off and not even leave me with any money. I mean, I had money. Past-tense. But it’s gone now. I could have, like, I could have definitely spent it better. Smarter? I got these really stupid expensive boots with real crystals on them and then when I tried to return them they said I couldn’t because there was a scuff on the toe, which is like… whatever. I’m wearing them right now even though they’re way too fancy for Polly’s. Might as well get my money’s worth.

But I also just don’t have anything. Like, where’s the bank account? Where is the bank account, Jonas? I earned half that money, so why can’t I… I mean, you literally never told me how to get into it. To my money. Which I guess in hindsight was, like, I should have had a problem with that way sooner, but you made it sound extremely reasonable! And now I’m this close to Uncle Ray throwing me out on my ass, because I couldn’t pay the May rent and I can’t pay the June rent, either, at the rate things are going. I opened a tab at Polly’s and I don’t have enough to pay it, so now Maudie’s going to be mad at me, I think. I don’t know, I’m not even actually sure how a tab works. Isn't that stupid? I'm, like, so mad at myself lately got how much stuff I don't know.

Everybody’s mad at me.

And you won’t even call me back, and I can’t even afford toilet paper, so that’s, like, a lot. And I’m not handling it well. And I’m drank as a skank at Polly’s, in case you couldn’t tell, so go ahead and get your panties twisted up about that. I’m fucking spiraling, buddy. I’m in my fucking up era out here.

So. You should come home.

Or at least tell me where you are or what you’re doing or why you left, okay? Because I hate no knowing that. We’re supposed to tell each other things. And I’m scared about what’s going to happen if you’re gone much longer because, like, everything is going wrong. And I think you might have really left me screwed here, okay? Which is crazy, because it was supposed to be you and me against the world, but I’m not fucking seeing it right now. 

By this point Jessie was crying and snotting pretty hard, absorbed enough in her own agonies that she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone in the bathroom until someone rapped lightly on the door of her stall and almost scared her shitless.

“Hey. You okay in there?”

It was not the voice of someone particularly warm and fuzzy or confident about checking in on a stranger, which actually made it a little sweeter that they’d bothered.

“I’m fine,” Jessie lied, wetly. “I’m just, like, I’m on the phone.”

“Yeah, I can hear that.” Whoever they were, they were sorely tempted to leave it at that and go back to minding their own business. Jessie could tell. Outside the stall, a pair of tennis shoes that had been worn damn near to dust rocked back and forth, weighing the options. “I just wanted to say that they’re not worth it. Whoever’s making you feel this bad, you shouldn't waste your time on them.”

“Okay,” Jessie said. And then, into the message she was still leaving for her brother: “I have to go, a nice girl in this bathroom says you’re not worth it. Please call me, love you, bye.”

“Great,” the stranger said dryly. “Crushed it.” Their beaten-in shoes scuffed away, back over to the sinks. Had Jessie missed an entire other person pissing next to her? God, that was embarrassing.

She wadded up some genuinely horrific single ply toilet paper and dabbed at her face, hoping she didn’t look too atrocious. All of her makeup was waterproof, which had to count for something. “Hey, thank you for that. I really needed someone to snap me out of it. I was being so pathetic.”

“Whatever,” said the voice by the sinks. “Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve been there, I get it.”

Jessie’s heart was getting squeezed around like one of those awful tubes full of goo and glitter and little plastic animals, the kind that everyone used to make jerk off motions. Who was this? Would they still be so nice to her if they knew who she was? What were the odds she could salvage a single actual friend out of this wretched garbage fire of a day? It didn’t even have to be a lifelong bestie, just someone she could have a few drinks with. 

“My name is Jessie,” she said hesitantly.

She heard her new friend sigh. “I’m Tash.”

“Do you come here often? I’m not asking that in the pervert way, I’m just curious if you’re, like, a regular.”

“I work here,” Tash said, with as much contempt as anyone had ever had for their workplace.

“Oh. Do you like it?”

“Sucks shit. But, you know. You do what you’ve got to do.” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Are you okay in there? I’m gonna get my ass reamed if I let somebody drown in the toilet.”

“No, I’m okay. I’m just, you know.” Which was a fucking nothing explanation, but Jessie’s voice was still damp and wavering enough that it presumably got the point across. “I need a moment to get it together.”

“I hear that,” Tash said. “I usually use the walk-in when I need a second.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s not very big, but it’s quiet. And the cold kind of helps pull me together, I guess. Stay focused.” She cleared her throat again. “Sorry to dump that on you.”

“No, that’s okay. It makes sense,” said Jessie, noted cold enjoyer. “Do you keep anything fun in there? Maud’s never let me see it.”

“You know Maud?”

“Yeah, since I was a kid. Isn’t she the best?”

“She’s a real son of a bitch. But she's the only boss I’ve ever believed when she says she gives a shit about me, though.”

“Sounds like Maudie,” Jessie agreed fondly. “Anyway, what’s in the walk-in?”

“Fucking nothing exciting. Burger patties, mostly. I don’t know. Like I said, not a lot of room.”

“Plenty of room for you.”

“Yeah, every time I have a total breakdown at work.”

“Does that happen a lot? No judgment, obviously. Pot .”

“I don’t know.” Tash sighed. “More often than you’d hope. Which is never, obviously. We don’t have to talk about this.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“What?”

“Your favorite color,” Jessie insisted. “I love asking people that. Nobody ever cares after you turn, like, twelve, right? But I care. And it’s a lot more chill than talking about, you know. Our favorite places to completely freak out in a shithole bar.”

“Okay. Sure,” Tash said. Everything about the strain in her voice suggested she was not naturally inclined towards whimsy, but at least she was making the effort to play along. “Will you assume I have clinical depression if I say gray?”

“Yes.”

“Well, joke’s on me, because I love gray and I do have clinical depression. But purple is also good. I like purple.”

“What shade? Eggplant? Periwinkle?”

“Just a nice, medium purple, I guess. Like, the platonic ideal of purple.”

Jessie had no idea what a platonic ideal was or why anyone would ever need to specify that they weren't trying to have sex with a color, but she was sitting on her stupid little toilet nodding like an idiot anyway because it felt so good to be making a connection with someone. “I dig that. Purple is good.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, cerulean for sure. With sparkles, ideally.”

“That’s blue, right?”

“Yeah. My jacket is actually, like, that exact color, I can show you.” Jessie sniffled tremendously, getting shakily to her feet and pleased to discover that she was feeling much more sober than when she’d wandered into the bathroom some time ago. And now look at her! Practically having a whole meet cute. What a turn around on the evening. “Okay, I’m coming out now. Don’t gag if my makeup’s a mess, I’m going to fix it.”

She tossed her hair and stepped out of the stall, at which point several things happened to her in rapid succession.

Tash was standing underneath one of the humming, flickering lights that barely managed to illuminate the dark cave of the ladies’ room. She struck a slim figure, drowning in a huge hoodie with two skinny black-clad legs sticking out like a cartoon character. She was wiping down the sinks but turned as Jessie emerged, the fuzzy light illuminating her from the back like a bargain bin halo.

The first thing Jessie noticed was that Tash was a lot shorter than she had been expecting.

The second was that Tash had beautiful eyes. 

The third was that those beautiful eyes and indeed her entire face were curdling up in horror as recognition set in.

“What the fuck,” she said. “Frostbite?”

The recognition and reaction alone weren’t surprising, given the colossal combined levels of notoriety and bad PR Jessie was currently enjoying. The part that nearly knocked her on her ass was that recognized Tash back.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, overjoyed and utterly failing to read the room. “Night Noir? Holy shit, girlie, I thought you were dead!”

[sinsofnivan]

LISTEN LISTEN-

hear me out

what if you got chased by mutated!Krauser only for him to corner you? 😳

ENSNARED. — JACK KRAUSER x YOU! — SMUT!

SUMMARY: you're a researcher hired by wesker, tasked to dissect major jack krauser's corpse and study the plaga in it. but a corpse isn't warm, or have a functional heart and respiratory system. they sure as hell don't talk.  or:  the plaga in krauser's body won't let him die as a means to preserve its species.

PAIRING: JACK KRAUSER/you.

TAGS: monster fucking, AU where krauser can control his mutation because i say so, monster fucking, slight blood, some tentacles, tweaking with canon abit, monster fucking, mutated arm/hand-knife fucking (?), did i tag monster fucking?, size difference, dumbification, mind break, forced orgasms, crying during sex, he chases you, DUBIOUS CONSENT, tagging body horror just in case, mating press, full nelson, pussy drunk krauser, FERAL KRAUSER, scent kink??, he's just really in heat here lol

WORD COUNT: 4491

A/N: also, just to note. his corpse was found “un-mutated."/no monster arms.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

you've walked in this surgical theatre many times—done operations, dissections many times. but for some reason, dread weighs your steps heavier. you're almost unwilling to push open those doors and uncover the corpse laid on the gurney, but you have to. you know you have to. 

you've cut open corpses many times, fully aware of the horrors they've endured just from their injuries alone. you wear gloves, but you know you can't wash off the blood on your hands. you forget their faces eventually, but—

jack krauser isn't a stranger.

he was your colleague, having nothing in common but your employer. sent together in spain, you were the brains, he was the brawn. krauser protected you, came for you when you became stranded in the laboratory, sent you away without him. it was the last time you saw him. the last time you saw him alive.

now he's laid before you, covered by a white cloth stained with his blood.

you dreaded it. it takes you a minute or two to touch it with your gloved hands, and then—

what the fuck?

his face—it was covered in blood, but he wasn't even pale in complexion. his lips were still pink, plump. almost like he's full of life. you peeled off a latex glove, pressing the top of your bare hand against his forehead, and—there's no mistaking the heat emitting from his dermis. and it wasn't just his forehead, but his whole body, too. chest, abdomen. 

you frantically peel off your other glove, pressing two fingers right below his jawline. it's subtle, weak, and almost imperceptible, but it's there. it's right there. you tugged on the cloth, letting it completely fall, and you cradle his cheek.

"krauser? can you hear me?" 

they said he was dead. that his corpse has been transported off spain and into your private lab. that they checked him and he was gone. you lean in close, bringing your ear close to his nose, and you squealed when his breath tickled the inside of your ear. it startled you, understandably so, jumping back and bumping against your table full of tools—some of your apparatus clanging on the floor. his hands spasmed, and you only noticed now that most of his lacerations have healed up, the gash that split his arm into two was practically gone. 

"k, krauser?"

your voice echoed in krauser's ears. it's so sweet. so comforting. it's a warmth that embraces him, welcomes him when his heart begins to beat again. his pain is gone, and the image of you, his pretty little scientist, flashes before his eyes. it's heavy, at first. like his limbs are nothing but weights. but he sees you in his memory, he hears you, he feels you—and he wanted nothing more than to touch you.

to hold you, to smell you, sink his teeth in you, bury his cock in y—

the light is blinding, and krauser's body jolts awake. his hands, they're no longer mutilated, only scarring and a red line forming on where the skin splits and tears. his chest is dried with blood, but there's no knife, not even a hint of it, and then— 

"oh my god,"

your scent fills krauser's nostrils, and his cerulean gaze averts to you. sweet little thing. he thinks. "doc," he croaked out, getting up from the gurney and almost falling to the floor. you rush to his aid, helping him back up on his feet. your scent is stronger. sweeter. he wants to bury his face in your neck and—

"here. h, have a drink." you skitter around the laboratory, grabbing a bottled water for him to drink. "i, i can't believe this," krauser only grunts, chugging down the water. "they said you were dead," "this look dead t'you, doc?" he can't be dead. who's going to breed his pretty little researcher full? you took the empty plastic bottle from him, setting it aside somewhere. you glance at his irises—and they were just as bright as you remember, except his pupils were dilated as he stared at you. "let's get you cleaned up, c'mon,"

at least ten different lab protocols are being broken by bringing him—a dangerous specimen—into the showers; telling him to wash off the blood and to stay put as you retreat somewhere to bring him clean clothes. as you looked for clothes his size, you can't stop thinking about it, can't wrap it around your head. he came back to life—as him. he recognized you and had no aggression. you're assuming it's the work of the plaga in krauser's body. this was a breakthrough. 

though, it seems like you've spoken too soon, because by the time you return to the showers, it's ransacked and wrecked. long, deep lines are carved into the cement of the bathroom, like someone had been slashing it with a sword. 

"y/n, is that—is that you?"

krauser's voice is back in the surgical theatre he was brought into, and your eyes widen when he emerges from the room. and now you notice how his left arm—the bones of his left arm—had mutated into something similar to a giant blade. the other one was normal, holding up your used glove into his nose. "oh my god," the spare clothes fall on your feet. "i thought you left . .i thought you left me, y/n," instincts take over you, running back to the direction where you came from. 

"wait, y/n, wait!"

you didn't dare look back, because his footsteps tell you that he's right behind you. "not gonna hurt you—!" clearly, that was a lie. you didn't see it, but he almost grabbed a hold of your shoulder, and barely missed. the lustre of his mutated arm—the blade—is slammed against the walls of the hallway, accidentally opening a few doors and destroying a few wires that kept the lights on. krauser sees you turn to the room to the left, but was met with a barely-lit cafeteria. all this furniture, but not a single you in sight. 

you tried to keep your panting to a minimum as you skittered behind the counter. the dark gave you an advantage, and you figured crouching would give you more chances to move around undetected. "don't leave me, y/n. i need you. got even cleaned up f'you. isn't that what you wanted?" krauser whined, and you peeked through the glass as you watched him flip every desk and chair with just one swift move of his arm. "damn it!" he shouts, and you duck just before he could see your head. 

"i'll find you—i'll fucking . . find you. you know i can smell you, right?"

fuck. fuck . . you had to get out of here. the safest place in your lab would be the observation cells. the glass is tough, seriously tough, and only you had access to the doors. it wouldn't be too far from the canteen. you could hear his frustrated grunt, destroying the door of what you think is the pantry. "i love a good hunt, y/n!" you recoiled at the sight of the door being thrown across the room.

"you can't hide forever. come on, y/n. let's not drag this out." the closer he got, the louder you could hear the water and the blood drip from his body. a minute passes, and you could feel your stomach twist in fear when the steps have stopped. just the dripping. 

you slowly raise your head back to the counter, and you shrieked when you realized he had been staring at you this whole time. "thereeee you are. don't run. i was wondering when you'd show that pretty— hey, come back here!" you scramble, heels almost slipping on the smooth floor, but you managed to crawl away, and out. krauser's growl echoes in the empty room, destroying everything that was before him out of frustration. 

the observation cells shouldn't be too far—you knew these halls by heart. even if he destroyed the lights, you knew your way, and where to turn. you had no time to turn on the switches as you entered the study area, your steps pausing in front of the observation cell's door and frantically swiping your ID into the keycard slot.

WELCOME, Y/N.

it greets, the metal door opening for you, and you practically throw yourself into the dark, unlit cell. a sigh escapes you, relieved. you don't hear krauser, and you hoped he's somewhere away from you. you needed to alert wesker. even if you don't, he'll be around soon. 

BIOWEAPON DETECTED. ACTIVATING LOCKS. LIGHTING SYSTEMS SET TO: MINIMAL VISIBILITY.

STRUCTURAL DAMAGE DETECTED. EMERGENCY FAILSAFE DETECTED. UNLOCKING SEQUENCE UNAVAILABLE.

"oh my god," overhead lights slowly activate, and you back yourself into a corner when you see krauser's muscular silhouette. fuck, you were an idiot. "i warned you not to run," you braced yourself for the worst as krauser approached you, his bigger frame looming over you. but he doesn't tear you apart. quite the opposite, actually, you realized that both his arms have now mutated—and the other seemed more grotesque and complex than the blade hand. still, it resembled his hand in a disturbing way.

closing the gap between both of you, the first thing he does is press his nose onto your sweaty jaw, taking in your scent and growling. "delicious," he whispered, his mutilated left arm caging you in place. "d, don't hurt me, please," you whined, and krauser chuckled. "oh no, baby. i could never," you could feel a thin, tendril-like appendage caress your cheek. it's slimy, sticky. "i need you. need you to be my wife. be my mate. gotta get you stuffed full," 

your eyes widened. "no, no! krauser, we—mpffgh!" his lips are on yours, and you could taste the minty toothpaste and the copper of blood. you didn't kiss back, you can't, this was wrong. he could kill you, but you can't push him back—he was twice your fucking size. his tongue forces your lips to part, and you whimpered when he began to graze the blunt edge of his blade arm onto your thigh, your dress hiking up in the process. 

al of your whimpers are muffled. even in this frenzied state, you couldn't deny how much of a great kisser he was. he took charge—which was, well, very in character of krauser—grabbing your waist with his terrifying, gargantuan hand, forcing you to grind your cunt against the edge of his weaponized arm. its bumps sickeningly against your clit, and you can't deny the pleasure that sends sparks all over your body. 

once krauser parts from your lips, he doesn't waste any seconds, kissing your neck and never hesitating to sink his canines onto your skin. "mine," he whispered, tongue temptingly lathering the pillowy flesh of your lobe. "stayed alive f'you. could hear your voice in my earpiece." you're tiny, compared to his enlarged, contorted hand, and it was way too easy for him to tear the fabric off your frame. "krauser, i—," there's not many words you can squeeze out, because krauser doesn't want to hear it. doesn't wanna hear how you don't want him because that's not true. he's seen how you look at him, how you smile at him, how you laugh at his shit jokes—you want him. it's not true that you want him to stop. not true. nottruenottruenotttruenottruenottrue

you groaned in discomfort when his giant hand tightens around your waist, and he maneuvers you as if you were just a doll, throwing you on the unused bed and quickly getting on top of you. the support of the bed breaks, and you shrieked, holding on to him. he shows no reaction, only latching his mouth on your nipples; teasing the squishy, perky ends with his teeth.

the rest of your clothes are torn off, and yet you don't feel a bit of the cold. his warmth—heat, actually—was more than enough to keep you from freezing to death. "you even got us a comfy room. think this'll do for our first honeymoon, sweets?" his trail of bites and kisses head south, tongue teasing the edges of your panties. "i'll take you to—," smooch. "greece. and then—," smooch, smooch. "to croatia—," krauser was practically on his knees by the time he was settled between your legs. the small bed left little to no room for someone his size, but he didn't care. 

"how does that sound, baby? hm? gonna be my pretty little wife," 

you're not given a chance to respond when krauser obscenely pressed his nose into the outline of your pantied cunt, inhaling deeply like you’re oxygen. "don't—fuck! don't do that," you mumbled, slapping a hand on your mouth. you felt so hot, so embarrassed, felt like y'were gonna pop. "hoooly shit," from above, you could see how his eyes rolled back, how he leaned back in to take in to take a second, third, whiff of you. it was so depraved, so . .

krauser strips off the damp fabric by hooking the small bone that curved from his blade arm, and you raised your hips to help him. this immensely pleased krauser. "little slut. eager to let me taste you?" he cooed, and your hips bucked when he began to rub the dull part of his blade against your clit again. "h, hnnng—!" you whimpered. his blood smears on your cunt, and god—krauser was obsessed. this was his blood. his own twisted way of marking you. 

"mmm . . " 

once he gets his tongue on you, he can't pull away. he physically can't stop kissing that pussy, teasing your hole with the tip of his wet muscle. your moans grow louder, subconsciously pressing his face more into your cunt. "so fucking—hmppff. . so fuckin' good," his vox buzzes against your slit. he could taste the metallic flavour of his blood mixing with your own arousal. bittersweet, delectable.

hard t'breathe through his nose when he's busy usin' it to compensate for the lack of attention on your clit, perversely movin' his head side to side as if he could delve deeper into you. "mm, fuck," he groans against your cunt. "h, haa—fuck!" you can't believe you're doing this, actually enjoying what this . . monster was doing to you. "krauser," you whimpered, and krauser hissed when you tugged on his golden, blood-stained locks. 

his face is covered in your slick; milky cream smeared all over his chin and mixing with his saliva. "so good," krauser huffed, his gaze not breaking yours. he loved seeing you like this. docile. "so, so good," his cock ached. ached to feel something. ached to stuff you balls fucking deep. "mine. your pussy's mine," krauser’s taunts are followed by rapid flicks of his tongue on your clit and you can't sit still. can’t keep your hips in place when you involuntarily hump him, when your body's asking for more.

your back arches so sluttily, it's such a shame how he misses the sight, but that's okay. how your clit spasms around his mouth—lips now wrapped around your sensitive bud—and how you squeal and cry his name, it makes up for the shortcoming. you can’t see his face, not when your irises are receding back to your sockets, but his cheeks are hollowed, your poor clit having to deal with intense pleasure as he sucked on it like a good mate should. your body’s pinned in place, and you’re forced to take it. forced to feel that orgasm quickly creeping up on you. 

“jack—♡! waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait!” 

hearing you call him by his given moniker only fuels this already bottomless greed, and soon enough, you’re cumming in his mouth. tugging his hair, letting your body quiver as an orgasm washes over you. your screams echo in the cell, and you could hear how you’ve soaked his face, how he hungrily laps all of it up; tongue all the way down to your ass, up, up to your mons, just to ensure that he won’t waste a single drop. now you smell just like him. “fuuuuuck, y/n,”

your legs feel like jell-o. your body slumps on the broken bed, mind in cloud 9 and feeling nothing but euphoria. it took you a while to notice your krauser bestowing all these kisses onto your jaw in an attempt to bring you back to reality. "y/n," he called, and your gaze steadies, seeing krauser hovering atop you. "hnn . . " "shh, shh, i'm here. you're fine," his lips are all over your face, sweetly bestowing kiss after kiss after kiss. "legs open, baby," you hear him whisper. and you, you're not any better. the moment you're parting your legs for him, krauser makes himself at home, settling between it and letting his cock rest on your cunt. stomach, actually. 

this isn't your first time having sex, seeing cock—but fuck. monstrous is an understatement. "y'like it, girlie?" he taunts, moving his hips and letting your slick soak all of it. "it's big," you huffed. "is that even going to fit?" "it will." krauser was practically growling at you. it has to. you were made for him. just him. "guide it in." krauser demands, and you oblige, holding it and slowly letting the thick crown prod at your tip. 

his hips impatiently move, and at least two inches were forced into your hole. it earns him a wail, as pleasure overwhelms you. "sh , shit—, so tight," he shuddered, that first stretch being nothing but absolute bliss for the both of you. he doesn't wait for you to loosen up, plunging the rest of his cock into your cunt with a feral growl. 

there's a warmth on your cheek, and you realize it's his spit—he's fucking drooling just from putting it in. "love—oh my fucking god—i love your pussy," there's nothing stopping him from pounding you, his hips are practically moving on its own. "j, jaaack . . h, haaaah . . . !" the vice on your waist only made his cock graze the deepest parts of your pretty cunt, essence smearing around the base of his shaft and balls.

"gonna—gonna breed you. mine . . you're fucking mine. you're mine," 

it's what he hears in his head. what all he thinks about. what only matters in this moment. 

it didn't even hit you that your eyes were closed, when his arms—the bladed arm no longer mutated—began to wrap around your ankles. krauser had lifted your hips in the process, and you now both had a clear view of the bulge in your lower area of your tummy. "that's me—lookit' that, baby. that's me . . that's—!" he snarled, canines baring as he forced himself as deep as he could—"me. fucking me."—to show you that was him, alright. "that's me. go on, feel it,"

krauser's prey, you, immersed in your concupiscence and need—mindlessly caress the protrusion, biting your lip and feeling your cunt twitch. "yeaah . . you like that, don't you?" "uh-huh . . ♡," his merciless thrusts resume, and you feel the skin in that area swell with every shove, and shrink back when he's dragging his cock out aaaall the way to the tip. y'didn't need to ask him to fuck you faster, because he's back to impaling you with his monster cock, slamming into you again and again and again. not gently, too. never. krauser never looked like the gentle type, and it showed with his harsh pounding. poor little you can barely keep up, barely think. 

but you loved it. your cunt sure did, wetly squelching as he rut into you. "deeper—deeper, please. please," fuck, fuuuuuck—his balls twitch at your pleading. you looked so fucked out already. so needy, he could practically see the hearts in your pupils. letting his figure anchor your legs, his body replaces his grip; ankles now digging onto the crooks of his traps, he locks you in place with a mean mating press, and even meaner thrusts as his tip kept kissing, bruising your cervix.

"d, deep enough for 'ya, baby?" 

a laugh rumbles from his throat after hearing your answer—if he could call it that—it's nothing but your scandalous mewls. nothing understandable. it spoke volumes for him. his ramming is relentless, driven by ferality. even in this position, with all the work tasked to his hips, it doesn't seem to hold him back, not fatigue, not even difficulty. 

krauser's tongue drags over your slack-jawed mouth, your teeth, and it's not long until his mouth is locked with yours. it's sloppy, hardly passes as a kiss, but it'll make do. after all, krauser has all the time to kiss you in the future anyway. it's hard to reciprocate, hard to even maintain a proper liplock, because his thrusts are just so damn nasty—took all of your strength and logic away!

"needed to . . needed to do this since i laid my e, eyes on you," krauser babbled once your lips are separated, forehead resting on yours. "knew i—knew i needed you then . . oh, baby. fuck, fuck . . " "need y'too. need you, jack. need youu . . h, hnnnngh . . " you don't know what you're saying anymore—mouth movin' faster than your head—but if it was comin' out of your pretty lips, it must be true. 

his hips are forcefully slamming down on you like there was no tomorrow, starved and animalistic. it made your toes curl, made you cry out his name and hold on to his arms as he fucked you hard and deep. the pain has long subsided, and once you've adjusted to the leg-shaking stretch, it's nothing but euphoria, nothing but pleasure. something you didn't know you craved for, til now. 's all what your fucked-out pretty head can think about. 

but it's not enough, krauser thinks. because you're still lucid. still fucking conscious. 

he's gotta—gotta be a good mate, gotta be good to the bearer of his kids. gotta fuck you harder! just when you thought he can't go any faster, he does. you're not given the chance to ponder how he has the stamina, because every single thought that doesn't involve his cock turns to a blur. 

he's pistoning his hips brutally into you, your cervix forced to accommodate his tip. you feel it, almost like a triumphant pop! when the bulbous crown's enveloped with a second ring of tightness. "oh m , my— uhnn! g, gooooooddd—♡!" 

your eyes cross, and with him caging you in place, you're just forced to feel it all, feel all this pleasure. feel him force an orgasm out of you as he kept pummeling that creamy fucking cunt. "oh, baby. there you go. such'a . . so good, yeah? keep squirting. ♡," it's almost like nothing happened, and he keeps fucking you to overstimulation, loving how he could experience your cunt quiver around him. 

clear liquid is dripping from him, and fuuuuck, your fucking smell just fills the room. he knows it's this damned parasite that makes your scent thrice as delicious, but he doesn't care. doesn't fucking care. just you. 

all he cares about is youjust youjustyoujustfuckingyou

all of your strength is practically gone. not like you needed it, when krauser was there to manhandle you. and for once, he's showing signs that he's human—his thrusts beginning to get reckless and frantic. it's obvious he's close to spilling his load into you, and krauser wants nothing more than to breed your fucking womb.

you could feel your nipples graze upon his built chest when your spine curves beautifully. despite faltering and losing the rhythm he had maintained early on, it's just as vigorous; fulfilling his unspoken promise to ruin you or anyone else. i mean, who else could batter your sensitive womb like he does? who can even compare? nobody.

letting a growl reverberate in the cell, he's plunging into you so deep you could feel his pubes graze against your sensitive clit. you could hardly miss the hot sensation of his cum filling you and overspilling. you're not talking, obviously, and krauser wasn't, either—brows narrowed together as he whimpered through the toe-curling ecstasy. it's fucking messy and leaks everywhere, and all you could do was whine as he bred you, rutting into you a few more times before practically slamming down his body weight onto you.

you're in heaven, you think—seeing white and feeling weightless? yeah, you were. 

krauser sloppily sucked on your tongue, his own filthy way of kissing you, as he stayed still. he swears he can still feel semen spurting out. "mhff . . baby," your spit's all over him, and fuck, it was so nasty, he loved it. "y/n, sweetheart. come back," his kisses trail over to your jawline, and with a territorial bite of his teeth, your eyes are flashing open. "hi," you weakly, craning your neck. "hi, baby," like you weren't marked up enough, krauser added a few more bright red hickeys that branded you his—only his. it looked perfect on you. all you needed was his last name, he thinks.

you could hear him transform back to his original state—unmutated and owning normal-sized hands and arms. it was definitely a little nasty, hearing crunches of bones and the squishing of tender flesh. yeah. you definitely needed to get used to that. 

"don't pass out on me, baby. 'm not yet done,"

"what?"

━━━ ♱ ━━━

you can't tear your eyes away from your cunt, as if krauser has trained you to keep your gaze ONLY on your cunt. his arms are hooked under your weak legs, muscular chest pressed against your sweaty back, and fucking sprawling you and that creampied, filled pussy open for everyone to see as he held you in place in a full nelson. this was krauser's third round, and you've lost track of what time it is and how many times you've cummed on his cock. 

not even the thought of wriggling and squirming away filled your head. you shamelessly begged him to fuck you, begged him to make everyone know that you belonged to him and not caring a single bit about the depraved words you babbled out. 

your eyes widen when you feel something thin, slimy, slithering on your skin, on your hips. it's coming from his strong forearms, snaking its way up, up on the back of your thighs. "k, krauser what's—what's th , thaa— h, hngg, fuuuuuuck . . ♡!" your question is quickly answered when the tendrils gently wrap around your clit, kneading and mimicking a sucking sensation. 

krauser laughs when you're forced to cum, your squirt splashing onto the unbreakable glass wall, right in front of your boss—who's been watching for maybe about an hour now. yet you only registered his figure just now, and for some reason, your cunt twitches in anticipation. 

"yeah? y'like being fucked in front of someone?" 

he chuckled mischievously, adjusting his hold on your head so he could pound you just a little faster. you're mortified, humiliated, being locked in place in such a provocative, vulnerable way, but your cunt's betraying you, pulsating and leaking more creamy slick onto krauser's cock.

"he's been watching us, baby. listening. right from the start. like what you see, wesker?"

end.

A/N: hi! sorry ive been gone. i'd like to wish you all a belated happy holidays and a happy new year! i've been so busy, and i got really sick after christmas, so i've been kinda resting. sort of. i think this one is sloppy too, i'm currently recovering from a deadly writer's block. thank you so much for reading! mwaaah! <3

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part six

art by the most talented @piaart -- they are also cooking up something extra hehe

author’s note: 18+! mdni! yeah yeah uhh… things happen between our favs. this is a nice chapter! future chapters may not be so nice… 5k!!! words. part one/two/three/four/five. ao3 linky.

Terzo’s pajama pants drag across the floor, having had trouble finding basically any pair of pants that fit his length since losing out on the ministry’s tailor. He’s grown used to it and has even gone so far as to hardly wear socks anymore due to his pant legs curling beneath his toes. Anxious to get back to you, to see how you’re handling falling headfirst into his trap. As he nears the guest room he is met with silence until he creeps closer to the door. A dim light spills into the hallway and he can hear soft pants and whines coming from inside. His stomach drops, lurching to push the door open. You’re on the bed with your knees pulled up to your chest, cheeks wet and eyes red.

“I-I can’t stay here,” you whimper as shaky hands rub your red eyes. “Something’s n-not right here.” Terzo is immediately in front of you, knees working his way to around your legs and his hands gingerly pushing your fingers away from your face to cup your cheeks. He is practically on top of you, the concern in his eyes nearly sending you into another fit of tears. Your head feels so heavy in his hands.

“What has happened, principessa? You are shaking like the leaf.” You’re surprised by the softness of his voice compared to the grip he currently has on your face, like you’ll disappear if he were to let you go. He brushes the hair out of your eyes with his thumbs. You try to catch your breath, almost unable to focus on anything other than how devastatingly handsome he looks. God, you really are *drunk*. Mumbling, you lift your arm that feels impossibly heavy to point at the suspicious telephone on the dresser.

He follows your fingertip and his entire body goes rigid as he sees it, rage boiling up inside of him. Terzo knows he can’t let it blow, not now, not while he has you in his arms. He takes a deep breath and turns back to you, leaning in so close that strands of his hair skim your forehead. “I am here now, topolina, eh? Here to protect you from the monsters.” Your eyes widen as if he’s serious. Is he serious? Was that phone call even real? You find yourself nodding. “I will take you to my room now, yes?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, instead scooping you up into his arms and hurrying out of the guest room.

Terzo is so *warm*. The fear and tension evaporates from your body, going completely limp against his chest. You are nearly being lulled to sleep just by his heavy steps and the steady beat of your heart. Visions blurs and when you’re able to focus again you’re being lowered onto a plush mattress. A comforter magically drapes across your body and you continue to sink into a cozy haze.

He stands over you unable to tear his eyes away or even move. Bewitched to see you in his bed. Terzo considers taking to the couch so you can have the bed to yourself but… but he’s a selfish, bad man. The mattress dips as he slides into bed beside you though he does allow for some space between you. Sleepy eyes flutter open and you look at each other. You start the little game, inching closer to him every few moments just for him to do the same until the tips of your noses touch. It’s almost juvenile, like having your first sleepover with a boy.

Lips brush against his and you’re kissing, timid and cutesy at first. The taste of alcohol is strong on your tongue and lips that he greedily sucks and laps at as your bodies press closer together. Terzo has his arms curled around your waist, pulling you tight against as your hands roam his coarse chest hair at your fingertips. You’re head is so heavy but your thoughts are light, each little sound from him sending you further into madness.

“Puffetta, you are tipsy,” he murmurs against your lips but there’s an edge of seriousness — you are drunk and no matter how hard you beg for him it would be wrong for him to truly take advantage. Still, his cool fingers slip beneath the hem of your t-shirt and he starts to stroke along your hip bones. Your hot skin only becomes hotter, face flushing as you try to wriggle yourself even closer to him.

“But I *want* you to.” An exasperated whine while your heart beats out of your chest. The whiskey he had you drink is going directly to your clit, throbbing with a primal need. You can’t believe you’re here in his bed, between luxurious purple sheets. Another whine and you hook your leg over Terzo’s hip to pull him in closer. “Touch me. Touch me *please,”* you whisper and chew on your lower lip.

*Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.*

Eve tempting the serpent.

He could take you so easily. Push your underwear to the side while you press into his touch. You’re probably so wet right now, so wanting. Terzo groans and removes one hand from underneath your shirt to gently push your leg off of his hip. The disappointment in your eyes makes him hesitate for just a moment until he gives your thigh and rough squeeze, making you mewl. Oh, what sweet sounds he could get you to make. He sucks in a deep breath, taking a moment to settle himself and ignore his burgeoning hardness in his boxers, and then brushes the tip of his nose against yours with a wicked grin.

“Okay, I’ll touch you. I’ll touch you along your stomach… your hips, your thighs…” His eyes are dark as they bore into yours. “Everywhere that isn’t *private*.” You huff and open your mouth to interject but he cuts you off. “I’ll make you feel good, *prometto.* Let me, gattina.” His husky voice and sharp squeeze of your hip has you nodding in agreement. Terzo knows best, doesn’t he?

He begins to trace slow, tantalizing circles along your inner thighs, making you shiver. You can feel the heat pooling even more intensely between your legs, but his touch remains just shy of where you need it most. For now, you let yourself get lost in the sensation, trusting him to keep his promise. Terzo’s bare fingers dance along your skin, igniting tiny sparks of pleasure with each stroke mixed with how soothing it all feels. To *finally* feel his hands all over you. You arch your back slightly, trying to coax him to where you need him, but he remains just shy.

"Terzo..." you breathe out, your voice a mix of desperation and drowsiness.

“I knew you wanted me,” he chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. Strong hands drift up your stomach and sides, so close to your breasts but just grazing the sides of them. You let out a shaky sigh, your body trembling with anticipation. “Calm yourself, puffetta. Aren’t you sleepy?” His fingers continue their journey, tracing patterns along your sides.

His touch is maddening, a tease that leaves you both frustrated and yearning. You nod slowly, feeling the weight of the alcohol and desire pulling you into a hazy state. His lips brush your temple as he whispers, "rest now, there will be a time for this.

"Promise?" You murmur, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into his gentle touch.

"Prometto," he assures you, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your very core. His hands continue their soothing patterns along your sides, easing you into a sense of calm and comfort.

Your breathing steadies as you sink further into the couch. The fire inside you starts to die down, limbs growing heavy. Terzo’s soft breath on your skin and his deep strokes of your hips soothe you to sleep in his arms. He gives a shuddered gasp as you finally succumb to sleep, burying his face into the crook of your neck to take a deep inhale of your scent.

He can’t let you leave now, can he? Not when you’re finally here, so close and so vulnerable. He tightens his grip on you, a possessive edge creeping into his touch. Lips graze your shoulders and he shudders again, white hot desire coursing through him. Terzo bites the inside of his mouth *hard* to calm himself, to focus on something other than you.

But you’re *here*. In his arms. Snoring quietly. He sighs against you, arms around you giving you a firm squeeze. Sharing his bed with someone almost seemed like something he would never do again. But you’re here. His mind quiets, a sense of peace washing over him. You are here for him. Not because of his position or his family. Eh, perhaps the money and the mystique helped but… Terzo hums quietly and brushes his nose along your shoulder.

You’re here.

***

You wake up with your head in his armpit. Eyes blink open and the scent of him fills your nose, musky and comforting. You wiggle slightly, trying to adjust your position, but his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. If your head didn’t hurt so much you would be swooning. Cheek rests against his chest and you take a deep breath. Terzo stirs beneath you, his hand drifting up your head to lazily pet your hair. A content hum leaves your lips and you feel him stiffen, fingers digging into your scalp. You lift your head so that you can see him.

Terzo’s eyes are already dark. A beat passes between you, holding each other’s gaze until he gives in. He presses a timid kiss to your lips as his other arm wraps around your waist. You blink as his head tips back for a moment, a delicious grin spreading across his face before he rolls you on to your back.

His lips capture yours again, more urgently this time, as his hands roam your body with newfound purpose. Morning light filters through the curtains, bathing you in a comfortable warmth that spreads beneath your skin. Cheeks are already flushed and you mewl into the kiss as you bring one of your hands up to cup the side of his face. The tips of your fingers brush along his hairline, feeling his silky hair for the first time.

"Terzo," you murmur against his lips with a huff, the desire in your voice evident. He responds with a low growl, his fingers tracing the along your collarbone, sending shivers down your body. “Please.”

He feels a pang of deep arousal in his gut as that word falls from your mouth. There’s a brief reprieve, his nearly black eyes gazing into yours, giving a sharp inhale before he grabs you. Fingers dig into the back of your head, his mouth hovering just over yours as his hand snakes down the front of your sweatpants. Palm presses against the heat between your legs and your entire body jolts from him finally touching you where you want him to. Your jaw goes slack, giving a small whine as your eyes flutter shut.

“*O-oh,*” Terzo gasps, shuddering just from the noise you made. He desperately wants to hear more of it so he pushes your already damp underwear to the side and runs his deft fingers over your wet folds. Your hips buck against his touch as his name falls from your lips. Terzo moans and leans down to press his forehead against yours, sharp gaze locked on your every reaction. A finger slips inside you and your whole body tenses, breath caught in your throat. He starts with long, slow strokes in a come hither motion, making your toes curl and your legs tense.

He is absolutely loving this, completely consumed by the way your body reacts to him. This is a moment he has dreamed about, thinking up the perfect things to whisper in your ear that have sadly slipped his mind now that he has you beneath him. You rest your one hand on his arm, squeezing as your other one digs into the sheets. Terzo adds another finger, a hiss leaving his lips before crushing them against your mouth, swallowing up your needy moans and gasps. You’re drowning in him, pumping his fingers into you now at a heated pace with all your muscles clenching around him with each thrust.

You murmur his name again, your hips rolling against him with each movement, eyes half-lidded. Terzo lifts his head, a string of spittle connecting your lips as his grip on the back of your neck tightens. He’s panting heavily, his chest nearly rising and falling at the same rate while your fingers dig into his arm, whining at the loss of his mouth. Tension continues to rise within you, heat spreading beneath your skin. His body is nearly between your legs now, hips grinding along with each of his thrusts until he’s rutting against your inner thigh. You can’t handle it, a thunderous moan spilling from your lips as you clench around his fingers. The orgasm rips through you, pleasure so intense that it makes you see stars.

The snarl that rips from Terzo’s throat brings you back to the present. His hand bunches up your shirt and shoves it up your chest, exposing your breasts. You give a sharp gasp only for the air to be immediately expelled from your lungs as his other hand frees his throbbing cock from his briefs. It is perhaps the most handsome penis you have ever seen. He grasps himself with his large hand and starts to stroke at a frantic pace, his mouth dropping open with a groan. Impossibly dark eyes meet yours, heart thundering in your ears as you watch him pleasure himself. Your name tumbles from his lips, your *actual* name, before he gives a stuttered grunt and comes undone. You can’t help but flinch, arms flying up to shield your face. He moans with each pulse of his cock, his seed spilling on your chest and stomach.

Wide eyes stare into his hazy gaze. Terzo pants heavily, chest rising and falling with force as he takes in the mess he’s made. “You are afraid?” His voice his hoarse but his eyes have softened and his lips twitch into a barely there grin.

“Afraid?” You blink at him, eyebrows shooting up in confusion. It tears your mind away from overanalyzing the fact that your boss’ jizz is currently pooling in your bellybutton.

“Of my sperms,” he trills, unable to hold back his smirk any longer. You roll your eyes as he leans over you to grab a towel conveniently on his nightstand.

“I didn’t want it to get in my hair,” you huff and lean up on your elbows. Terzo gently wipes down each boob and continues down your stomach.

“Ah, si. Makes it, ehhh, clumpy.” He smiles wide, crinkly eyes forcing your frown to dissolve into a giggle. “Need a shower, cara?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Mmm, well I need one.” Terzo presses a kiss to your forehead before slinking off you to his feet. “Don’t snoop. I will know if you do.” He wags a finger at you, squinting his eyes. Drama king. You hold your hands up with an innocent look on your face. His nostrils flare and then he wobbles to the bathroom, his briefs around his ankles. You sink back into the bed, sweatpants around your thighs and your shirt bunched up underneath your armpits. Sitting up, you adjust your clothes so that you’re covered up and finally, you let your mind wander.

The insides of your thighs are still twitching. You feel like you could be drunk again, your head still buzzing from the way he worked you with his fingers. The water starts to run, filling the room with soft white noise.

You dangle your legs at the edge of the bed, eyes wandering the room now that Terzo is in the shower. It’s the nicest room in the whole house — chic, vintage furniture that is beautifully stained a deep purple that stands out against the intricate black wallpaper. Candelabras are scattered throughout with black candles half burned away. The mattress is comfortable, soft with a mass of pillows and several blankets including a sprawling comfortable that’s currently pooled around your waist. You catch your reflection in a floor to ceiling ornate golden mirror.

Hair a mess and swollen lips, complete with an exhausted expression. You run your fingers through your locks in an attempt to smooth it out and untangle some of the knots. Tips of your fingers travel down your cheek so settle on your pink lips with a light touch, thinking about the night before, or at least what you could remember from it. The way he pressed the glass to your lips and made you swallow all that whiskey before stealing your breath away with a bruising kiss. The line has been more than crossed, it’s been pole vaulted over. Eyes continue to drift around the room.

You become focused on the golden framed artwork on the wall in front of you, taking up the space above a low dresser. It’s him; Terzo with his hand raised above him holding up a geometric ball of light that streaks through what looks like the night sky. You’re compelled to your feet to get a closer look at the details. The shower turns off but you’re distracted — he looks almost like a statue, his figure a pale yellow in contrast to the dark sky. Like he carries the light inside of him. You want to reach out and touch the frame but the light is so bright, a worry crosses your mind that it could shock you — like Terzo had shocked you the other day. This doesn’t stop you from leaning in closer to it, admiring the image of him. You realize that he doesn’t have his scar.

It draws you in like the rotary phone did last night, except the art is much more welcoming. As your mind drifts to the phone call you feel a chill. Did that actually happen? The sounds echo in your head, the screams of agony and the squelching. Had you fallen asleep and dreamt it? You hum quietly to yourself. It’s not the best omen for a budding romance. Then again, it is only one of several red flags that have popped up since working for him and none of them have stopped you thus far.

The bathroom door opens and Terzo steps out, a towel draped loosely around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin and his paint still drying. He pauses, admiring you from behind for a moment until his gaze falls to what you’re doing.

*Lightbringer.*

Well, an edited version. He didn’t want to be reminded of the Clergy’s chess game, how he was merely a prop to forward *their* cause. Not the true cause. Lightbringer reminds him that for a time people truly did see him as a guiding light. Terzo’s eyes drift back to you, still in his clothes from the night before. His chest tightens, realizing that you’ve been the one guiding him these days.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is heavy with sleep as he takes a few steps towards you. You’re caught — jumping at the sudden sound of his voice before anxiously laughing it off, turning to look at him. You feel a jolt of arousal. Despite seeing him rather naked, the way water drips down his thick chest hair makes a sound bubble up your throat. Still, your eyes linger on the jagged scar that spans his entire neck.

“Could use some Advil I think,” you manage, rocking on your heels as use one hand to massage your temples. “Do you mind if I freshen up a bit?”

“A-ah, yes of course,” he shuffles out of the way before having a seat on the bed, pointing you in the direction of the bathroom. “There should be Advil in the cabinet.” Terzo props up his head in his hand, eyes lingering on you for a long while. You feel frozen in his gaze, the air catching in your lungs. You’re here in his room. In his clothes. You spent the night with him. He fucked you with his fingers not long ago. Forcing yourself forward, you give him another anxious grin and hurry by him to the bathroom.

He watches you go, drinking in your figure with a hungry look. The minute you’ve disappeared behind the bathroom door he gives a shaky exhale, his hand falling to grip the edge of the mattress. Nails easily tear through the fitted sheet, leaving claw marks. He brings his hand up to his nose to smell what’s left of you on his fingers with a growl. You’re still here and sober. Now, Terzo has to *keep* you. He has unending experience with seduction, luring people who can be easily swayed into the clutches of the ministry but he was only the figurehead. He was the shiny, handsome man who would reach out his hand and have twenty people take it but getting them to stay was never something he never had to worry about.

And his track record with relationships is abysmal. Is this even a relationship, though? He exhales through clenched teeth — he’s getting ahead of himself. You’re here and you *must* stay, no matter what Terzo decides to put you through. You’re his toy, after all. But he *likes* you*.* He chews on the inside of his cheek. An internal struggle ensues between wanting to give you the affection and love you so deserve or to ruin you like how he ruined all his other toys.

Terzo could use advice but the person he usually got it from *could* have been who was on the other side of the phone call you received. Why did it appear to you? It only ever would manifest for him, having been touched by the hells and all, why would the proverbial *they* want to communicate with you? **He can’t help but think he must have cursed you somehow.

His thoughts melt away as you emerge from the bathroom looking fresh and alert. He leans back on his hands unable to hold back the smile that cracks across his face. It may be the first time he’s felt true happiness since coming back.

“There’s a really good breakfast place right down the road from here if you wanna go.” You rock on your heels in front of him. His face goes blank, wide eyes meeting your gaze.

“Ehh… I don’t drive or have a car.”

“I can drive.”

“Your tire is flat.”

“Ah, right. The tire,” you sigh, having completely forgotten. “I could always get us an Uber—“

“*Puffetta*,” he interjects, his voice stern but still an edge of gentleness. You clamp your mouth shut and feel a pang of fear in your chest. Are you being too much already? Thoughts start to spiral until he speaks again. “I, eh… I don’t leave the house much. It’s…” he drifts off, running a hand over his face. “Difficult. It is difficult for me.” You take a moment to process his words, feeling a mixture of understanding and concern.

"That's okay," you say softly, stepping closer to him. There’s a hint of fear and worry in his eyes that makes you feel an ache in your heart. It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? He might be worried about being recognized by leaving his house… or maybe it’s something deeper. You remember that despite spending much of your time with him each week there are "We can stay here. Maybe get delivery?” You scan his face, waiting for the first inkling of relief.

Terzo gives you a small, appreciative smile and you melt. "Mm, yes, let us do that." He reaches out to take your hand, toying with your fingers. You give a quiet exhale as you take a step toward him, closing the distance between you. His lips brush against your knuckles before planting soft kisses on each of your fingertips. It’s surprisingly sweet of him and it takes your breath away. Terzo’s free hand slips to your waist and pulls you into him so he can rest his head against your stomach. You start to run your fingers through his hair with a hum and you can feel him relax from your touch. He wraps his arms around you and the entire world falls away.

You stay like that for a quiet moment. This man just fingered you into oblivion but somehow this is more intimate. He lefts his head to look up at you, his mismatched eyes bright.

“Shall we start the day, baby?” Terzo’s voice is barely there, a low rumble that gives you butterflies. You nod and he’s immediately on his feet, arms still around your waist as he ushers you toward the door. He nearly trips over you with a loud giggle that fades as something catching his eye out the window.

Terzo does a double take, eyebrows furrowing. There’s an *imp* in his driveway. A small creature with claws and wings just wandering around your car. He focuses his eyes and realizes that it’s *changing your tire*.

“What’s up?” You start to turn around but he quickly squeezes you in his arms to keep your facing forward.

“E-eh, nothing. Come on — if I do not have french toast in the next hour I will *perish*.”

***

He spends most of the day watching you over the top of his copy of *The Turn of the Screw*. A book he read in his early days of his studies that he continues to come back to. There’s something… comforting about the story despite it being a horror. Perhaps Terzo could relate to the loneliness that plagues each of the characters— and the madness that follows. He’s not usually this quiet on the weekends, spending some time being… well, loud. Unruly. Not in a destructive way but in an over imaginative sort of way. He marches through the house and sings. One time he decided to roll himself up in his comforter and slink across the floor like a worm. The man needs activity but with you here all he wants to do is relish being in your company.

You are content with being with him, even when sitting in silence scrolling your phone while he reads. Terzo’s presence was felt more than seen during your usual working hours and you’ve never quite felt comfortable when he was around you until… well, *today*. You started with your head on his lap, his fingers massaging your scalp as you drifted in and out of a post-breakfast nap. As the day went on, the both of you shifted from room to room either settling sprawled over each other or snuggled in your own plush chair. It’s like two cats spending quality time together, cohabitating.

It’s not all that different from how you spend your current weekends now that your life is on a better schedule. You get to actually sleep at night now! But most of that extra time is spent in your bedroom alone, spacing out or watching some kind of trash reality tv show. Now you’re with him, breathing his air and taking up space in his home all while *not* working. And he’s been uncharacteristically quiet which at times sends your thoughts spiraling. Does he regret crossing the line with you? Have you overstayed your welcome? Just as you’re about to ask if you should leave he springs up from the couch.

“I have an idea, ‘fetta!” Terzo excitedly snuffles over to you with his hand outstretched. “We must enjoy the yard right this second!” You are *game*. Putting your hand in his you let him tug you up from your chair and out of the den. He slows down once you reach the kitchen, taking a moment to look out the window, remembering that *thing* that was outside earlier. Thankfully, the imp was nowhere to be found.

“You know, this has become one of my favorite pastimes.” Terzo squeezes your hand while he fishes a joint out of his pocket.

“You’ve had that this whole time?!” You reach out for it but he playfully swats your hand away.

“This doesn’t mix well with reading books,” he murmurs as he brings the joint to your lips. You swallow thickly before parting them to let him delicately place it in your mouth. “A joint and a nice lay in the grass on a warm day.” His voice dips, making your cheeks flush. You blink and the joint is suddenly lit — he must have had a match at the ready. “We must enjoy it together, si?”

“Yeah, we should,” you mumble around the joint before giving it a deep drag. Terzo plucks it from your lips just as you start coughing and slings his arms around your waist, pulling you against his hip. You walk in unison out the back door and into the yard, the sunlight bathing the both of you in its warm rays. He immediately flops onto the grass with the joint in his mouth, dragging you down with him. You don’t get outside much aside from the outdoor improvements you’ve cared for.

It’s nice to enjoy the freshly mowed grass and the cool breeze that keeps you from getting too sweaty. This is the first time you’ve seen him in sunlight, the rays kissing the wrinkles around his eyes. Terzo reaches for your hand with a sharp smile and deep dimples, lacing his fingers in yours.

Everything is so… perfect in this moment. So much so that you don’t want it to end.

[jubshead]

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

Paring: Lydia Lebasi x Reader

Summary: A manager’s duty also includes helping your client after a traumatic experience.

A/N: This character is from Episode 11 from season 16 of Special Victims Unit!

This is a request from a special moot of mine, Tea aka one of my favorite editors. I hope you enjoy!

I've got some other ideas for this character if you guys would like to read

Warnings: Mentioned drug use, Mentioned attempted rape, Age difference, Crying, Fingering

Word count: 2.8k

Date: Jan 10, 2025

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Masterlist | Taglist

Tag list: @agathasreality @yippie-kai-gay @missquints @live-laugh-love-lupone @amethyst-bitch @greek-freak101 @crescendoofstars @multixfan @im-a-carnivorous-plant @thoroughly--confused @kukikatt @aggieharkness @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @diorrxckstar @liliastriangle @cowboykya @czl4t @daddyriovidal @maevaofendora @thecavalrywife @welmelsblog @nctxrejects @bravewithacapitalb @cupofsapphics @darkangelchronicles @confuseuniverse @yun4-st4rx @kinglet1963 @vigilante24ish @xanthreee @cacasburro @ahsfan05

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A warm breeze sways the white curtains, the sky is blue and a few cheers come from the front of the building, barely audible at the height of the bedroom. The bird chirping makes you grunt, irritated by the noise and squinting against the daylight, you reach out and feel the headboard for a glass of water. The thirst is accompanied by a throbbing headache, the combination can only mean that you had the best, or worst, night. 

Propping up on your elbows, you gulp down the liquid, greedy for the relief it brings to your throat. The water feels like a drop in the desert, there is not enough to satisfy you and, frustrated, you throw yourself back on the bed, feeling a sourness in your mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, trying to settle down the nausea and gather enough courage to get up and take a shower. The slugshiness is typical of these types of mornings. 

Sitting up and running your hands over your face, you place your feet on the cold tile and stand up, only taking one step before bumping into something. Looking down, an uncontrollable scream leaves your lips and you retreat back into the bed, panicked gasps constricting your lungs. 

Motionless brown eyes stare at you, a corpse lying on the floor of your suite. The man is wearing jeans, a shirt with your face on it and crooked glasses. Blood is everywhere, staining his shirt and making a puddle. You look down at yourself and see that, like him, your clothes are splattered with crimson. 

With hands shaking and an anxiety attack creeping up, you try to sort through your jumbled thoughts from yesterday. The night was hazy, the mix of drugs and alcohol affecting your memory and making you look around for answers. Messing up the sheets, you grope the bed in search of something, anything, that would help you. When your hand brushes against a hard object, you freeze, grabbing the cold gun and bringing it into your line of vision.

Oh, fuck. 

It was yours, Lydia had gifted it to you. 

‘For protection’, she had said. Scanning your body for any injuries or unperceived pains, you let out a relieved sigh when you realize you’re fine, physically speaking. 

With your manager in mind, you pick up the hotel phone, dialling and pressing the white device against your ear, you hear it ring. 

“How’s my-”

“Lydia.” You sob, unnoticed tears streaming down your face and the hiccups immediately coming out when you hear her voice. 

“What happened?” The concern is palpable in her tone, a sound comes from the other side of the line.

Unable to formulate a response with your uncontrollable sobs, uneven breathing and blurred vision, you barely register what she says before she’s hanging up. She’s coming up to meet you. 

Time stretches on for what feels like an eternity, in the few minutes you wait for her all the outcomes of this crime flash before your eyes, you still weren’t sure what had happened and you’d be punished for it. 

The knocking brings you an indescribable rush of relief. You stumble out of bed and bang the door open, throwing yourself into Lydia’s arms. For someone so short, she apparently has enough strength to hold your weight and pull you inside, intent to give the two of you some privacy. 

The embrace is like a warm blanket over you, the shushing sounds she makes are a lullaby to your ears and the hand caressing your hair makes you melt. You grip her clothes with closed fists and sob into her neck. 

She rocks you gently, and when the crying begins to subside, she cautiously pushes you forward, cupping your jaw and running her thumbs over your wet cheeks. 

“What happened?” She asks softly. 

Without the courage to answer, you look down and wait for her to follow your gaze. You can tell when she sees him by the way her touch stiffins against your face, you are quick to grab her hands and hold them in place. 

“He was there when I woke up.” You murmur.

“It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.” She focuses her attention back on you. “Do you remember what happened?” 

“No, I took some pills last night…” You answer uncertainly, she wasn't a big fan of you using drugs. 

She grabs your upper arms and takes a step back, inspecting your bloody outfit. You hadn’t seen yourself in the mirror yet, but you could imagine how much of a mess you looked. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“No.” She stares at you. “At least I don’t think so…but Lydia, if this gets out I’m ruined. My career will go down the drain and I’ll most certainly end up in prison. And it had to be now! Just when things start working out for me, I-”

“No, no, no. None of that.” She interrupts your nervous ramble and pulls you close once again, your arms circle her waist. “All that matters is that you are not hurt.” She scans the room, engines turning as a solution forms in her head. 

“Go take a shower, baby. I’ll handle this.” 

It feels so good to have someone take care of your needs, have control over every situation. You don’t even protest as you head to the bathroom, if she said she’d take care of it then she would. Lydia was like that. 

The shock when you see yourself is expected. What you didn’t expect were the thick drops of blood covering your neck and face, the smeared make up and the still dilated pupils, traces of the night in your appearance. Calming yourself with a deep breath, you carefully remove your clothes, throwing them in the sink. 

They’d have to be burned later.

You hear your manager’s voice coming from outside, probably on the phone as she speaks firmly and rapidly. Turning on the shower and stepping under the stream, you let the hot water smooth your worries. You struggle to organize your memories of the night before, you remember the party, the fans, making out with some random woman and, at some point, coming up to your room. 

You know better than to mix your usual sleeping pills with alcohol, you weren’t sure why your drunk self did it, but it was certainly the reason why you were having the worst amnesia of your life. After downing them, you can’t remember much more. A faint knocking sound, someone pushing you inside and your weakened state unable to hold the door. The rest is blackness, you couldn’t recall what happened if your life depended on it. 

And it just might. 

Washing yourself raw, you ignore the noises outside and focus on your bath, running your fingers through your scalp and rinsing the shampoo out, stalling as much as possible. The only thing you wish for at the moment is to be held by Lydia, she would soothe you like she had done before and take care of everything, and in the end it's this desire that makes you step out of the shower.

Your movements are mechanical as you stare at your reflection and brush your wet hair, without makeup you can see the dark bags under your eyes. The movie is being released in a few weeks and what better way to promote it than by throwing the biggest parties? At least that seemed to be the producers’ thinking. 

The voices from outside quiet down, you put on the hanged white robe and open the door. The place is spotless. The sheets are new, the floor is shining and there’s no blood covering the furniture, you’d think your mind was playing tricks on you if it weren’t your manager’s tension.

Lydia is sitting on your bed, typing rapidly on her phone. You notice for the first time that she’s in her nightclothes, black pants and matching blouse, a robe over top. Her straight hair is tucked behind her ears, her bangs are out of place and she’s not wearing a single trace of makeup. She looks beautiful. 

When she spots you, she motions you to come forward, patting the mattress before standing up. You comply with her unspoken request and sit, watching as she fills a glass of water and brings it to you, crouching down and watching as you down the liquid. 

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She says, one of her hands brushing your locks aside while the other rests on your thigh. “What happened?”  

“I’m not sure.” You whisper. “I don't remember a much, but I think- I think he tried-” 

A sob escapes your mouth and cuts you in half, it’s only 10 in the morning and you are already so sick of crying. It doesn’t matter that the sentence was left unfinished, Lydia understands the situation right away. 

She makes shushing sounds and wipes away your tears, letting you get it out of your chest. Your body trembles, your breath comes out in gasps and the hiccups make your throat hurt. 

“Are you sure he didn’t do anything? It wouldn’t be your-”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You snap at her. “I’m not crying because of him. I just- I feel overwhelmed. There are so many ways this could go wrong and the possibility of losing everything I've worked for because of some sick jerk is driving me mad.” 

Your voice is firmer, the confidence you lacked returning to you at the prospect of having your career ruined. 

“Everything is taken care of. There’s no need to worry anymore.” Both her hands fall down to your thigh, their palms brushing up and down. “Relax, okay?” 

“I can’t relax! I killed somebody!” 

Your relationship with your manager has always been great, there hasn't been a single moment where you’ve yelled at her like you just did. This situation is making you anxious. 

“You just went through a traumatic situation.” She squeezes your knees. “Maybe you should-”

“Oh god, Lydia.” You roll your eyes, your body shaking as anger bubbles up in you, the impact of the situation finally settling in as you speak your thoughts out loud. 

Fucking asshole. 

“What can I do to help?” She asks. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly you think of an answer. 

“Can’t you help me relax?” You stare down at her, hoping the meaning behind your words gets through to her.

The request is placed in a very dangerous area. As close as you and Lydia are, you’ve never crossed that line, but you’ve heard the rumors about her relationship with a few of her past clients. It was no secret that the woman in front of you put your desires and needs above all else. It was the reason she was one of the best managers in the country. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you could admit that you’ve had some sort of crush on her for a while now. So when she doesn’t even blink at the insinuation, your heart skips a beat. 

A hum leaves her throat and her eyes roam over your body. Your back is slightly hunched, the robe is rumpled and falling off one of your shoulders. Drops are absorbed into the white material and the wet strand of hair she tucked behind your ear is still there. Your manager is crouched between your open legs, her hands resting on your uncovered thighs.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Her palms travel up, close to your bare center. “Of course I’ll help you.” 

Her soft voice is enough to make you relax into the mattress, the pent up stress settling down as your mind gets distracted by the beautiful woman in front of you. 

She applies pressure to your leg, enough for her to kneel and come face to face with you. Her eyes are comforting and she gives you a reassuring smile before letting out a surprised sound when you crash your mouth against hers, anxiety getting the better out of you. 

The kiss is hard, your breath coming out raggedly as you grab her nightclothes, trembling. One of her hands grips your waist and the other cups your cheek, thumb running over the wet skin and pulling you slightly away. 

“Everything is taken care of.” She repeats. “All you have to do is relax, baby.” 

She’s the one who initiates the kiss this time. It’s slower, languid as she guides you and sets a serene pace, trying to calm you down by taking her time. The fingers beneath your robe graze over the top of your exposed core and you shiver, opening your legs wider. The palm on your face runs down your front, stopping halfway to untie the white material that hides your body. 

She separates, far enough for her eyes to travel over you, admiring your naked form and the way you sit, spread and ready for her. 

Grabbing you ass, she pulls you forward, harder than you expect as your bottom comes to rest at the edge of the bed. She leans into you, nose brushing the skin of your neck as her hands move to your breasts, cupping them and ranking her nails over the skin. 

“Lydia.” You groan. 

A hum reverberates through her, palm bending you back as her tongue runs along your collarbone all the way down to your chest. She sucks on one of your nipples and you whimper, tangling your fingers in her hair and holding her in place. 

Her idle hand travels lower, finding your center and parting your lower lips, digits running over your already wet entrance. 

“Oh, baby. I didn’t know I had this effect on you.” She says and you can only nod as her big brown eyes look up at you. 

She gives you a soft smile and focuses back on your neck, teeth scraping your skin as she holds you by the waist and a finger deeps into you. The feeling of having her inside makes you dizzy, the desire you’ve had for her finally taken care of as she moves, slowly but enough to make you throw your head back and moan. 

The movement gives her more access and she softly bites the junktion of your shoulder, your arousal increasing as she works you up. When her tongue sweeps over the mark she left behind, her digit falters as a second one joins in. The pace changes, she thrusts faster into you, the squelching sound of your core accompanying your groans as you hold onto her shoulder and circle one of your legs around her waist. 

Any thoughts you had before completely vanishes from your mind as she grabs your ass and pulls you forward, going deeper into you. 

“Yes, baby. Let it all go.” She whispers in your ear.

A sob rips from you as she speeds up, your fingers traveling up to tangle in her hair and pull her into a desperate kiss. This time, she lets you lead, swallowing the moans that slip from your mouth and keeping the fast pace as your tongue slides alongside hers. A whine escapes you when she pulls away. 

“I’ll take care of your every need.” She tells you, resting her forehead against your sweaty one and hardening her rhythm. “Everything you wish for is yours.” 

Moaning at her words, you feel your thighs trembling as you grip her neck, ragged breaths mingling. Her fingers curl up and your eyes close of  their own accord, muscles spamming as you pant. 

When her thumb finds your clit and circles it, your whole body tenses. Hands bunching her blouse as you hiccup, legs tightening around her and hips undulating to prolong the pleasure. 

“You’re mine now.”

The words send you tumbling, pleasure cascading along your spine as your walls flex around her fingers and you melt into her touch. Head falling onto her shoulder as the last shocks of your climax ripple through you. 

She holds you as you come down, digits deep inside you, waiting for your approval to pull them out. Her other hand rests in your hair, nails raking across your scalp and making you shiver. 

When you feel you have enough sense of mind to separate, you nod and moan as her fingers leave you. The morning adrenaline rush fades as your body loosen from the orgasm, your eyelids growing heavy as you settle into her embrace. 

“Lie down, baby.” She says, guiding you to the bed and placing a pillow under your head. “Sleep now, you’re safe.” 

She presses a kiss to your forehead and turns around. 

“Don’t leave.” You grab her by the hand, practically whining. “Stay with me.” 

She stares and you give her the biggest puppy eyes you can muster. She’s always been better at this than you, even if it’s unintentional. 

There is no hesitation as she lays down next to you, palm coming to cup your cheek as she examines your face. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She places a soft kiss on your lips. “Rest now.” 

And just like every other time, you do as she says, letting sleep engulf you as her arm circles your waist and pulls you forward until you’re resting against her neck, her comforting scent lulling you into a dreamless nap.

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

A/N: @yourbasicqueerie asked me to tell you guys that this isn't beta read not bc she didn't want too, but bc she couldn't do it atm

[bengals-barnesbabe]

FYS (Babe's Version)

Pair: FB! Joe Burrow x Black!Nurse Reader

Descr: Just the reader's view of the events in 'Fuck Your Status,' no major changes to the plot. But more insight on how she feels about their "relationship.” Also it doesn’t matter which one you read first :)

TW: MDNI 18+ | smut, protected sex, p-in-v, jealous and possessive traits, bratty behavior, drinking, self centered!Joe.

OG Version | Main Masterlist | SCS

WC: 1615

‿̩̥̩ ‿̩̩̥͙̽ ‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You got Higgins’ text when you were sitting on the couch binge watching ‘Living Single’ with a glass bottle of wine. It was a simple, ‘come celebrate wit us’ text, but it meant so much more. It meant along with seeing one of your closest friends, Joe Burrow would be there. 

Ugh, just the thought of him made your core clench.

That name brought intense, lustful downright nasty flashbacks to your mind. It’s been a while since you hooked up, but all the memories are still there, engrained in your brain as some of the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. 

Walking into your closet, you knew there was only one choice for tonight. Joe’s already seen most of your party dresses, so the new lacy black skintight dress that you got at the mall last week was the winner. It fit like it was painted onto your body, and the low v-neck did wonders for your rack. You paired it with black red bottom pumps and a glossy red lip. Then rubbed some shimmery body butter into your skin. Spritzing yourself with a sweet musky Arabian perfume, you were smug looking at yourself in the floor-length mirror.

Your hair was already done, so you just took it down from the bun you had it in a few hours ago for work. Today was one of the rare days that your supervisor sent you home because of a scheduling error and you were not complaining. 

Since the dress you were wearing didn’t require a bra, you just switched out your boy shorts for a pair of lace panties that matched your dress. Not that they’d last very long.

Drinks plus you and Joe meant they wouldn’t stand a chance, they’d either get too wet or he’d tear them off. You didn’t mind either, he’d be paying for new ones if he wanted to keep this little arrangement up.

Since black was already the night’s theme, you picked out a cute little clutch to go with the fit- not forgetting to slip some protection in there as well. It’s that kind of night, there’s no shame whatsoever. It’s time to have some fun.

You beeline straight for the bar once you get past the bouncer. Being friends with the starters has its perks. 

Apparently, because they won a big game all the drinks were based on the Bengals. Which made sense, if you were into that type of thing, which you aren’t.

You asked the bartender for something fruity but strong, with a non-medicinal cherry flavor. You didn't need much after the half empty bottle of red wine you left at home. Your drink was delivered at the exact moment you locked eyes with him. It was like he was your prey, when by the end of the hour it’d definitely be the other way around. 

A flirty smirk pulled at your features and you held the drink up. He copied your gesture and knocked back the entire glass.

You took this time to admire his casual fit, like most guys here he keeps it simple. Dark jeans, plain white tee, a jacket and probably a nice pair of sneakers- maybe even Jordans. But the thing about Joe is it doesn’t matter what he walks in with, his aura is unreal. He always has a pair of glasses on, and his face card never declines- unless he’s mid throw.

Don’t get started about his legs, you could shiver just thinking about his meaty thighs and how good they feel rubbing against your pussy. He’s fucking different alright. If he took off the damn jacket you’d just drool at his arms all day and his fingers- its getting really hot in here. 

You left the bar and found an empty restroom that luckily only had one stall. Leaning your arms on the sink you chuckle at the mess you started, but have no desire to finish. 

Has it really been that damn long since he was inside you? Yes.

Are you about to lure him into this nasty ass bathroom? Hell yea.

You slide the lingerie down your legs and let out a sigh as the cool air blew over your wet folds. The crotch of the panties is soaked all the way through, you should feel ashamed for letting him affect you this strongly, but you don’t. 

Your close friends that aren’t Bengals, think you’re just using his fame to get free shit out of him. Sometimes you let them think that, because the truth is much worse.

You went from not needing a man for anything to needing him in order to relax. You were always the type of person that took their work home with them and after your last breakup, that work consumed you. Somehow hooking up with him allowed you to reach deep and lose yourself in the immense pleasure he was giving you. He could make you forget about all the horrors of nursing, being the first-born daughter, and all of the other anxieties you faced. It truly was some magical dick.

You swapped the panties for your phone and dropped the lace in your bag on the floor. Then shot him a quick text. 

To: JB🤤

Miss me

Like always, the short thread consisted of him being a dick and you teasing the shit outta him, actively trying to piss him off. By the end you give him your location and prepare to relinquish all control to him.

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long, as soon as you heard that strong knock you pulled him in. You were very pleased to see he did in fact abandon the jacket, the veins on his arms presenting themselves beautifully on his ivory skin. Looking up you smirk at his inability to bring his usually cocky self back at the moment.

“I did not invite you here so you could just stare at me. That’s what Instagram’s for. I already know how fine I look, Higgins beat you to it.” 

The quarterback’s eyes finally meet yours and you feel flutters in your stomach as he stalks up to you. You bite your lip as he traps you between his body and the porcelain sink. His big hands clutch your waist and his mouth leans down to the shell of your ear. “If I hear his name come out of your mouth one more time, I’ll make you choke on it.” 

Your eyes flutter closed at his husky voice, knees threaten to lock up and give way to gravity if he didn't already have you in his grasp. Your hands clench on the sink as you begin to regret taking off your underwear so soon. All you can feel is the heat radiating from his body and the slick threatening to drip down your thighs.

A dark chuckle snaps your eyes open. “Not so talkative now are you? Now who’d you wear this dress for?” 

You take deep breaths to calm yourself. “No one- myself.” It doesn’t work.

He took a step back and tsked. “Yea I don’t think so.” Suddenly he’s manhandling you around to face the mirror. You stare at his reflection and his hands fondle your hips then drag your ass against his hard bulge. 

Not helping my own arousal at all. 

“Joey!” 

If only he’d just move his hands down.

He smirks at your complacent figure and palms your ass. Well it’s a start.

“Just tell me the truth, did you wear this-

His smirk turns into a clenched jaw as his eyes darken. You look up at him through your lashes in the mirror.

You let out a silent laugh as the dress is pushed up, now his breathing is getting harder. “Where are your damn panties?” He grumbles.

You lean over the side of the sink and retrieve the lace from your purse and wave them in his face. “You mean these? I got tired of them.” He caught them as you threw them at him and hesitated for a second before pocketing them.

“You’re just asking to be punished aren’t you?”

Yes, precisely.

“You must really want someone to find us here.”

Fuck public exhibition sounds hot as fuck.

“Wanna get caught fucking Cincinnati’s best quarterback?”

You scoff rolling your eyes and lift up your arms. “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about your damn status.”

Got me fucked up.

“Then why are you here?” He chuckles, shoving me back down. Rude. At least he’s starting to get rid of those jeans.

“So I could get fucked in the bathroom of a club by Cincinnati’s nerdiest white boy.” You say locking eyes with his reflection. “That’s your real status.”

The boy I see after getting fucking tens ways to Sunday. 

“Well you’re right about one thing.” He groans.

While your body covers most of his groin, you can tell he’s stroking himself by the way his veins flex and turn. You grab a condom from your bag and hold it out to him. Biting your lip to suppress the moan in your chest as he rips it open with his teeth.

“I’m always right.” You tease wiggling your ass as against his length.

He rolls his eyes and lays a smack against your cheek. “Ow!” You gasp in surprise. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He warns rubbing the tender muscle then kicks your legs apart. 

“Make me.” Mischief shines in your glare while repeating the motions with your hips, shaking the fat on him some more.

He humors you for a bit before halting your movements with a strong hand. “Gladly.” 

“Ahh.” You moan when his finger spreads your slick over your clit and cunt. Looking up at him, you feel him replace it with something much thicker. “Wait.”

His grip on your hips deepens as his cock impales you. “Fuck.”

So fucking worth it.

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

A/n: so which one did you prefer??

OG version or Babe’s Version

Edit: there were so many grammar errors in that, whoops.

[redskull199987]

Happy Tears

11th Doctor x fem!reader Word Count:1.7k Warnings:none at all, all fluffy. This is set in the first episode of season 7, so also no spoilers Summary:You knew that the Doctor was alive. Not only because you refused to believe that he was dead, but also because River told you that he wasn’t. The only question was, If he would return… Masterlist

The Doctor didn’t plan on returning. He really didn’t. He thought it would be safer for them. For Amy and Rory. And for you. He believed that it was his duty to protect his friends. And he did that in keeping his distance.

But were you really just a friend? Was that really all you were to him? He remembered the day he met you, as if it were yesterday. When he still had another face. Just a young girl with a pure heart and no idea whatsoever to do with her life. And the Doctor just came along and swooped you away. Quite literally, as he had to save you from an exploding building. It always made him smile, when he remembered with how much confidence you jumped off that roof and into his Tardis. 

And he was there to catch you. He would always be there to catch you. He knew that and so did you. 

In fact, the Doctor was embarrassingly aware of how often he looked after you, visiting you without telling you, just admiring you from afar and making sure, that you were safe. He sometimes even saw you with the Ponds. On coffee dates with Amy or cruising around with Rory in his new Car. 

Or simply just for Christmas Dinner. 

And that was exactly what brought him back. Christmas Dinner. He wasn’t sure if this really was the right choice, but he knew he had to try. To at least keep in contact with you. Who knows, maybe even take you on an adventure or two. 

His two hearts were beating rapidly, as he made his way out of the Tardis. The dark Blue front door of the Ponds immediately catching his attention. And he was about to go knock, when he decided to look back at the Tardis one last time, pondering if he should leave again. But what he saw instead, caused his breathing to stagger for a second.

There you were. Just walking down the street, probably on your way to the Ponds. Just like the Doctor. He slowly walked back onto the street again and took in your appearance. A big fluffy coat covered most of your body. He could barely see your black boots underneath it. He couldn’t prevent the chuckle that left his lips, as he realized that you were wearing a long multi-colored scarf that was tightly wrapped around you. Your gaze was directed to the floor, while you slowly walked towards him. A pair of big headphones sat atop of your head, which was probably the reason why you didn’t see him yet. 

The Doctor just stood there for a few seconds, enjoying this moment. The knowledge, that you would see him in a few moments and sprint towards him, probably with tears in your eyes, as he could finally hug you again. Feel your body against his, hear your sweet voice again. Oh and your eyes, your big curious eyes would finally look at him, with the most adoration, he had ever felt in his life. 

It seemed that the doctor got too caught up in his thoughts of you. Only when you called out to him, he snapped back into reality.

“Doctor?”, You asked nervously, your voice breaking slightly.

But the Doctor didn’t say a word, he only smiled at you and opened his arms. And as he predicted, You immediately ran towards him and when your body collided with his, it almost took him off his feet. But after a few seconds, he managed to find his footing again. The smile on his lips only got bigger, as he heard your relived chuckle, while you held onto him tightly. 

After a few moments of intensely hugging each other, the two of you finally parted again. The Doctor looked down at you, his smile bigger than ever and his eyes practically glowing. His hands were still laying on top of your shoulders. He finally had you back. After all this time of traveling alone, he finally had you back.

“Hello? Earth to Timelord?!”, you suddenly said, waving a hand in front of his face, startling him slightly. You could only chuckle at his reaction:”You haven’t changed a bit, Doctor.”

“Is that good or bad?”, he asked curiously. You could hear a bit of nervousness lingering in his voice, while his gaze slowly drifted from your eyes to your lips.

“Oh Doctor.”, You chided, your hand rising to grasp his cheek,”No matter how much you change, you’ll always be my Doctor.”

All of a sudden, the Doctor seemed to find his confidence again and a smirk appeared on his face:”Your Doctor?”

“Ehm, I-I mean…”, you stuttered helplessly, looking down while you felt heat creeping up your neck and all the way to your cheeks,”You know what I mean, Doctor.”

“Do I now?”, he teased further. But your breath stocked, as he suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand back to rest on his cheek. You looked back up at him, confusion written all over your face.

“I do.”, he finally said, after a few seconds of Silence. A content smile graced his features, while he slowly leaned closer to you:”The Question is, do you?”

His words were hushed and gentle, only for you to hear. His gaze was focused on your lips only and it seemed like he waited for permission.

“I do.”

That was all he needed. He pressed his lips against yours tenderly. Almost afraid that you would push him away again. But you didn’t. On the contrary, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, while you deepened the kiss.

The Doctor, a bit surprised by your reaction, wildy waved his hands around for a second, before he finally decided to rest them on your waist. His touch was soft, treating you like you were porcelain. It was similar to his kiss.

When the two of you had to part, the need for oxygen finally becoming too overwhelming, both of you were panting rapidly, but still holding onto each other for dear life.

“It was about time, wasn’t it?”, You asked after you had caught your breath again. The Doctor could only nod, before he leaned in again, kissing you softly on your forehead.

“I’ll always…always be here for you.”, the Doctor mumbled,”I’ll alway protect you.”

You watched how a tear ran down his cheek. You gently raised your hand again and wiped it away.

“Look at you.”, you smiled,”Happy tears, that’s a first, isn’t it?”

“There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”, he agreed, while pulling you closer again. for one last time, he pressed his lips to yours. It only lasted a few seconds, but it made you long for more. 

Only now, as you were about to knock at the Pond’s door, probably bringing them the biggest surprise in their life yet, you spotted something behind the Doctor.

“You know what?”, you said, patting his chest lovingly, “You go say hi to the Ponds, I’ll say hy to the Tardis.”

The Doctor could only smile at you:”She missed you almost as much as I did.”

“Of course she did.”, You grinned before sprinting towards the Time Machine.

You took in her form. She looked exactly the same, but it still made your heart flutter. You hastily pulled out your Tardis key, that you always carried with you, just in case, and quickly opened the door. You took a deep breath in, before stepping inside. Almost immediately, you heard the familiar humming coming from the console. 

“Oh I missed you too, old girl.”, You smiled, quickly ascending the stairs to look around.

”He’s taken good care of you, hasn’t he?”, you breathed out, while taking in the familiar surroundings. It felt so good to be back.

“And you took good care of him, hm?”, You whispered, your hand now resting on the console. You heard the distant humming again and you took it as a yes. Before you could say anything more, the monitor suddenly came swinging towards you. You quickly ducked away, afraid you might hit your head.

“You want to show me someth-”, Your voice died down, as you saw it. The small picture of you, taped to the edge of the monitor. It was the day, the Doctor took you onto your first adventure together. You looked so young, you almost couldn’t belive your eyes. 

“Thank you, old girl.”, You smiled contently, before quickly making your way outside again.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left your lips, as you saw the Doctor and Amy in her doorway, just staring at each other, both too stubborn to hug first. You swiftly jogged over to them.

”Just hug already!”, you shouted, while simultaneously pushing the Doctor against Amy, forcing both of them to hug. Laughing erupted in the hallway, while the two fo them finally hugged.

“Rory?!”, You questioned into the kitchen,”Look who finally showed up!”

Only seconds later, Rory’s head popped out of the Kitchen. A smile soon appeared on his lips, as he saw who your entourage was.

“Was about time.”, he chuckled, patting the Doctors shoulder,”Come on, we were about to eat.”

“If it doesn’t cause too much trouble.”, The Doctor said nervously, while searching for your eyes for help.

“Oh don’t worry.”, You chided.

“Yeah, she’s right.”, Amy agreed,”We always set up a place for you. Come on.”

With that, the Ponds walked back into the kitchen, while you and the Doctor remained in the hallway for a few more moments.

“Oh Doctor. We already had that today, didn’t we?”, You chuckled softly as you raised your hand again to wipe away his tears,”You know, I could get used to you happy crying.”

His entire face changed in seconds,”Don’t you dare.”, without another word, he pecked your cheek before following the Ponds into the Kitchen. You could hear the sound of their laughter chiming into the hallway.

A content smile sat on your Face. You were finally home, together with the people you loved most.

[playgrl0]

thoughts that i have about baji

that's my baby bruh😭

⁂ i feel like if you know me, you already know what i'm gonna say first:

⁂ baji BITES. he bites you whenever he can and he does it all over your body. he doesn't do it in public since you don't want that and he respects it. but behind closed doors? he bites every part of your body and he doesn't give a fuck. the public eye will see the bite marks he left though.

⁂ his favorite parts to bite you are your neck, your thighs (especially inner thighs) and breasts.

⁂ neck kisses. so so many fucking neck kisses.

⁂ he always holds your throat🫨 when you guys kiss. he doesn't squeeze it or anything, he just holds it instead of placing his hand on your cheek for example.

⁂ forgot to mention that he also loves when you bite him. do it do it do it. don't be shy!!

⁂ he loves when you brush his hair for him. he will walk up to you and hand you his brush without a word and you brush it for him. he thanks you by pecking your cheek and disappears again

⁂ he can get extremely clingy when he's tired or stressed out

⁂ tries to act tough on your wedding day but will literally burst into tears once he sees you. chifuyu hands him a tissue and laughs at him. "shut up, man." he sniffles and wipes his tears away.

⁂ calls you baby, babe, angel, mama or comes up with a silly nickname himself

⁂ if you're not sitting on his lap you're doing something wrong like, why sit on a chair, on the couch, on the floor, literally anywhere when his lap is RIGHT THERE??

⁂ he tackles you randomly, gets up again, walks away and acts like he didn't do anything.

⁂ a tease. a fucking tease. loves making you nervous.

⁂ he is so so loyal. would never even come close to the thought of cheating on you. he would never.

⁂ when girls hit on him, he literally ignores them. if they keep being pushy he tells them to leave him tf alone because he already has a girl. they could never compare to you anyway.

⁂ he definitely has a staring problem. he stares at you all the damn time, not matter how you look like or what you're doing. big fan of eye contact.

⁂ he's always horny

⁂ very protective. he doesn't play around when it comes to you

⁂ ppl say he takes good care of his hair but i disagree. personally, i think he uses 4 in one shampoo and that's it i think he's just blessed with good genes. or his mama forces him to take care of it lmao idk

⁂ he's obsessed with your ass. doesn't matter if you have a small one or a whole wagon, he loves your ass. he uses it as pillow or drums. he slaps it when walking past you. one hand is always on it.

⁂ forgot to mention that he also bites your ass heheheh.

⁂ likeee you're laying on your bed on your stomach wearing shorts. baji jumps on the bed between your legs and his hands travel from the back of your thighs, up to your ass below your shorts. his big, warm hands resting on your cheeks, squeezing them before he leans forward and bites each cheek to leave a bite mark

⁂ you flinch at the contact and push him away, he just grins at you, slaps your ass and then lays down to take a nap on your ass yeah yeah

⁂ has no concept of personal space. your personal space is his.

⁂ makes fun of you all the time but if someone else dares to make fun of you they're dead. nobody is allowed to bully you except for him

⁂ i see him with a tongue piercing, eyebrow piercing, helix piercings and one nipple piercing

⁂ and many, many tattoos 🫨

⁂ tough on the outside but definitely the absolute biggest softie on the inside

⁂ you'll definitely own at least two cats together. maybe even three.

⁂ if he falls in love with you, he'll never love anyone else after you. he loves hard. you're his one and only, his entire world. you two are endgame.

⁂ he's a slut.

that's all for now,,,, bye

tags: @shamelessperfectionhideout @vmlnrz @saintokkotsu @satanlovesusall666 @kiirsteinn @noritopia @gothamgurl2024 @ranscutedoll @bertholdts--butt @torakeii

<3 @ playgrl0