#i need to hump my hand til i can’t think anymore i think

[luckylilpup]

“god you’re shaking, and i’ve barely touched you baby. ya must’ve needed it bad if you’re already this needy, what if i juuust- oh! do you like that puppy? come on say it, say you like my fingers in your cunt. aww good boy, i’ve trained you well haven’t i?”

[jaegerdilf]

pairings: choso kamo x f! reader

warnings: oral + virginity + non / dubcon + cumplay

💌: choso has been rotting my brain so so bad n i need to write smth for him 😵‍💫 pls accept this as my formal intro to the jjk writing community on here

to say choso is inexperienced is an understatement. he can count the amount of times he’s jerked off on one hand and he’s never even had sex, but ever since he met you all he wants is to bury his cock inside your cunt and fuck you til he’s spent.

it becomes increasingly more difficult for choso to resist taking what he wants, blushing a deep red every time you speak to him because just seconds before he was picturing you beneath him, pussy stretched beyond it’s limits as he fucks you raw and fills your womb with load after load of his sticky cum, wanting nothing more than to use you for his pleasure.

he bides his time, growing closer to you and gaining your trust, subtly sinking his grasp deeper and deeper into you before suggesting you let him fuck you. what he doesn’t know, is that you crave his dick just as bad, spending your nights humping a pillow to the thought of him rearranging your insides.

you make your move first, “accidentally” grinding against choso’s sensitive bulge or pressing your tits into his arms, tired of waiting around for him to do something and each interaction leaves him impossibly hard, seconds away from blowing his load and cumming in his pants.

he’s finally had enough when you bend over and flash your panties, his eyes locked on the wet spot on the gusset and he nearly salivates while staring at your cunt.

choso wastes no time forcing you to your knees, watching as your eyes glaze over and noticing how eager you are to obey.

“oh,” he says, laughing a little when the realization that you’re a cockslut hits him, “you wanted this, huh?”

you nod dumbly, unable to tear your eyes away as he frees his cock. the veins make your mouth water but his thickness scares you, wondering how the hell you’re meant to take that. it’s almost like he can read your mind and it makes you shudder when your hear him speak. “don’t worry sweetheart, i’ll make it fit.”

that’s the only warning you receive before choso forces his entire length down your throat, not bothering to ask for permission. he uses you like a toy, ignoring your gags in favor of focusing on the feeling of your throat tightening up around him, grunting when you use your tongue to trace a vein on the underside of his cock. you do your best to keep your eyes open and on his face. he isn’t usually expressive but it seems as though the white hot pleasure he feels has done a number on him, brows furrowed and his jaw tight while you work your mouth over him.

he can feel his orgasm approaching as he fucks your throat and reluctantly pulls you off his cock, a whiney moan escaping him as you suckle the tip before releasing him from your mouth.

“why’d you make me stop?” you pout, voice raspy from having your mouth violated. you’re itching to make him cum and drain his balls until he can’t anymore, desperate to finally taste him.

choso’s torso is flushed and covered in sheen of sweat, the view making your thighs clench while you wait for him to do something. “made you stop ‘cause i’m gonna cum on your pretty face.”

he curses when you look up at him through wet lashes, tears threatening to fall, tongue hanging out in preparation for his thick load and it makes him cum almost instantly. he doesn’t even have to stroke his cock before it’s twitching and he’s emptying his balls on your face. his load is thick and seems never ending, globs of it draping over your lashes and covering your face, making you moan when some makes its way into your mouth.

choso thinks he’s in love.

in love with how you drag your fingers across your face and slip the cum coated digits in your mouth. the urge to kiss you is strong and he gives into it immediately, pressing his lips to your clumsily before you take the lead and slide your tongue into his mouth, causing him to groan into the kiss when he tastes himself on your tongue.

[prettyboyfucks]

I discovered your blog during my study break and now i'm humping my hand while i'm supposed to work. Don't know how long i'll be able to hold from fully touching myself. I think if i had your blessing to do it i wouldn't feel so guilty for having my t-dick so hard. Can you tell me it's okay, please ?

awww, sweet little thing, you shouldn’t feel guilty for something like that. your poor tcock just desperately needs some attention.

go ahead and give it some for me. we don’t it to get neglected. rub that swollen, throbbing dick til it’s twitching. get yourself nice and sensitive and on edge. you can do it.

wish i could be there to tease it for you. watch you squirm around while trying to do work. rub you nice and slow until you can’t take it anymore and beg me to let you cum. so cute.

[jisungsplatforms]

Love Chocolates

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; established relationship

Warning: Mature content! (DNI if you are uncomfortable or UNDERAGED); language, food (should that even be considered a warning??) mentions of (implied lovers) members (Changlix), use of aphrodisiac stimulants, dry humping (f), masterbation (m), PIV, unprotected sex, cream pie, mentions of multiple rounds.

A/n: yup. i finally decided to post the fic about tiktok chocolates i mentioned before (in my minho smut). this has been in my drafts for a while actually lol

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But whyyy?” Jisung whined, shaking your arm. “It’ll be good! I promise!” He sticks out this pinky, wiggling it with a tiny pout. You sighed at him, maneuvering his hand away from your face.

“They’re just some dumb viagra knockoffs that probably don’t even work, Ji,” you argued, “how do you even know they’ll work?”

“Felix and Bin tried them!”

You looked at him, subtly prompting him to continue. He, however, only stood silently with an expectant look.

“Aaand...?”

Your boyfriend’s face then contorted into a look of sheepishness. “Well, uh, they didn’t exactly tell me if it was good or not...” he replied, fiddling his fingers.

“What.”

“But! But, judging by the pervy looks on their faces when I asked about them, I think it’s pretty safe to say that they had a good time!”

You let out a deep exhale, yet again, pinching the bridge of your nose. “May I ask, how did they even find out about those ‘sex chocolates’?”

“Tiktok!”

What the fuck.

Why would Jisung think that this’ll help spice up your sex life? Your sex life is great, which is what you’re assuming both of you agree on. You both get aroused regularly and normally, so what’s the point?

“But what if they don’t even work and they’re just fucking around with you, Ji? Then you just spent $30 for nothing,” you said.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say “for nothing”. They’re still chocolate! So we’d still be winning!” he reasoned.

“Okay, but, why do we even need them? We already fuck like rabbits on a daily, so what’s the difference if we do take the aphrodisiac chocolates?”

“That, my lovely, sexy, sweet girlfriend, is the fun part!” he said with a impish grin.

Uh oh. He had a proposition, and you’re not really thrilled to hear it. You knew there was a catch to all this. “The game is, we both have to take two- one to make us mindblowingly horny and another to boost up our libido- and see how long it’ll take for us to snap!”

You didn’t say anything. You merely gave him a look, as if you were saying “really?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun, babe!” Jisung jumped, excitedly. “Pleeeaaase~?” He shook you around for a bit before you finally submitted to his pleas.

“Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll do it.”

“YES! I LOVE YOU!” Jisung beamed. He spun you around and kissed you. Even though you wanted to be mad at him, you just can’t. Jisung was just too cute to resist.

“Yeah yeah, now hand me two of those placebo chocolates, you horny motherfucker.”

He snickered, turing around to hand you the chocolates on the coffee table. Giving them to you, you tore one open to eat. You made disgusted look after tasting the first one.

“Ew,” you complained, “mint chocolate.”

“Hey, no mint chocolate slander in this household! Or else i’ll have no choice but to break up with you.”

“Shut up and eat yours already!”

- Timeskip ⏰ -

It’s been almost 30 minutes and the chocolates still haven’t kicked in yet. You grumbled, checking your phone again for the time.

“You said it just takes about 15 minutes for the effects to kick in,” you whined, turning to Jisung, who sat on the other loveseat on your left. “What gives?”

“I don’t know!” he said, raising both his hands up. “Give it more time. Maybe it might work a little different for some people.”

You groaned. Wanting to lay down, you grabbed the longer pillow that was on the otherwise to the couch to wrap around your legs. Instead of feeling comfortable, you felt a numbing ache in between them. All of a sudden, you felt hyper aware of the heat in the room (and in your vagina).

You tried moving yourself around to ignore the pain, which ended up being a terrible idea for it made you even more needier. You let out a small whimper, and of course, Jisung heard it.

“Y/n? Baby, are you okay?” he asked worriedly. You shook your head ‘no’ then looked at him.

“I can feel it, Ji,” you whimpered with glossy eyes. He knew exactly what you were referring to. He was going to stand up and check on you but he felt a familiar shock down his dick at the sight of your needy expression. He instead lead back further into the seat, digging his hands onto the armrest.

Fuck.

He wanted to go to you so bad to please each other. But of course he remembered about the game you two established. So all he could do is watch helplessly as you grounded against your pillow.

“Hm, fuck. Ji,” you whimpered, trying to grind harder into the pillow. But it wasn’t enough. Thanks to the sex chocolates, it made you even more sensitive but harder to satisfy. Seeing how humping your pillow isn’t enough, your dominant hand trailed down between your legs and into your panties. You rubbed gentle circles onto your clip at first, making you cry out and bury your face into the pillow.

Jisung squirmed in his seat, watching you fling your panties off your legs while your hand rubs harsher circles onto your clit, your hips moving at the stimulation. Not bringing able to handle it anymore, his right hand went into his shorts to pull out his penis to stroke it. His head fell back, finally feeling relief. “Hmm. Fucking shit...” he moaned, bucking his hips. He bit the bottom of his thin lips, pumping faster. However, just like you, it wasn’t enough to fully satisfy him as well.

“Ji-Jisung,” you weakly called out to him, looking up at him again. You had tears in your eyes from the sexual frustration. “Fuck, it hurts. I-it doesn’t feel as good. Want your fingers instead.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled. He stood up abruptly, dick still out, and walked to where you were. He hovered above you as he removed your hands from your pussy- right as you were about to finger yourself, sucking on your fingers. You whined, both from the lost of simulation on your clit and from Jisung sucking your slick from your fingers.

He unlatched your fingers with a string of saliva still connect itself to them and kissed you roughly, shoving his tongue into our mouth, making you moan. You enjoy the lewdness of the kiss; his tongue massaging yours, having a faint taste of yourself. He pulled away from your sweet lips and removed his shorts and underwear. He pumped himself a few time while kissing you.

“Want my cock, baby?”

You nodded your head, pouting. “Please fuck me, Sungie,” you panted. “Need you so bad.”

“Hmm. Shit,” he exhaled sharply, inserting himself into your wet cavern. The two of you moan simultaneously. Jisung gave you a minute to adjust before thrusting slowly. You whimpered at the pace he was going, deeming that it was too slow for your unbearably horny self. You wrapped your arms around his back, grinding your hips further into his, making Jisung throw his head back with a loud moan.

Getting your silent plea, he moved his hips in a deliciously fast pace. You arched your back, relieved that you were finally feeling the numbing pleasure you craved. Jisung leaned down, breathing heavily into your ear while you gave quiet moans and whimpers of your own. Filthy slaps and other unholy noises filled the room. With each thrust, his hips moved faster and harder, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Holy f-fuck, baby,” Jisung moaned, “I’m so close.”

“M-me too,” you slurred. Your eyes were shut tight as you felt your core clench tighter and tighter around Jisung’s cock. He thrusted into you a few more times before releasing his semen inside of you, letting out a few choked moans. Feeling his hot cum fill you up pushed you to your own release, your body spasming as you do. Jisung rocked his hips a little, riding out your highs, before finally pulling out, his cum slowly dripping out of you.

Out of exhaustion, your boyfriend collapsed on top of you, his face buried in between your breasts. You stroked his hair out of comfort before remembering about the deal that was made prior.

You giggled, “Hey, Ji? What happened to ‘seeing how long it’ll take til one of us snaps’?”

Jisung laughed while shaking his head. “Fuck that. We both know that it would’ve been me to give in first no matter what.”

You laughed, your chest shaking his head, kissing the top of his head. You cuddled for a while before feeling the ache between your legs come back again.

Luckily, you weren’t the only one. “Uh...Y/n?”

“MmHmm?”

“My -uh- dick is hard again...”

“...”

“Wanna go for another round?” he said, moving to look at you. You sat up instantly, removing his shirt before taking off your own. You kissed Jisung’s lips roughly, moving to sit on his lap. It’s safe to say that the sex chocolates do actually work, and pretty damn well too.

You might have to thank Felix and Changbin for recommending them to Sungie later.

[tipsydipsydo]

Erotic Product: Fleshlight

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Gender of the Reader: gender neutral

Word Count: 600+

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut!

Warnings: Sexual Language & Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Themes; Sub! Taehyung; Petnames; Name-Calling/Degradation; verbal Humiliation; Teasing + Edging; Sextoys; Mentions of pillow humping

Status: Unedited

[Links]:

▪ Naughty Days 'til Christmas - Masterlist

▪My Writings | My Blog Navigation

「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

"Taehyung, no. Behave. Don't be such a fucking brat! Stop behaving like this or you'll get nothing today. Honestly if you keep going to behave like that, I'll leave you here and you'll not getting a chance to cum anytime soon again."

Your lips are pressed together into a thin line and you stare down on your whiny and impatient Sub in disregard. The left palm of your hand is placed onto Taehyung's up-bucking hip and pushing him down onto the matress harshly. That's the place his pretty ass belongs to, you told him more than once to keep still and follow your instructions.

"...b-but M-Majesty... I-I can't take it anymore, I am so close to cum in the next second-"

Taehyung is breathing heavily underneath your figure, trying desperately to explain why he's acting like that. That he truly couldn't take any of your sadistic edging anymore, that he has been so good for you all the time, that he simply needs you so fucking badly right now.

Your session started around an hour ago and since then you're edging the poor boy senseless with the new fleshlight you've got today.

Unfortunately, you're not interested in his excuses for his misbehaving at all. He knows all of the rules. You made sure that he understood the instructions you've given him at the beginning of the session. However he still broke every single one of them.

"Kim Taehyung."

Oh shit. Your Boyfriend's blabbering mouth shuts up right away and he's looking down in shame, doesn't dare to look into the eyes of his Majesty anymore. He was incredibly rude and disobeyed his Dom. Fuck.

Really, he loves to be your good boy, he never wants anything more than to get praised and complimented by his Highness. On the other hand, Taehyung knows how badly he struggles to keep his high sex drive and his sexual impatience tamed.

You are his God(ess), you are absolutely irresistible for him and especially in those moments where you dominate him, his emotions and sexual attraction to you drives him absolutely mad.

To be with you is a curse and a blessing at the same time. He wants to be good for you but his needs are craving for more, more, more. It's never enough, he would be never satisfied. Not until he got you.

You're looking at him, waiting. He deserves to experience some uncomfortable silence of shame between you two. He should rethink his behaviour and phrase an apology for you.

"I'm sorry, my Majesty. I misbehaved and it will not happen again.", he says quietly in a hoarse voice, peeking shyly up to you.

You take a deep breath and let a long sigh out. He looks so ruefully at you, you will not be able to be mad at him for a long time. Something you have to work on by yourself.

"Oh Baby Boy, what should I do to you now? Hm? I don't think you deserved in any way to fuck me. I don't know if you even should be allowed to cum tonight...", you say and look at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"O-Oh my God, please... please let me cum, I beg you! I'll do anything you want but please...", Taehyung whines, biting down onto his lower lip to withstand the urge to squirm around.

"...is that so? Then... what about if you put your hard cock inbetween a squished pillow and gonna dry hump the pillow as if you're a pathetic little teenage Boy? Hm, Baby? So needy that you gonna fuck your own pillow?", you tease him with a smug smile.

"Yes... yes, I am your pathetic little Baby Boy and gonna fuck my own sleeping pillow!"

Taglist: @yoongisabby; @btsxmalereaders; @cys-mental-escapades; @borathae; @princessrose110297

[loser-writings]

Kazuichi Souda Headcanons

{@sally-wonders​} (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻ I JUST SAW THE DANGANRONPA STUFF AND I AM SCREAMING! dlsfhlfhksg I dont even know where to start, so, at first I was wondering if you have any headcanons for my man Kazuichi, I love him so much! I always wondered how he would be into an actually relationship, because the inflatuation he had with Sonia was a thing, but also serving to compensate in his low self steam, even if he was an ultimate, he also has the historic of abuse and bully by their piers and all  with the sharp teeth and pink hair to try and look cool and all that as well, also he would have to deal with all that happened in dispair island (what wouldnt i give to know how they dealt with that man :'3), especially acepting the fact that Sônia does not like him. Because of the whole dream girl with blonde hair and he kinda projects this idea of her instead of herself. Jqrjjgwrj sorry I babble a lot hehe

I hope you enjoy this long list of a variety of headcanons. These may not hit all of the points you were asking, but I hope this is satisfactory!

・・・・✪General Headcanons✪ ・・・・

Kazuichi is a very anxious person so he is constantly fiddling with something. Little electronics, his wrench or tools he has on hands, or his fingers. If he can’t mess with something, his anxiety goes through the roof.

He can read in English! He taught himself how to read English so he could read American comic books before they’re officially translated. He also can understand English since he watched so many English action movies. He can speak it, but it can be broken and his accent is very strong.

He can actually sew. Since he learned by watching his mom, he can fix and alter clothing. He can also sew and throw together blankets and stuffed animals. He actually owns a small sewing machine. It isn’t expensive or amazing by any means, but it can get the job done.

He spends a large chunk of his money on keeping up with his hair and keeping his contacts in check. His hair grows extremely fast so his roots show, and he has a horrible habit of sleeping in his contacts since he can’t stand his glasses. 

When you catch him off guard, he just lies about what he is doing. He doesn’t mean to, but it is just a natural reaction since his dad would get mad at him no matter what his answer was. Because of this, you have to give him a moment to calm down and go through the 3 different answers he has before he can actually say what’s going on. This also happens if he is on his computer or his phone. He naturally hides the screen, even if he is just looking at car parts or how to fix a certain thing.

He can be a bit perverted and oblivious to somebody's flaws if he finds himself becoming attracted to them. Despite this, he is honestly quite the sweetheart and would have a heart attack if somebody were to return his feelings. 

He has pretty bad trust issues and this can cause tension between him and others. This also causes him to believe things that aren’t always true based off of his distrust alone.

He doesn’t actually like his appearance, even after he changed it. He originally changed it to keep away bullies and get the attention of women, but when he looks in the mirror, he doesn’t exactly like it. He didn’t mind his black hair or his normal eye color, he just hated his glasses.

Will flinch if someone raises their hand at him because of his fathers past abuse. He can’t help but flinch, and this is horrible with men who are taller than him. Safe to say that Gundhams mannerisms and weird poses aren't appreciated.

・・・・✪Relationship Headcanons✪ ・・・・

As stated before if someone were to return his feelings, he would be so lost on what to do. He never had anybody treat him with much kindness and the fact that someone he admires likes him back is just mind boggling to him.

I headcanon him personally to be Bisexual. He may have a physical lea for women, but he does find himself genuinely attracted to men as well (@Hajime) I think the big thing that decides if he likes you or not is if he thinks he can trust you.

Due to the past abuse and issues regarding friends and classmates, he would need constant reassurance. He will have sudden doubts and will become extremely anxious at the idea of you leaving him for a variety of reasons. He will ask if you want him to change his appearance or something about his personality, and it never fails that he is shocked if you say you love how he is.

He can sometimes get lost in his childlike fantasies. He will change his personality at times and make himself believe things that aren’t true. The best thing to do when this happens is to just give him a quick kiss on the cheek and remind him that you are you, and not some fantasy. He will apologize and snap out of it (For the most part)

He isn’t the best at initiating things. He would do better with someone who is more willing to make the first move. Be the one to grab his hand to hold it, Open your arms so he can snuggle against your chest, Cup his cheeks to pull him into a sweet kiss, Open the door for him and press your hand against his lower back in public areas so he feels more calm. He really would appreciate it.

Some of his favorite dates are the ones that result in tons of affection. Building blanket forts before having an action movie marathon is his favorite thing. It always results in the two of you tangled impossibly close to each other. If he is the one being held, having you play with the messily chopped locks instantly has him weak. He will rest against your chest while watching the movies, looking up to steal kisses and nip at your exposed skin in an attempt to steal your attention away from the screen. If he is the one holding you, your hair will be played with and expect him to caress your body a lot. If he gets distracted from the movie, he will let his eyes and hands wonder. It’s not in a perverse way, but more curious. 

He actually studies how your body moves and how you feel. He is the kind of guy who is very interested in seeing how your “Parts” move and how things work. It’s not perverted (Usually) but instead it’s very sweet in an unusual way. He will find out unusual things he loves about you by watching how you move. Like how you stretch to reach things on a tall shelf, or how your body curls up into itself when your cold. Just how you move and your body language is something that always has Kazuichi staring. 

If he can’t be with you physically, expect many phone calls and video calls. He calls you every time he misses your voice or feels himself starting to get anxious. The most common phone calls become the ones that happen before bed. Kazuichi gets extremely anxious when he is alone or at his house with his dad. Because of this, it becomes a routine where he calls you before bed and falls asleep on the phone with you. If you love to sing, sing and play instruments on the phone to soothe him. If you like to read, read to him until you hear his soft snores on the other line. If you like to ramble, ramble to him as he hums along til he is asleep. 

Also don’t hang up. Seriously, he will hang up in the morning. If he has a nightmare, or something happens, he finds comfort knowing that you are right there when he needs you most. 

He doesn’t mind chasing after you, but please let him have something so he knows that all of the chasing is worth it. This is the man you go to if you want somebody to control. He just wants your love and attention, even if you are just using him. If he falls for you during the killing game, he won’t hesitate to kill for you.

・・・・✪NSFW Headcanons✪ ・・・・

Aged 18+ and Kink discussion below this post

Souda loves to leave hickeys and love bites. He thinks they’re so sexy and attractive, and will leave them all over you if you let him. He also ADORES having you mark all over him and will whine if you tease him by pulling away before a mark can be made. If you really want to make him feel loved, make heart shaped hickeys all over him. He will cry because he feels so loved.

He is a switch with a more submissive lean, but he does have his more dominant moments. If he is being submissive, expect him to whine and cry about things a lot. He can be a total brat, but its so worth it when you get to hear him moan and beg for more. He may not scream, but he is quite loud.. If he is being dominant, he growls and groans a lot. He doesn’t mean to, he just gets so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t even notice the noises he makes.

He has ended up with you in his lap in his car a few times. He just can’t help it. The most memorable time was at the drive in theater. You both were in the back and it just ended up with your hands being bound by a seat belt as he sat between your legs until he couldn’t handle waiting anymore. 

He CLEARLY is into body worship. He loves watching how you react as his hands sit and press themselves against your body. He will compliment absolutely everything about you, kissing your skin as much as possible, and let his hands and eyes do all of the work.

He is so into oral, both giving and receiving. He can sit between your legs pleasing you until you are shaking and can’t handle anymore. Just how you taste is so intoxicating with him, and he always is trying to get more. If you are sucking him off, he will pant and moan and whine the whole time. His hand is tangled in your hair or the sheets until he can’t take it any more and cums. If you swallow, he will be so turned on, but he also loves cumming on you

Kazuichi will hump and grind against anything. Your ass, your thighs, a pillow, clothing, the bed, anything. He has a high sex drive, so he has to take care of it often. Even when he is sleeping, he will grind against you if he is having a dirty dream. Hopefully you don’t mind, because he is actually quite embarrassed when this happens.

He has a fantasy of you waking him up with oral. He has quite a few dirty dreams, so the idea of you helping him out while he wakes up is a dream for him.

Praise kink. Seriously. Praise this man. He will CRY if you constantly praise him during sex. He was completely unaware of how much it would effect him during sex.

[cottoncandyjester]

PLEASE I NEED MORE NSFW HEADCANONS OF UR OCS

Well since you asked oh so nicely

This contains:nsfw talk, spanking, salem being salem, degrading, public humiliation

Theodore

If you think he likes vanilla sex cause he's a gentleman you're wrong

Theo likes the thought of being tied up and dominated it's a thought he pushes down constantly

He definitely has a praise and worship kink both receiving and giving

His hands are his best skill

Gives amazing handjobs and is perfect at fingering

He is a giver in bed so he'll spend hours just making you cum over and over

He feels so embarrassed if you try to praise him in bed

He isn't usrd to feeling vulnurable

He hides his moans

If you want him to be loud ride him

He is only rough if he's jealous and only does it as an act of possession

"sweetie, my sweet angel..I'm sorry but I truly can't let this go. The fact that that walking idiot had the nerve to touch you while we were on a date. You'll forgive me for my roughness won't you my dear?"

Theodore's gentle tone didn't match his harsh grip on your hips as he leaned down to plant a harsh and steamy kiss along your neck. He was a person who didn't like being rough on his partner but there were times where it needed to be done

Axis

So he cries during sex

But we all knew that

He is a switch but either way he's sobbing and begging for more

When he is a top he is hugely into petplay

Prefers the nickname bunny for his lover

Will definitely buy you bunny petplay items for the bedroom and dress you up

He likes the soft feeling of the bunny tail so expect him to touch it 24/7 while he's fucking you

As a bottom he's submissive to the core

Definitely has a mommy/daddy kink

Touch is very important to him

He likes the feeling of silk and lace against his skin

He likes to blindfold you so you experience what he does

He is the type to remind you of the safeword over and over

He doesn't wanna be overbearing but he's always scared about making you uncomfortable

He is the type to drown you with praise and love

He just adores you to the point where the softest of touches makes him cum

Tie him up and he's whining

"[y/n], please- a-ahh I can't take it anymore"

Axis whimpered as he struggled against the restraints, the silk brushing against his wrists made him shudder at the delicate feeling. Tears streamed down his face as you bounced up and down on him riding him to the point of overstimulation

"hold on for a little longer, you'll be a good boy and do that right?"

"[y/n]! Yes! Yes! I'll be good just please let me cum!"

His sobbing was so cute that you just had to tease him some more..even if it made him sob

Hikaru

We know he adores degrading

Sex with him is rough and normally humiliating

He adores making you feel like utter garbage during sex

Of course this being said knocking him down a few pegs may be best

Hes totally into pegging

He is the type to show his lover off and show how submissive they are in the best and most embarrassing of ways

To him it's a show and he adores being the center of attention

"aren't they just so cute, writing and crying like that like a little slut"

Hikaru smiled sweetly as he turned the vibrator up using the remote in his hand. He was having a party and you were the main event, it was punishment for you being a brat before so showing you off like a prize infront of a bunch of people sounded like an utter delight.

"I think they are going to cum again, I suppose I should help them out"

Hikaru gave a long sigh as he walked towards you onto the stage where he tied you up to suffer, he leaned in close with a devilish grin as he watched your expression change to one of desperation and submission.

"come now piggy, you have to be louder than that if you are going to make a good host. What if I fuck you righr here infront of everyone? We can even hold an auction on who gets to stuff you next"

"n-no p-please-"

Hikaru cut you off by yanking your hair back roughly practially growling in your ear at this point.

"then be a good fucking slut mext time or I swear to God I'll sell you to the most disgusting rat I can find"

Hikaru moved back and turned to the crowd before giving a cute laugh before glancing back at you.

"how about we make this more entertaining hmm? After all we have all night to play with them"

Prince

He is very open minded to sex

Except being fucked, that scares the hell out of him

He will do it but he will be very vulnurable during it

He is very experienced so he is the type to take the lead

That being said he thinks its hot when you boss him around

He's horny all the time but he likes doing it in public

His favorite kink is definitely a daddy kink

Call him daddy and he's drooling

Is a master of teasing

He is so cocky during sex

His voice is sly 100% of the time

"You're just too cute babe"

A shaky breathing escapes you as prince teasingly flicked his tongue along your sex making sure to press his piercing against you in the best of ways.

Prince had exact one hour until he had to open the bar so he took this time to give you oral ontop of the bar as a reward for being so cute.

"your sounds are making me so damn horny, shit I just might have to fuck you right here and now you'll want thst right cutie?"

Yuki

Ah the underdog of the group

He is quite brutal

Heavy BDSM is his thing

Full on chains, whips and collars

Both receiving and giving

He is actually the type to be a giver in bed

He'll make you cum with tous over and over til you pass out

He takes that time to masterbate in hiding

He is very vulnurable when touching himself or receiving pleasure

He doesn't want you to see that side of him cause hes embarrassed

Plus he is insecure of his body cause he has scars along it

He is definitely in shibari and bondage as well as leather

Buying riding crops and paddles make him all giddy

He always makes sure you're comfortable though

Absolutely stop if you say the safeword

He doesn't have a huge sexdrive so when you two do have sex it last for hours

It's mostly just foreplay and trying new toys on you to see what they do

A shaky huff escaped yuki as he curled up more in the computer chair stroking himself to the image of you wrapped in leather, it was such a beautiful sight that it made him absolutely hard.

"[y/n]...[y/n]..."

His chanting of your name was low yet whiny as he felt close to climax, that feeling was soon ripped away from him when he felt your hand ripping his away from his cock.

"is this what you do when I'm not around? Wow..what don't want me to see your cock?"

"ah! Wai-"

You cut him off by moving his legs open more so sit on your knees in between them. He looked so shocked that you honestly found it adorable.

"relax yuki, I just want to please you okay?"

He turned his head away and gave a shaky nod soon shuddering when you wrapped your mouth around his length.

"ngh- [y/n]!"

Your eyes sparkled at the sight of his flushed face and you knew that you had to do this to him again

Salem

Oh boy..

Salem is an absolute animal

He loves sex so much that if he doesn't do it at least four times a day he will go through withdrawal

He likes it sloppy and messy

He is the one who is into darker and more dangerous kinks

From blood to biting

Being a cannibal he has to be careful with blood since too much can trigger him to really hurt you

You have to make sure to shout the safeword or he definitely won't hear you

All in all he is a wild lover

Try to deny him for too long and he's pouncing so make sure to keep your schedule clear for him

Eight hours, it's been so hours since salem fucked you and he was going crazy. He didnt understand why you had to do something dumb like have a boring job he offered to let you on his camshow but you always reject him.

When you returned home you couldn't help but stare at the messy house with furniture that had odd holes carved into them, you had a feeling you knew what those were for

"sale-ah! Wait!"

The male pounced you now sitting ontop of you and trailing his tongue along your neck dripping drool onto you as he grinded his hips against yours eagerly basically humping you.

"gimmie gimmie! Lets fuck already!"

"can't i close the front door first?"

You tried to reason with your boyfriend who was using his mouth to remove your clothes while his hands squeezed and fondled every inch of you he could.

"[y/nnnn]~ ahh!"

"Wha-mphff!"

Salem grabbed your face forcing your mouth open before drooling into it letting his saliva drip into your mouth before he gave you a loud sloppy kiss making sure to shove his tongue into your mouth.

it seems you weren't getting out of this easily.

[detroitbydark]

Title: Play With Fire- Part 2

Characters: Migs Mayfeld/”Pockets” (OC)

Rating: T

Summary: First Impressions

Warning: Blood? but not gore

A/N: So apparently Pockets is now and OC and I have more ideas then I care to admit for this pairing. Thank you to @crimson-dxwn​ for being my beta extraordinaire and listening to my rants and raves. Anything ya'll wanna know about these two crazy kids? let me know and I might explore it. Also, 3 ABY is approximately one year before the battle of Endor and the second Death Star and their reunion ( the first part in this) takes place about 9 ABY sometime after the second season of The Mandalorian.

 3 ABY

Sometimes you made the shot of a lifetime. Sometimes you didn’t.

Sometimes you made that once in millennia shot as Rebel artillery was destroying your nest and you went tumbling ass over blaster down a ravine with half a ton of loose debris and rocks.

You couldn’t win them all.

Migs got this. He understood it like he understood his unfortunate short stature or the hairline that had receded for too early in life. Those were the breaks.

You either lived with it or died with it and he was fully set on living until he was old and shriveled.

Some days it just sucked.

Today was one of those days.

“We got a live one coming through. Clear a table, will ya?”

The voice of his squad mate, Crikes, was too loud on his right as his weight pressed heavily into Smitty on his left. The rough outer rim accent bounced around in his bucket like a stray blaster bolt.

Kriff his head hurt.

Everything hurt actually, from his head to the tips of his toes. The slide hadn’t been that bad. Seven meters? Maybe ten? It was the sharp obsidian stone that had come down with him that had done him in. The razor sharp black stone had bludgeoned and gouged his armor, weaseling its way into the cracks and under the plastoid plating. It cut at his skin with each move he made. If the stims hadn’t helped numb him up he’d probably have passed out when the assault droid had helped yank him from the rubble.  His gauntlets were both cracked and he could feel a cool breeze coming through the cracks in his back plate. He’d liked his armor. Command wasn’t gonna take to kindly with having to replace it.

It was nice to pretend his biggest concern was getting a new set of plastoid requisitioned. 

“Hey medic!” Crikes’ voice cuts through his thoughts, “I said we need a hand over here!”

“Maker… do you have to yell so fragging loud? I mean-“

“What are you going on about?” Looking back he’s never sure what it was that he noticed first, but he likes to think it was her voice. Like an holomodel fantasy out of a good spice trip, she shuts that Hutt humping Crikes up, marching over with her hands on her hips and scowl on her face.

“We got an Imperial war hero here.” Crikes sounds chastened, but Migs doesn’t bother to look over to see if his face matches what he’s hearing because he’s in the presence of a fragging angel.

“Yeah? Look around. Got a lot of heroes here.” Sarcasm flows from her pretty pouty lips like water from a fountain. She sweeps her arm toward the other beds and the piles of bloodied plastoid littering the small field hospital. “This one ain’t any better or worse.”

Migs frowns under cover of his helmet. For a while he’s been wondering if he might have some bleeding going on somewhere. He feels a bit woozy when he turns his head too quickly to follow the angel as she grabs a datapad off a nearby cart. He was better then a majority of the scum around him. He was a sharpshooter, best of the best, and the bastard who single-handedly brought down the pair of x-Wings decimating their ground troops.

He tries to tell her as such but the words don’t come out of his mouth in any coherent thought. Angel freezes, looking up from the datapad she barks to his squad mate and Migs suddenly feels his bucket being pulled from his head.

“Designation number trooper.”

It’s an order not a question. He didn’t like orders, even from his own superiors but she’s damn pretty and his head hurts…

“Trooper? A number?” Angel looks up from the datapad. There’s concern on her face. She’s scanning his injuries. The ones she can see. Were they that bad? Migs reaches up and feels something warm and sticky against his temple.

“FO-593” Smitty offers for him.

“593… got it…” she takes a step closer, setting the datapad down and pulling gloves from her pocket. She’s got the prettiest hazel eyes, long lashes. Migs wonders if she’s seeing anyone. It’s probably one of those civvie doctors that signed on…

“593-“

“Mayfeld. It’s Migs Mayfeld.” He clarifies, ‘cause a pretty girl like her should be saying his name.

“Alright, Mayfeld, what happened?”

“He saved our asses is what he did!”

Crikes again. Maker, if the bastard kept stealing his glory he was going to deck him. Once the room stopped spinning.

“You know what?” The Angel looks about as amused with Crikes as

Migs felt. “I think it’s high time you two go get some rations in you and leave Mayfeld and I to our own devices.”

Smitty elbows Crikes, the plastoid of armor clattering as he tips his head toward the entrance.

“I’m good boys,” Migs offers the other two field operatives, “Let me get some alone time with the pretty girl.”

He ignores the raised brow directed his way and the crossed arms that follow. Nausea rolls through him as his buddies wander back the way they came.

“Frag… I think I’m gonna be sick.”

She does well. Manages to miss the first splash of vomit. The second retch hits her shoe.

“Son of a bitch… Maker fragging-“ 

The angel has a mouth on her. He could get used to that. Migs uses the sleeve of his under armor, exposed by the shattered plastoid to wipe his mouth.

“Sorry about that, Sweetness.” 

Her eyes narrow as she reaches behind him. “My name is not Sweetness. I am FM-111 to you trooper. Specialist Coronette if you're lucky.”

The words slip out, some verbal diarrhea to go along with what he was starting to think was a concussion. “I am lucky and you’re beautiful.”

“That’s it-“

“Pockets? Have we got an issue?”

Wait- was that a-

“No Coric, I’m good.”

The older man looks at Migs and Migs looks right back. No shit. A clone. You didn’t see that everyday. Guy’s got a head of close cropped salt and pepper hair, looks real dignified. He’s also… glaring? Ok yeah, that wasn’t good.

“If he’s giving you trouble I can-“

Angel’s…. Specialist Coronette’s face softens as she looks at the clone. Migs feels a little jealousy percolate deep down - accompanied by the occasional flip of his stomach. She pats the other man’s cheek fondly and he gives her a soft look.

Some guys had all the luck.

Migs closes his eyes as the world takes a big spin. He doesn’t mean to groan but the axis has tilted and the poles have just flipped and… Fek… he really is starting to not feel good.

“Hey… Mayfeld?” The voice is soft and Migs focuses on the sweet, silvery words. Slowly he opens his eyes and notes that Coronette, is at his side looking more concerned then she has the entire time he’s been in the damn med bay. Over her shoulder the clone medic gives his own appraising look.

“You got this Pockets?”

Migs sees irritation flash in sharp green eyes, not just green but, like, Endor. So bright and alive there wasn’t any way he could think to describe them other than the greenest Kriffing place he’d ever seen in his life.

“I’ve got it, Sir.” Her tone is sharp but the clone, her superior, doesn’t seem to take offense to it. She must not just be blowing smoke. At this point he doesn’t give a wamp rat’s ass. He really just wants to call it a day, catch a cycle worth of sleep and lay in bed til the gut-rending nausea goes the fek away.

“Uh-uh,” she tuts, irritation melted away, “can’t fall asleep on me just yet. You haven’t even shown me a good time yet.” She teases and Migs wills his eyes wide open.

“You’re flirting.”

“Maybe… or maybe I’m trying to keep you awake because you’ve got a concussion. You’ll never know.”

Specialist Coronette pokes and prods, shuffling him toward the edge of the gurney. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”

“Trying to get me all alone, beautiful?”

She huffs. It sounds half amused. He can work with that.

“I’m trying,” she grunts, looping his arm around her shoulder and manhandling him into standing, “to get you in a private room so I can assess your wounds without the whole battalion seeing you stripped down.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His head spins at the sudden change in momentum. “I’m not that kind of man. You gotta wine me and dine me before-“

She twists under his arm and sharp pain shoots through his side cutting off his words more effectively then any shushing ever could. 

“Easy Mayfeld.” He hears a familiar voice but can’t place which slimy barve he knew it came from. “You can’t handle that one.”

A pair of voices, masculine and feminine, grunt in agreement as he and his medic slowly hobble past and to a clean, empty ‘room’.

It’s a room about as much as a room as a troop transport is a luxury yacht. Four ceiling to floor curtained walls block it off from the other rooms and the larger, open floor of the hospital. He manages to collapse onto the exam table as the world takes another vicious whip around. This time he manages to spew in the bucket shoved under his nose.

He apologizes after he finishes. “Thanks. You know, you keep showing me basic human decency like this and you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Coronette is pulling clean gloves on and hunting in a shallow drawer. She arches a pretty brow in his direction as she finds a pair of shears. “I have to clean up whatever mess you make. Don’t confuse decency with laziness on my part.”

“Whatever you say, Pockets.”

Her shoulders tense for a moment and then she takes a deep breath and lets the bait he’s laying out go to waste.

“I’m getting this armor off you. ‘Fraid it ain’t doing you any good anymore.”

Migs glances down at the cracked plastoid. His pauldron is long gone and both pairs of vambrace and gauntlets are thrashed. There’s so much under armor and skin showing, Migs isn’t really sure how they're still even on him. Pockets manages to get them off without much to it and little input from the guy wearing them. She begins on his cuirass and Migs thinks of half a dozen smart ass remarks about getting his clothes off, but there’s something going on under the armor and each time she begins working at the cracked and twisted chest piece it steals the air from his lungs.

“Karking hells,” he curses lowly. 

“I’ve almost got it…” 

Migs takes a deep breath and holds as still as he can. It kriffing hurts, burns hotter than two suns over Tatooine. Just when he’s sure he can’t handle a second more of it, the plastoid falls away in two pieces. It’s like a pressure he hadn’t realized was on his chest has finally been removed and he can breathe-

“Son of a mudscuffer-“

Migs doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong. He can feel it. Warmth spreading and staining the under armor across the left side of his chest. 

“Karking thing was putting pressure on-“ she trails off again as she retrieves the shears from her pocket. She’s efficient and wastes no time slicing up the front of his under armor. The black fabric falls away from one side and clings to blood staining his other. Coronette doesn’t stop moving, flowing from one spot to the next. She doesn’t stop talking either.

“Fek. Fek. That’s not gonna fekking come out in the wash-“ 

He could laugh but she’s pulling the clinging fabric away from his chest and pressing bacta soaked gauze into the laceration. If that didn’t burn like the wrong end of a burner’s incinerator he didn’t know what did. 

“Damn it! Is your kriffing processor pickled?! Warn a guy!” He's all bark and no bite at the mercy of the medic who continues to press hard on the wound.

“Shut it 593.” It’s grunted out as she continues to press with one hand and reach across him with the other for Palps only knew what. Sharp words fizzle on his tongue as he catches a glimpse of pale flesh down the top of her scrubs. Fek. He really loved a pretty pair of tits and judging by the rounded tops he can see and the slight jiggle as they move, Coronette’s were perfect. It’s better then any painkiller he could imagine… until she’s leaning back and catches the cast of his eyes.

“So are so kriffing lucky. You slimy little nerfherder- if I had two free hands.”

He should feel bad about being caught but Migs has had a day and he really can’t find it in him.

“Not my fault, maker gave you a gorgeous rack and Imperial uniforms don’t hide it.”

He winces as she yanks the bacta soaked gauze away, blood beginning to well up again immediately. She doesn’t warn him before pressing the gun into the open wound and squeezing the trigger. Bacta foam fills in the area as he hisses, sealing the laceration. She doesn’t stop to make sure he’s ok before she’s spinning and grabbing more supplies. A bacta patch gets slapped over the quick dry foam.

“Weasly stormtrooper scum…” she continues under her breath.

“Aww come on now, I’m sorry.” He tries to offer a weak smile but her back is turned as she furiously enters data onto a pad. “I really am. When’s the end of your shift. I’ll buy you a drink?”

The anger that flashes in those forest eyes when she whips back is the sexiest thing he’s seen in a standard cycle. If the stims weren’t beginning to wear off and his body beginning to hurt to Malachor and back, he’d be getting stiff in what was left of his armor.

“You think I’d have a drink with you?”

“Come on sweets, what really matters is if you think you’d have a drink with me.”

Her eyebrows skim her hairline. “Are you kidding me? Give up already. Karking little-”

“Not the size of the aak in the fight but the fight in the aak, Sweetheart.”

“Not in your life, Buckethead.”

Her ass looks almost as good in her scrubs as her tits but she doesn’t give him a chance to say so before she storms out.

[hobidreams]

AHHHHHHHH SCHOLAR PARK!!! (Sidebar: He’s so cute, I would like to formally ask for his hand in marriage. I mean, scholars can get married right?? Can they have concubines? 😏Yoo hooo Park this is a proposition) What a coincidence that they bumped into each other in the market?? It appears that they have become friends and that makes my lil heart so happy for her. I feel like she’s been so lonely for so long. It’s never really stated she has had any meaningful relationships in the palace outside of her mother, yoongi, and Eunuch Kim🥺🥺 I love the easy banter between her and Scholar Park- the way she ribs him about the romance novels and how he’s eager for her company and how he freely discusses his studies with her hahah also, “his latest a riveting story about a dashing young soldier and his childhood friend, who disguises herself as a man to bravely join him in the military ranks.” did I peep a semi-Mulan reference there? 🤔And pls, “Take these books I brought for you first… Oh, and Eunuch Kim included some for you as well. With a letter.” A LETTER OMGGGG my heart. The fact that she blushes… THINGS R GOING WELL HMMMM?👀👀 Ok, but the scene with Sook-ja telling her to drink hot water even in the summer is high key such an Asian mom thing!!! I was cackling!! One thing I notice with your writing is the careful attention to detail. Like how you opened July 1869 with the overcast sky and promise of rain and then end the market scene with the rain storm. It’s just these small things that make your writing stand out imo. Ok, but once she gets back to the palace and we find out that King Yoongi has been looking for her?? Like… I imagine he personally went to her room, waddling around the palace with a giant boner under his robes, and was like annoyed when she wasn’t there😂 hahaha and the way his jealousy JUMPS when he finds out she was accompanied by another man. I wonder if he’s aware of their budding friendship… and how that would make him feel.... I fear for Scholar Park’s head. My fave part of July 1869 is when he notices that she hasn’t been wearing his bracelet. (AND SHE’S KEPT THE BROKEN PIECES) It gives me the same vibes as when a husband notices his wife isn’t wearing her wedding band for some reason. And the way he immediately wants to get it replaced??? It’s like he wants/needs to have a physical mark on her. And the NSFW bit: so King Yoongi likes eating pussy huh?? 👀Like a lot, if he’s goin at it again and again hahah it’s just… I feel kinda proud of him that he’s finally figured out how to pleasure her and that he’s been prioritizing her climax over the past few months. Like he doesn’t just hump her til he cums on her back anymore.😂😂 But I can’t help but feel that something is coming to ruin this lovely new dynamic. Like… I notice that she is his, but he is most certainly not hers. I wonder what it’s gonna be?? A new betrothal?? Scholar Park? A coup? Anyways, looking forwards to having my heart broken soon HAHAHA ilysm Rain 💕💕

BABYYYYY Scholar Park is all yours (though you may have to fight a few others for him-- haahaha they... wouldn’t have been popular enough to need concubines 🤣). yes!!!! im glad you caught onto their dynamic because i really wanted to twist the trope here. i wanted to provide someone for her to talk to because she truly deserves that lil bit of happiness 😭😭 ALSO yes its totally a Mulan reference 🤪 (ok minor spoilers for a chapter coming up soon but if u think Chun-ja & Joonie are cute NOW..... heheh 👀). actually the whole rain thing was brought about bc i was stuck on this chapter, with all the dialogue (as we know, it is my greatest nemesis), and i read a piece of advice that was like “if ur stuck, change the weather” so i did and IT WORKED!! i like it better this way actually!! hahah 💗 im so touched that u notice all the little things. seriously 🥺 ur the best. AND STOP THE THOUGHT OF YOONGI WADDLING WITH A BONER ASDFKJAFSD THAT’S TAKING ME OUT. that’s why there are so many layers, to hide the horniness 🤣

heheh. lowkey i feel kinda bad because ur all feeling that sense of ~foreboding~ as a result of all the angst that’s been whipped your way buuuut i can’t say that it’s not true so 🤪 sorry in advance LOL. but im glad ur enjoying this calm before the storm. because there’s always a storm coming 🤣 but what consequences will it leave behind!!! haha. love u always 🥰🥰🥰 thank u for always taking the time to hype me up 😭🙏 ur comments always make my day 💞

[7deadlycinderellas]

The Maiden of the Sea 3/5

AO3 link

Carrying the twins is actually easier than Arya ever expected.

Sure, she has to adjust to her size, but that was doable. Renly had owned a great many clothes that Arya can pick through to find ones that will accommodate her expanding gut, though most of them are awfully gaudy.

She’s trying on and tying a tunic of black silk embroidered with leaves and vines one morning. Most of these garments are just sitting around, gathering moths. She should really find someone who can take them apart and sew them into more serviceable garments. She cringes and tosses the silk tunic aside, trading it for a slightly less garish one of green wool edged in gold.  Gendry peeks up from the bed and tells her,

“You should just wear that as a dress.”

Arya stares at him bewildered. The tunic is quite long, nearly to her knees, and blessedly loose around her middle, but still.

“And just go around with my naked legs sticking out like a heron?”

“I like your legs, and I don’t get to see them enough.”

Arya rolls her eyes, and pulls out the hose that were hanging with the tunic. She cringes, realizing that they’re the two piece kind that are supposed to be held together with a codpiece.

“I didn’t know men still wore these.”

Gendry glances over at them.

“Can’t imagine they were ever popular up North, too cold. My uncle was apparently very much into keeping up with fashion though.”

Arya tosses them aside.

“Can’t do those, I’m not giving everyone at the training yard a free show.”

Afterwards, she finds a pair of lambskin breeches that slide on easily and tie very low on her waist. She’ll have to roll them up though, and she’s sure she looks ridiculous.

“You could just have something made for you, it would probably end up being much more comfortable” Gendry interjects.

Arya sits on the end of the bed to pull on her boots, which takes far longer than it used to.

“I know. I just hate the idea of all that work going into making things I’m only going to wear while I’m still enormous.”

In fact, Maester Elric had seemed mildly concerned about her size at first. And then, after interrogating her on her recent eating habits, told her he suspected that she was carrying twins.

Twins, as if the possibility of one child wasn’t daunting enough.

“It’s strange,” Arya had admitted once, “I love children, I always have. I rejected the idea of being someone’s broodmare, but I always thought I’d be the fun auntie for Jon and Sansa’s children. I thought Sansa’s especially would need it.”

She makes a face, thinking back to what she knew of other highborn children. Some she had met seemed to hardly spend any time with their parents at all. While Joffrey had cried to his mother over everything, she didn’t think she recalled King Robert spending any time at all with any of his children.

“I don’t want a wet nurse,” she tells Gendry when she’s seven moons along. “I don’t want to get used to the idea of foisting my children off on someone else, especially for something so...personal.”

Gendry glances up from his papers. They’re going through the ledgers together. They’ve taken to doing that with most of their duties. This was something that normally fell to the Lady of the keep. Arya accompanies him in petitions, and they both manage the servants. Helping each other out aside, it means that if Gendry retreats into his grouchy, sullen self at an offhand comment, or if Arya’s temper got the best of her when someone questions her ability, one could take the reins and let the other go hide and lick their wounds.

And on the rare occasion someone riled both of them up, they were a force to be reckoned with. Ours is the fury indeed.

“If you’re sure,” Gendry tells her, “I mean, I never heard of any woman in Flea Bottom having one, and they get on well enough.”

“Merope tells me there’s a girl in the kitchens, Mollie, whose due a moon before me. I’ll talk to her, just in case of emergency...but I think we can do this.”

It will be a challenge. Aside from the official duties of her title, Arya has taken on much of the role of the Master-at-arms.

The previous one had been killed during Stannis’s siege years ago, and much of the job had been taken on by the captain of the guard, who seemed more than glad for the occasional relief. A couple of the guards had objected to taking direction from a woman. A raised eyebrow and a question if they had heard of the exploits of Arya Stark, bringer of the dawn, had mostly pushed those down.

And for those who didn’t, a firm rap from her quarterstaff had changed plenty. She really doesn’t use the staff enough.

She keeps with the actual sparring as long as her body allows her to. And once she can’t, she still walks the training yard, observing, offering advice.

Even the physical symptoms don’t bother her as much as she thought. The heartburn’s pretty bad, but nothing like Merope had warned. Having to visit the privy constantly is a pain, but she’s in a proper castle now, where that’s never far away. And Maester Elric’s teas keep the worst of the intestinal symptoms at bay.

Sometimes she worries that she’s become numb to physical discomfort. That she’s become so used to it that she won’t recognize if she’s truly hurt.

Somehow, the one that bothers her most is the swelling of her feet, especially when she gets large enough she can’t do anything about it herself.

Gendry insists that he doesn’t mind rubbing her feet before bed.

“I’ve told you, I like making you feel good.”

Arya pouts.

“That’s the same excuse you used the other night when you let me hump your leg while you were still asleep because you were too tired to do anything else, and I can’t reach my own cunt anymore.”

Arya had been right that her pregnancy had made her libido go into overdrive. She hadn’t thought it was possible for her to want him anymore than she already did, but she had apparently been wrong. And while Gendry had enjoyed the change greatly, sometime this life they had built just took too much out of him.

Arya keens when Gendry digs his thumbs into her arches.

“I don’t like being dependent on other people,” she admits, “I spent too long not trusting anyone but myself, and now I’m going to have two tiny humans completely dependent on me. I don’t even know what to name them.”

Gendry blinks like it’s the first time the thought had occurred to him.

“Shit,” is his reaction, “And we have to pick two instead of one.”

He thinks for a few moments, and then wrinkles his nose.

“If either one’s a boy, we’re not naming him Robert.”

“Agreed,” Arya’s silent for a bit, before continuing. “I used to think I would name my firstborn after my father. I can’t. I don’t want to name them after any of my loved ones who have died. You see the way some of the older people here look at us…”

“Like we’re them reincarnated,” Gendry says bitterly. He hates being compared to Robert, just as Arya is uncomfortable being compared to an aunt she never met.

“I don’t want my children’s lives cast in the shadows of ghosts.”

They won’t be. Even names aside, the people of Storm’s End didn’t know them as children, they won’t build their children up on the expectations of the memories of parents.

Gendry drops her feet, and pulls her into his arms. He kisses her slowly but thoroughly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. His other hand finds the waistband of her breeches.

“Is this a bad time to admit I’m so hard I could cut diamonds?”

Arya laughs,

“At least you’re awake this time. “

He pats her on the arse.

“Roll over,” he tells her, voice deep and husky. She does as told.

She feels him pulls her breeches down as she unties and struggles to pull her tunic over her head. She expects to feel him enter her, instead her back goes cold and a few seconds his hand pushes her thigh up and his tongue probes at her from behind.

“Gotta make sure you’re wet,” he whispers lustily, before returning to his licks. Arya sighs and groans, and grasps at the sheets, pushing back against his face. He drives her closer, so close, before pulling his mouth away.

“You’re mean,” she says petulantly. His kisses one arsecheek in apology. He then returns to his previous position, wrapping one arm over hers and pushes in with one firm stroke.

This is pretty much the last position they can do this in. Arya’s sore breasts quickly made her not want to be on top anymore, the shaking making it worse. Then her abdomen began to hang loosely and it made her so uncomfortable that she no longer enjoyed being on her hands and knees. Eventually, Gendry wouldn’t even get on top of her for fear of hurting the babes. Fucking her husband had become nearly as difficult as finding a comfortable position to sleep in.

As she grinds back on his cock to match his every thrust, his hand groping for her nub blindly, she muses that at least it’s a good one to save for last.

She grunts and cries out when she comes. Gendry leans over and softly bites her shoulder as he thrusts hard and spills inside her.

“Can’t wait til I can see your face when you do that again.”

Arya’s still in a daze, but opens one eye.

“I could drag over the looking glass.”

She’s not got quite a moon left when Davos and Marya arrive for a visit.

Arya is delighted when Davos presents them with his gift to the babes, a carved wooden cradle.

The gifts have started coming slowly. Most of the houses were waiting until the actual birth to send their congratulations, fearing stillbirth or childbed fever. Arya understands, but hates the ideas that want to take root in her mind of what could happen.

Selwyn Tarth had sent a young foal, now in the castle stables. He had sent a note saying,

“If you’re child is anything like mine, this may be the only plaything they need for many years. And if, Gods forbid, the worst comes to pass, I’m sure the lady of the house could find it in her heart to make a place for the beast.”

One day out of the blue, Daron and Tim had presented her with a thing made out of fishnets, that they insisted was a baby carrier.

“Since they think you’re having two, there’s a spot to stick one on your back too,” Daron had insisted, lifting the net over her head and showing her.

She will definitely be testing that with melons before putting a child in it.

The cradle is beautiful, made of dark wood, and still rocks smoothly, though it’s clearly been used for many years.

“I’m no craftsman, my lady, but I’ve always been good with my hands, and this served our sons quite well.”

She barely has time to ask if it will fit two when Davos asks where Gendry’s ran off to instead of greeting guests.

“The forge most likely. That’s where he goes when he’s upset or someone pisses him off or he just needs to lose himself. He’s been in there a lot lately because he’s scared but doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t like being bothered when he does, but I don’t think he’ll mind if it’s you.”

Davos has barely left when Marya begins fussing over her,

“I can’t believe you’re still up and moving around as close as you are. With Dale I was in bed nearly an entire moon before.”

Arya flushes red. Maester Elric’s been giving her hell for not wanting to go on bed rest, but she doesn’t feel like she needs to stop. Slow down maybe, but not stop.

“Oh you know, another day. One day it’s achy joints, the next my tits are leaking.”

“If you want comfort, the first one is the hardest.”

“I can’t even think of any others right now.”

Marya holds onto her shoulders, fondly. Like a mother. Arya suddenly feels tears prick at her eyes and wonders what her own mother would think of what she has become.

“I brought you some blankets and baby clothes as well,” she studies Arya before continuing. “You tell me Gendry’s frightened. Are you?”

Frightened? Arya thinks. She knows fear, she’s stared it in the face. She knows fear, intimately.

“Not really. Nervous? Maybe, anxious? Without a doubt.”

She reaches down and runs her hands over her stomach so she can feel the kicks. It’s been a chore keeping other people’s hands away. These are for her alone.

“Mostly? I really want to meet them.”

Marya pulls her in to kiss her on the head.

“I think you’ll do just fine then. I’m glad Gendry has someone like you. Davos used to write to me that he was scared the boy would never adjust to his new status. He  would bristle at the tiniest of insults and sulk at the smallest mistake he made. He needs someone like you.”

Arya feels a smile quirk at the corners of her mouth.

“We’re good for each other,” she says, “We each want to beat up the other’s insecurities.”

Davos and Marya leave in a few days, saying they were called to King’s Landing before they could return home. After they bid their farewells, Arya tells Gendry,

“Bran wrote me a letter. He says he wants to give Dragonstone to House Seaworth. They both know the land, Davos has more than proved himself worthy and they already have multiple heirs.”

“I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more,” Gendry muses, “I’d have probably cocked this whole lord thing up if Davos hadn’t been here to help me.”

He’s helped them both, Arya thinks.

A few weeks later, she gathers a handful of Renly’s old clothes to take to Mollie. Her son, Tris, had been born three weeks before. The girl had nearly panicked when she’d gone into labor and realized that it would be some time until she could go back to the kitchen. Arya had promised to find work for her that she could do sitting down.

“I’ve tried to take a bunch of these seams out, so we can use the fabric to make children’s clothes in a bunch of different sizes. I don’t know if they’re boys or girls yet, so you can make dresses or trousers if you like. If they’re girls, I’ll let them pick whichever ones they like,” Arya tells her in a whisper.

She leans over the basket and gently taps Tris’s nose, softly. She knows better than to a wake a moon-old baby.

“You should make him some too, there’s some really nice leather among that all.”

“Milady,” Mollie says, touching the fabrics, “These are far too fine for a child of mine.”

She had realized quickly upon talking to the other woman, that Mollie had no one and her child would be a Storm. She could have told her that some of Arya’s favorite boys had been born bastards, and that the only part of them that should be cursed was the men who left them. But she knew it likely wouldn’t make a difference, and she hoped that this might prove to her that Mollie’s son would be treated no differently by the Lord and Lady of this house.

“They’re far too fine to be sitting in a wardrobe attracting moths too. Neither me nor Lord Baratheon are going to be wearing anything like this. I’m sure Renly wouldn’t want them to go to waste, and I’m too shit with a needle and thread. If I were in your position, my children would probably be running around naked until they could sew their own.”

She fingers the golden lace stitched onto the edges of a red velvet doublet.

“Feel free to tear off any of this frippery though. They’re going to be worn by children after all.”

Mollie finally accepts, and when Arya stands, she feels a cramp and stumbles a bit.

“You okay milady? Mollie asks, looking after her.”

“I’m fine,” she tells her. “If anyone asks, I’m heading to the Godswood.”

She’s been spending more and more time out here as of late, when she needed to get away and collect her thoughts. It was her place, the way Gendry’s was the castle forge. When her skin began to feel stretched and heavy, she would come out here, strip and go for a swim.

This is what she does today, pleased that even though it’s a bit cold, the sky is still only gray and not pouring, yet anyway. She feels another cramp, and winces, before feeling the water take her weight and lets herself relax and try to let it out.

The cramps keep coming and going, and Arya is annoyed;. They’re like the ones that came with her moons blood, but are much sharper. When she starts to go wrinkly, another one hits her.

She dresses and gets up to leave, and another hits, this one stronger, so much so that she stumbles.

Alright, maybe she SHOULD go see Maester Elric before supper.

The maester of Storm’s End is younger than any Arya’s met previously, his formerly golden hair only streaked with gray, worn tied back at his neck. He’s also a bit more sharp tongued than she’s used to, but she prefers that.

When she tells him about the cramps, he places a hand on her stomach, and asks.

“Is the pain constant? Any bleeding?”

“No,” Arya replies, “It comes and goes, but they’ve been happening more-”

Another one hits, and she grimaces and draws herself in. That was the worst one yet. She almost forgot she had legs for a minute.

Elric sighs and rubs his forehead.

“I would ask if you were paying attention to the dates I gave you, but you clearly haven’t.”

Arya sputters.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“When was the last cramp before that?”

Arya thinks.

“Twenty minutes or so ago, after I left the Godswood?”

“My lady,” he tells her, measured. “You’re in labor.”

“Oh,” she says weakly, Elric takes her arm and begins to lead her out of his workshop and towards the Lord’s chambers, “That makes sense. Can someone please fetch my husband?”

Arya’s heard a lot about childbirth, from women of all stations, along with perfunctory lessons from her septa growing up. Part of her feels like she’s prepared, but also knows she’s completely not.

The contractions begun coming more frequently, by the time Gendry turns up. Arya hurts in ways that she’s not sure she even knew she could. Gendry holds her hand, even as she tells him some extremely unkind things.

She groans and pants and cries out, but won’t scream. She’s been stabbed, had run through the streets bleeding and jumped into a canal and tried to swim. She had pulled out stitches multiple times. This may be an entirely different kind of hurt, but it’s going to end in something beautiful, so it’s not worth screaming over. This harbour will not submit to the storm.

After a seeming lifetime, Elric announces that he can see a head, and a minute later, Arya hears a cry.

Elric cleans off the babe, wraps her in a blanket and hands her to Arya. She’s beaming and her heart sings, even as she hears Elric go “that’s one down.”

The second comes a few minutes later, with one strong push ending in a sharper pain. Elric cleans and hands Arya that one as well.

He’s clamping and cutting the cords when he feels the need to say,

“I’d watch out for that one, she tore you on the way out. It’s not bad though, barely a nick, it won’t even need a stitch.”

Arya’s cuddling the both of them, marveling at the tiny noses and ears and their little tufts of black hair, so she only vaguely notes Gendry going pale as a ghost and going “That can happen?” There’s so many things going on downstairs, she’s not sure she would even notice a big tear.

Then he says something about “afterbirth”, and Arya chooses not to think too much about what that means. She’s only got eyes for the girls in her arms, and ignores the odd, squishy feeling that follows, Elric’s hands massaging her abdomen, and whatever it is he’s throwing in the washbasin with the soiled towels and he’s talking about burying.

Gendry’s climbed onto the bed beside her, when Arya’s pulled down the neck of her tunic and Elric’s showing her how to get the babies to latch. It’s a bizarre feeling, but the two of them seem to know what to do, so it’s not bad. Elric nods, and tells them he’ll check in on them all again in a bit.

He pats Arya on the shoulder.

“For all the knowledge they guard at the Citadel, they cannot make life. Only women can do that. I think this is my favorite part of the job.”

And then he leaves them be.

Arya’s exhausted, so when the children stop suckling and yawn, she gives in to Gendry’s grabby hands and lets him take one.

“Have you thought anymore about names? Because I have nothing.”

Arya looks down at the little dark haired creature in her arms.

“My grandmother was Lyarra...how about Lyra?”

Gendry nods,

“That’s a good one. But we need one more.”

Arya bites her lip in thought.

“What about Lysa?” She pronounces it with a long ‘i’, “leesa’.

Gendry makes a face.

“Didn’t you have a mad aunt named Lysa?”

“I didn’t know her. I only have Sansa to go on that she was mad. And besides, her name was pronounced “Lie-sa”. I was thinking like Lys, the free city.”

Lyra’s already back asleep on Arya, but Lysa’s wiggling her little arms at her father above her. Arya’s reaches out to tap her nose.

“I always wanted to see Lys, I wanted to see all the free cities. I loved Braavos, loved the sea and the canals. Loved the smell and the fresh seafood and the boats and all the different people going about their lives in such a bustling place. It was like what King’s Landing could have been, if it didn’t stink so much.”

She pauses a bit, the darkness getting back into her eyes.

“Though I loved Braavos a lot more before I learned a blind girl could get beaten regularly in the streets and no one would do a single thing. I should have known better than to expect that people were better anywhere else.”

Gendry leans over to kiss her on the forehead, to help her chase the darkness away.

“Lyra and Lysa work for me.”

Arya eyes her still awake daughter. Her eyes aren’t quite as blue as her father’s, there are flecks of gray in them, like her own. Storm eyes, Arya thinks to herself.

“We could go see Lys someday,” Gendry tells her, “I’ve never seen any of Essos. Someday, we could go. All of us maybe even.”

Arya smiles as she feels her exhaustion threaten to take her. Maybe they would.

Gendry and Maester Elric both have to practically yell the next day when she wakes and tries to get out of bed immediately.

[aliciameade]

Baby - Ch. 3

Title: Baby Author: aliciameade Rating: *** M *** Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary:  That tearful kiss shared between Stephanie and Emily wasn't their first—and it certainly wasn't their last.

Y’all just like...let me file my change of address w/ the post office to “Hell.”

(Chapter 1)

Also on AO3.

“I can’t,” Emily mumbles into the pillow. She’s face-down. Stretched out. Spent.

Stephanie peppers her shoulders and back with kisses. “You gave me tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be with someone again so let me make the most of it.”

They had, admittedly, made the most of it already. Stephanie’s quite literally lost count of how many orgasms she’s had since their after school martini talk. She’s exhausted but her body is singing as though someone dusted off their old violin to play and it sounds even better than they remember. She’s never felt so amazing during sex before. She hasn’t really stopped to wonder if it’s a girl thing or a gay thing, but it’s definitely an Emily thing.

Emily had her figured out before they’d ever kissed and Stephanie knows that now. She’d soothed her with alcohol and got her to open up and share her fears and secrets and everything that makes her tick—and then she’d used each and every lesson she’d learned to unravel Stephanie until she was on her knees over Emily’s face biting the headboard to stop her voice from waking their children asleep across the hall.

She feels like she could do this forever; she wants to. Her body needs her to. It’s for her physical, mental, and emotional well-being. No woman should be deprived of this.

“Please?” she whines as she kisses Emily’s shoulder again and she watches the other woman turn her head and try to blow her hair, barely still tied in its bun, out of her face to look at her.

“You’re cute when you beg,” Emily says with a smile and purses her lips to get Stephanie to kiss them. Which she, of course, does without a moment’s hesitation. Emily turns away before long, though. “Baby, you’re killing me. I promise I’ll fuck you again tomorrow if you let me sleep.”

Stephanie laughs and moves over Emily to straddle her waist and sit back on her ass, pinning her. She gets a grunt and a bucking of hips in response but not much more. “I have so much lost time to make up for.” She leans down, making sure to press her breasts into Emily’s back, and bites her neck before soothing the spot with her tongue. “And you make me come so hard.”

She intentionally rolls her hips so Emily can feel exactly how wet she still is and despite all her outward rebuffs, Stephanie feels Emily’s own hips tilt forward against the bed.

“You don’t even have to do anything,” she says as she straightens her arms to find a better angle as she rolls them again. “Just stay right there.”

Emily tries to look back at her but the angle is strained. “You’re not going to hump my ass ‘til you come.”

“I might,” Stephanie says with a smile and an only slightly exaggerated moan. It does actually feel incredible but she’s pretty sure anything touching her at all tonight would feel incredible. And that makes her feel wicked. She sits up so she can twist and reach behind her; she has to feel around a bit in the near-darkness but she knows it’s there somewhere because it recently jabbed into her back for 15 minutes.

She finally finds the smooth leather and seizes it. The metal of the belt buckle chimes as she lifts it and she can feel Emily’s entire body tense beneath her.

Emily manages to get herself up onto her elbows so she can turn her head to look behind her. “What’s this?”

Stephanie slowly winds the belt along her right arm and then lets it slide off. She keeps the buckle end in her hand and plays with the metal; the sound got Emily’s attention and, she discovers, the coldness of it tracing down her spine gets her attention even more.

“Shit, what are you doing?” Emily says with a gasping breath as her head falls to hang lifelessly.

Her reaction is astounding and not at all what Stephanie expected.

She’s almost nervous to reply because it feels like they’re standing on a precipice again and the wrong words will be the difference between ecstasy and embarrassment.

She focuses on leveling her voice. “I said I was saving this for later.”

Emily hums.

Her heart starts racing. Emily’s not exactly rejecting what Stephanie is hinting at. She drags the buckle up Emily’s back as she leans back down to breathe into her ear, “And it’s later.”

Emily shivers beneath her. “What are you going to do?” Her voice is doing that thing again that Stephanie’s grown to crave where it drops an octave when she’s turned on.

The knowledge helps Stephanie’s confidence grow. “Don’t worry; you don’t have to do anything.” She rolls her hips again, this time so firmly it makes her sigh in Emily’s ear. Slowly she edges herself higher as she weaves the belt in and out of the buckle until she can reach under the pillow and pull Emily’s left arm out from under it. She slips Emily’s hand through one of the loops and waits for any sign that Emily doesn’t want this.

There is no such sign. Emily allows her to do it, even lifts her head again and watches it happen.

Even puts her own hand through the other loop.

Stephanie tightens her grip on the tail of the belt. “This is okay?” she asks quietly.

Emily seems to chuckle but it doesn’t quite make it out as a laugh. More like staggered breaths. “Where’d you learn how to do this?”

“You don’t get to know all my secrets,” she says as she pulls on the loose end to cinch the homemade handcuffs around Emily’s wrists.

It makes Emily moan and drop her head again. “If you wanted to do this, I had a pair in the drawer,” she says after taking a deep breath. “But points for creativity.”

“I always did love a good DIY,” Stephanie teases as she gives them one more tug for good measure. “Do you want a safe word?”

“Baby, it takes a lot more than handcuffs to make me need a safe word.”

“Mm, that sounds like a challenge.” Stephanie smiles to herself and then lifts up a bit. “Speaking of DIY: turn over.”

It’s not easy for Emily to turn in her confined space of being trapped between Stephanie’s legs and her hands being bound but she does so. She’s a little winded when she looks up at Stephanie, now astride her stomach, and Stephanie has to take a moment to gather herself. She has her best friend, Emily Nelson, tied up with her belt, naked, in bed, and she likes it.

They both like it.

“Like I said,” Stephanie says as she works her way backward until she’s shifting her stance to straddle Emily’s right thigh just above her knee. She wastes no time in pressing herself against her. “You don’t have to do anything.” She rocks her hips a little and sees Emily’s eyes flash. “I do think your hands should be above your head, though. Would you mind, sweetie?” She says as she points at Emily’s hands.

She lifts her arms and moves them back until her bound hands rest against the headboard behind her and Stephanie feels the power hit her like heroin.

“That’s good. God, you’re beautiful,” she says as she takes in the sight before her. It makes her hips start moving in earnest to drag herself over Emily’s thigh.

Emily seems to tug at her restraints a little. “You don’t want me to do anything?”

Stephanie shakes her head and is struck by the way Emily’s eyes rake over her body at the action. It drips of approval and desire. “I want you to watch me.” Her left hand trails up from her knee, over her stomach, and to her breast. She cups it to squeeze it and she watches Emily swallow. “Since you’re too tired to fuck me.”

“I’m not too tired, baby,” Emily says and Stephanie feels her thigh flex between her legs.

Stephanie intentionally waits to answer so she can moan as she rolls her hips. “You told me you couldn’t fuck me anymore tonight, and now here we are.” She rolls them again and starts settling into a rhythm. “Or, there you are.” She brings her right hand up to tend to her other breast. “And here I am.”

“I can do it.” Emily holds her hands out toward Stephanie. “Let me go.”

Stephanie pushes them away and watches Emily drop them behind her head again. “We both know I’m not going to do that.”

That’s when Emily smiles up at her. It’s such a beautiful smile that it takes Stephanie’s breath away.

“You’re gorgeous, baby,” Emily says up to her. “Let me watch you.”

Stephanie’s racing heart seems to skip a beat or two but it finds its pulse again when Emily presses her thigh up into her. “Fuck,” she says with a moan as she pushes Emily’s leg down. ���Don’t. Let me.” She leaves her hand there on Emily’s thigh; it offers different leverage as she grinds herself against her.

It feels amazing. Emily’s skin is silky smooth and warm and growing slicker by the second as her hips roll again and again. She watches Emily watch her and she can see her growing more and more aroused. Her hips are starting to lift and twist in time with Stephanie’s.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Emily breathes.

Her tone makes Stephane groan and ride her harder. “You like this?”

“Mhm.”

Stephanie feels high. “I bet if I touch you right now you’d be wet for me.”

It makes Emily’s hips lift wildly and she hears her moan.

“But I thought you were too tired?” Stephanie says with the best pout she can manage when every other breath out of her is a moan. “Don’t worry; I’ll be finished soon.”

Emily moans again. “Touch me.”

Stephanie can’t believe her ears. “What?”

“Touch me, baby,” she repeats. “I want to come with you.”

The groan that leaves Stephanie is actually silent; the arousal that shoots through her is almost crippling. She could stop and calm down a little and help Emily catch up but that’s not what this is right now. “I’m too close. I can’t wait for you.”

“Please, just fucking touch me, Stephanie.” The words sound strangled and it’s the only thing that makes Stephanie take pity on her. That, and the fact that she actually used her name.

She reaches for Emily, easily finding her clit with her fingers.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Emily says with a groan as her hips jump and chase her touch.

Emily is wetter than she’d been after being played with through an entire movie and Stephanie revels in it to drag her fingers through it and bring them to her mouth both for show and for the indulgence.

Emily’s moan is airy at Stephanie’s display and it catches in her throat when Stephanie puts her fingers back.

“Now don’t you wish you’d have fucked me when I asked?” Even Stephanie’s own breathing is a turn on now; she can feel the heat twisting low in her stomach.

“Honestly?” Emily says with something that amounts to half a laugh and half a moan and Stephanie understands. No. This was a wonderful turn of events. “Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It starts like a fuse this time. She feels it spark and then sizzle, the heat trickling through her where she grinds herself against Emily. She knows it’s going to hit her hard and her lungs are already starting to fail her.

Something about her must give it away that she’s on the verge because Emily moans something in encouragement, maybe telling her to come, or begging her to come, but there’s static in her ears as her orgasm rushes through her.

It doesn’t let her stay upright and she falls forward onto Emily and she can feel her body rolling under her, can hear her moaning in her ear and feels the sharp scrape of leather as Emily’s arms come down. Her bound hands land on Stephanie’s back and the rough edge of the belt scratches at her.

“Fuck,” she huffs when her senses return. She’s cheek to cheek with Emily and can feel her struggling to catch her breath.

“How are you so much fun?” Emily asks with a stilted voice.

It makes Stephanie laugh and she presses her face into Emily’s neck to inhale her before she wiggles her way out from under Emily’s arms to stop crushing her. “Taking that as a compliment.”

“It was. Untie me.”

She sits up a little to smile down at Emily. “I didn’t hear the safe word.”

“My safe word is ‘untie me.’”

She tilts her head a little. “I don’t know, Em. I don’t think I’m ready to be finished yet.”

Emily shoves her hands in Stephanie’s face and her voice is firm. “Untie me and I’ll fuck you ‘til dawn.”

Stephanie pushes Emily’s hands aside and leans down to kiss her. Emily doesn’t try to keep arguing and Stephanie lets their tongues play until she sits up fully and brings Emily’s hands back to her lap. She loosens the belt and lets Emily pull her wrists free. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

The belt gets ripped out of her hands and she’s ready for it when Emily lifts her to put her on her back and pin her down, hands above her head as she’d made Emily do. She’d been ready for it. Counted on it, even.

But nothing could have prepared her for the sound and sensation of cold steel snapping around one wrist, then the other.

Emily kisses her so hard she sinks into the pillow beneath her head and her entire being seems to ignite.

“Until dawn,” Emily whispers against her lips before beginning to kiss her way down Stephanie’s body.

When Stephanie wakes, it feels too early. She’s only been asleep one, maybe two hours but her internal clock has her eyes fluttering open because it must be 6:30 am and time to get Miles’s breakfast and lunch ready.

She sits up and rubs her eyes expecting to find her son in bed next to her waiting for her to wake up.

Only she’s not at home. And she’s naked. And definitely not in her own bed.

The disorientation passes after a second or two to get replaced by the utter and absolute exhaustion and level of contentment she’s woken with. She jumps as something cold touches her thigh when she lowers her hand and laughs to find Emily’s metal handcuffs still attached to her right wrist. The events of the past 12-plus hours rush back to her and she forgets how to breathe for a few seconds.

When it passes, she fiddles with the cuff but has no idea how to remove it. She can’t imagine there’s not a safety release of some kind, but she also wouldn’t be surprised if Emily had real law enforcement handcuffs that require a key.

She’d ask her if she was there, but Stephanie knows she’s alone. The palpable energy that follows Emily everywhere is absent.

Her mind returns to the reason she’s awake and that she needs to get Miles ready for school. She’s working on finding enough clothes to put on when she remembers it’s Saturday and they should be sleeping in.

However, she can hear his voice downstairs chattering away with Nicky followed by the smooth lilting voice she knows belongs to Emily.

She tries to get rid of the handcuffs one more time to no avail while she uses the restroom. She surveys herself in the mirror; there’s no denying it that she looks like she was up all night having sex and she loves it. She ties her hair back and washes her face with some expensive product Emily has by her sink and it helps perhaps a little.

She tucks her cuffed hand behind her back as she ventures downstairs. Her approach was quiet and it affords her the opportunity to watch Miles and Nicky, still in their clothes from yesterday, sitting at stools at the kitchen island as Emily slides spoons across the counter to them so they can dig into their bowls of cereal.

“Did you finish your Lego tower?” she asks them as she leans back against the counter with a cup of tea or coffee. She’s wearing the non-menswear pajamas she’d stripped from herself last night with a cream-colored silk robe over her shoulders. Stephanie thinks it should be illegal to look so eloquent so early in the morning.

Miles shakes his head. “We made it tall enough. But it broke in half when we tried to stand it up.”

“Oh, no, that sucks! Nicky, I swear if I step on one Lego—make sure they’re all picked up today, okay?”

Something about observing this feels dangerous to Stephanie. It’s too close to feeling normal and it can’t feel normal. Emily is her married best friend. Happily married. Mostly. She can’t think about how domestic it feels to come downstairs to Emily making their children breakfast after keeping each other up all night making love.

That’s what it had been, eventually: making love. It had been fucking. It had been sex. But when Emily kissed her from the second she began touching Stephanie again until the moment Stephanie cried out against her lips in ecstasy, it had been making love.

And it had been dangerous.

She makes a show of her entrance with a loud, exaggerated yawn.

“Mom, you’re up!” Miles says as he leaps off his stool to run over to her and hug her around her knees.

“Hey, Smooch! How’d you sleep?” She turns her back to Emily and holds out her cuffed hand behind her to ask for help.

“Good.”

“What movie did you end up watching?” She feels Emily’s hands on her wrist and with a couple clicks the metal disappears and she brings her freed hand around to pat at Miles’s wild curls. There’s a very distinct grabbing of her ass that follows and she almost makes a sound. Instead, she glances over her shoulder to see Emily pocket the handcuffs in her robe on her way back to the coffee maker to pour a new cup which she places on the counter after adding a bit of milk and sugar.

“The Incredibles. It was so good! I want to be Mr. Incredible for Halloween!”

“That sounds great! Now, go finish your breakfast.” She pivots him and nudges him back toward his seat. “We need to get home. I think we’ve about worn out our welcome here.”

“You don’t have to rush off,” Emily says as she nods at the coffee she poured and sips her own. “Sean won’t be home until after lunch.”

Stephanie takes up her cup and blows over the hot surface as she leans next to Emily. They’re close enough that their elbows graze. “I think it’s probably best if we go.” What she doesn’t say is that she’s a fool and knows better than to do all things she’s done. She’s an expert at ruining things and she’s most certainly set this friendship on the path straight to destruction. “I need to help Miles with his book report and I still have to record this week’s vlog.”

“And what’s this week’s topic?” Emily asks and Stephanie notices her voice lowering. “DIY BDSM?”

Stephanie masks her reaction with a too-big gulp of coffee and it almost burns her mouth. “C’mon, Smooch, finish up,” she says as she steps out of Emily’s orbit so she can breathe. “You have homework and I have laundry.”

“Anything you need dry cleaned?” Emily says as she sets down her cup and heads for the bedroom. “I’m going today; I can stop by and pick yours up on the way.”

She’s heading for the bedroom because she knows that’s where Stephanie was about to go, and she has no choice. Her clothes are still up there. “Clear your dishes when you’re finished,” she says to Miles before she follows Emily.

She fully expects Emily to fuck her the second they step into the bedroom that still smells like sex. Her mind and body are ready for it and she even considers which direction she should angle herself in to land in bed or against a dresser or even the floor.

Instead, Emily hands her a paper shopping bag from a designer store. “Here’s your dress. Don’t worry about the other stuff,” she says with a wave of her hand toward Stephanie. “Keep it. I’ll come by later to pick up your dry cleaning.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Emily’s hand appears on her waist. “I said, I’ll come by later.”

Stephanie shivers as she looks up at Emily, ready to beg her to kiss her. And she thinks she’s going to. She even starts to lean down, but then she steps back and Stephanie feels the mood evaporate.

“Go home.”

“I, uh…” It feels painfully silent and Stephanie feels like she has a thousand things she wants to say. She manages to contain herself to a, “Thank you. For everything,” and leaves before she can say anything else.

Stephanie’s not sure how long she stays in the shower.

She lets the water cascade down the body that had come alive last night. Every inch of her feels like it’s been rejuvenated. She sings in the shower. She luxuriates in the tropical-scented lather as it travels all the places Emily’s eyes, hands, fingers, lips, and tongue had traveled. The memories make arousal bloom in her and the only thing that stops her from touching herself is the desire to maintain the reality that Emily was the last person to make her come. Not herself, not her vibrator, not the shower head. Emily’s fingers.

She stays until Miles bursts into the bathroom asking where his Leonardo action figure is and she has to promise to get out soon to help him find it.

(It’s under his bed.)

She naps on the couch while Miles plays a game on her iPad. Normally, she hates using technology as a babysitter, but she’s exhausted and still has an entire day of stay-at-home-mom to endure.

She records her vlog. It’s not about DIY BDSM (it’s about allergen-free bath bombs). She dresses up a little more than usual for it; she’s still feeling confident and flirty and the frilly-shouldered white halter dress makes her feel pretty. She has to work a bit to cover up the pair of purple marks on her neck with enough makeup so they don’t show on camera but as soon as she wraps, she wipes it away; she loves how they look on her fair skin.

She helps Miles with his report, listening to him talk about the book he read this week called Miss Nelson is Missing! by Harry G. Allard and its moral of The Golden Rule.

She puts her few dry cleaning garments into the shopping bag Emily sent her home with and leaves it by the door. She has absolutely zero expectation that Emily will actually show up to pick up her dry cleaning, but on the tiniest off chance she does, she figures she should be prepared. When she doesn’t show up, she’ll drop it off herself on Monday.

Her usual laundry is next. It’s all bath towels and she hopes in vain that it won’t unbalance her rickety washing machine. It had come with the house and the washer and dryer were the only two appliances she had yet to replace. They got the job done, though, so she was content to hold out until a really good sale came up.

She’s just settling in at the table with a cup of green tea and her computer to read her most recent comments when her doorbell rings.

“Mom! Someone’s at the door!”

“I heard it, Smooch,” she says as she catches Miles barrelling past her to answer it himself. “No, no, no, you know better than to answer the door.” She sends him back in the direction he came from and when she sees the silhouette through the granite glass her heart stops.

There’s only one person she knows who carries themselves that way. She can see the lines and contrasting colors and she knows there’s a suit on the other side. She holds on to the door for support in a way she hopes isn’t completely obvious as she opens it. “Emily. You came.”

Emily strides into her home, one hand in the pocket of her black suit, as casually as if she’d been there countless times, though it’s her first. Her perfume follows and Stephanie feels high again. Just like that. Her presence and her scent and she’s lost. She’s in a three-piece suit on a Saturday and though Stephanie’s only beginning to figure out why she is eternally grateful for it. Her hair is tied back into a low ponytail and that angers Stephanie irrationally; it means she can’t bury her fingers in it. Though she could pull it...

“Not since this morning,” Emily answers as she saunters to the kitchen. She seems amused by her vlog setup and Stephanie’s about to ask her to be careful when her answer finally registers.

She laughs nervously because all she wants to do is sink to her knees and pull Emily’s dress pants down. She laughs because she doesn’t understand how she becomes this person in Emily’s presence, but she knows she loves it.

“Is Miles here?” she asks as she trails her fingers along Stephanie’s counters while she makes a slow loop around the kitchen that is bringing her closer and closer to where Stephanie’s waiting.

“Playing in his room.”

“Miles!” Emily shouts and it makes Stephanie flinch.

“Hi, Emily!” Miles says after he sprints from his room. “Is Nicky here??”

“No, he’s home. Listen, your mom and I need to talk about the phone calls we got from Santa Claus, but if you hear anything at all, he won’t come because it’s top secret about the list you sent to him. Go play in the backyard, okay? We’ll come to get you when it’s safe.”

Miles’s eyes go wide and he’s scampering away without questioning it. The back door slams a few seconds later.

“How did you know he sent a letter to Santa already?”

Emily rolls her eyes. “Please. You probably have him write quarterly letters to keep him focused on good behavior. Hell, that’s a good idea. Maybe I should try it with Nicky.”

“Yeah, I, uh…” she trails off into another laugh because now she’s alone in her house with Emily.

“You doing laundry?” Emily says as she resumes her unguided tour through the house, Stephanie following just far enough behind that she can’t reach if she’s tempted to touch her.

“Um, yeah. It’s Saturday.”

“Saturday is laundry day?” Emily says as she finds the laundry room. She stops in front of the washing machine and then takes a step back as though surveying it.

Stephanie waits in the doorway, confused. “Yes. Why?”

“Figuring out my schedule,” she says a little under her breath, then kicks the washing machine with the side of her gleaming black patent leather Oxford loafer to make it clang. “Up.”

Stephanie chokes. “Excuse me?”

“Get up. Come on,” Emily reaches out and snags Stephanie’s arm to pull her into the room and plant her in front of the washing machine.

“You want me…?”

“I don’t have all day.” Emily undoes the button on her jacket and removes it to hang it from the doorknob, leaving her in her white blouse and vest.

Stephanie’s mind feels like it’s been incinerated. She can’t get her arms to work and even if she jumps she can’t make it up.

“Okay, let’s go,” Emily says with a roll of her eyes as she grabs Stephanie by the waist and lifts when Stephanie jumps.

Her ass lands on the cold metal of the washing machine agitating slowly beneath her. She can’t believe this is going to happen. She doesn’t even know exactly what is going to happen, but she knows Emily’s going to get her off doing whatever it is she’s about to do. She tugs her skirt out from under herself and pulls it up to her waist.

“Good girl,” Emily says quietly as she runs her hands up Stephanie’s legs. It’s the first she’s touched her since that morning but it feels as though it’s been days the way Stephanie’s body responds to it. Her fingers find the elastic of Stephanie’s panties and she pulls them down, immediately pocketing them.

Stephanie makes a mental note to make a trip to the lingerie store because if this is going to keep happening—God, she needs it to keep happening—she’s going to run out of underwear in a matter of days. Her hands reach for Emily but she leans out of range. She realizes Emily’s makeup is done. Her hair is styled. She was on her way somewhere important before she arrived at Stephanie’s home and she doesn’t want Stephanie to tarnish her impeccable appearance.

Her hands disappear and Stephanie braces herself for her touch but nothing happens. She looks down to see what’s taking so long and forgets how to breathe as she watches Emily undo her pants to reveal a neon pink dildo strapped to her hips.

“Oh, my God,” she breathes as she watches Emily pluck a tiny bottle out of her vest’s breast pocket and dribble a few drops of the clear liquid along its length before setting it on the dryer next to them. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you on this washing machine, baby. What does it look like?” Emily says with a crooked smile as she strokes her hand over the phallus a few times, then pulls a purple handkerchief from another pocket. She wipes her hand on it, tosses it aside, and steps into Stephanie’s space.

“Oh,” Stephanie says with a dumb nod. “Okay.” She feels Emily’s hands hook under her knees to lift them until her feet are planted on the top of the washer just like her ass is.

It’s utterly obscene.

“You want a pillow behind you?” Emily says as she runs her fingernails up and down the backs of Stephanie’s thighs. “Might get a little rough.”

She manages to nod again. “On the couch.”

Emily disappears but only for a few seconds. When she returns she has a throw pillow from the couch that she slides between Stephanie and the control panel of the washing machine.

It’s a relief when Stephanie leans back against it.

“Better?” Emily says, hands on her thighs again as they push her open wider.

“Yeah.” She’s been waiting too long for this. Hell, two minutes is too long.

Emily’s eyes flick to hers and hold her gaze. “Ready?”

She tugs at her skirt again to make sure it’s out of the way. She doesn’t want to ruin it and she also needs to watch this happen. “Yeah.”

She watches as the toy grazes her, then slips over her teasingly. Emily’s watching it, too, when Stephanie looks up and something about that is even sexier. She’s about to beg when she sees and feels the tip press into her. She gasps and holds her breath as she watches the entire length disappear.

If she could form any singular word, she would. Instead, she just whimpers and wraps her hands around the edge of the machine.

“Fuck, that’s fucking hot,” Emily says as she adjusts her stance a little and Stephanie figures her words are enough for both of them.

She watches her withdraw completely as though she’s in awe and Stephanie’s ready to beg for it again just as she pushes back into her. It’s steadier this time. More assured. She stays buried deep and Stephanie clenches around it. She wishes Emily could feel it, but she supposes this is more about her than Emily.

And that makes her moan.

Emily’s doing this for her. That’s it. Emily wore a strap-on out of her house and drove to Stephanie’s for the sole purpose of showing her what it’s like to be fucked on top of a washing machine as it goes into the spin cycle to send unexpected vibrations through her.

“We’re alone; let me hear you, baby,” Emily breathes as she starts moving her hips into a rhythm.

She has to let herself lean back. She has to let this woman fuck her because it’s the only thing she needs as much as she needs air. She moans again, this time not holding back and it makes Emily not hold back either.

“God, yes,” Emily says with a broken groan as she hooks her hands under Stephanie’s knees again. She doesn’t even know where her legs can possibly go until they just stay there, suspended in Emily’s hands as she holds them open.

All of it is obscene. How it feels, how it sounds. And she wants more.

“Harder,” she begs and she remembers what she thought last night as Emily fucked her at the dining table. That she would be merciless if she had a strap-on. And she was right. She can’t even moan without it being interrupted by her body being thrown back again and again. She begs, “Don’t stop,” and closes her eyes. Every sense is overloaded and somehow she still wants more. It scares her, the ferocity of the need. All of this is a drug and she’s already addicted.

She feels her left foot get planted back on the machine and she’s about to open her eyes to see what’s happening next but she’s not quick enough. Emily needs her hand back so she can reach between them and to rub Stephanie’s clit.

“Fuck,” she breathes as her back arches, already winding up. She’s felt like she’s on a hair trigger since she left Emily’s house.

“You going to come for me, baby?” Emily’s breathing hard and she should be with as hard as she’s working. Stephanie just nods. “Good.” She speeds up, somehow, and Stephanie snaps.

She can hear herself, her moans echoing in the small room laced with Emily’s as she comes. She wonders if Emily’s coming, too, and thinks might be by the sound of it and it makes her hips buck harder until they’re both quiet save for how hard they’re breathing.

She finally opens her eyes to see Emily leaning over her, flushed though no less beautiful. Arguably more so.

Now that the moment is over, though, Stephanie’s back is killing her and she struggles to sit up until Emily helps her, taking a step back to slip out of Stephanie in the process.

Emily immediately goes to work using the handkerchief to wipe it off so she can remove it from the harness. It gets tossed on the dryer with the other things she’d brought and then she leans into Stephanie’s space again, hands on either side of her.

“Now will you kiss me?” Stephanie asks and Emily finally lets her touch her. She runs her hands up Emily’s arms to her face, which she’s careful with, to pull her in for a kiss.

Emily sighs through their kiss and it feels romantic and dreamy as her fingertips trail along Stephanie’s legs, never going past mid-thigh as though it would be inappropriate to do so, which is a laughable concept, really. “That was amazing,” she says against Emily’s lips as they kiss slowly.

Emily hums in reply and eases their kiss to an end. She begins putting herself back together and Stephanie tries not to find it cold and disconnected; the only thing preventing it is that Emily stops every few seconds to kiss her or touch her, as though she’s trying to savor every connection before it’s gone. She watches Emily drop her pants to her ankles so she can unbuckle the harness from her hips. She’s not wearing anything else and Stephanie aches to touch her and see how wet she is.

“You’re not going out like that,” she blurts before really realizing it but she’s so glad she did.

Emily looks at her, confused. “Like what?”

She slides off the washing machine to stand. “You’re so worried about your fancy designer pants getting wet and I know you are.” And then she starts to kneel and watches Emily’s entire body tip back to sag against the wall. She’s already kicking one foot out of her pants so she can spread her legs and hands are in her hair before Stephanie even asks, “Can I clean you up?”

“Fine,” Emily breathes, and then she moans when Stephanie’s tongue draws through her wetness. Stephanie hums her observation because she’s far too busy to speak but Emily gives her a breathy, “I know; shut up,” that makes Stephanie chuckle.

It’s decadent, making love to Emily with her mouth. She does exactly what she offered: she laps up the arousal streaking her thighs and clinging to her skin. And then she sucks Emily’s clit into her mouth and listens to the sound of her head hitting the wall and the clang of her shoe as she props it against the machine behind Stephanie. It gives her leverage and she pushes herself to Stephanie’s mouth.

The quickness with which she climaxes answers Stephanie’s earlier uncertainty; she hadn’t come with her, but she had to have been close. It makes her stomach clench that Emily became so aroused by the very act of having sex with her that it only took a couple of minutes until she was coming on Stephanie’s tongue.

She keeps licking her slowly because, honestly, she feels like she could do it forever.

“If you don’t stop,” Emily says as her hands smooth Stephanie’s hair, “you’re defeating the purpose.”

It makes Stephanie smile and she takes one more pointed lick before she sits back on her heels only for Emily to grab her hands and lift her back to her feet. Stephanie can feel their dynamic shift as Emily no longer stoops to kiss her as she dresses.

“Put that away somewhere,” Emily says as she pulls up her tucks her white blouse into her pants before buttoning them. She nods at the toy and harness and bottle laying on the dryer.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll, uh…” Stephanie has to blink a few times because she’s light-headed again at what Emily’s implying. “I’ll put it in my dresser. Nightstand. Thing.”

Emily brushes her hands down her vest to straighten it and reaches for her jacket to swing it over her shoulders with sickening grace. “Text me when you decide so I know where to find it next week.”

Stephanie swallows and has to lean back against the appliance behind her. “Next week?”

Emily buttons her jacket and turns on her heel to walk away.

Stephanie makes sure her dress skirt is in its proper place before she follows but Emily’s already at the front door, holding it open as she pauses to glance over her shoulder. “Saturday is laundry day, right?”

Stephanie snaps her fingers and points at her like she just figured it out, and maybe she did. “Yes, it is!”

“Then I’ll see you Saturday,” Emily says before pulling the door closed behind her.

The tension breaks with her departure and Stephanie all but falls into a chair to hold her face in her hands. It’s still hot and her pulse isn’t even back to normal yet and Emily’s already gone. She thinks she may very well be driven mad by this woman and she’ll happily let the nurses take her away in a straightjacket.

She sighs and finds the strength to stand so she can freshen up before calling for Miles to let him come back in the house. When she returns, she notices the shopping bag still sitting by the front door, forgotten.

But something tells her Emily wasn’t there to pick up her dry cleaning in the first place.

Chapter 4

[crappierpasta]

Hollow

She was beautiful.

She and I would sit with my laptop for hours on end, looking for the scariest things we could find. It was an odd relationship, but it worked. Something just clicked when I was with her. She was the love of my life and my best friend. Nowadays, I would give anything to have her back.

She knew of the things I had seen. She dismissed it. Ah, Jordan, it's just your mind playing tricks on you. I wonder if she still thinks it was just my mind.

Really, she was always worried about me. I suppose that when you look at it from her perspective - the perspective of one who hadn't lived the way I had, who hadn't seen what I had seen - it would rationalize her train of thought. Sometimes, I wonder if she thought me insane. I know there were some times she did. The love in her eyes when we lay together, when we made love, and when we scared ourselves silly... I kjust knew that it was because of that love I would never lose her. She was mine 'til death did us part.

I really don't know how to describe the things I see. Beautiful, lumbering, graceful, damned, hateful, loving... I wouldn't be wrong in saying slender, and that's no allusion. Just as damned as the drunk that walks down the street from the bar each night, scratching his sickly face and adjusting the worn hat on his head, only to have it fall on its slant once more moments later. Just as loving as a mother to her kin.

They are us, essentially, with long, cracked-looking limbs and expressions that can be both grotesque and beautiful. They are young and old, just as we are, and they are all greatly varied. They are the walking souls that never lived, not unborn and not undead. I've been seeing them for three years now, in numbers just as great as humans. They are their own society, treating us as though we do not exist. They do not behave as we do, however. I told her and saw fear in my eyes - not of the beings of which I spoke, but for myself and my mental state of being. She loved me, but... alas, she couldn't see. Seeing was believing.

There was a day, about two months ago, when I walked with her. The same walk we'd walked a thousand times before. We lived on a circular road and often made the loop together while talking. I'd noted that, although the loop was our usual route, there'd only been one route we'd completely avoided in all those months we were lovers. It was the road the mayor lived on. Bowater. This particular day, I suggested to her we walk up through Bowater. I'd never gone far enough to reach the end of the street in question. She devoutly refused and explained that there was a night long ago when she was followed down that road by a large, black, burly figure of insurmountable height. Knowing what I've seen, she also dismissed anything of paranormality. I was unconvinced, but I left well enough alone and we continued on our usual treck.

I really should have seen it coming, but we were so vulnerable.

Julia called me one night... or, rather, morning. Around 3AM, to be precise. She told me she was scared. She was seeing and hearing things. She needed to talk. I stayed on the phone with her for two hours, trying to calm her down as much as possible. I did my best. It almost worked. She was dozing off and I was happy to hear it. I was tired, too. Then... a thump. It was almost a footstep, but not quite. I couldn't hear it well over the phone, but I could tell it wasn't a footstep. Okay so... Julia. Back to her.

After the thump, I heard her stop breathing. I panicked and called her name twice. She cut me off the third time with a scream. I heard a commotion. I heard her running. I heard a door slam and lock, then more running and moving curtains. I spoke her name a couple of times more.

"Julia?" I asked. "Julia?" "Jordan, don't go," came the reply. "Please don't go." "It's okay. What's wrong?" "She's out there. In the hallway." "Who's in the hallway, Julia?" "I don't know who's in the hallway, Jordan. It's just a she. It's white. It smiles with its eyes. She smiles. She." "Julia, calm down. Calm down. What is she?" "I don't want to talk about it, Jordan. I can't describe it. I just want to forget. Talk to me, Jordan. Talk to me, please. About anything. Just not that."

There was a reason I wanted to know. I wanted to know because I've never ever seen one in a house... until the night before that. What I'd seen was unlike everything else.

Everything else had remained very humanoid to an extent. This was... like a mafia murder gone wrong. Like someone had stuffed her body in a suitcase and left her alive to grow that way. Her face... Her face was smiling. It was a sickly black, toothless grin with wide, white bloodshot eyes. A black object that looked to be a horn with a ball end extended slightly from where her nose would have been.

What sickened me was that her face was hanging - literally - from this ball-ended horn. It was like a child's halloween mask. The gap between her face and head was held together loosely by blood-soaked skin, stretched to purple like tiny little slimy rope ligaments. Her face wriggled and spun loosely, hanging by the ball end and ligaments. It made small squelching noises as she moved. Her arms stretched under her legs and bent with four joints each, to become hind legs of some sort. It was like some kind of sick, disfigured child was trying to play leap frog. Her legs were relatively normal, though I couldn't see them well under the pure white dress she wore. The last defining feature of this thing were the three grotesque humps protruding from her back.

It was on my porch. I'd gone to use the washroom and decided to use the kitchen light on so I could find the bathroom light switch (our bathroom connects to the kitchen for some reason). I turned on the light. Everything was fine. I went to the bathroom, finished my business, and walked over to turn the kitchen light off. I was greeted by the sight of that thing as I neared the porch. It looked up, its head lulled sickly to the side, and it smiled at me. I was used to seeing things, but the sight of this creature sickened me so badly. I felt that instead of hitting the switch and making a run for it, I'd have to run to the toilet to puke. I followed through with the former, however, and kept my door locked for the rest of the night. I did eventually fall asleep, but it was light and restless.

I was sure Julia was seeing exactly what I had the night before. I couldn't pressure her about it, however, or I'd scare her even more. I spoke gently to her and calmed her down. Soon, she drifted off to sleep, allowing me to finally sleep myself.

The days went by. Julia still refused to go near Bowater. There was a new path she was trying to stay clear of, too: a trail we always used to cut through to the park. She was hiding something. I resolved to find out what. I spent most of the days with her. The sweet summer air was a welcome change from the rain we'd been experiencing. I tried to ask her about that night, but she refused to talk. She wouldn't say a word about it. We went to my place. She wasn't excited about our scary hour anymore, so we just cuddled. I swear to God there was never a moment that day that I doubted she was the love of my life.

We went our separate ways that night, parting with a long, lingering kiss. It was another reminder of our promise to one another. I told her to tell me if anything happened. I'd be over in a second if she needed me. She did. After all, I only live across the street. That night, she didn't say a lot online. I tried to elicit conversation, but was met with nondescriped ooh and ahs. Around 1:30AM, she went offline. At 2AM, I got a text. I sighed with relief that it was her. The content of the text, however, made me uneasy.

"Im going for a walk, sorry"

I looked out the window, toward her house, and saw not a single light on. Not even in her room. I noticed her front door was open and watched as she walked - or at least stumbled - out, cloaked in her long, pink jacket. It was far too large and hot to be wearing on a summer's night. I couldn't see her face very well. I tossed on some shoes and ran outside just in time to see her nearly disappear on the loop of that circular road. I walked fast, keeping my distance and keeping quiet. When she stopped, I felt fear.

She was standing in front of the trail. The one she'd avoided so heavily. She stood there for a good five minutes and almost moved to go with her before noticing she was no longer alone.

One of the things walked out of the trail. This one was different as well, but nowhere near as grotesque as the one I'd seen before. This one wore a wooden mask. It was what I would have called a plague doctor mask. The long "nose" of the mask descended to its chest and it was, otherwise, cloaked in black. A long, skinny arm reached out of the cloak and Julia reached toward it, holding something in her hand.

No.

No no no.

It wasn't a hand she held out.

It was a foot.

My heart stopped. I knew. I just knew. I'd never bothered to question the way she walked, as though drunken. I never bothered to look at her feet or her hands. I looked down and, sure enough, there were two hands with spindly, long fingers stretched over the road in the streetlight's midst. My heart stopped and broke at the same time, for I knew that the face I looked at was that of my beloved. My beloved. My Julia. I yelled. I yelled with so much force and anger that the plague doctor himself flinched. Julia turned and I got my first clear look at her face.

Scared.

Regretful.

Dead.

The plague doctor walked up behind her, grabbing the jacket from the front, as if hugging her, and tore it open. I was greeted by the girl-thing from the night before, her body cozily hugged by my Julia's ribcage.. for a spine, neck, and head were all that was left of my beloved. I cried. I cried out, to myself and to the things that killed her. I cried with rage and heartbreak - loudly and angrily - and began to run. I ran toward them, glaring at that detached face and waiting for its stupid fucking grin to fade. I glared, waiting for the satisfaction I'd get at seeing the fear in its bloodshot eyes before I bashed its fucking skull in.

It smiled widely.

I made it under the streetlight, merely ten feet away from the thing sickeningly cradled by Julia's body, when I was grabbed. I spun around to see nothing, but when I looked to my side there was a bony, blue hand holding onto my shoulder. I looked up and there was another of them. It was hanging from the streetlight, a noose tightened around its neck. Its face was blue and cold, like the rest of it, and it was smiling. Unlike the girl-thing, this being had no eyes. Rather, it had a crazy, wise glint in its empty sockets. Its feet were suspended feet above my head, but its arms were disgustingly long. Long enough to grab me.

I tried to run, to continue towards the killer, but those fragile-looking limbs held me in place. I looked up again and cursed that stupid fucking thing for keeping me from killing the killer. It merely smiled and smile that would have looked encouraging on a normal old man and, for the first time, I heard the voice of one of them. It spoke as it smiled, in an old man's soft voice. It spoke but one word before tossing me a good five feet back. I landed on my side and a sharp pain shot through my body, temporarily paralyzing me. I got up and they were gone. All that was left was the hollow body of my beloved, on the ground and staring up at me sadly.

I ran. By God, I ran. I ran home, snuck inside, and went straight to my room. I soberly reflected on everything I'd ever done with Julia. I reflected on all of it and smiled. That morning, I awoke with the firm belief that my beloved was alive and all of it was a bad dream. I phoned her, to let her know how much I loved her and how thankful I was that I'd met her in the first place. Her father picked up. He told me her body was found two hours ago by the park trail. I hung up and proceeded to break down. It's been a month since she died and I still think of what the hanged creature told me that night.

One word.

Samhain.

Written by Jordan.

[seenashwrite]

I am considering getting an anti-possession tattoo, but I am afraid of needles. Do you have any advice?

Do I?!

I won’t ask what it is, exactly, that is trying to possess you. This is a personal matter, and I’ll assume you’ve chosen the correct design for your needs.

I shall also assume you’ll take in as finely-rendered design as possible, in black-and-white, no shading or such (unless another copy, just for their reference) so that they may clearly see what you want and make any transfers to a guide easier. I’ll ALSO-also assume you’ve vetted the shop appropriately via word of mouth and health department rating.

Having said that, what’s below is actually legit advice coming out of NashHole, Inc. for once, and I’ll shoot you straight, a bit from personal experience but mostly factoids body/anatomy-wise. Let us begin.

Sounds like this is your first one, yeah? Going off of that…

Keep it small. I don’t mean size-of-a-pencil-eraser small, I mean more in the range of fits-into-the-palm-of-your-hand dimensions at a maximum, in that ballpark.

Since you’ve got a needle worry, advise don’t go fancy - tons of colors (just one, maybe two) and shading and twisty-curlies and stuff that would make Escher tingly. Basic, basic, basic. Make this an in-and-out to the degree it’s possible.

No aspirin or ibuprofen ahead of time - the former thins blood, the latter can potentiate bleeding in some folks. Tattoos bleed, but shouldn’t go on and on and on, y’know? Think more like a moderately skinned knee - that kind’ve scattered action - no gushing or anything. Many tattoo parlors - the good ones - will refuse service if you come in and are clearly under the influence of something, be it painkiller pills or Xanax or alcohol or weed. You need to be able to give informed consent. Plus, does nobody any good if you’re puking or rambling or can’t focus on staying still. They’ll also stop cold (or should be) if you pass out.

On the subject of pre-medicating, don’t do any topical creams for numbing, if you know someone who’d write a prescription. They’re not meant for stuff like this, EMLA and others in that vein don’t penetrate to the layer where tattoos go, and are meant for one-stick jams (epidurals, port access, lumbar punctures, gums pre-Novocaine injection, quick piercings, etc.). Could it get you over the initial hump? Maybe. I’ve heard tale of it being helpful in things like the start of electrolysis in sensitive (read: genital) areas, and the quick boop! boop! boop!-s for radiation tattooing, and the start of more advanced things like wound debridement, but as for the latter, there’s very likely more pain stuff on board, as can be quite painful. I legit think it’s a waste of time and money, and that’s primarily because…

…about a third or so of the way through, you’ll notice that your body will stop going WHAT THE HELL, and it’s not that you won’t still feel it happening, but the pain receptors have gotten a handle on the sensation. The sharpness of it, for lack of better word, isn’t as striking to your brain anymore. And, of course, you’ve entered the situation by choice, vs. a situation that’s a surprise and starts setting off the whole flight-fight-freeze cascade. 

Having said that? The part about your body getting used to it? Location, location, location. Choose a place that’s between bony and smushy. Those areas are gonna hurt more. You want dense, firm. Places where it has some “give” when you push in. Like, feel around your neck. Notice how in front, you can press in a lot, then as you go behind, it gets firmer. Also notice the skin - more delicate, right? Steer away from delicate. So - top of feet, top of hands, inner arms, inner thighs. And for heaven’s sake, don’t go genitalia ballpark or ass or boobs/nips for your first time.

Some will say inner wrist or inner arm is ideal, but I’m telling you: with your needle thing, it’s gonna hurt like crazy. Other areas that will hurt like crazy are the bony parts - the ones you can’t mash very far in with your fingertips. So - ankle area, to be sure (unless you’re pitching it a decent distance above, more on your lower leg, inner or outer), clavicle area (collarbone), and - again - top of hands/top of feet/fingers/toes. I cannot emphasize how vascular the inner wrist and tops of hands/feet are; there will be more blood, there just will be, and methinks that’ll ramp your anxiety unnecessarily, just choose somewhere else. “But Nash, I’m not some skinny bird bones person!”  ::sighs:: This is punching deeper than you may realize, it has to in order for it to be “permanent” (they fade, as you know), so it’s gotta be a decent amount below the epidermis or else tattoos would slough away in a heartbeat. It ain’t gonna hit bone, but it sure as shit could seem like it to you, so just dodge that bullet for now, huh? Til you know how your body reacts to tattooing, pain-and-anxiety wise. You can always add to or get more.

In terms of location as related to time, and regardless of your personal body type/weight, go for as flat a surface as possible. That’s easier on the tattoo artist as well. And will help you stay still. So what are some good places that are firm but not bony or smushy?Biceps/shoulder, top of arms, top of thighs, calves, high pectoral (boobs), sternum (smack in middle of chest), possibly belly depending on your body/your weight, back of neck, and honestly, essentially the entirety of your back. Mine’s in the center of a scapula (shoulder blade), he just leaned me over a chair I sat in backwards, and my upper body was against the tilted headrest, folded my right onto a padded table he pulled over, rested my head on it, dropped the left (it’s on L scapula) to make it even surface. Piece of cake. Flat areas are also easier even if you’ve got pudge on a given place, because it’ll flatten in kind, whereas pudgy ass and big boobage just, like, spreads everywhere, it’s hard to keep it stable, so it’s gonna - naturally - take more time. Talking about your back, though, remember: if mid-back, the more it creeps around the sides, you’re getting into rib town, which - weight/amount of pudge aside - is a curved surface.

RE: the position I was in? Here’s my last tip in terms of location in the context of the needle anxiety: consider places where you won’t be able to see them doing it. This kinda goes with my “keep it small and simple” stance, you’re not gonna feel the need to watch them like a hawk to make sure they aren’t screwing up (plus, you should’ve already perused their portfolio of work to gauge their talent/style) and can concentrate on relaxing. Don’t bring a friend or family member who is giddy or hyper or chatty. Mellow. Mellllllllow.

Needle-wise, this is not like a vaccine or an IV or a blood draw, because we’re talking tiiiiiiiiny diameter and it’s sooooo fast. I mean, a stick’s a stick - it’s sharp. Different broad sensation, though, because of the rapid-fire and it’s a spread vs. concentrated in a single spot, and it’s not like a vaccine (deep into muscle) or Novocaine/Lidocaine for root canal/suturing (moderately deep/not into muscle) or an IV/blood draw (miiiildly deep, into vein) because those leave a bruise or lasting ache once all’s said and done. This’ll be sore and have some puffy inflammation when it’s over but more in the dermatology sense. You don’t feel like there’s this hole bored into you that’s trying to heal up, in other words. May get itchy later, too. (don’t scratch!)

Last, wear clothes that can slip off the area, or just one part can be taken off. RE: mine on the scapula - I wore a tank top and just took off my outer button-down, then slipped the strap and my bra strap off my arm. So think ahead depending on location - for instance, loose athletic pants with drawstring (scoots easy for lower back, rolls up easy for lower leg).

And remember: you can always stop. I know, I know, it might mean you’ve got, like, a line in bright purple on your lower back, but like I said, you can always add to it once you re-group, try again later.

[idonthinkyoureadyforinformant]

4

He observed how her dark pupils now filled her beautiful blue eyes like the moon blotting out the sun during total solar eclipse. It wouldn't be long until he had her back in bed to spear again, he thought. "Yeah, baby, I'll go find it for you. You best hurry so you don't miss your ride."

While Mia showered, Reggie silenced her phone so they wouldn't be disturbed, took her miniskirt and bra with him. She would not need any of her clothing tonight...

The warm water caressed her skin as it washed away the dried semen Reggie had left all over her breasts and stomach during one of his explosive ejaculations. She took the washcloth and cleaned her private area. She needed a douche to wash his cum from the furthest depths of her sperm-flooded vagina, where his huge black penis had reached. Unfortunately, she didn't carry a douche around with her.

She exited the shower and toweled dry feeling more than just a little buzzed, a heavy fog setting in her brain like the steam on the bathroom mirror that obscured her reflection. Where were her clothes? She thought she had brought her miniskirt and bra in here with her. Unaware of time, she finished brushing back her long blonde hair, which hung damply past her shoulders like strands on a freshly squeezed mop, and wrapped the towel around herself.

Reggie waited for Mia in front of his bed, just outside the bathroom door, as she exited. She noticed he was still nude. His penis looked a little bigger than when she went into the shower. It was so large anyway though that she probably just imagined things. He could not possibly get hard again after all the sex they just had, she thought.

"Did you find my thong and have you seen my clothes anywhere? I swear I brought them in the bathroom," she asked with a confused look on her face.

"Nah, ain't seen your clothes and don't know what we did with your thong."

Mia's fingers pushed into her forehead, "Damn, I feel so strange. How long does that stuff you gave me last?" She looked down at his penis again; it was getting harder. Her brain was sizzling. The drug conflicted with her reason, and a strange combination of horror and euphoria battled in her mind, like slamming down on the accelerator and brakes in a car simultaneously.

Reggie pulled the towel off her and his arm suddenly wrapped around her tiny waist. "I think you still rolling, baby. You better not go nowhere like this tonight. You best stay here with me."

She felt his big black penis pressing into her — slithering higher up her tummy, getting larger as his full erection returned. "No I need to go home. I can't stay with you tonight." His arm tightly around her waist, she pushed against his hard pecks and arched her back to get away from him. But his rippling muscles and smooth cocoa skin in her palms produced such incredible sensation that she could not stop her hands from running up and down his body instead.

His hand descended to her ass and squeezed her firm cheek.

"Oh, I can't do that with you again. I've got to go home," she sighed unconvincingly, her hands still roaming his chest as if she was reading braille with them.

His other hand slipped between her legs, his finger softly slicing through her silky folds and finding her clitoris.

Her mouth opened and her head fell backwards as his finger nudged her clitoris and awakened it.

"Hold my cock."

Controlled by his suggestion and some primitive instinct, her hand reached down and grasped his huge, heavy rod. She began tugging on it. Their tongues met in her mouth. Before Mia knew what was happening, she found herself lying on the edge of his bed, guiding his tremendous black cock into her pussy as he held her legs high and wide apart from behind the knees.

"That's good, put it in your pussy for me, baby."

She heard him speaking, but he sounded far away. Was she dreaming? He went on, "Oh, yeah, you so wet and tight, girl. You feel so good."

She twisted the sheets in her fists and wrapped her legs around his ass.

His thumb softly repeated upward strokes on her prepuce as his huge piston began its well-lubricated journey in and out of her tightly-fitting cylinder.

"Ooh, ah, ah, oh, oh," she moaned.

"Yeah, that big black cock feels good in your little white pussy — huh, baby? You getting hooked on it."

"Oh, God, no I can't," Mia murmured, her eyes dreamy and half closed.

"It too late. I feel your pussy throbbing 'round my cock. You cumming again, girl. You can't help it. You getting spoiled by it. You gonna want big black cock for now on. I can tell."

Mia's youthful, firm breasts jiggled in place, like two globes of jello with tiny pink nipples on top, as her new black boyfriend bred with her, drove his superior cock into the limits of her young white pussy. She arched her back and made a high-pitched cry from an incredible, mind-blowing orgasm...

The entire wall of his dark bedroom was comprised of tall windowpanes with the vertical blinds left open. Mia and Reggie appeared as two silhouettes making love in his bed against a lambent background of city lights.

"You my girl and I love you, baby," Reggie repeated to her, looking forward to her reply.

She hugged him tightly and moaned as he moved into her, "Oh, I love you too, Reggie."

How he enjoyed hearing her say those words back to him, even if it was only the drug speaking. The Molly made her forget about her husband -- at least temporarily -- betray him for a huge black cock, and believe she loved Reggie.

Reggie rolled off her, his cock leaving a huge void in her pussy. "Get on top now, baby."

She obediently climbed on top of him and guided his cock back inside her.

"Oh God, you feel so good in me," she chirped, her arms sliding around his neck with her pussy fully adapted to his colossal size and aggressively humping his huge black pole.

He embraced her tightly. "I'm gonna cum again, baby."

She fucked him with even greater passion. "Oh, oh, oh, ah, ah. Oh, Reggie, I love you so much!"

"Ah, yeah, baby. Oh, yeah...ah!"

She felt his huge penis filling her up with his semen again. "Ooh, you're cumming Reggie."

Her hips slowed their pace as his penis finally stopped ejaculating inside her and began losing firmness.

"Oh, Reggie," she gasped. She rested on top of him, her hand exploring his muscular chest in the dark, until she fell asleep in his arms.

****************************

A bright, late morning sun penetrated through her thin eyelids and pestered Mia to rise like an unwelcome alarm clock. She awoke confused, not sure where she was, still in Reggie's arms. Shadows cast across the bed and floor by the vertical blinds made her think of iron bars and a prison cell. She suddenly realized she was lying on top of the black man she met last night, Reggie Johnson, and they were both naked.

"Oh God," she whispered and rolled off him. "What did I do?" She remembered and it was far more than she wanted to recall. What they did together disgusted her.

She felt thirsty and ill, as if badly hung-over from drinking far too much alcohol. She slid from the bed while Reggie slept and quietly searched for her things.

Reggie saw her in her miniskirt looking around his gym equipment when he woke a few minutes later and entered the living room. "Can I get you anything?"

Mia turned and blankly stared at him. He stood shirtless with his big black muscles on display. In daylight, the outline of his huge cock hanging half-way to his knee, like a thick, long roll of cookie dough stuffed inside the pair of baggy grey sweatpants he wore, was obvious. How did she not see it last night in the club? Why did she stupidly come home with him?

She had to make small talk. "You have a nice gym setup. I guess you work out a lot."

He smirked triumphantly. "I like to keep in shape, but after last night I know you do as well."

Yes, he knew a lot about her now. There was no mystery beneath their clothes anymore. Mia looked away in embarrassment. She couldn't find her thong and was too humiliated to even ask him about it. Except for her bra, she wore nothing else beneath her short miniskirt. She wanted to go home and be with Josh and never see or think about Reggie again.

But she could not lose sight of why she was here, why she had already done the unthinkable with him. She had gone too far to throw it all away now. She forced a difficult smile and continued her charade by raffishly strolling over to him. "Can we see your connection today and get more of that Molly? It was really great."

He hugged her. "Yeah, for the most part you liked it a lot, baby. There was a little rocky patch in there, but you came through it with flyin' colors."

He enfolded her in his big muscular arms, the roll of cookie dough inside his sweatpants now pressing against her. She fought her instinct to recoil from his embrace.

Reggie finally released her. "I'll give Luther Greeman a call for you right now."

Mia watched Reggie unlock his phone with his thumb sliding across its screen as he walked away from her and into his bedroom.

"Hey, Bro," she overheard Reggie say as she quietly stood by the entrance of his room and listened. "Remember what we talked about yesterday evenin'? When and where can we do another deal? Can we get some sooner than that? Uh-huh — okay. 7:00 p.m. on the 16th, at the Furman Warehouse on Dixon Street — gotcha. See ya then."

It was the 17th of September today, which meant the 16th of October, Mia figured. That was a month from now. Perhaps this information would be enough for Detective Sanchez to release her from this horrible task. Mia hurried back to the living room so Reggie would not know she eavesdropped on him.

"We gonna get more of that Molly for you on the 16th, baby," Reggie happily announced as he returned to the living room where Mia waited.

Mia looked disappointed. "Can we get it sooner? I really don't want to wait that long."

Reggie shook his head. "Probably not. We missed the deal last night. The next big shipment of the good stuff you had isn't coming 'til then. But if you nice to me, I'll see if I can score some for you sooner. I might be able to get you another pill somewhere."

A pill from some small-time street dealer wouldn't cut it, Mia angrily thought. Detective Sanchez wanted to net big fish. But Mia never wanted to take that awful garbage again. "Oh, great. Let me know if you can get it sooner," she replied with a phony grin.

She looked at the time on her phone and saw she had missed another four calls and a string of text messages from Josh since last night. "I didn't realize we slept so long. I need to get home now," she said with urgency.

"What's the rush, baby? I thought we might spend the day together and fuck some more."

Mia winced at his crudeness and the thought of having more sex with him. Never again. She wanted to get far away, put what they did out of her mind forever. But his suggestion triggered her memories. Erotic images of their forbidden intimacy suddenly filled her brain and monopolized her focus as if projected on a large screen in a dark theater. She wished they had not done those things. She could not stay here. What they had done together was too intimate and very wrong. She had to come up with a reason to leave.

"I have to go to work," she said, although she had no job.

He wasn't done with her. Did she think she could weasel away that easily after he snagged her? Their game wasn't over. If she wanted to stay an informant, she was going to have to keep playing nice with him. "Where you work, baby-doll? You my girl now and I wanna come see you."

Mia almost swallowed her tongue from fear. Better to abandon this lie before it got her in more trouble. "Well I'm not actually working anywhere yet. But I have a job interview today."

A quick change of story, Reggie thought. "Okay, baby. I'll have my limo driver take you home. I'll see you tonight."

"Uh... maybe. I have a few things I need to do. Can I text you later?"

Give his pretty whitefish plenty of line, but leave the hook in her. When the time was right, reel her back in to spear again. He pulled out his phone and opened his contacts. "I'll text you, Mia. What's your number?"

The last thing she wanted to do was give Reggie Johnson her phone number, but again he outmaneuvered her.

Reggie called the number she gave him to make sure it worked. Her phone, still set on silent, vibrated in her hand. "That's it," she said with another fake smile, showing him her phone's screen with his number lit up on it.

******************

Mia rushed into Josh's arms and passionately kissed him when he opened the front door, as if trying to undo what she had done with Reggie the preceding night.

"Oh, sweetheart —are you finally finished? Are you home to stay?" Josh asked. It had been five days since he had seen her and two days since they had any contact via text or phone.

"I don't know, Josh. I need to call Detective Sanchez, but I missed you and wanted to see you first."

Josh looked at his wife curiously. She appeared beautiful, but tired, as if she had been out all night partying, which was unlike her. She wore a lose pair of jeans, that hung from her small, but flowing hips, and her favorite faded t-shirt — the one with 'Vegan' written across her boobs and a happy cow face. "Why didn't you answer any of my phone calls last night or this morning?"

"I'm sorry, Josh, really. I misplaced my phone and the battery died. I came home as soon as I could."

Her phone lit up with a text from Detective Sanchez.

"Any info? Contact me ASAP!"

Mia looked up from the message. "I have to call Detective Sanchez now, Josh." She abruptly walked away from him and locked herself inside their bedroom.

Mia called Sanchez and gave her the information about Reggie Johnson.

"You did good, Mia, but you can't just disappear now. You better maintain whatever relationship you've established with Johnson until this goes down. Otherwise he'll suspect you're an informant," Detective Sanchez said.

Maintain the relationship? Did Detective Sanchez have any idea what that meant? "I don't want to go back to him. You don't understand what he made me do with him last night," Mia replied, Josh overhearing her frantic voice through the closed bedroom door.

Josh didn't want to hear anymore and backed away from the door as if a fire raged on the other side of it. He knew the real reason why Mia didn't answer his phone calls or text messages last night or this morning and the thought of it sickened him. His beautiful wife had likely fucked another man.

Detective Sanchez' voice was cold and unsympathetic, "I don't know what to tell you. You've got to figure something out if you want the charges against you and Josh dropped. Reggie Johnson is not stupid. He's eluded our efforts to catch him for years. If you suddenly become scarce, he'll suspect something."

Without explaining the embarrassing details of how she gained Reggie's confidence, Mia listened to Sanchez. When the disheartening conversation had ended, and Mia opened the door, Josh immediately began kissing her, while his hands hungrily roamed her body. "I want to make love, Mia."

Her face turned to the side and her entire body stiffened from Josh's suggestion. She could not have sex with him now. Her pussy was still swollen and sore from Reggie, and Josh would see that. She pulled Josh's hands away from her. "I'm sorry, but we can't right now, Josh."

"Why?"

"Because I have to go."

Josh looked down at her left hand. Only pale outlines remained around her finger where her wedding band and engagement ring belonged. "Where's your wedding band?"

She remained silent.

Her reaction seemed to confirm his suspicion. He stared into her eyes and spoke as coldly as Sanchez had to her on the phone a short while ago. "Okay, Mia. I think understand."

What did he mean by saying that? How could he possibly understand any of this? Because of him she was forced to fuck another man — a black drug dealer.

Mia received another text, and Josh quickly snatched her cell phone out of her hand. "Whose number is this and why do they want to meet you at the club tonight?"

Reggie had sent the text, but Detective Sanchez had warned Mia not to let anyone else, including her husband, know anything about the investigation. "Um... a girlfriend of mine." She grabbed her phone back from Josh.

"What's her name and what club, Mia?"

"I have to leave now, Josh. My Uber ride is waiting outside," she irritatedly answered.

Josh wanted to stop her, but he felt paralyzed, unable to do anything to alter this pathetic situation he created. He wanted to say he was sorry. He knew her beauty far exceeded what men of his looks and success deserved. But somehow the love he felt for Mia would only express itself in a jealous anger, and he defiantly watched his wife walk out the door — to the arms of another man.

*********

The argument with Josh left Mia flustered, and now he bombarded her cell phone with desperate texts begging her to come home as she waited to meet Reggie at the club. It was almost 9:00 p.m. Reggie would arrive soon.

Josh's conciliatory messages made this even more difficult. Mia loved him, but there was nothing either of them could do about this, she realized. Detective Sanchez promised long prison terms if Mia refused to help her with Reggie. Things had already gone too far at this point to blow it all now.

She quickly answered Josh's text.

"I luv u too, but can't come home or communicate for a while. Don't worry. Please, no more txts. Must turn my phone off now. TTYL XOXOXO."

Mia sent her reply, and then following instructions Detective Sanchez had given her, blocked her phone from receiving further messages or calls — from everyone, except for two unnamed phone numbers. One of the phone numbers belonged to Reggie Johnson and the other to Detective Juanita Sanchez, the two people Mia disliked most.

Reggie quietly studied Mia's hot body in another miniskirt, not quite as sexy as the one Detective Sanchez had made her wear yesterday. But he had already unwrapped and tried out what was in this package, and he liked what it contained regardless of how it was covered. Mia was gorgeous regardless of her clothes, and he greedily wanted her all for himself. "Hey, baby, you wanna drink?"

Mia looked up from her phone. "Oh, hi — I didn't know you were standing there."

As much has she disliked drinking, she disliked Reggie more. He had taken advantage of her the previous night. She looked forward to seeing him put in jail where he belonged. She was a happy and faithful wife until this despicable criminal inserted himself into her marriage.

She was a nervous wreck again, having to befriend this loathsome black drug dealer, and her situation was desperate. Mia mistakenly thought alcohol would make it easier for her to deal with all the stress. "Get me whatever you're drinking I guess..."

Subsequent drinks went down easier than the previous ones for Mia. She watched a couple dancing, but she began seeing them in double. She shook her head and attempted to focus, but it was like trying to keep the end of a fraying rope together. Was she drunk? It was easier to focus on Reggie's face since he sat close to her.

She eventually found herself leaving with him.

"Where are we going?" she asked, finally away from that loud, annoying rap music and comfortably slouched on the cool leather upholstery across from him in his limo.

"To your place, baby — to get some of your things. You my girl now and you gonna stay with me. I'll have my guys get the rest of your stuff tomorrow."

The six shots of Crown she had just drank with him didn't help her worsening situation. "B-b-but, I'm not ready for that, Reggie. I only met you yesterday."

Ch. 5

[dunmerofskyrim]

47

A storm journeyed over Old Ebonheart and its first herald was rain.

Gutters overflowed and water crashed from the rooftops. The streets below were in flood, in flow, adrift with a scum of forgotten things. Dry leaves leftover from Autumn, winkled out of the corners they’d hid in. An enamelled tray, painted with a pattern of an ocean bed, with weeds framing the ripples and fish-shoals it showed underwater — a sea within a sea. Buckets and cups, wooden tableware, vessels of clay and glass.

From the hang of a balcony I fished into the flowpast sometimes, trying to snag what I could with a shopkeep’s weight attached to the end of a rope. I didn’t catch much. I wondered about walking the rooftops til I got to the waterfront; exploring the piers and warehouses to see if I might find a fisherman’s hook, a dockworker’s gaffe, a netchiman’s staff — something better suited to this new kind of fishing. But I had seen lights along the docks by night, and the drift of shouts and music, and wasn’t ready to brave it. In the main I watched things go by. I presumed at least the things I didn’t catch would end up at the harbour and out to sea, even if I didn’t. Old Ebonheart, I thought, getting leaner down the years as the weather washed it clean, and the pickers in the ruins ate up its scraps.

I saw papers go by, and scrolls, and tablets of wax and slate. They were the worst of the things I couldn’t catch. Just bills, probably, and contracts, or lists of things no longer needful. Still it thistled at me to see ink run and paper go to waste. Words lost, and curiosity gone to a strange fool sadness.

But the storm took more than the things it showed me, but wouldn’t let me keep. Wind and cold screamed in the high places and drove me from the warehouse tower. Rain flooded the colour shop in water the colour of mud, and I waded in, knee-deep, to save what I could from the damp. The sea surged on the long grey horizon and the spray of it rose spire-high, finally showing me why I had found saltlicks and dead seaweed even in the city’s highest heights. And in the clutch of the storm, all the shelter left to me was the dyery, the factor’s pits. So I buried myself there, where the air, the dust, the long-caked colours were always dark and dry, and I still had a chance at staying warm.

A heavy roof overhead, but still I heard the rain on it. Felt the thunder, as much from below as above, like it shook the earth with its every shout. Hid as I was, I braved a fire, and sat blinking from its thin close smoke, watching the dustmotes dance gold by its light. And I wondered, is that rain I hear, or the first hungry waves, tall as high towers, come to swamp and swallow and topple the city for good? The night was cold and creeping, beneath the hammering storm, and I feared what I would wake to when daylight came again.

And that was where Tepa found me. Perhaps they’d tracked me. Waited, biding their time. In the tower I’d have been safe from them but not from the storm. In the colour shop I might have had space on my side, and the rusty grate’s shriek of warning. Here I wasn’t so safe. A badger tracked down its hole, and the hounds on the way. Perhaps it was all planning on Tepa’s part, or perhaps they got lucky as my luck failed. Anycase, they’d scented me out. Though the storm had kept me awake, or sleeping light, it masked the sound of their coming. Too late by then. Close and loud and coming.

The click and crackle of nix came through the dyery, hard to tell at first from the snap and wheeze of my fire. Wet wood, complaining as it took the flame. Then the boiling whistle through their shells as they breathed quick, sharing their eagerness out through the pack. And beneath that, the shuffling feet and shudder-hissing breath of someone cold, moving more than they need to, all for the sake of warmth.

I thrashed free of my bedding. A tangle of legs and arms, then a creature of hands and knees, and hearthdust grit on my skin. I scrabbled amongst the things I’d gathered – jars and baskets; bottles and bags – finding my feet, finding my knife, any knife. Hearing all the while the shuffle of footsteps, the creak and hiss of carapace and long air-tasting tongues. I touched fingers to steel. The familiar cloth-wrapped handle of my spearhead knife, and the metal warm from living close to my skin.

“Hey, Firecaller..?”

I froze in a crouch, still as a crab in a pot-trap’s belly, waiting for the fisher to come. The voice was Tepa’s: hissing one moment and wet the next, clumsy at the corners, as if tripping from a tongue too thin to shape the words. They were speaking Tamrielic.

“Hey now. Hey!” Not words for me anymore. The scuffle of a nix-hound’s sharp small feet on the workshop floor. A pop and whining trill. “You’ve done your job. Now be easy… See, Dunmer? They’re not here to hurt you. Nor me. Just to find you.”

Their face showed over the edge of the pit. A strange round newt-face, spread between two wide unblinking eyes, bulging and black and far-set from each other. The smooth sleek skin of something unused to being too long dry, motleyed in pale greys and clouds and spatters of blue and sullen red, all drenched in rain and chased with firelit gold. Spines so thin they looked like feathers and moved like grass, fanning around their neck.

I didn’t straighten. Only stared up, face still half-fixed to snarl. But my fingers unstilled themselves, twitching on the handle of my knife. “You corner me. Come in the night. And you expect me to believe…”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tepa chattered. “That I haven’t come to kill you? Hard to believe, but wouldn’t you rather believe it?”

One of the nix whistled again, and settled into a kind of rattling purr. Tongue searching the air, it looked down the pit at me, staring curious out of its eyeless long muzzle of a face. It had a strike of yellow daubed onto the hump of shell where head met shoulders. My eyes raced from Tepa to the nix and back.

Tepa settled first into a squat, moving strange and boneless, like every action was a kind of bending. Then they sat on the edge of the factor pit. Legs bundled in layers of hide and cloth all bound and wrapped eachover with rope. They swung their feet in the empty air and held out their empty hands. Clumpy mittens, three long and pad-tipped fingers and a thumb sticking blue-grey out of each.

“I saw what you did to Guls. Found what you did to Drosi. Think I want to chance what you could do to my hide, my hounds? I’d rather not. I’d rather, really rather not.”

“Wise of you,” I glared. “But way I see it, you’re still chancing it.” All thunder and no lightning, though. Half-starved and tired and cold for so long I’d not been on talking terms with my toes for weeks, I had no chance against Tepa and two nix. Not with nothing but a knife, and magic I was half-sure would kill me if I reached for it. “Must have a good reason.”

A kind of gurgling hum from somewhere inside Tepa’s head. The other nix, head-hump splashed with blue, peered over the edge of the pit and then slumped down, muzzle in Tepa’s lap and mouthparts chewing the air. Be easy, Tepa had said. “I brought fish,” they said now.

I blinked. Let myself, for what felt like the first time in a long and breathless stretch of staring. “What?”

“Catshark, salted. Got any milk? It’s good boiled in milk, I swear.”

Tepa slouched down from the ledge and into the pit. I flinched back, skittering away till I stubbed my heels on my jars, my sacks, my baggage.

“What’s that face?” Tepa asked. “Talk with words, Dunmer. Can’t read you people.”

“I killed your friends…”

“People I lived with,” Tepa corrected me. “Worked and ate with. Does that mean fondness? Tsscheh. My heart beats just fine without Drosi or Guls. They were closer friends with each other than they ever were to me. The mine though — I can farm that alone, fine, fine, more eating for me. But keep it? Guard it? No. No, I can’t. And you?” That head-deep hum once again. I wondered if it was something like a smile. “You seem good enough at threats. Murder. And you speak Dunmer, I think. You do, don’t you? Speak it?”

My belly growled, rattling empty, like the bezoar at the bottom of a finished sujamma flask. I nodded. “You came for help, then?”

“To ask and offer,” Tepa gave me back a vigorous nod. “No one stays alive long in Old Ebonheart without a tong. Don’t have things, you starve. Have things, you’ll die soon as someone stronger wants them. But with a tong..? Things stay still. Safe. You killed mine, and don’t have one yourself. The rest’s just common sense. Fish?”

[fandomwritingau]

Consequences- Chapter 20

Trigger Warning: Panic Attack, mentions of being drugged, mentions of sexual assault.

Evie

Two days of white walls, meaningless TV and silences that should never feel so empty. Especially with someone who used to fill them with their presence. I couldn’t even look his way, not if I didn’t want to receive heartbroken stares - another wonderful side effect of being drugged. Nothing sounded as good as the doctor telling me I could leave, that I was healed enough physically to fly home. I was smart enough to know the inflection on physically meant a lot more than what he was saying..

But in a pair of Luke’s sweatpants and Calum’s old soccer shirt, I felt unstoppable - alright perhaps I just felt more okay like I wasn't about to fall apart.

That is til La Guardia airport was in view. We could hear the sharp whir of engines using all cylinders to lift passenger planes from the inside the car, almost loud enough to drown out the sou nd of people yelling and car doors slamming.

Oh and screams from the literal hoards of fans surrounding the front entrance to the airport. Everything in me screamed in the loudest decibel humanly possible to stay in the car, to protect myself from everything outside this metal box but my heart ached for my bedroom, my safety. Stepping out of the vehicle, I tried my absolute hardest not to flinch at the hand Luke extended to help me out of the car, refusing to meet his eyes as I practically fall from the SUV. My body leaned into him instinctively, knowing that I still healing in every form because when someone drugs you with Ketamine it apparently likes to stick around in your system for a bit.

“You good?” His hot breath danced on my chilled skin, my hand pulling from his and automatically pulling my coat tighter around me as I nodded. He stepped away, hurt flashing in his eyes but letting the understanding sweep in a moment later. Him understanding almost made it worse, it made it real.

“You better keep a hold of her, the people out here are wild.” The airport security informed, opening the side door to the waiting fans with a sharp “back up!” rolling off his tongue. One of the reached for me and I was silently glad I didn’t have to deal with that.

Then there were flashes from every angle like the pulsing disco lights from the club, the screams like the chatter of people unknowingly witnessing my attempted rape. The shove that sent me tumbling to the ground was the straw that broke through my resolve, ripping me to shreds as my hands hit the floor and the boys’ tall frames disappeared from view as all I could see was legs, legs and more legs.

Oh would you look at that, I was panicking.

I was no stranger to panic attacks although I hadn’t had one in a while. It made me miss Australia even more, being in my own house had calmed the recurring attacks. I knew my parents were the root of my anxiety issues, that had always expected so much of me and  was never able to please them. Okay, thinking about my parents right now wasn’t really helping. Clenching my hands into the tarmac of the terminal, I mentally begged myself to calm down. I had never had  panic attack in public and I certainly didn’t want to start now. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t even think let alone pull myself together.

“Evie? Ev’s?” A strong hand grasped my shoulder, another going around my waist to lift me from the floor. My body tensed, trying to decide if I should fight or drop.

“Can't, I can’t, please.” Was all I could whimper as my back hit a chest and my face was shielded by a clammy hand.

“I know, it's okay. I have you, I'm gonna take you to the bathroom.”

“Who?” Another twist in my gut, who? Why? Not again, please not again.

“Michael, it's Michael.”

It was like a breath of relief actually being able to, well, breathe. I was okay. I was with Michael. He was safe, he wouldn't hurt me.

“Okay.” At my agreement, he started to move quickly, grip tight around me as he led me away from the crowd and ignored the calls of fans as he manhandled me around. I felt the chill of the bathroom before I realized where we were. It was one of those single room family bathrooms, secluded and thankfully clean as he tried to turn me in his arms but wound up leaving me completely unsupported as I dropped to the ground.

“Okay, I am literally the worst person to have found you because honestly, I have no idea what to do and telling you to breathe sounds like a dumb thing to say but it's all I can think of to say and I should have told Luke but I realized you weren't there and I didn't think because I was really, really scared and oh, you are breathing normally now, are you okay?”

I hadn't even realized that his rambling had distracted me enough that I wasn't thinking about everything, nothing, too much and focusing on the word vomit Michael was experiencing. He was inches from me, crouched on his knees and I didn't think as I reached out, pulling him into a hug as I burst into tears. No, not tears. Sobs, like full body, ugly, heart-wrenching sobs.

“This I can handle.” He mumbled, sitting on folded legs as he pulled me into his lap and just let me cry like a baby. I should feel embarrassed, scared or something but I was too tired, exhausted, emotional to care. His fingers ran through my hair, soothing me with his presence and steady heartbeat.

“I'm sorry.” He spoke as my tears dried up and my body stiffened. Ashton had told me in a brief moment that only one of the boys was with me that Michael was blaming himself and I had been waiting for him to bring it up so I could slap some sense into him. “I am so sorry.”

“Listen to me cause I am only saying this once,” My voice was weak, rough from crying but I couldn't let him think he was to blame. “You didn't do anything. I was the one who made the decision to go with Jo- him. And as much as I blame myself for this, I know he's the one who did it and I have to stop blaming myself and you have to too because you did nothing so shut up and help me off this floor before people start looking for us.”

His smile wasn't convincing but mine was enough to reassure him into listening to me although I doubted this conversation was over and he certainly wasn't going to let me having a panic attack go, try as I was to escape the conversation, but this wasn't the place.

As he held open the door to the bathroom, I leaned up to press my lips to his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“I am always here if you need me.” There was a small silence as I walked out with him close by. Luckily the crowd had thinned thanks to good security and we slid through unnoticed. I turned to him as we started to walk into the waiting room for the gate.

“Does this make us best friends now?”

With a grin, he shook his head and patted mine as he responded, “There she is.”

After 8 hours on a plane and no sleep, my tired body was planted firmly on the ground 2801.7 miles from the city that never sleeps, hopefully now I would be able to. I have never felt so exhausted in all my life but being moments away from my bedroom made it better. Sighing, I relaxed into the ‘hump’ seat I had been shoved into between Luke and Michael. A security guard in the passenger seat kept glancing around the car, checking the boys over and texting someone - presumably his wife  - as he chatted with the driver quietly. Calum and Ashton sat behind us, each of them had a knee in my back. Everyone was zoned out, halfway asleep but I was wired. Every sense in my body heightened with each bump, every thing in my body aching seeing as I hadn’t been allowed to take my medication on the plane.

Honestly, I mostly dreaded that James might be there. I didn’t want to have to explain this to him, especially why he didn’t a call seeing as he is her emergency contact - Luke kind of lied to them and said he was. If luck was on my side for once he would have already left for his season opening football game. If not, he would know something was up right away if only from the exhaustion written on my face. I didn’t want to have to lie to him.

A tap on my arm pulled me from my thoughts, my head lolling to the side to face Michael. Smiling sadly, he pulled up the notepad on his phone, passing it to me.

How’s it going?

Staring blankly at the screen for a moment, I finally shook my head and tossed the phone back into his lap. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t want to do anything but climb into bed with more blankets than I could count. He tapped quickly, practically shoving the phone in my face.

I get that you don’t want to talk but can you at least tell me if you’re okay?

Sighing, I felt like I owed him that. I’m sorry, I’m just tired but I’m fine. He gave me an I-don’t-buy-that look but patted my knee - I barely stifled a jolt - and closed his eyes. A few moments later the car pulled to a stop in front of my apartment complex, rolling to a stop as the security guard stepped out of the passenger side and went to retrieve my bags.

“Here, I will walk you up.” Luke had to slide out of the car first anyway so I could get out but first I had to say my goodbyes to the boys. Kneeling on the seat, I pat Cal and Ash on the knees and their eyes barely open as they wrap me in a hug, promising to call me in a little while. But it was Michael that made me practically sprint from the car, tears pricking in my eyes.

“You’re going to be okay, I will make sure of it.” I don’t know why the words meant so much, perhaps it’s because I thought of him as an older brother or because I knew he meant it. Either way, I had to get out of the car before I cried.

Luke’s eyes followed me as I stepped out of the car, not offering to help now. I don't know if it  was regret or concern. I was going to ignore it til I absolutely had to deal with it. Stepping onto the sidewalk, I waved to the boys and accepted the bag from the security guard.

“Ready?” He questioned, hand reaching for me but faltering halfway through. It was a little of both.

“Ye- No. I don’t really know.” I sighed, heaving the bag on my shoulder only to have it ripped away. He was throwing it onto his shoulder before I could even react.

I’ll carry it, you lead the way.” His smile was like a breath of relief. He wasn’t mad at me, he was hurt but he truly didn’t blame me. His smile always had that effect.

Reaching the door, I stretched up on my toes to feel around the door frame for the spare key. I was forgetful enough, I didn’t think carrying my house key to New York City was a good idea. Grazing my fingertips along the wooden frame, I finally found the smooth metal.

“Aha.” I mumbled, dropping onto my heels as I whirled around to face Luke. Inhaling sharply, I stepped away quickly as we almost bumped into each other. His eyes locked on mine, flickering to my lips as we fell silent. Laughing uncomfortably, I ran a hand through my hair as I started to speak.

“Thank you Luke, for everything. I know it’s been, um, difficult considering-,” He cut me off with a wave of his hand, awkwardly scratching at his beard. He hummed for a moment, speaking quietly.

“You never need to thank me Evie, I’d do anything for you. I don’t care what we are, or what we were. I just,“ Sighing, he locked eyes with me. “I am always here for you, whatever you need.”

Now I felt worse. How could I do this to him? Not even that, how could he not be mad at me? I know I didn’t do anything wrong, I need to care for myself right now but the heartbreak in his eyes that he thinks I can’t see means more to me than he knows. I didn’t know he liked me that much, I didn’t know I had that ability to break his heart and yet I had already abused it.

“I know you need to be alone right now but,” Hooking his fingers under my chin, he pulled my eyes to his. “If you need me, at all, then you call. I don’t care when or why. If you need me, call.”

I didn’t know what to do besides nod, eyes falling away as he let go of my chin and I turned to unlock the door. My hands were shaking, the key missing ‘til his hand leveled mine and he smiled at me with a soft nod as he dropped my bag to the ground. Then he brushed a piece of hair from my face, breathing shakily before turning on his heel and walking down the stairs to the car. All I could do was wonder how someone like him existed and how I was lucky enough to know him.

All I knew was a simple fact; I didn’t deserve him.

A/N: Hi lovelies, so i know that this is a day late, but i had family and friends up and we ended up going out for dinner and i got side tracked. But its here! And i also wanted to tell you that the next chapter will not be posted until the Sunday night/ Monday morning after the next date. This is because i am going to Thailand with my family for a week and i wont have my laptop with me.

Kisses

~Emma xxx