#i was about to tell them to get the fuck out of my cubicle i was so close to telling the daughter to shut the fuck up and leave

[haojun]

I have Clients From Hell that i have to work on before i leave and i swear to god if they come into this office one more goddamn time this week im going to actually lose my shit

[jjscrybaby]

hiii :)

could you do a rafe x reader where the reader has a panic attack in front of sarah for the first and she knows to get the reader to rafe and he immediately calms her down?

rafe cameron x reader | hurt & comfort | (pogue!reader, mean girls, panic attack, crying, comforting!rafe, insecure!reader.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

No one figured Rafe Cameron would go for a Pogue. For all his life he’d been the number 1 Pogue hater, the biggest Kook defender, and overall just a pretentious asshole. That’s why it was the shock of the island when you showed up on his arm to Midsummer’s, wearing a dress that costed more than your rent with an anxious smile on your face.

Your boyfriend had promised to stick by your side for the entire night, and you were sure he meant it when he said it, but he hadn’t taken into account just how enthused the elders were going to be to see him. He wasn’t that teenage boy they knew anymore, instead a man living alone and dealing with his troubles; thanks to you.

It was halfway through the night when you went to the bathroom, the few glasses of champagne had your head feeling fuzzy and your bladder full. You locked yourself in the cubicle and started to do your business, before you heard voices from outside.

“It’s strange though, right?” The door closed behind the girls that had walked in, making you flinch as you stood to sort your dress out.

“Rafe with a Pogue. Yeah, definitely weird,” a squeaky voiced girl agreed with a laugh.

“It won’t last, trust me. He’s only with her for the image, it makes him look good to do charity for a girl like that. I’m pretty sure she’s a waitress at the club,” the other one responded.

“I’ll be sure to find him later and remind him of that.” The two of them giggled to themselves, gushing over how hot your boyfriend was for a couple more minutes before leaving. You didn’t step out of the cubicle until you were sure that you were alone, hot tears running down your cheeks.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the fact those girls had said everything you’d been thinking for the last few months you’d been together, you weren’t sure, but something about their words had hurt your feelings; and had sent you into a spiral. You sat down on the plush purple chair, breaths coming out rapidly and shakily.

“Oh my god, what happened?” You hadn’t even heard the door open, but as you turned your head you found Sarah rushing at you. She knelt down next to you, holding your hands as you let out fearful whimpers. “Fuck. Okay, stay here, okay? Don’t move!” She ran back out and you stared at the door, holding your chest anxiously.

Only a minute later the door was swinging open and Rafe was storming in, striding over to you. “Hey, hey. Look at me,” he demanded, gentle but firmly as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Breathe for me, okay? Slow breaths, you got it.”

He’d seen you like this a few times, he’d learnt the best ways to get you to relax. He held your hand over his own chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath your palm. He gave you a reassuring smile as you copied his breathing, gripping onto his fingers.

“Good girl,” he drawled, pulling you from the chair into his lap where he sat on the floor. He stroked your hair, leaving gentle kisses over your cheek. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s stupid,” you croaked out, still gripping onto his hand.

“No. It’s not. Tell me what happened, so I can sort it out and get the both of us out of the women’s bathroom,” he joked, making you giggle tearfully.

You gave him a wobbly smile. You didn’t have much of a choice now, it was time to admit to him the insecurities you’d had over the last few months; the ones that kept you up at night as he slept soundly beside you. “No one here thinks I’m good enough for you.”

“What?” His face scrunched up in confusion. “Baby, what’re you talking about?”

“I— I’m a Pogue,” you whispered, as if you were admitting a crime.

“I know that,” he shrugged. “I’m not that oblivious, sweetheart. Why does that matter? Why are you saying this now?”

“Because everyone thinks it Rafe! I’m sure you have before, I know I have! Everyone here thinks you’re an idiot for being with me, that you’ve lost your mind. Maybe they’re right,” you cried out.

His hands grabbed your face firmly, leaning his forehead against your’s as he held you in place. “You’re the love of my life.”

“What?” You murmured.

“You are the love of my life. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Pogue, I don’t care that you eat pizza like you’ve not eaten in years, or that you swear like a pirate. You’re my girl, and I love you. I don’t care about other peoples opinions, because they’re irrelevant,” he explained slowly, caressing your cheek as he spoke. “Now, do you want to go home or do you want to get the biggest bottle of champagne and make fun of these losers?”

“The second one,” you whispered, staring at him like a lovesick puppy.

He smirked, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “That’s my girl,” he mumbled, biting down on your bottom lip lightly to make you giggle. “Now, next time you get some dumb shit in your head you gonna tell me? Or do I have to spend all our loving conversations in the bathroom?”

You laughed, wiping your teary eyes as he helped you off his lap and back to your feet. He adjusted your flower crown with a cheesy grin, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars. If you didn’t believe his words before, you definitely did now. “You don’t like the bathroom?”

“Well… it’s definitely nicer than the men’s, I’ll give you that.”

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 4 | spencer reid.

"Focus here, sweetie."

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff

a/n: this made me feral

He had been gone for weeks. 

You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.

Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you. 

You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.

The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.

Spence: Are you home?

You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(

Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?

You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser

Spence: Have you had anything to eat?

You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later

Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.

“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.

“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.

“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout. 

You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you. 

You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile. 

“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.

You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed. 

You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed. 

“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.

“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk. 

“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”

“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”

You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”

“Thank you,” he beamed.

The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.

“This okay?” You asked.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.

You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box). 

Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.

“You don’t have to,” you laughed.

“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition. 

The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).

“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”

“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”

Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?

But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.

“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.

“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.

“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter. 

You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme. 

“How bout a coffee?” you asked.

Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”

You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.

“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention. 

“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested. 

“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.

“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”

“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.

Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.

Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.

“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.

Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”

You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.

Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous. 

“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.

“I, uhm-”

“You don’t want to?” You asked.

“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.

You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”

Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.

“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.

“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.

“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.

Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.

It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.

And god you were perfect.

Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.

“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”

“Bit weird, you think?”

“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”

A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”

“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling. 

“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”

Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.

“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again. 

You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.

He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then so am I.”

That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs. 

“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.

“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple. 

“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.

“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”

“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.

a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au mlist) - smut; f!reader; short drabble only!

yea i bet youre all tired of hearing hockey come out of my mouth but thinking about—

hockey player simon receiving a text from you after a game.

they defeated their opponent in a shutout—price carrying the team on enemy ice, with garrick coming in with solid defences, allowing mactavish and simon to sink a shot after another.

it was an electrifying game; even now as he’s stuffed in his cubicle, simon feels like he’s on top of the world. like the cup is so close to his reach—just a few more rally and he’s bringing it home.

the locker room is buzzed, congratulations getting passed from one to another while their coach awards the disk to price for the shutout. the media is still taping this whole interaction so the team remains conscious, guarded, until, finally, everything is wrapped up.

the others clamber to the showers but simon digs for his phone, desperate to talk to you. to tell you that he’s won—he doesn’t know if you’ve watched the game, not with how packed your schedule’s gotten—so if you haven’t, he wishes to at least be the first to let you know.

he wants you to hear it from him; hear from him how they dominated tonight’s game.

(6-0 for the specgru. in the playoffs.)

but there’s already a message from you, sitting atop the strings of notification filling up his phone screen. he ignores the emails from brands reaching out for brand deals or fans sending in messages to his public socials, and taps on your name.

his eyes grow wide, his breath hitching, because—

> 2 goals tonight, baby. almost a hatty.

> have i told you how your hockey makes me hot? almost makes me want to fly there to give you a reward

the start of a whimper builds in the base of his throat, scratching at his trachea.

jesus.

the last time you’ve rewarded him for his performance—a hatty, one of which was an empty net goal—simon had to grit through the horror of seeing you have a difficulty in sitting down the next few days. until now, he swears that he tried holding back, to take it easy despite his needs, but then you crawled to his lap and sang praises in his ears, and simon was gone.

you were so needy for him. for his skate and his play and his victory. and how could simon control himself then?

so this—your messages that are lidded with a tease—is torture. the flight won’t even be until tomorrow morning so you’ve just left him extremely pent-up, buzzing, with his desires poorly-leashed.

all he could do is send a weak,

when i’m back, can you give it then? <

you’ve only liked his message as a reply and simon knows it for what it is—a deliberate hooking; filling him up with tension. with unbridled energy, all uncontainable, so he can fuck all of that into you.

shit. now he’s all hard underneath his cup.

the quick rub in the shower stalls was not enough so he races to their hotel, locking himself in his room and proceeds to fuck his fist as he swipes at the album he’s locked away in his gallery. it’s the gallery that only you and simon know about.

it’s full of pictures. of videos and audios.

it’s full of you fingering your sensitive pussy, and of simon finally getting his hands on your cunt and dragging you up to his mouth for a taste, and of simon fucking you at every surface—on the island, in the living room, against the window, in front of the mirror.

in some of them, he’s still wearing his jersey. in most of them, you’re the one who has it on.

simon cums once. then rubs another one before the flight because he makes the mistake of rereading your previous message. the release isn’t euphoric; sure, it’s enough to stop the fever, but it was almost too clinical.

you’re still in your gym clothes when simon’s clumsily making his way home. you shriek at the way he just covers you with his bulk, before giggling at the ticklish feeling of his scruff rubbing against your cheek.

“missed you,” he says.

you whine, nodding, before pushing him back just enough that you can finally jump into his arms. simon soaks up the attention, like it’s sticky liquorice, and the nuzzled kisses.

even the words pressed on his lips, he devours but there’s one thing simon needs more, and he’s almost shaking when you finally noticed.

you laugh, poking his cheek, before giving him what he wants.

“your hockey’s so hot, si,” you trill. “fuck me?”

“please,” simon croaks out because that is all he could truly say.

[za-vandal]

I am in so much pain rn, my stomach hurts, my head hurts, and my throat is dry, but here we are.

In the spirit of kinktober, my absolute exhaustion and my want for more subby nerds, I present to you... This monstrosity

Younger!Boss Male reader X older!Nerd Colleague.

NSFW work, don't like don't read 👍

Light dacryphilia, Semi public (? Idk they bang after hours), overstim, getting caught 👀

Nerd Colleague who likes to play games, his office cubicle is literally decorated with mini figurines of his favorite characters, he would play online multiplayer games with the younger employees, he would teach them tricks and all the hidden things to find.

Nerd Colleague who's older than you by a few years, but you're his boss because you founded this company yourself. He talks to you like you're just a teen, but treats you with respect as well. It's kinda funny to see him fumble a little when you walk up to him looking serious as hell, but start asking him about games.

Nerd Colleague, who helps the new employees whenever they have a problem. You see him patting some guys back and feeling a little bit jealous, you would walk up to them and start a conversation. You're basically scaring the new employee away, but hey, at least your favourite man in the office is talking to you about a new update he's excited about.

Nerd Colleague, who gets confused why the younger employees are calling him the "office mom" and you the office dad. You also notice someone is shipping you two, you have your own little office Fandom. You tell your colleague not to care too much, just kids being kids.

"you're calling us kids when you're barely five years older than us?"

"then stop calling me dad"

"hell no, I'm not living in a divorced household. Stay with mom"

Nerd Colleague, who fell asleep at his desk one day, and ended up being the only one left... Except you were also there. Just, kinda watching him?

Nerd Colleague chuckles at you, gesturing for you to come over so he could give you a little kiss on the forehead.

I mean, just sayin, the new employees might call the two of you their parents, but the fact they didn't manage to figure out you two are actually dating was funny to the both of you.

Nerd Colleague who is also freaky. You both are, you match each other's freak really well. He wore a tie to work today for the fact he wants you to use it on him. In the office.

Nerd Colleague, who is a brat. Brattiest brat you have ever met. Constantly complaining about how he has more stamina then you dispute being older.

You prove him wrong later, after making him cum on himself so much his mind goes mush. You barely even needed to do anything with his cock and he's already leaking. You don't even need to get his pants off to feel it getting a bit wet ♡

Nerd Colleague gets tied up with his own tie but not in the way he expected. It's around his tip so he wouldn't get to come that easily, while your own tie was the one around his wrists.

Nerd Colleague who instantly stops being a massive brat, begging so nicely for you to release the tie on his dick.

Nerd Colleague who starts crying asking you to take off the damn tie. You don't, but you do give him little kisses to clear those tears away. He whimpers and complains about the "harsh" treatment you're giving him.

Nerd Colleague who finally gets to cum. And then you pick up the pace again, without giving him time to recover. He cries even more now, calling you unfair, you don't even bother, you're content on watching his tears fall down his pretty face as his eyes roll back from the pleasure.

Nerd Colleague who limps to your car. Complaining all the way there because you fucked him too hard. it's fine though, he did say he would get his revenge back home. You hope that revenge is as fun as what just occurred in the office.

...

"... I hate my job."

"Not my damn fault you forgot your phone, dumbass. At least we do know they're definitely mom and dad now."

"it's giving 'self fulfilling prophecy vibes', y'know? Calling them our parents and they end up banging?"

Vinny's extra notes :

Ngl I don't have anything planned for kinktober, this one is very light in terms of content. Might do a MHA fic, something like Shigaraki X reader or Dabi x reader if I feel like it. Should I do monster fucking? I feel like I should. Or something with sub Mr Reca when he comes out (my unfinished symphony ahh looking man). I love myself some mentally unhealthy men.

[holylulusworld]

Mr. Dickbeard

Summary: Your boss’s best friend is the worst.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: Lloyd being Lloyd, bimbo reader, groping, implied smut

“Bimbo, bring me a coffee,” your boss’s best friend and the worst man you ever met in your life barks your way. He snaps his fingers and waltzes over to your desk. His expensive loafers squeak on the floor, making you wince. “Did you not hear me?”

You purse your lips and reply, “You’re not my boss.” He glares at you as the whole open-plan office falls silent. “Why don’t you get your coffee yourself?”

“BIMBO!” Lloyd Hansen, self-declared master of your life, growls. “I told you to get me coffee!”

“Lloyd, what’s the matter?” Mr. Gentry opened the door to his office to poke his head out. “Do we have an appointment? I thought you were going to be in London for two more weeks.”

“Those idiots didn’t get my humor,” Hansen grumbles under his breath. “These fine gentlemen want to seal the deal with some arrogant fucker! A waste of money and time. Plus, the girls there are uptight as shit. I didn’t get my dick sucked for two weeks.”

You scrunch up your nose and look away. Lloyd Hansen, your boss’s best friend, is just the worst. He’s loud, misogynistic, and a perv. Oh, and he loves to talk about his dick and mustache all the time.

Sometimes you ask yourself why Mr. Gentry is friends with this man. Your boss is a nice guy, always friendly and helpful.

Hansen glares at you. His jaw ticks as your boss calls his name. He doesn’t look away, sneering as you shift in your seat. “Coming. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he grunts. “I need to take a piss first.”

Scrunching up your nose again, you try to not speak your mind. Most of the time, when you get angry, you start to babble.

“Lloyd, can you just not?” Your boss shakes his head. “Damn, he must’ve had a bad time in London.”

You giggle at your boss’s words. He’s so cute and funny. What a pity he’s married. You could fall for him.

“Could you please get him a coffee with lots of sugar? I think he’ll need it,” Mr. Gentry softly asks. “You must excuse my friend; he speaks before he thinks.”

“Fucking bimbo getting on my fucking nerves,” Lloyd mutters in the restroom. He tried to get a stain out of his pants and took them off. “It’s no use.”

“Uh—Mr. Hansen,” you giggle as you walk in on Lloyd. He’s only wearing a thong, barely hiding anything. You can see his happy trail as his shirt rid up. “Sir, your dickbeard is showing.” You point at his crotch, giggling and snorting as you can see his pubic hair and half of his left sack.

He stares at you, anger in his eyes. “What are you doing at the men’s restroom, bimbo?”

“Sir, this is the ladies’ restroom, and you are dressed inappropriately.” You try to keep the giggle wanting to escape your lips down your throat. Hansen already looks like he’s going to combust as he looks down at his body to adjust his thong.

“I think the boys don’t like this kind of underwear,” you say, and nod to yourself. "Hmm...or...is this a hairnet?” You suddenly say, earning an angry look from Lloyd. “Like the ones in the cafeteria, only for your dickbeard.”

“I can’t believe you can walk upright like a normal human with only half a brain and no filter for your stupid mouth,” he comments and goes back to scrubbing his pants clean.

“Oh, a stain,” you hum and step closer to get a better look at his pants. “What is it? Milk. Cream. Yogurt?”

Lloyd squares his jaw. He won’t tell you that he jerked off in the toilet cubicle like some loser only because he had the chance to yell at you again.

“Maybe you should lick it clean to find out,” he smirks darkly and chuckles as you swipe your index finger over the stain. “Go ahead, put that tongue to better use for once.”

“You know,” you look down at his barely covered crotch and the prominent erection he’s not even hiding. “for a man pretending to hate me, you’re very happy to see me.”

“Shut up, bimbo,” he growls and grabs you by your arms. “I told you not to get cocky, only because I ate that cunt once.”

“Thrice,” you coo and move your hand to his crotch, cupping him roughly. “You can’t get enough of me. I know it.”

“You don’t have enough brain cells to know shit.” He roughly grabs you by your shoulders, trying to push you down on your knees. “The only thing you’re good for is sucking dick.”

“Well, not today,” you smirk and drop your hand from his crotch. “You won’t get any until you apologize.”

You push him off you and twirl around to walk out of the restroom.

“Wait, we aren’t done here. You can’t make me hard and leave me hanging!”

“If you want to get to taste my pussy again, you’ll buy me a fucking diamond ring,” you snap at Lloyd and storm out of the room.

“How did we end up whipped by a bimbo and her pussy,” Lloyd says to himself as he looks at his erection. “You fucker always get me in trouble.”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[danosrosegarden]

HIIII ELIII !!! firstly THANK YOU for all the work you do for danonation… you are our strongest soldier !!! 🙏🙏💕💕💕 secondly, i’d like to put in a request for the anniversary celebration !!! <3 if i could may i get glitz + edward nashton? i love that lil freak … maybe something with creepy mutual obsession? i need him to know i’m just as obsessed with him as he would be with me …. THANK YOU SO MUCH AAAH !!! ^_^

it's hot and we rot - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW)

elijah's anniversary celebration: post three!

✨ glitz prompt: give me a character, and i will write a nsfw piece for them. ✨

{contains: male masturbation, public masturbation, underwear thievery, sub edward, and general mutual creepiness and obsession.}

♡ Sharp, grimy talons of guilt pierce through his heart and spill the thick, gushing blood all over each time he finds himself back in the bathroom next to his cubicle. Edward Nashton knows that there's nothing good in what he's doing. There never is.

♡ But God, does it feel right. Sorry. He really shouldn't tell you that, it might make you uncomfortable, he knows. But he thinks it's something you should know. An inky black secret too revolting and shameful to keep to himself. A slowly swirling python of perverse glee wraps itself around Edward's sweat-slicked body as he pulls your underwear out of his pocket: the carnival prize he'd won for himself last time he was over at your apartment.

♡ He hears your voice swimming around in his head as he wraps it around his cock, already slick with precum and throbbing a harsh, blushing pink. That's disgusting, Edward! I trusted you, I let you into my home, and that's what you do when I'm not looking? You're a fucking freak, you know that?

♡ Jesus. He's already biting down hard on his cracked lips so as to not alert his coworkers. It's all a rolling ball of sharpened knives, a blazing firecracker of intensity...the thought of your horrified look and cruel, venom-laced words spat into his face. The idea that somebody in the office could walk in at any moment and accidentally catch sight of him through the spaces in the stall doors, crimson-cheeked and leaking all over his tightly-gripped hand.

♡ His mind runs chaotically wild as he pumps himself, the fluorescent light above his head humming a low, growling buzz. You. He wants you. He doesn't give a fuck what he has to do. He'll beg for scraps. He'll whine and plead. He'll get on his knees and pray. God, he just wants you.

♡ Heat. It rushes through his body, injects itself straight into his bloodstream. He feels the white-hot warmth tingling deep in his gut as a high whine slips from the slits in his clenched teeth. It feels dirty, what he's doing, but that's part of the charm. He feels appalling, painting his hand with thick dribbles of cum in his workplace bathroom while thinking of your acidic, outraged insults, but he cannot stop himself.

♡ Maybe it's for the better that Edward doesn't know how deeply you want him, too. He's hardly able to be around you as is without the sickening thoughts infecting his brain...if he knew you reciprocated, he would never be able to calm himself down.

♡ For sure, Edward would explode if he knew about the picture of him you kept in your bedside drawer. You took it on your Polaroid while he was over one evening, destressing from work. His smile is crooked and his hair is ratty, but that was the picture. The picture you held tight in your hand when you masturbated and whispered his name into the hot, blanketing air of your bedroom. The picture you stared longingly at when the aftershocks subsided. My precious boy. Sweet angel. I wish I could ruin you.

♡ Edward stuffs his prize back into his pocket and washes his hands with a sheen of light sweat dusted across his forehead and a heavy coat of shame wrapped around his shoulders. He knows deep down in the depths of his heart that you're far too good for him. He'd actually much rather be the loser moaning and writhing to the thought of you than risk the friendship he'd somehow managed to obtain. At least he'd gotten away with his gross thievery. Nothing more, he promised himself. There is no going further.

♡ He also knows deep down in the depths of his heart that there was no stopping the enormity of his depraved desire. It was famished and on the hunt for any fragment of you it could find. And if only he knew the same hunger lived within you, chronically clawing at your gut, demanding more, more, more. God, if only he knew.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (part 4)

Tw: Afab/fem reader, Cyprus being a sexual predator in the office, fear of reporting about it to HR, Cyprus being a dick and just manhandling you

I do not like this stinky man but i want to get out of my comfort zone in writing. It was so hard to not make him motherly, but i persevered and made Cyprus , cyprus

I wonder if this guy is actually appealing or he's just like peggable

Masterlists, part 1, part 5

There was a knock at your door. You groggily got up and wiped your eyes, you're squinting to avoid having too much light going in.

You opened the door to none other than Cyprus. He's wearing the same jacket, but a black shirt underneath today.

He looked at you incredulously. "Christ, it's two in the afternoon. You just woke up?"

You said yes and you would want to go back to sleep as soon as possible. You asked if he needed something from you.

"I need you to get out of bed! You can't just waste your three-day weekend like this, doll." He invited himself into your room, shutting the door behind him.

Its pitch black with your total light blocking blinds. He couldn't see anything, so he had to use the torch of his phone. Only to see you looking back at him tiredly, back hunched and bags under your eyes for days.

Cyprus used his thumb to gently pull your lower eyelid down and to examine your eyes. They're bloodshot and dry, you must have scrolled on your phone all night to compensate for your lack of control yesterday.

You asked if he could come back tomorrow. Or not at all. You wanted to sleep, you barely get them on work days.

There was pity in his eyes as he watched you blink strangely. "You can't keep living like this."

You said yes, you can. You have been doing this for years and you turned out fine. Again, you asked him if he could leave you in peace until Monday.

He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned in frustration. "Fine." He said, storming out of your room without saying goodbye.

To your surprise, he stuck to his word. He hasn't come by ever since, not even on Sunday. You did receive texts from him, though. His contact was saved as "My Man <3" despite not remembering even giving Cyprus your number. He must have unlocked your phone using your fingerprint and stole it for himself.

You refused to open those texts or answer his calls. You simply switched to silent mode and dozed off for two whole days.

Monday rolls around. You had to drag yourself to the bathroom and freshen up. Dress nicely for work and prepare without your bag, you forgot to ask Cyprus for it back.

You were moving automatically, using muscle memory and none of that critical thinking.

You screamed in shock when you opened the door to see Cyprus smoking there. He winced at the sharp increase in volume.

"Quiet down, it's too early for that, princess." He spoke in a softer voice.

You asked what he was doing here while locking your door.

"Picking my girl up. Come on, we're going to be late." You shuddered when he brought your hand to the small of your back, seemingly touching lower and lower since the last time you met him.

__

It felt like a walk of shame. Cyprus insisted on carrying your suitcase. Those who knew of your boyfriend would ogle at you and him. Some would boldly ask about the relationship between the two of you. And in Cyprus fashion, he would reply with something polite, but telling them it was none of their business.

Punching in at 9AM sharp, there were multiple heads turned when he set your items on your desk for you.

He was unaffected by the attention, as if he was used to it and there's nothing to fret about. You on the other hand, is fucking distressed. They're going to flock to you the second Cyprus leaves for his cubicle, knowing that they wouldn't get anything out of the man.

"Your bag is still at my place." He whispered as the office was deathly quiet for once. No doubt, it was to eavesdrop on what he has to say to you and vice versa.

You know what that smirk meant. You wouldn't be seeing your favourite handbag for a while unless you come over to his apartment tonight. You nodded, in silent understanding.

A couple of gasps sounded when Cyprus bent down to give you a kiss on the cheek. Your blood ran cold, but despite that, you stretched your neck out to see who expressed such emotions. Everyone pretended not to look, but their wide eyed, slack jaw, hand-covering-mouth expressions told you otherwise.

You asked if he really needed to do that here.

"Duh. How else are they going to know you're mine?" He chuckled lowly and ruffled your hair. Cyprus left your cubicle to return to his.

It didn't take long for the first interviewer to come along. The one nearest to your desk, wheeled their office chair to your personal space.

You sighed and covered your face, knowing that he wanted to know the juicy bits.

Another one came by, pretending to hand you some reports, but it's really just to extract some details.

Then another straight up arrived without a shame in the world. Asking bluntly about your love life with him, not even caring to be discrete.

You looked around for Jane, the monster manager. She's the lesser evil for now, if she saw this gathering happening around you, he would have shrieked for everyone to get back to work. But she was nowhere to be seen.

You tried to mind your business, giving vague and non incriminating answers to every question. But they kept pressing on, more and more started to flock towards you, chattering amongst themselves and cracking jokes. Without your boss, the office became a casual space for your colleagues to socialize without putting actual work into the company.

They're all blocking your sight, you didn't realize that Cyprus is marching up to your cubicle.

"Don't you all have work to do?" Cyprus's scowl and sharp tone caused everyone to jolt momentarily before scattering away. Once he's satisfied that they left his precious girlfriend alone, he walked away.

You sighed upon seeing that they're still throwing discrete glances at you and Cyprus.

A cup of your favourite warm beverage might help, so you stood up as quietly as possible. Trying not to alert anyone, you went into the shared kitchen. To your relief, it was empty save for you.

As usual, you grabbed your favourite cup, a sachet of your drink and began preparing it. All things were going smoothly until you heard footsteps behind you.

You knew it's Cyprus. He's standing so close behind you, that your back is pressing against his chest.

You asked him what he was doing.

"I'm just getting my mug." He opened the top cabinet and took longer than usual to retrieve the porcelain vessel. You frowned, being sandwiched between his muscular frame and the counter. A sinewy hand held onto your arm as he rummaged through the shelf.

You had half a mind to splash him with hot water. But that would probably cause you more problems than solutions.

Finally, he separated himself from you, but he was making his coffee right next to you. Cyprus waited for the machine to drip dark liquid gold, he has a hand on your shoulder at all times. He must really, really like physical contact.

You stirred your drink with a teaspoon while he picked his completed cup up.

"See you around, pretty girl." You let out a yelp when he patted your rear.

He laughed when he saw you jerk your hips forward in response to that unwanted touch.

You watch him head back to his cubicle with balled fists. This isn't right, you never saw him as anything more than a coworker.

You wanted to go to the HR and try to get him fired for sexual harassment. But you had no proof, as the CCTV cameras were faulty and the company didn't care enough to replace them. Your department was the only one that isn't slacking off, so why bother? There were no witnesses and he knows where you live. You do not want to be the receiving end of his mean punch.

You felt defeated, trapped and upset. But there really isn't anything you can do except to try and gather evidence from now on.

Or maybe get yourself transferred to another section.

You shook your head and went back to work.

__

"Baby."

You snapped out of your trance of scanning for numbers and figures on your blinding screen.

He's leaning against your cubicle with a hand in his pocket, you think he's concealing a pack of cigarettes.

"It's lunchtime. Stop working." He bent down and teased you by blowing into your ear. You swatted him away, but he only snickered at you.

You asked him what he wanted from you.

"Well. You." He adjusted his glasses as he stood back up straight. "Let me take you out to lunch."

You said you're not hungry.

He gave you a knowing look as your stomach decided to roar in defiance. You felt your face heat up at that.

"Come on. Get up, doll." He beckoned you to follow him as he stepped away.

You said you don't want to. You're staying in the office. He rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering about how you're royalty, needing him to go the extra mile for you.

You had no idea what that meant. So you continued working away.

You ignored all the attempts of your coworkers' nosy attempts to pry into your life between you and Cyprus. As much as it was tempting to tell them that you actually didn't consent to this relationship and he's a massive creep, you knew it would come back and bite you. So you just gave them neutral answers or not say anything at all.

It went on like this for the next half hour or so, until they parted ways for something. Rather, someone.

"Here." Cyprus set a takeaway container on your table. "Still warm."

He has his own box of food with him.

The women and men swoon over this gesture of kindness, but immediately composed themselves and coughed into their fists when Cyprus turned around to shoot them a glare.

They excused themselves and said they had somewhere to be. But you think they're just waiting to see what he would do with you, when he thinks no one is paying attention.

"Get up, princess. We're going downstairs, I need to smoke." He grabbed you by the forearm and slightly manhandled you. Cyprus made sure you took your food with you.

He knows all eyes were on him when he pulled you into the stairwell. Cyprus didn't care that he potentially blew his secret hideout that he goes to during lunch. He could always find somewhere else.

All that matters is that he's spending his valuable time with his favourite girl.

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “we just happen to love hate fucking each other” prompts (pt. 2)

“I don’t know, maybe you should hop off my dick for a second. Just a thought.” “That’s not what you said last night.”

“I told you not to leave marks on my neck! How the fuck am I supposed to explain this?” “…You were just so sensitive there, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Why’s your heart beating so fast? It shouldn’t— this isn’t normal.” “…Well, sex is physically exerting so…”

“Let me just make this clear: I like you for what you do to me, not for you.” “Mm, okay. Keep convincing yourself with that bullshit; maybe it’ll work one day.”

Character A confesses how they’ve fallen for Character B, and Character B’s like, “You’re not in love with me; you’re in love with the version of me you get to fuck. It’s not love, it’s lust.” Character A, offended that their affections are being dismissed so easily, tells them, “That’s not true. I know what I feel, and it’s not just lust. It hasn’t been just lust for a while now.”

“Do—” Character A inhales sharply, pupils dilated in absolute pleasure and arousal; voice dropping lower, almost a whisper as they continue, “Do that again and I might just fall in love with you.” (Bonus: Character B smirks. “Then fall. But just a word of warning, I won’t be there to catch you.”)

“I thought you said you hated them?” “I do!” “Then why the hell did I see you guys walking out of the bathroom together?” “Ever heard of cubicles?” “This is my house, [name], not a public fucking toilet. There are no cubicles in there. It’s a one room kind of deal you’ve got here.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, it’s driving me up the walls; do you realise what exactly you’re doing to me?” “Oh, I know. I know what I’m doing to you and I’ll gladly have you fall to your knees for me.”

“…Why are you staying the night?” “Because it’s late and I’m feeling too tired to drive/walk home. Now scoot the fuck over, someone needs to get their sleep.” “Okay, but how about sleep on the floor instead? I don’t want you near me.” “That’s not what your body language was telling me just moments ago, love.”

“What are we doing right now?” “Fucking. What else?” “…It feels more than just fucking.”

Character B getting hella jealous when they see Character A out and about with their date and end up following them around. Character A catches them and is like, “Why are you following me?” And Character B’s like, “To tell your date how much of a dick you are so they can avoid dating someone like you.” (or, alternatively: Character B cornering Character A about it, and Character A being like, “But why do you care?” and Character B saying, “I don’t.” And then they somehow end up fucking them in a random alleyway or at a back of a bar or something. You can fill in the details on how they get to that point.)

“Careful — if you stare for longer than that then you’re going to fall in love with me and I won’t be there to catch you.” “Fuck you, like I’d fall for someone like you.”

The first time being purely on accident — the other times being on accident on purpose (because they just can’t get enough of each other but won’t admit it, and would make excuses about how they’re just doing this because there’re no other options when it’s becoming increasingly clear that that’s not the case).

“This is a mistake.” “You keep saying that but you keep coming back so is it really a mistake at this point?”

“You’re going to fucking break me one day.” “That’s my goal, sweetheart.”

“…Why’d you just kiss me?” “Huh?” “We promised everything intimate stays behind closed doors.” “…Okay, but why’d you kiss back?”

“You left your [insert clothing item] at my house.” “Why would you give it back to me out in the fucking open?!”

“Just because I like making out with you doesn’t mean I have to like you.” 

“…Do you know exactly just how gorgeous you are?” “I know. Why else would you want to fuck me if it wasn’t for that?”

“So, like… Do you want to fuck me up or do you want to fuck me?” “Can’t it be both?”

(pt. 1)

[shadeysprings]

Eyes of the Devil

—Boss!Andy Barber x Assistant!F!Reader

Summary — Happiness blinds you from the horror that looms around the corner.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, forced oral (m receiving), betrayal, blackmailing, cumshot to the face and implied kidnapping if you squint. Mean!Andy is present.

Word Count — 2.7K

A/N — My first entry for @thebasementspouses The 12 Men of Christmas Writing Challenge. This is also the first time I'm writing for Andy. And honestly it was hard yet fun ^^ Should you expect more Andy from me in the future? Fuck yeah.

Shoutout to my betas by @vellicore and @lunarbuck. But all mistakes are mine alone.

Gif by @barneswilsonrogers

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Once again, you’re burning the midnight oil.

With the holidays fast approaching, Dolores in accounting has you working double time on filing the pending paperwork that needs to be audited before the year ends. Even so, it’s work you don’t mind—you have nowhere to be and no one to see, your cubicle serving as a fortress, your home away from home. 

“Aren’t you heading out yet?” You look up from your computer to see Mr. Barber smiling down at you, his coat hanging from his arm where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up his elbows. He already looks run down from the day’s work, yet he still manages to be chipper. 

“Just finishing up on some tasks, Mr. Barber.” You respond with a smile. “I’ll get going as soon as I’m done.”

“Is that the year end report?”

You nod and hold back the sigh that wants to escape. “Dolores doesn’t want to wait until the last minute to finish it so she’s asking for the report 3 weeks in advance.”

“Seems a bit early, don’t you think?” You think he’s talking to you, but his eyes are cast down, his lips twisted in thought. He must have forgotten that he approved her early leave, yet you don’t find it in you to correct him. “Well, you take it easy then. I wouldn’t want you getting too worked up over it.” Your boss says, concern laced in his voice. “Just finish what you can. And if there is anything I can help you with, you just say the word.”

“Don’t worry, Sir. I have everything I need—just have to double check then compile them before sending them off to her.” The assurance you give seems to placate him, and you feel a sense of joy that you see him about to take off. 

Not that you don’t enjoy talking to your boss; he’s the only one, aside from the other department heads, you interact with on a daily basis. But he’s still the CEO, and you can’t help but think about his rank and see him as a superior, even in an informal setting. 

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it.” He says, the smile once more present on his lips. But before he leaves, he adds, “Oh, before I forget,” Mr. Barber places a festive paper bag on top of your desk, one you failed to notice him holding when he passed by your desk. “Merry Christmas.”

A gift. Something you never expected to receive from your boss.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bother, Sir.” You tell him as you stare at the bag in awe. A plain white box is nestled between the sheets of pink and purple paper when you peek inside.

“It’s really no trouble. Just a little something I picked up from my overseas trip last week.” He explains, the smile on his face seemingly growing wider, more playful, something you’ve never seen on him before. “I hope you like it.”

You return his smile. “I’m sure I would, Sir. Thank you.” 

A snow globe. That’s what Mr. Barber gave you. 

But it isn’t just any snow globe, no. It is a limited edition collectible of your favorite cartoon character. You don’t even know how he got his hands on one, with it being sold out within minutes of being released, or how he even knew it was your favorite—probably from the small figurines you keep on your desk—but you feel elated just by looking at it. 

You examine it with excited hands, curious at the button that sits underneath the base. They never advertised it as something electronic. You press the button, and to your surprise, a soft melody plays as the faux snow within blows on its own, making it even more magical than you thought it to be. A tiny blue light at the chest of the character begins  blinking along with the tune, a squeal of glee leaving your lips. 

It has you thinking of buying him a really good present, one of equal value to the one he’s given.

With a smile, you stow away the packaging and set the snow globe on the shelf where you keep the rest of your collection. This one, though, has a special place at the center of all the others, the star of the show as it should be.

You stare at your computer in shock. 

The image of you naked in bed, one hand on your tit, and the other grasping a toy with the other end buried in your cunt with your face twisted in pleasure. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you immediately close the image, looking around to see if anyone witnessed it as well. But no one resides on this side of the floor aside from you and Mr. Barber.

Panic rises in your throat as you try to think who sent it to you. But most importantly, how they got such a picture of you in the privacy of your own home. 

Your computer pings once more, and your stomach turns when you see the same unknown email address pop up from the corner of your screen. You don’t dare open it, too afraid of its contents. Instead, you delete it, even empty out the trash all the same to completely purge it from existence. 

Beads of sweat form at your nape, the beating of your heart growing heavier by the second as the fear continues to bloom in your chest. What do they want? Why are they doing this to me? The thoughts swirl in your head, and all you can think about after is going home to hide. But you can’t; they’ve made it known to you that the place that should be the safest no longer is. They only have footage of you in your room, but it isn’t certain that they don’t have eyes in other parts of your apartment.

“Do you have a moment?”

Mr. Barber’s voice startles you, making you sit up straight  in your seat and look up at him with wide eyes. The smile on his face dwindles and turns into a curious frown, most likely recognizing the trepidation painted on yours.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, worry laced in his voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uhh—yes, Sir. I just—I think my breakfast isn’t sitting well in my stomach.” You lie, but you’d rather let your boss know that you’re about to shit your pants than telling him the truth.

“Maybe some soda would help? Or I think Angie in HR has some medicine you can take.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll figure it out.” You tell him, forcing a smile to hopefully stop him from prying any further. “Did you need help with something?”

As if remembering what he came to you for, he says, “Ah, yes. I actually do.” Pulling away from your cubicle, he adds, “I made some changes to my itinerary for my business trip—I was hoping to run them by you.” But there’s still apprehension visible around him as he makes his request known. “Do you have time to come to my office? Or do you want to grab some fresh air first?” 

You want to say yes, to deal with your anonymous harasser head-on, but deep down, you know you can’t. The fear would only grip you tighter and render you useless for the entire day, and the last thing you want is to show your boss an ounce of incompetence and a chance for him to ask what’s running in your head. 

“No.” You respond, already standing from your seat. “I can step out after our discussion.” Grabbing the folder you compiled for his trip and snatching your notepad from your desk, you follow him back to his office.

Work will help you take your mind off of things.

“Lock the door, please.” Mr. Barber instructs, and you do as you’re told. “If you can just take note of the new arrangements I made.” You step over to the side of his desk, taking the sheet of paper he holds out to you.

Yet shock grips you once more when you look down at it, your hands shaking as the sheet he gave you has the image that was sent to you earlier printed on it.

“You—”

“You scream and I’ll send it to the entire office.” Mr. Barber says, his concern from earlier is now gone and replaced with something vile as he looks up at you from where he’s seated. “So be a good girl and kneel.”

You don’t understand what’s happening. How did he get a hold of this picture? Was he sent the same email? Has your harasser already done the unthinkable, and your boss is using it to his advantage? Unless—

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Sweetheart.” From the way he says it, you know it’s a threat, and the one he said earlier circles in your head that you quickly obey, placing the folders in your hands atop his desk and getting down on your knees. You watch him with fear as he rolls his chair closer, trapping you between his thick thighs.

“Sir, what’s g—”

“Did I say you could speak?” Mr. Barber scolds, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing you to look up at him, his sapphire eyes looking darker than you recall. “You do what I say when I say and that includes talking, am I clear?” His words weigh heavy in the air, and you can do nothing but nod your head in agreement. “Good girl. We don’t want the entire company receiving such a scandalous Christmas present, do we?”

You shake your head, too afraid to speak, knowing he hasn’t permitted you to do so. 

A sinister smirk forms on his lips, and you keep your eyes on the button of his white shirt when he releases your face. You swallow thickly in fear, already knowing what comes next, what he would have you do as his hands fumble with the buckle of his belt and the zip of his pants. 

He groans low, the sound, although soft, echoing loudly in your ear when he pulls his cock free of its confines. It’s already stiff from what you can see, with precum beading at the tip. You shiver when he places a hand on your shoulder, fingers tapping, caressing the fabric of your chiffon blouse before he wraps them around the back of your neck.

“If you can fuck yourself with that toy, I’m sure you know how to suck a cock.” He utters, his other hand taking his length and tapping the tip gently against your lips. “Think of this as a performance review. You please me well enough, I might just give you a raise.” It’s a challenge, one you know you have no way of winning.

With shaky hands, you take his cock from him and stroke it a few times. Fear envelops you, the small space he’s trapped you in rendering you claustrophobic that you feel the pounding of your chest right at your ears. Slowly, you part your lips and wrap them around the tip, disgust rolling in your stomach as the pad of your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. 

But all of a sudden, he pushes your head down, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock. Tears pool in your eyes when he hits the barrier of your throat, choking around him. You try to pull away, doing your best to breathe through your nose while you push a hand against his stomach and the other slapping onto his thigh. 

You want to pull away, to spit him out and endure the humiliation of having your colleagues see the vulgar image, but Mr. Barber—no! He deserves no respect! But Andy is being forceful, keeping his hand around your nape and holding you down longer. Until finally, he lets go, and you gasp for air as you pull him away from your mouth, spit dripping while you cough profusely from the roughness he’s bestowed.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” He says between chuckles, taking you by the back of your head this time and pushing you back between his thighs. “We’re just getting started.”

He doesn’t even give you enough time to recover from his assault when he drives his cock back into your mouth, the saliva gathered at your tongue serving as lubricant, one he uses to his advantage as he pilots your head up and down against him. 

His groans of pleasure fill the expanse of his office, mixed with your muffled grunts of revulsion and torment. Though you do nothing to fight back, afraid of the consequences you’ll suffer if you do and choose to endure his depravity, to allow him to use you as he so desires.

“Did you like my gift?” He says between shaky breaths. “I knew it was perfect.” 

The snow globe! But why?! Why is he doing this to you?!

Shutting your eyes tight, you do your best to shut him out, to think of someone else, someone from your past who’s receiving the lustful deed of your mouth. But the way he says your name, the ways his voice continues to permeate your senses, makes it all too difficult. That it’s only Andy you feel, Andy who controls. 

Tears stream down your face when he takes hold of your face with both his hands. Instead of guiding your head the way he wishes, he fucks your mouth with reckless thrusts. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I saw you playing with yourself.” He says between grunts. “Couldn’t stop thinking of what else you could do.” Once, twice, several more times, the tip of his cock hits your throat. You stop yourself from gagging, staying strong to please him and deciding to pleasure him, hollowing your cheeks and caressing the veins of his cock with your tongue. 

If he finishes soon, your torment will be done as well. 

Placing your hands over his, you move to your own volition—much to his surprise when you hear the grunt from his chest and the way he frees you from his hold. You take more of him, all of him, one hand reaching to caress his balls while the other strokes what you no longer fit in your mouth. You even moan for added effect to make him believe that you enjoy what he’s thrust you into and that you share in his pleasure—one you can confirm when you feel him throb between your lips.

But once again, he surprises you, gasping when he pushes you off of him, yet his hand returns to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. 

“Open your mouth. Eyes on me.” He commands, and you do as you are told. Sapphires look down on you, even darker than before, and you hang your tongue like a dog while he takes his cock tight in his hand and strokes himself fast. Within seconds, he lets out a garbled grunt, and you close your eyes in horror when hot strings of white shoot out of him and paint your lips as well as your cheeks.

You’re crying once again, confusion swirling in your head. He played you for a fool—infiltrated the safety of your home without even so much as trying, because you let him in. But you fail to understand why. Why he’s treating you this way, why he even thought about treating you like this. 

You think he’s done when he leans back in his seat and loosens his hold on himself. But that’s far from it. Andy chuckles, deep and dark, pressing the tip against his come and smears it over your lips, pushing it once more into your mouth. 

“Swallow.” Another command. “Suck me clean.”

And you do. The warmth of his seed scalding your throat, and you fight the bile that rises in return.

“I already booked your holiday leave,” Andy says breathily with a sinister grin, his thumb rubbing at the back of your neck.

You look at him with wide, fearful and curious eyes. What? Holiday leave? But you never booked one. 

His laughter then fills your ears, seemingly sensing your distress. “It’s the changes to my business trip—you’ll be accompanying me.” He answers, slipping his cock out and taking your chin, rubbing his thumb against your lower lip that’s still sticky with his come. “I need all the time I could get to see if your cunt feels as great as your mouth.”

[chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang]

“Tell me, where did you sleep last night?” (Colin Robinson x werewolf!reader)

Word count: 1,142

Age restriction: 16+ (vulgar language)

Tags: Fluff, crack, teasing, implied romance.

Synopsis: Your work doesn’t let you go home early on a full moon, so now you have to rush away from the office building to transform. Unfortunately one very nosy colleague won’t leave you alone.

Author’s note: Cringe culture needs to die. Let’s enjoy werewolves and balding men.

_____________________________________________

You tapped your fingers on the table. At first it was rhythmic, almost like a military drum, but with time it just started to sound unsteady, matching the beat of your own heart. Anxiety filled you up so strongly, that only the tips of your fingers were loose enough to move. The rest of the body was tense and getting tenser, as you watched the sky gradually darken and a faint silhouette of the moon appear.

“Only five minutes…” you mumbled to yourself. “Only five minutes…”

“Five minutes ‘till what?” Someone popped their head into your cubicle. You didn’t have to look, to know who exactly it was.

“The end of my shift, Colin.”

Your insides churned violently, as you noticed new dark brown hairs pop out on your hands. So thick and dense, it looked nothing like human hair and you knew it, so you haphazardly tried to cover them with the sleeves of your office shirt. It was getting late. Too late for your liking.

“Oh, right. It sucks to be you, huh? Working, because you have no more sick days to slack off.” He chuckled. “Well, I could keep you company until the end of your shift. You know what they say, good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter, am I right? That’s a quote by Izaak Walton. Oh, by the way, interesting fact about Izaak Walton! Did you know that his wife and seven kids died almost at the same time? Yeah, can’t imagine being that poor fella. Probably way worse, than sitting in this office.” You felt your eyelids start to get heavy as Colin kept on ranting about stuff you literally couldn’t care less about, but the good person in you didn’t allow the pleasure of shutting him up. “… Why are you wearing sweatpants by the way? Wee-ooh! Wee-ooh! Dress code violation detected!” He laughed to himself.

You barely even listened to whatever Colin was saying at this point. The hair on your hands started to become more noticeable and you felt the same happening all over your body. You stood up, ignoring the fact, that your shift wasn’t over as well as your very annoying colleague and hurried towards the elevator, leaving behind your belongings. There was no time to think of this.

“I gotta go.”

“Go where?” Colin wondered, as you stomped onwards.

This was incredibly frustrating for him. He heated being ignored, because that was the only way to counter his powers. Now it was more of a challenge, than a need to actually drain you. It was a matter of honour, that Robinson had very little of, but still wanted to protect, so he followed you into the elevator.

“Oops, wrong floor! Didn’t mean that.” He smiled, as he pressed several wrong buttons.

You felt your face flush with annoyance and his eyes briefly flashed bright electric blue. The matter was too urgent for his dumb tricks, so you left the elevator at the next floor and started running down the stairs, because you felt your body slowly starting to expand with muscles and fur. Of course, Colin persisted as well. Turns out, it is way more fun to insensibly break you down and watch you slowly loose your cool.

You ran out onto the street and shouted into the alleyway. Robinson looked at you, scrunched on the pavement. Tossing and turning, as if you were possessed by something ungodly.

“Hey there, friendo… You’re good?” He walked a bit closer.

“Get the fuck away from me, you imbecile!” You cried, before completely turning into a Northwestern wolf, being ready to attack at any moment.

You howled and shook, making it seem like your whole body was in intense pain, trying to retain your human consciousness and stop yourself from tearing Colin to literal shreds. He saw how you aggressively turned your head from side to side and whinged. Usually, he’s not too keen on helping random humans, but this instance felt like a symbiotic relationship.

“Woah… Okay, that was not on my 2024 bingo card.” He chuckled. “Uhm… Did you know, that there is a very rare condition called hypertrichosis - which causes sufferers to grow hair all over their body, including their faces! It's also called werewolf syndrome for obvious reasons.”

His eyes flashed blue again and you felt yourself getting tired. It became a bit easier to suppress that primal urge to attack.

“You know, your kind might have an Ancient Greek origin. There's a very gory myth that Zeus turned King Lycaon into a wolfman as punishment for eating human flesh. In fact, this is where the fancy term for a werewolf comes from - Lycanthrope. From King Lycaon!” Once again, the alley was slightly illuminated by a bright blue light.

You laid down on the pavement, feeling less and less feral. Your consciousness was more present than ever before in this state.

Colin slowly walked over to you and crouched down. “Not looking very good, are you?” He poked you lightly and smiled. You were a bit too tired to react. “So that’s why you’re wearing those ugly sweatpants. Well, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only supernatural creature in the office. You’ve probably guessed what I am by now, right?”

You looked up at his face then nodded slightly. To be honest, you weren’t sure what exactly he was, you just knew that something wasn’t human in any way shape or form.

“Say it… Out loud.” He pronounced dramatically, with strobe lights reflecting in his glasses. “Oh wait, you literally can’t, I forgot. Shit. Anyway, I’m a vampire. An energy vampire to be precise, so it means I’m a day walker. I feast on your life energy by either boring you or annoying you. As you can see, I’m a professional at both.” He grinned with joy.

That definitely made sense for you. And it definitely made sense why he would choose your office as the hunting ground. He crawled even closer to you and started gently petting your fur in steady motion.

“Aw, this feels nice. It’s like petting a dog.” He started to brush you against the grain and his eyes flashed blue again at your irritation. “You know, this is calming. I could get used to doing this once a month.” You looked up at him once again, amazed. He returned your gaze with a shrug. “If you need it I mean, because seeing you fight your own self is kind of pathetic.” He chuckled.

You leaned your head a bit more into his touch and he continued to pet you the proper way. The night was spent in that cold alleyway with Colin slowly putting you to sleep with random babbling. Ironically, one of the most infuriating people you know created one of your most comforting memories.

[iznsfw]

Can we get more Hyewon fics?? 🥺🥺

Negotiation

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

4,491 words

Categories | daddy kink, power dynamics, titjob

It's your usual route, to be completely clear: circling up all the newbies, clearing out the incompetents and training those who had more than a pocketful of potential. It's your job, it's what you're paid to do. So if anyone dared question your bond with any of the trainees, they can complain about it to your face, and not in the form of scattered whisperings throughout office cubicles.

Your intentions are wholly pure. You swear on your mother's life. You'd pull the typical blame-it-on-the-femme-fatale thing with this girl, but you know it's somehow your fault, too: whatever might happen. She can't bear all the weight of the sin. 

You don't think sin is supposed to look this good, though.

"Sir," she says, perfect curled lashes fluttering with no ill intent at all. She's innocence, pureness, angelicness—all compiled and composed into one beautiful young girl. "Good afternoon. My name is Kang Hyewon; I'm more than eager to do my best for you."

In what way? you're tempted to ask. But then those exact words tumble from your mouth, and you're pretty sure you've fucked it all up. You, in your holier-than-thou suit and tie, asking something so suggestive to an innocent girl like her? Outrageous, that's what it is; scandalous, too. You could get fired for it.

However, it's as if she expected it—she leans forward, offering you a show of plentiful cleavage that breaks several dress code regulations and ethical rules, with a soft, rare smile. 

"However you want me, sir," she says sweetly. Resting her chin on her hand, the smile on her full lips grows wider. "I'll do anything."

"I've heard something like that before, Miss Kang," you say. "Strangely, I've heard it from the same person, too."

"Oh?" Hyewon assumes an innocent naïvety, wide doe eyes almost convincing you of a clean record. "How so?"

See, she's kind of used to that subtly flirty banter. Somewhere in the city of Seoul, in a humble little apartment, she's learning to make money in other ways. By doing it, she needs not travel lengths of distance to a corporate building or spend day after day spell-checking papers. You, having checked backgrounds of probably a billion people and verifying their digital footprint as decent or in-, know all about it. Might have watched a few of it online. Might have done some stuff too.

"You might've fooled Nana and the others, kiddo, but you haven't fooled me," you inform her, offended that you actually have to tell her. You're lowering yourself down to keep up with her one-step-ahead talk. She may be playing dumb, but she knows what she's doing. "I know all about your secret streaming account. Thing is, it probably isn't a secret. You've got thousands of followers on it."

"Can't a girl have a little fun, sir?" asks Hyewon with a giggle. "I was just playing games to pass time."

"'HyemsterKang' ring a bell?"

Hyewon looks up at the ceiling, as if she could find an appropriate answer for your inquiry embedded there. There's none: only a switched-on lamp and a vent. 

"Hmm," she hums, curled hands supporting her pretty face, "probably. What kind of account is it?"

"There's Twitch, YouTube, you name it. Twitch has the most followers, with over two hundred thousand. It's a surprise no one recognized you when you walked through the front door."

"Why would anyone recognize me? I'm just looking to enhance my skills here."

You're tired already. "Cut the bullshit, Hyewon," you say. Drop all the formalities and workplace language just like that. "You know what kind of videos you make. And, look, you've got to understand that I've got nothing against them, but anoth—"

Hyewon pouts. "Why are you so hot and bothered then, sir?" 

"Because you can't pretend to be some pure, holy girl here. I would've gotten you on the training course if you didn't lie through your teeth. What we need is honesty, transparency. You can't lie on the job here."

Hyewon seems to consider this. Her eyes lose their glimmer as they look down to your desk. And she looks so… sad: her eyes are, as mentioned, downcast, and there's so much more to them than sadness because they hold so many raw emotions of disappointment that make even your heart hurt. Her saddened shoulders lose their sturdy posture. 

For the first time since she's entered your office, Kang Hyewon looks… defeated.

"Does that mean you're not taking me in, sir?" she says after looking up at you again.

"No, and please," stress this with gritted teeth, "don't call me sir."

You've no idea why you feel that way. Many other girls have called you sir, both in a formal and informal setting. There was Kim Minju, whose experience gathered little to no potential, and Yabuki Nako, whose aspiring dream to become your corporate's airline stewardess was a pipe dream due to her petite height. 

But it feels strange with Hyewon. It's like there's some hidden motive behind it. Whatever it may be, it's surely working.

Hyewon juts out one, plump lip as she rises from her seat. Instantly, your boundary alarms go off. They're blaring like ambulances now, running in purposeless trips around your mind. Interviewees are not supposed to do that. She's crossing the line, so many lines.

What sets more alarms off is her taking a seat in your lap, as if she's always done that before. As if she belongs there. 

Her slim, tiny body presses up snugly against your frozen one. "What would you rather be called, hm?" she asks. Like a good girl, her hands are folded neatly on her lap, (un)fortunately covered by a gray skirt. "Please, do tell."

"Hyewon…"

You try to give her a steady look, try to tell her that it's wrong. But your hands are on her waist, and they subconsciously pull her closer. Damn her and that sexy skirt and blazer. 

"Mm, your hands feel so good on me," she sighs happily. "It turns me on so much. It makes me feel warm here," she pats the space between her thighs, "and it's all your fault, sir. All your fault."

"You need to be taught a lesson, Kang Hyewon."

"Go on then, daddy." Hyewon's voice drops to a haunting whisper. "I deserve it."

There, you let go of all your morals. The fact that Hyewon's supposed to be your interviewee and you're supposed to play professional with her becomes nonexistent. You've seen what she does on those videos, and now you're eager to see the body she hides so chastely under those uniform clothes. 

"Bend over."

The obedient Hyewon gets off your lap and lowers herself on the table. Her skirt rises and shows you a lack of even undershorts to save the exposed thong. Her ass cheeks sandwich the thin little thong perfectly.

"Ooh, what's daddy going to do?" she asks eagerly. She wiggles her round butt into your sprawled hand. "Is he going to spank me and make his babygirl count it all?"

"That would be too easy, don't you think?" Groping her, you look hard into her sparkling eyes full of excitement. "Daddy's going to spank you, but you can't make a single sound."

Hyewon whines. "But that's so hard, daddy. Can't you make it easier for Hyem?" 

"So am I, and no. If I hear you moan, you're not allowed to cum." 

Merciless is the perfect word to describe you right now. But your mind just rambles with lustful things to do to this sexy little vixen—(a hamster, if you will, as an ode to her username HyemsterKang, but that sounds less sexy; it doesn't give justice to the seductress that is Kang Hyewon)—and you're eager to perform them ruthlessly. 

Trail your fingers on her wet pussy lips. You find her clit, and from there, you give it tiny, teasing brushes. Hyewon bites her lip hard, and clings to the table for support. And for a moment that's all there is to it: you rubbing her clit and her grinding her round ass to your fingers. Until:

"Ahh, daddy!" 

That's one orgasm subtracted from the list. After you slap Hyewon's cheeks with all the might you have, she instantly cries out. You feel her juices dripping on your hand. 

Hyewon looks back at you. And you realize why her streaming career has done so well—that face is made to be ruined. Her scared eyes portray an opposing desire for more, and you can't help but give and give exactly that.

"I'm sorry, daddy!" she whimpers. "I'm sorry!"

Nevertheless, you continue to spank her. Reddened skin blares almost as bright as the office lamp. Her thighs drip with her nectar. 

You're harsh; your hand's starting to hurt from yout endless slaps on Hyewon's butt. But the pain seems like a small, sideway thought when you're witness to her cheeks bouncing with each blow. When she's holding onto the table like she wants you to go on. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," sobs Hyewon. "Please just spank me like that, treat me like a whore, use me—"

Your spanks become less and less measured—one follows the other a little too briskly. If the door weren't locked and the glass made it so any outsider couldn't hear, people would assume you're already fucking her with your brains out. But no, that's just you spanking Hyewon to teach her a lesson, to teach her to be a good girl.

"Fuck, slap my pussy like that!" she yells. Her pants sound hot and eager. "I'm going to cum, oh yes, oh fuck!"

That's your cue to stop. Hyewon doesn't deserve to orgasm yet, not until she's learned her lesson.

"This is so unfair, no," whispers Hyewon disappointedly, turning around with a pout. 

"Newsflash, Hyewon: the world isn't fair. Nothing is." 

Slip a finger inside her and her knee-high-clad legs curl around your hand protectively. She's riding on any good thing; she wants nothing more than your cock, and besides that, probably a job, but anything works for now.

Hyewon works herself down on your fingers. "When will I get to cum, daddy?" she asks. "Daddy? Say 'now,' please."

Execute blunt thrusts into her slick pussy, which is an impossibly tight cavern not even the bravest can make it out alive without exploding. Her back curves and she twists at the pleasure. Her delectable little cunt is sweet and closed around you, a newfound temptation to latch on for life, a vice to remember.

But there's also her fantastic chest to look at, doing what you're doing: peeking through the neckline of her blouse, which you just so happen to do as well. 

"If you give me a feel of those tits," you propose, the way negotiations should go, "maybe I'll let you."

"Of– of course, daddy." 

Hyewon undoes the buttons of her blouse. Like curtains, they part to a wonderful show. This show, though, would have been banned for nudity and corruption (and not in the usual way.) 

Hyewon's tits are glorious—they size up to more than a handful, and have these tiny pink nipples that you'd love to squeeze any time of the day. You're hypnotized by them, in every way possible. You glance at how they rise and fall in coordination with Hyewon's breaths, and the way her nipples perk into the air hard and aroused once the black lacy bra is off. The air-conditioner wind might have had something to do with their state, but you're thankful for both, either-which-way.

"C-careful," begs the young girl, wincing. "They're sensitive…"

"Is that so? Would it feel good then if I did this?"

"Oh, ohhhh!" Hyewon gasps with a hand over her mouth. Her skin feels boiling hot, but in a strangely good way, when you begin to suck directly on her nipples. "Yes, just like that!"

Her breasts are softer and better than the stress balls your office gave away during mental health seminars. The balls are only good for squeezing and throwing. In Hyewon's case, you can completely release all your stress just by fingerfucking her tiny pussy, and sucking her tits all at the same time. With her, you forget more than your morals—you forget about work, your deadlines, your responsibilities. And, needless to say, it's all her fault.

Hyewon can't keep up with the doubled pleasure. She's constantly squirming to have your fingers deeper in her cunt, and she keeps pushing her breasts into your face. Your rhythm of thrusts in her hole doesn't wither, and neither does your sucking on her right nipple. She doesn't know what to do except squeal out replayed pleads.

"Daddy," she says. "Please keep doing that, it feels so good. I'll be a good girl, I promise I won't lie anymore."

You ride your teeth around Hyewon's areola, sucking the area around it also. If you could, you'd never let go of her breasts. You would keep sucking on them, alternating between one and the other, for days on end. You bet you'd survive even without food or water. Hyewon's tits are enough for you to live eternally. Hell is nonexistent when you're with her.

"Do you think you deserve to cum, Hyewon?" you ask. You play with her clit, making it harder for her to get her words out.

"I think so, d-daddy. Yes."

"I don't," you laugh. "I told you not to make a sound, and you disobeyed. How would you become a competent worker if you're like that?"

Hyewon's near tears. "I'll do whatever you want," she says. Breaths get lost here and there due to your fingers still swiftly exiting and entering her. "Please. I need you. I'll, I'll be your good little fuckdoll, I promise, I swear."

"Will you let me fuck your tits, then, Hyem? If you're that good and eager?"

"Yes, daddy!" 

Hyewon nods over and over. A bit too excited, she pushes you down to the office chair rather roughly. But you pay no mind; in fact, your erection grows harder and lengthier at her enthusiasm. It throbs violently with how Hyewon slips off her blazer and pulls down your pants.

Her eyes brighten at the sight of your member, as if it's something that can actually make her day better. 

"You're very hard, daddy." She bites her lip, looking up at you with incredulous adoration. "Let me do something about it."

Hyewon's huge tits hug your hard-on, sandwiching it between them. You groan as she holds her chest so that your cock slips in and out seamlessly, lubed up only by her spit and your precum. Her soft flesh brushes your sensitive, pink penis perfectly, giving it a feel of what heaven might actually be. 

"Holy shit, Hyewon," you sigh. 

It's like she's entertained by what she's doing, too. She's looking down at your cock entering her flesh as if it were an exciting movie. But she takes extra care to seal longer glances with you, knowing that her face alone can make you cum.

"Oh, daddy likes my tits, huh?" Hyewon says coyly. Playing with her nipples while titfucking you, her gaze grows more and more sultry. "Daddy's gonna let me cum after this, right? Make me learn my lesson?"

"Just… just keep moving your tits like that. And we'll see what happens."

Not a solid promise, but Hyewon is satisfied with that. She knows her power and how to use it well enough. She's practiced in the strokes and squeezes she does on your cock, the temptation calling for you  in her brown eyes, everything. She has it all measured and listed down somewhere, probably, just waiting for the right time to use it.

Hyewon lifts her breasts, then slams them down on your lap again. The cycle repeats, and her boobs become like that of a real fleshlight. But hers is better—a toy pales in comparison when paired up with Hyewon's tight, hot body. And all it took to have her was a spanking session. There was no need to shed thousands of won.

"Like this?" she asks. Hyewon's letting you use her for your own pleasure, caring for your bliss rather than hers. The grip of her bosom around you tightens, and you find it difficult to catch your breath. "Do you want me to keep doing this?"

"Fuck yes. You're such a good girl for me right now, Hyewon."

Her cheeks are rosy. "Thank you. I'll make you cum, I promise."

She's made probably a hundred of oaths from the moment she walked into this building, but this one seems to be the one she's most determined to carry out. Hyewon's fiery rhythm risks you of exploding all over her pretty chest. Her smooth, pillow-soft skin knots your stomach and sets everything ablaze. Her facial expressions, which are a far cry from the saintliness she pretended to possess earlier, drive you off the edge.

"Shit… shit, I'm going to cum," you announce in a broken voice.

You can't stave your orgasm off anymore. Your dick expels liquid white strings everywhere. Hyewon's collarbone and big breasts bear most of the desirable damage, but she's sure to open her mouth, too. And she looks every bit the part of a cock-hungry slut, with her eyes rolled back and tongue lewdly hanging from her thick pink lips. White semen becomes her new lip gloss, and she'd put it on any time of the day.

"You still have more in you, daddy," says Hyewon. She strokes herself around your cock without pause. Curses leave your mouth as her evil gaze challenges you to say the opposite. "I can feel it. I want you to explode all over me."

"Fuck, yes, Hyem. I fucking will."

There isn't a single bad movie out there that matches the rapid pacing of Hyewon's titjob, and it's probably for the better. You just keep on cumming, and Hyewon keeps on titfucking you. It's a win-win situation because she enjoys being sprayed with your cum. It makes her feel like the used little doll she is.

She forces you to spurt more up until you can't anymore. All there's left are little droplets of pure white, and ragged moans from both ends. 

Hyewon's blouse and chest are stained all over. But when she gazes at the mess you made on them, she doesn't look upset. She looks rather… turned on. Her squirming thighs and bitten lower lip indicate that. She may look like a porcelain doll with her angelic face and pale skin, but she's been used just like a ragdoll would.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asks. "You liked it, didn't you?"

"I did," you confess. "How wet are you after all that, Hyewon?"

Hyewon reaches under her skirt and brushes her fingers over her pussy. She gasps. "Oh, v-very wet, daddy. Won't you do something about it?"

"Yes, I will. Get ready."

Both you and Hyewon rise to your feet. You step out of the rest of your pants while she shrugs off her blouse. Now, she's only wearing her black schoolgirl skirt and her long socks with shoes. 

Hyewon hops on the edge of your desk. "Will you really fuck me this time?" she asks hopefully.

"A deal's a deal, Kang Hyewon. Now spread your legs."

She opens them. You lift the skirt up to get a view of her pretty hole. Her pussy lips are plump, just like the painted lips on her face. 

(You want to fuck both.)

So, you thrust. 

All at once Hyewon is filled up to the brim, your balls pressing against her ass. 

"Oh, oh, so deep!" gasps Hyewon. "You're so big inside me!"

Your cock throbs. The clench of her walls is amazing, but they're also tempting you to cum again, and you can't have that. So, you set slow but forceful strokes, driving yourself inside Hyewon and feeling her walls part. Her surprised moans guide blood to your erection. The expression she wears never goes far from orgasmic, and she might as well be already cumming with how tight her hole's clamping on you. 

Wrap your hands around her tiny waist. You're ready now. You start to drill her tiny body down your desk. She cries out and leans her head backwards, allowing you to see how much of her neck you've covered in cum. Her glazed breasts bounce before you, getting your cock in an increased solid state to pulse and thrust in her hard and good.

"Yes, daddy, fuck me!" she prods you on, just like how your cock is prodding at her insides. "It's so good, daddy, it's so good, it's so good—"

She's promised to make you cum and delivered it out. Now, she wants you to make one, too, and return the favor. And, even if the only thing you're offered in exchange are Hyewon's loud screams that sound in your ears and her half-naked figure that's straight out of a porn video, you're glad to do so.

"Guess you aren't so innocent after all," you laugh. You're trying to keep custody of the upper hand here, but, god, does Hyewon's cunt choking your cock make it nearly impossible. "All that pretense, Hyewon, don't you get tired?"

"Oh, daddy," Hyewon sobs softly, arms hung around your neck and shoulders. Her eyelids are heavy, too wrung by pleasure. "If it gets you to fuck me, I don't mind at all."

You find her erogenous zone and rub it in the same, fire-quick way you thrust. "A little too fast there, don't you think?" you chuckle, but you're flattered.

"All I want is you going fast inside me." Hyewon's legs tense up after you grab them for easier leverage. Her moans are cut short with stutters. "I want it now."

"And what exactly do you want, Hyewon?"

"I—" She blushes furiously. Her words rarely come out in any form other than squeals. "I want to be your little office cockwarmer. I want to do nothing but be the toy who sucks daddy's dick and keeps his cock hard. I don't want to be anything else, daddy, and you know it—you know I want it—"

"Oh, you will." Pumping into her harder, you set the stone there and then of your ownership of her. "You're mine now. Everyone's gonna know about how you get on your knees for me so easily, Kang Hyewon. You'll be known as my little office slut, the one who keeps my stress relieved."

"Yes, yes, you can fill me up all the time, you can make me wear the slutty secretary outfits from my streams, daddy! Use me, oh god, I'm yours!"

It's a tempting offer. You've seen her streams while looking through her background, and you saw that one of her in the tight little secretary uniform. You think of how pretty she'd look in it, and how heads would turn at her entering your office everytime in it. You picture the outrage that does nothing since you're at such a high position in the office hierarchy, such an important person. They can't do anything if you decide at once that Hyewon's going to be your cumslut. They can only create rumors painting you out to be the exploitative bad guy, and Hyewon starring in the role of the poor head-over-heels newbie desperate for a good life.

You can live with that. 

The inches of your length never get to breathe as you're constantly shoving them inside her, knocking against her cervix and making her sob for more. There's no limit to the pumps you can give to Hyewon, but you still test it out. Hyewon remains at your mercy.

"Are you going to be my slut now? Do you really want that?" you ask her. "Or are you going to back out because you're too much of a pussy to dive in?c

Grab her chin and force her gaze at you. That's how you see that Hyewon's completely serious. That's exactly what she wants. She didn't come here for a job, she came here for you, and she's not leaving without being yours.

Hyewon nods. She presses her forehead against yours. "I want you," she whispers. "So make me yours. You know you want to teach your whore of a babygirl a lesson. You know you want to fill her cunt everyday."

That's right, you do. You knew, since the minute she spent teasing and toying with you, that you want to fuck her brains out. And here you are, doing exactly that. 

This could be forever if you wanted. 

"Gonna cum now, Hyewon. Gonna fill your cunt up with daddy's semen. Gonna fucking breed you."

"I'm close, too, daddy. Give me your cum."

You make sure to press completely against her cervix when you cum inside her. Hyewon's girl cum and your white fluids mix together, a blend of sex and sin, and drip down your table. You can't really think of anything else except for Hyewon's screams climbing up in volume and her squirt spurting all over your best uniform. No, you're brain-dead with lust, and there's no turning back.

You make her your cum deposit. You make her your babygirl, and as corny as it sounds, straight out of a bad teen romance where everything goes too quickly for any talent to be actually seen, you're okay with that.

-

"And that's how I think that we should promote the book earlier this year. Thank you for listening."

The clan of higher-ups sitting at the oval-shaped table clap politely. You try to keep your clapping at the appropriate level of enthusiasm, but your heart bursts with pride for Hyewon. She's come so far without your help. She's learning to stand on her own.

"I think that's a great idea, miss Kang," says Miyawaki Sakura, your director. She's a petite woman with a soft voice, but everyone knows that she's the boss of any room she stands in. "I'll jumpstart the idea tomorrow with the board of directors."

Hyewon flushes with happiness. "Thank you, miss Miyawaki."

"I do have one concern with miss Kang about the presentation, though," you pipe up. "Miss Miyawaki, do I have your permission to speak about with Hyewon in private?"

Now everybody's looking at each other. They try to keep themselves decent, but they all know what you mean. By now, your sexual relationship with Hyewon is an open secret. It might not be eligible for the title of secrecy anymore since all of the office knows it. 

But what can they do? You're the best in your team. You run too many things that keep the company going and they can't risk your loss. 

Hyewon waits for the director's response with bated breath. Her hands fiddle with each other as she waits for a response.

"Of course, sir," replies Sakura finally. "You may go."

You and Hyewon exchange glances. The two of you know exactly what your "talk" would be about.

[abrcmswrld]

Talk to Strangers

Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?

Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.

You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.

You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."

Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.

━━━━

You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.

But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.

It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.

He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

He finally faces you.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."

His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."

You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."

━━━━

And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.

You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.

"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.

As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.

You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.

━━━━

But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.

It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."

"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."

Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.

'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'

Holy shit.

━━━━

Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.

It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.

"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

━━━━

The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.

'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'

"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.

You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."

It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.

━━━━

Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.

Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"When you're ready."

━━━━

You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.

He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.

"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."

You slam the laptop shut.

Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.

Paralyzed.

It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.

Shh. Shh. Just breathe.

But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.

You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.

━━━━

Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.

But you know it's him.

It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.

He thinks he's smarter than you.

You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.

You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.

You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.

━━━━

The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.

So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.

You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."

He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.

"I think you should go home and get some rest."

And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.

━━━━

So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.

He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.

He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.

"Edward."

It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

He is terrifying.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"

He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.

His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.

But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.

You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.

The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.

He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.

You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.

He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.

"Does this not make you happy?"

Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.

You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"

His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."

That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

His hand grips yours as he looks at you.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.

But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.

When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.

"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."

"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."

"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."

“I would never have expected it to be him.”

"I hope he gets the help he needs."

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

With Good Weather Brings Good Breedings 🌸🐰 (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Poly!KiriBaku x Black!Bunny Girl!Reader

Synopsis: In which your spring cycle comes a little earlier than usual and you’re too afraid of your boyfriends–whom you’ve been dating for five months–thinking you’re weird instead of telling them about your cycle during mating season. However, during a picnic thrown especially for you, your two favorite pros are more aware than you realize and are more than happy to help you with your little problem.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS STAY TF AWAY), Poly Romance, AgedUp!Pro!Bakugou & Kiri (they’re in their late 20s), Black!Reader, Bunny Girl!Reader, Mating Cycle, In Heat, Dick Crazed, Public Sex/Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Foreplay, Nipple Play, Light Foot Fetish (Toe Sucking), Clit Stimulation, Overstimulation, Deepthroating, Biting/Nibbling, Hair/Ear Pulling, Tail Stroking, Spanking, Face Fucking, Light Hints of Dacryphilia, Degradation, Name Calling, Pet Names, Multiple Positions (Doggystyle, Full Nelson, Mating Press), Non-Protected PIV/Non-Safe Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Mentions of Breeding, Squirting, Creampies, Facials, Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Read on AO3 here!

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

CHAPTER THREE: A PICNIC FOR THREE.

“Of course, ma’am!” you chirp into the phone. “I’ll let Mr. Fushiyomo know. Thank you for calling and have a good day!”

You finally hang up the phone after the sweet lady says farewell and drop your smile as you let out a deep, bellied sigh. You look at the clock on the desktop computer that you have in your cubicle. Only fifteen minutes until your lunch break.

You press a hand to your rumbling stomach. You’re not sure where to go for lunch today. Maybe the cafeteria or that little cafe a block down from the agency. They’ve got good salads and sandwiches there.

But you can’t even focus on your hunger with how much your pussy is throbbing. You sit in your cubicle now, your legs pressed tightly against each other under your desk. You could always rub your clit or finger yourself to ease the tension. Everyone is too busy working to notice, so they wouldn’t know. But you would know, and you’d die of shame if you did that.

However, the ache isn’t as bad as this morning. Before you got dressed and left for work, you gave yourself two more orgasms–one with your fingers and the next by (embarrassingly) rubbing your panty-covered clit against the corner of your kitchen counter while your coffee brewed. After that, you made up your iced coffee, got your key card for the bus, and were on the move.

Even better, though you missed them terribly and ached to see them, your boyfriends haven’t called you since this morning when you sprouted into heat. You suppose it’s for the best since you’re sure you’d jump their bones as soon as you saw them. Other than that, none of your symptoms have gotten worse. “So far, so good,” you whisper to yourself.

You turn to your computer to get some more work done before lunch, wanting to distract yourself from the naughty daydreams. 

However, God seems to have another plan for you when you hear a soft knock on the wall of your cubicle. You turn with a smile plastered on your face, expecting to see a coworker or your boss or the bitch secretary he has that you’re sure he’s fucking around with.

However, your smile fades when you see Kiri standing there, leaning up against your cubicle with those damn tattooed arms crossed and a toothy smile on his face. His hair is pinned back in a low ponytail, accentuating his handsome face where an eyebrow piercing adorns his brow. He’s out of his hero fit for the day, dressed in some ripped jeans and a nice pink button-down that stretches over his pecks and abs. Why the fuck did he have to wear pink and look so yummy in it? Does he hate you?

“Sorry,” he chuckles sheepishly. “Was just tryna find the bathroom.” You turn around fully in your chair, anxious now. “What are you doing in here?” you whisper. You peek over your cubicle at the others, wondering if anyone is watching and wondering why the hell Red Riot is conversing with one of the office workers. Especially the bunny girl.

“Relax, cutie,” he snickers softly. “I come to the office all the time to see if any reports come in. Just came to see if you had lunch yet.” You shake your head, doing your best to keep your thighs shut tightly. “Not yet, no. I go in...” You look at the time. “Ten minutes.”

“Then in ten minutes, you meet me and Katsuki outside,” he says with a secretive smile. “Can’t tell you why. It’s a surprise. But trust me; you’ll love it!” He puts his large hand out for yours, a sweet look in his eyes. Slowly, you put your hand in his and regret it instantly because the physical contact only makes your pussy throb more for him.

Slowly, Kiri bends down and presses his lips to your knuckles, his eyes pinned to yours. You only watch, soft, baited breaths coming out from your parted lips. Your body shivers at the feeling of his lips on your skin and you imagine it in other places. You feel your ears and tail twitch excitedly.

He then winks at you as he departs. “Ten minutes,” he whispers. “Don’t be late, cutie.” Then he’s walking out of your cubicle, whistling as he does. You sit there speechless for a few seconds, trying to process what just happened.

Then you wonder if you just even go ahead and meet up with them judging from your body’s reactions to the sheer sight of Kiri. Obviously, he wants you to go to lunch with them, but can you really stand to sit in the same presence as your sexy and attractive boyfriends while you’re like this? You sigh, groaning softly as you look up at the ceiling of your office. For one, you’re hungry, and two, you don’t want your cycle to keep you away from your boys. Plus, you owe it to them to talk about this. They deserve to know...maybe after lunch though.

So, against your better judgment, you leave your cubicle when your lunch break finally arrives. Before you leave the building, you stop by the bathroom to check yourself out and make sure you look ‘normal’. 

You smile at your cute outfit for the day: a top with a sweetheart neckline you paired with a push-up bra, the combo making your breasts look immaculate; a pencil skirt that hugs your ass and hips; and a light cardigan to hide your tail and pair with your flats. Your ears are tied down with an elastic band underneath your hair, concealing all signs of a bunny girl. “You’ve got this, bitch,” you whisper to yourself. Then you’re hustling out the door and the building into the bright sun rays and the warm air of spring.

And finding yourself face to face with your fine-ass boyfriends and their sports car. Kiri sits on the hood of the car while Bakugou is leaning up against the driver’s door, arms crossed and one foot up. He is out of his hero fit as well, instead dressed in a black tee that looks so small on his lean build, jeans, black kicks, and a denim jacket. Though the sleeves conceal his tatts, you can see the ones that lace his knuckles and the one on his neck that drives you insane.

He’s already looking at you as you descend down the steps to the agency’s front doors, the sun glinting against the lip ring dangling from his plump, pink bottom lip and the platinum hairs on his head he has cut into an undercut along the sides. He pushes his Ray Bans up on his head and your clit jumps at the sight of his ruby-red eyes. “Took ya long enough,” he grumbles with a smirk. “Thought I was gonna have to drag you out of there by them ears.”

“You could’ve tried,” you hum, crossing your arms as you eye him up and down. “That would’ve gotten you a black eye AND no love from me.” Bakugou yanks you forward by your skirt waistband and with a tiny yelp, you fall into his open arms. “You had me at no love,” he whispers against your jaw before kissing you there. The tiny act of affection sends your senses into hyperdrive, as well as his scent. Like vanilla with a hint of cologne. 

When Kiri comes up behind you to give you a squeeze, his scent of cinnamon and his own cologne doesn’t make it any better. Not to mention his hard muscles pushing up against your back as he wraps his arms around you and Bakugou. You swallow hard, your heart throbbing in your chest when you find yourself trapped between them. “U-Um,” you stutter. “Shouldn’t we get in the car? Won’t someone see us?”

“Who cares?” Bakugou grumbles. “Anyone says shit, they can deal with me.” 

“It’s about time we went public with our relationship, don’t you think?” Kiri chuckles as he pecks your neck. “At work, I mean. I think we’ve been lowkey for long enough, don’t you?” You’re speechless, their words processing slowly in your head. Then a stupid grin slides across your face

as well as your ears fighting to rise from their trap in the elastic band and pulses making their way to your clit.

You don’t have a chance to reply because they’re suddenly freeing you of their trap and Bakugou is opening the car door for you. “You gettin’ in or what?” he asks. “I’m starving.” As you crawl into the backseat, he gives you an open-palmed smack on the ass that makes you yelp and your tail twitch. Bakugou cackles. “Fuck, that’s adorable!” he laughs before he’s shutting the door and making his way to the driver’s side while Kiri slides into the passenger’s seat.

“So where are we going?” you ask curiously, trying to calm your ears by smoothening them down. Kiri and Bakugou look back at you, mischievous and excited. “It’s a surprise” is all Kiri replies with as Bakugou starts the car, and you’re peeling away from the agency, windows down and wind in your hair. 

As Bakugou peels down the streets of Musutafu, Kiri and you rap along to Kiri’s playlist of favorite hip-hop songs, the entire tiny space of the car taken up by the sounds of your voices and the spring air blowing through the open window. You giggle and laugh, feeling giddy and happy as you sit in the backseat, feeling good to be with the two people you feel so close to. 

The drive doesn’t last long; it lasts for only fifteen minutes. After coming off a highway, Bakugou parks the car in the parking lot in a famous park in Musustafu, known for its lush plantlife, animal reserve, hiking trails, lakes for fishing, and playground for the kids. You don’t see too many cars parked when Kiri helps out of the backseat being that it’s a weekday. Everyone is either in school or at work.

Which means you three are practically alone, surrounded by gorgeous, lush wildlife. For some reason, this makes your stomach flip. You eye the park map in front of you, noticing Bakugou parked on the side where the hiking trails are closer. “Where are y’all takin’ me?” you ask, laughing lightly. “This is how horror movies start, y’know. Taking me into a deep, dark forest to chop me up into little bits.” 

You turn to look at them, finding a blindfold dangling from Bakugou’s hand and an evil glint in his eye. Your eyes go wide and the fur on your ears stands on end. “Am I right?” you whimper. 

Kiri throws his head back at laughs. “Relax, bunny,” he coos, nudging Bakugou. “This is for your surprise. We’ll take it off you once we’re there.” 

Bakugou twirls his finger, signaling you to turn around. Though still reluctant, you slowly do as he says and softly gasp when the blindfold is suddenly over your eyes. You stand rigidly still as you feel his calloused fingers gently brush your neck and your ears. It is enough to make you burst. “Good girl,” he coos in your ear. “Can you see?” You wordlessly shake your head, your tongue dryer than sandpaper. 

“Now up you go!” Kiri exclaims and you yelp, suddenly finding yourself off the ground and in his rock-solid, tatted-up arms. Your head leans against his solid chest as he brings you closer to him, one arm securely under your legs while the other is wrapped around your lower back. “Your personal chauffeur is here to assist you,” he chuckles. “Lead the way, Katsuki!”

With the scent of Kiri’s cologne and eucalyptus-scented shampoo in your nostrils, you feel him begin to move as he follows Katsuki to God knows where. With you being blind, all of your other senses are hyperaroused–you hear the sound of leaves and twigs crunching under your boyfriends’ footsteps and the sweet chirp of birds above and in the trees; you smell the scent of fresh manure, planted flowers, and mingling scents of Katsuki and Kiri, sweet and spicy; you feel the sun rays and the breeze on your skin, caressing the thin airs there. You softly sigh and lean your head against Kiri, relaxed. You could stay like this forever.

“Kay, we’re here,” Bakugou suddenly announces in his gruff voice. Slowly, Kiri sets you down on your feet. “Can y’all get this blindfold off me now?” you ask, impatient and wanting to get a look at this surprise. Kiri chuckles and does it for you, expertly untying the blindfold. “Okay,” he whispers. “Now open your eyes.” 

You do so, blinking rapidly in the bright sun rays. “Ta-da!” he shouts, grinning happily at you, practically shoving Bakugou out of the way to proudly present your surprise to you. Your eyes are still adjusting to the sun, so you don’t start to register your surprise until a few seconds later. 

And when they finally do, you can’t believe what you’re seeing. Settled in the middle of a beautiful clearing of wildflowers beside a babbling brook is the cutest little picnic you’ve ever seen. A plush All Might blanket is laid down on the grass, pinned down at the corners by several rocks. On top of the blanket sits a wicker basket and several dishes of fried chicken kara-age, rice balls, and bento meals. 

You’re at a loss for words for a moment, taking in the setup. “Wha...” You close your mouth, realizing it’s hanging open. “What is this?” you softly ask, looking at your boyfriends. Bakugou scowls at you. “It’s a picnic,” he scoffs. “What the fuck else does it look like?” 

Taking your hand, Kiri brings you closer to the picnic spread. “We know we haven’t had time to be together for a minute because of work, so we decided why not throw a nice picnic for you?.” He turns you around to face him, his eyes soft. “Plus, you’ve been working so hard, honey. We just wanted to show you some appreciation. Do you like it?” 

“I...” Once again, you’re at a loss for words as you look between your boyfriends, one doing his best to hide his anxiousness than the other. You look at the picnic spread once more, your eyes taking in the food they made and paid for. How long did this take? How long had they been planning this? 

And suddenly, your eyes begin to brim with tears. “Guys, I love it. No one’s ever done anything like this for me.” You cover your heart, touched. “Thank you.” Kiri’s face splits into a grin while Bakugou simply smirks. “You can thank us by sitting down and letting us feed you,” he replies before taking your hand and leading you away from Kiri who pouts at you being stolen from him. 

You giggle as you’re sat down on the plush blanket. You sit with your legs folded under you and firmly pressed together. You won’t be caught slipping today. Bakugou and Kiri take their seats on either side of you and proceed to set up shop. Once the plates are passed out and the green iced tea is poured from the thermos, you dig into your lunch. You take a bite out of the kara-age first and your eyes widen as multiple flavors explode on your tongue. “Mmm!” you moan as you chew. “Oh, my God, this is amazing!” 

Kiri laughs as he takes a bite out of his rice ball. “Thank Katsuki. He cooked most of the food.” Bakugou blushes but tries to hide by turning his face as he sips his tea. You look around at your surroundings fit for a painting. “How did you even find this place?” 

“During a hiking trip last summer,” Kiri explains, a bit of rice on the corner of his lips. You wanna lick it off. “We got lost and just wound up finding this hidden gem.” He peers up at the trees above, the sun like a halo above the leaves. The golden rays illuminate his handsome face, making him appear almost angelic to you. 

You feel a hand on your knee and you’re pulled out of your transfixed state to see Bakugou’s eyes on you. “This place is special to us,” he gruffly says. “And so are you.” His rough hand strokes your skin, his pinkie finger inching under the hem of your skirt. 

Your body temperature grows, and the sun isn’t responsible. You can feel your pussy tightening at the soft touch of your boyfriend’s hand, almost wishing he’d move his hand up to your thigh under your skirt. ‘Stop,’ you scold yourself. Quickly, you move your leg from Bakugou’s touch, but act like it’s only because you’re shifting positions to get comfortable.

Luckily, he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy digging a strawberry out of the bowl of fruit to notice. He turns to you, the red fruit between his fingers. “Want one?” he asks. You nod, going to pluck yourself a strawberry or even a cantaloupe cube. However, he firmly lowers your hand, covering it with his own. His eyes are stern. “Uh-uh, hands down. I said I wanted to feed you.” Before you can answer, he takes advantage of your parted lips and slowly inserts the strawberry between them. 

Your mouth opens wider on instinct, allowing his two digits to slip in between to put the small, red berry on your tongue. As your lips close around it, they also close around Bakugou’s fingers. He hums in satisfaction as his fingers slowly exit your mouth, his eyes staring into your eyes every single tortuous moment. 

You’re not sure if Kiri notices and you can’t bring yourself to check. Your eyes are too transfixed on the heat in Bakugou’s gaze as he pops another strawberry in his mouth, some of the red juice dribbling down the corner of his mouth. Your ears and tail twitch at the sight, begging and pleading to be touched and stroked. Your heart is pounding so fast and loud in your ears that you’re afraid Kiri and Bakugou hear it too. Not to mention your pussy. The poor girl is gushing, soiling your panties as you do your best to conceal the feeling by squeezing your legs together.

‘Just breathe,’ you think, attempting to do abdomen breathing. ‘Just fuckin’ breathe. You’re fine. You’ve got this. You–’

“Hey, you alright?” Kiri’s deep voice laced with concern snaps you out of your self-soothing state. You turn to him and see the worry in his softened eyes. “Yeah!” you squeak a little too forcefully. You clear your throat and try again, acting like you’re not horny as fuck. “Yeah, why?” 

“You seem kinda jumpy.” Kiri quirks a reassuring smile at you as he takes a bit of kara-age. “I promise an axe-wielding maniac isn’t gonna interrupt us. And if they do, you’ve got us for protection.” He curls his arm at you, winking. You manage to laugh, but at this point, you’d welcome an axe-wielding maniac to avoid creaming all over yourself and embarrassing yourself to your boyfriends. How the hell are you going to survive the rest of this lunch if they’re this sexy? 

Kiri must notice you internally battling with yourself because he puts his hand on yours. The small, innocent touch is enough to make you yelp, your tail twitching even more. “You sure you’re good?” he asks, squinting at you. “Sweetheart, you know you can tell us anything, right? We wanna make you happy.” 

Bakugou hums in agreement from the other side of you, scooting closer to put a hand on your lower back.‘Oh, God,’you think to yourself, begging for release from this sweet torture. What would really make you happy is them taking you right here, right now on this blanket: one of their faces between your thighs, their fingers plunged in your pussy, while the other is behind you tweaking at your nipples or even sliding their cock in your mouth. 

You quickly grasp onto the first explanation you can think of. “Guess I’m thinking about everything I’ll have to do when I get back to work,” you sigh apologetically. “I’m afraid I can’t turn off my worker switch.” 

Bakugou scoots closer, laying a hand on your thigh. “We can help with that,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. It reacts immediately, twitching against the elastic band holding it down “Let her eat first, Katsuki, jeez!” Kiri scoffs, rolling his eyes. “And you call me a pervert.”

Bakugou tells him he is, indeed, a pervert, but leaves you alone for a while to eat (and avoid whipping his dick out yourself). The rest of lunch is luckily a breeze, nothing but jokes, stories, and sharing the dango Bakugou packed. When all the food is nearly gone, you sit back and sigh, your stomach full and head foggy. 

You smile in gratitude at your boyfriends. “That was amazing,” you yawn, earning a laugh from Kiri. “Thank you.” You’re now in need of a nap, but there’s no way you can sleep with your body going through such turmoil. 

“Of course,” Kiri hums, happy that you’re happy. Bakugou finishes cleaning up and sets the basket aside before fixing you with a rather intense stare. “So about this ear thing…” 

You blanch, the happy, content feeling you felt from the food dying. Of course, he’d bring this shit up. “Do you like gettin’ your ears tugged or touched on?” he asks, raising an interested eyebrow. You turn to Kiri for help, but even he looks intrigued, lying on his side as he stares up at you. 

“Um...” Nervous butterflies flutter around in your stomach. You’ve never talked about this with them before, except for some stories of strangers tugging on your ears which indirectly let them know to steer clear of them and your tail. They’re the most sensitive parts of your body. “W-Well, only with people I really trust,” you struggle to answer. “Like y’all two, for example.” 

’Fuck!’ you think. That was the wrong answer. “Huh,” Kiri says, sounding surprised. “I was sure you didn’t like that because of the kind of shit you put up with from strangers.” 

“That’s only with unsolicited and non-consensual contact,” you explain. “But with you two...” You wriggle around under their hot gazes and the sun’s rays, feeling like you’re in an oven. “I’d definitely consent...i-if you want to!” 

What the fuck are you doing? You know if they even so much as graze your ears or tail, which are already hyper-aroused, it’s over for you. There’s no way you wouldn’t want them to fuck you right on this blanket. ’It’s only one touch,’ you think, criticizing the logical part of you. ‘What’s the harm in that? Plus, you’ve been dating them for five months. It’s not like you’re letting them finger you.’ ...Though you want them to. 

Bakugou looks like he just won the lottery. “Shit, are you kidding?” he scoffs. “I’ve been wanting to touch on these cute lil’ things for months now.” The way he eyes your ears makes you flush. Kiri sits up straighter, his eyes trained on your ears as well. “Me too,” he agrees softly, “but let us know if you want us to stop or slow down. I know this is something we’ve never done before.” 

You nod and keep your hands firmly in your lap as their hands move toward your ears. They’re slow and careful, giving you time to react if you want. When you don’t, they take that as a yes to keep going. When their fingers make contact with the tips of your ears, the little spark of pleasure that explodes in your body is instant. 

Your lips part to gasp softly as they begin to slowly stroke your ears from tip to base and back again. They are careful and gentle, stroking the soft fur in time with each other. You stay relaxed, not wanting to scare them, but damn, does it feel good! And it feels so, so wrong to feel this good. The sweet nothings they whisper to you don’t make your situation any better: “Wow, babe,” Kiri coos in wonder. “They’re so soft...so pretty...” 

Bakugou grunts in agreement. “It’s a shame you keep ‘em tied back like this. Pretty lil’ things are so restricted.” He gently kneads the tip of your ear between his forefinger and thumb before tugging on it gently. The tiny ministration makes your clit jump and your core feel warm. You’re gonna squirt right now if you don’t stop this. 

“O-Okay, guys,” you squeak. “I think we should–” You feel your ears aggressively twitch, causing Kiri to gasp. “They’re twitching!” he announces. “Maybe we should take ‘em out of this elastic band, you think?” 

“Wait, Kiri, don’t!” you shout in a warning, but it’s too late. He’s already moving to unwind the band from the base of your ears, releasing them. Your ears stand up on top of your head, excited and aroused. The fur there is fluffy and frazzled as if charged by electricity, desperate for more stimulation. Your tail does the same–it is fluffier than usual and twitching annoyingly, wanting the same treatment. 

You’re practically dying from embarrassment, feeling your boyfriends’ eyes on you. “Uh...does that usually happen with your ears?” Kiri carefully asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like this.” 

“No,” you groan, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. “And your tail is fluffier than usual,” Bakugou adds, plucking the cotton tail connected to the top of your ass. You whimper at the contact and he notices. “What gives?” he asks with a confused scowl. 

Now there’s no choice but to tell them. You heave a defeated sigh, turning around to face them both. “I have to talk to you guys about something, and please don’t laugh because this is so embarrassing for me.”

They say nothing and you take that as green to go. Imagining Mina and Jirou hyping you up, you look your boyfriends in the face. “Y’all know anything about spring cycles?” you ask.

The way your boyfriends are looking at you, you’d think you asked if they knew the name of every star in the solar system. They stare at each other, sharing the same look of pure confusion. “Uh...” Kiri trails off, sounding lost. “No clue.” 

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Bakugou scoffs, scowling at you. “The fuck is a spring cycle?” You sigh, realizing that now you’d have to explain it. 

“It’s...well...” Your shoulders slump as your mind goes blank, not sure how to start this. “Fuck, this is gonna be harder than I thought.” How are you supposed to tell them about this without looking like a dick-sick freak? You’d look exactly like what people think bunny girls are (according to you and your experiences). 

Kiri scoots closer to you and puts a comforting hand on your back. “Take your time, babe,” he says encouragingly. “We won’t rush you or judge you. You know we’re great listeners.” 

Yes, they absolutely are. Through all of these five months of getting to know each other, whether you’re talking about your favorite foods or the daily struggles and troubles of being a bunny girl, they listened to you intently, all eyes on you. And they’ve never, ever judged you. You inhale deeply through your nose, attempting to calm yourself. You can do this. You have to.

“Okay,” you exhale, more to yourself than to them. “I don’t know if y’all learned this in school, but some mammals go into these cycles during the spring that leads to mating...since the springtime is mating season and…” 

You trail off, realizing you are rambling and the guys are becoming even more confused. You bite your bottom lip as the butterflies in your stomach continue to flutter about. But you won’t let them stop you. “As an animal hybrid,” you continue, “I go into these cycles every spring too. Usually, they begin on the first day of spring, but mine is a bit early. It’s kinda like when a woman goes through menstruation every month, but I don’t bleed or have any cramps during this cycle. However, I do have mood swings and my body can become overly sensitive.” 

You stop, dropping your head to stare down at your hands. “I ovulate more too,” you mumble. 

You wait for either one of your boyfriends to reply, but after a beat of silence, you realize they’re too quiet. You look up at them, finding them wearing the same confused stares they were minutes before. 

“You’re losin’ me,” Bakugou says, looking increasingly pissed. You groan in frustration, running a hand down your face. “Fuck!” you snap. “I’m in heat, okay? I’m going through a heat cycle!”

The guys are once again silent, but it’s a different type of silence now that the truth is in the air. “Wait,” Kiri says, slowly processing your words. “People with animal quirks go through that too? Wait, does that mean Rumi and Hawks go through the same shit?” 

“And any other pro hero or regular person with an animal quirk?” Bakugou asks curiously 

“Technically, yes,” you reply, “but it doesn’t affect every person with an animal-type quirk the same way. We all go through heat differently, but they all start at the same time. For me, my body temperature and heart rate increase, I get short of breath, and certain parts of my body become very sensitive very quickly.” 

“Like your ears and tail,” Kiri adds, the wheels in his head finally turning. You slowly nod, and as if validating this, your tail gives a little twitch. The handsome redhead sits back on his haunches, this new information processing all over his face. 

Bakugou looks almost amused, with a bit of disbelief thrown in the mix. “So the reason you’ve been actin’ so weird is because you’re horny?” he scoffs, trying not to laugh. You manage to crack a smile, glad this is going so smoothly. They’re not mad. They’re not disgusted. 

“Extremely, unbelievably horny,” you answer honestly. “It doesn’t help that I’m so attracted to both of you.” The two smile happily at this. “Any time you touch or even look at me, I’m ready to...” You flush, your words falling short. 

“Fuck us?” Bakugou finishes, raising his pierced eyebrow. You wordlessly nod, avoiding eye contact. “Well, that explains a lot,” Kiri comments, moving to hold your hand in his. His gaze is soft and adoring. “Baby, why didn’t you just talk to us about this? If it’s bothering you, we wanna help you.” 

Under his loving touch and eyes, and Bakugou’s intense stare, you feel extremely stupid. “Because,” you reply, shame filling you, “you’ve been so good to me since we’ve been together. And I know we talked about taking it slow. Plus, I didn’t want you to think of me as anything other than what I’ve shown you I can be.” 

“What do you mean?” Kiri asks softly. The compassion and kindness oozing from his crimson eyes makes you want to cry even more. You’ve never felt such tenderness. 

“Bunny girls get a bad rep to begin with,” you explain. “We’re looked at as hyper, needy, cum-hungry people who need to fuck or we’ll die. That’s why all of my relationships have always crashed and burned because the dudes I was seeing didn’t see me as anything other than that.” You take Kiri and Bakugou’s hands into yours, looking into their eyes. “I-I wanted it to be different with us.” 

You watch with anxiety twirling in your gut as your confession processes across their faces. Kiri looks wounded, the hurt in his eyes for you palpable. “Fuck, babe,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that badly about it.”

But Bakugou is less than gentle in his approach. “You’re fuckin’stupid, you know that?” he growls, an irked expression on his pretty face. “We don’t think of you as that at all! The fact you’d even assume that pisses me off.” 

You flush with shame under his scrutiny. “Wait a minute, Katsuki,” Kiri cuts in, trying to be the peacemaker, but Bakugou is too pissed to listen. He pins you to your spot with his heated, laser-like stare. “If we saw you as a slut, we wouldn’t have been pursuing you all that time before we told you how we felt. We wouldn’t have made friends with you to get to know you first. We would’ve fucked you from the jump, but we didn’t ‘cause we wanted more too, dumbass.” 

Though his words still make you feel dumb, you also feel a burst of confidence knowing such sexy guys pined for you the way you did for them too. “Katsuki’s right, babe,” Kiri says, grinning supportively at you. “We’ve always wanted to show you the utmost care and respect; that includes handling this. If it’s bothering you, let us fix it.” 

You scowl in confusion. Fix it? “How long does this shit usually last?” Bakugou asks. You stare between the both of them, still confused. “Well, it’s worse during the first week of spring since it’s the first phase, but over time as the season goes on, it starts to fade. When summer hits, it’s done.” 

“So what happens if you don’t relieve yourself?” Kiri asks, looking scared to ask. You’re embarrassed to answer. You shift on the blanket, clearing your throat. “I’m uncomfortably horny. Usually, relieving myself works, but as I’ve gotten older, my urges have gotten more intense. That’s why I tended to go for hookups until I met y’all two.” 

“I guessin’ those hookups only did so much for you,” Kiri chuckles. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got somethin’ not just for one night here, baby.” He sits up on his knees as does Bakugou, so they’re both towering over you. The devious looks in their eyes are all you need to realize what the fuck is transpiring.

“So how can we help?” Kiri purrs.

[holylulusworld]

Walkered (1): Frustration

Summary: You’re getting on is nerves. Right?

Pairing: August Walker x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy August, sub/dom undertones, implied mentions of subspace

A/N: This is the first part of my sub/dom drabble collection with Dom!August Walker.

Walkered masterlist

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He growls in your direction.

You don’t know what you did to deserve August’s wrath today, but that’s all you get from him. A cold glare in your direction, and snarl as you don’t give him a reaction.

“No. I think I’m cute,” you give him your sweetest smile and bat your eyelashes. If you want to survive in this world, especially at your working place, you cannot let a man walk all over you.

He releases a frustrated huff. Most of the women he met in his life would’ve cried when he barks at them.

But you. You are a whole new level of frustration to him. “You’re neither cute nor funny. Do you think it’s funny to mess with my report?”

You bend down to open the drawer of your rolling file cabinet to get a lollipop from your secret stash. If you must face August Walker today, you’ll not do it without something sweet to make him more bearable.

He’s the epitome of a grumpy bear with an attitude.

You sit back up, looking around your small cubicle to calm your nerves. There’s a fake sunflower next to a unicorn plushie. You smile as you remember the day you got it.

“Did you even listen?” He grunts and snaps his fingers in front of your face. August steps into your personal space to stare down at you. “Where is my report?”

“It’s not my job to take care of your reports, Sir.” You dare not to tell August what's on your mind. He’s fucking tall and beefy and the way he squares his jaw makes you whimper.

He dips his head to look at all the knick-knacks on your desk. “What’s all of this?” He asks. “Plushies, toys…sweets.” August nods thoughtfully. “Do you like surrounding yourself with fluffy things, princess?”

You swallow thickly.

His hand. That large paw is suddenly on your face, and it’s surprisingly gentle and warm. Your eyes flutter shut as you bask in his warmth.

“Hmm…you don’t belong here.” He murmurs. “You hate this job, and you’re not good at it. I see the way you dreamily look out of the window.”

Usually, you would protest, but his hand is so warm, and you feel yourself drifting away. “What is it that you want, princess?” His breath fans over your face, making you whine.

“Hmm…” you’re so sleepy and just want to curl into a ball on your bed, wrapped in a warm blanket. “Warm.”

He chuckles at your reaction. August never took his time to get to know more about you. Now he found your weak spot. You’re a natural sub and love giving up control.

“You want to be safe and warm, huh?” He furrows his brows. It’s been a long time since he found a natural sub. Most of the girls he spent his time with lately wanted to try new things to spice up their sex life.

They never lasted long. Not with a dominant man like August. “How about I take you home tonight? We could talk about my report too.”

“Hmm…Julie took care of it,” you murmur, afraid to be any louder. “I don’t know what happened to it.”

“Good girl,” he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. “I want you to get off work earlier today. Meet me at the garage. We have a lot of things to discuss.”

You blink your eyes open the moment he takes his hand off your cheek.

“I—” you don’t know how to react, or what to say. August was nothing but vile towards you, and now he made you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. “I can’t. You’re so mean.”

“No when it comes to my girl,” he brushes his lips over your forehead. “If only I knew you’re looking for someone like me to take care of you.”

Walkered (2): Revelation

Tags in reblog.

[siampie]

Finding You||Chapter 4

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of emotional abuse, mentions of SA

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Hiya,” Bessie, your coworker, greeted you as you sat in her car. “How are ya today?”

“Better,” you smiled while buckling your seatbelt.

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. It just couldn’t. And if Bessie noticed, she said nothing. Or maybe, she truly didn’t see the difference. It didn’t matter anyway. You just wanted to get through your day.

You had gone through your morning, getting ready for work, on autopilot. Trying to shake off that feeling of dread that had taken residence in the pit of your stomach. The nightmare had unsettled you, threw you off balance. It was just a terrifying dream. You let out a shaky breath before sipping your coffee. Your heart, beneath your ribcage, was thumping irregularly. It went from too fast to too slow. You were too much aware of your heart fluttering under your ribcage. And that feeling of impending doom was plaguing you, making it hard to breathe. Your chest felt tight, your lungs were struggling to expand as though there wasn’t enough room for them in your chest.

When you stepped out of your house, you made sure your door was locked at least twice. Ensuring that no one would walk into your home while you were gone for work. You pushed out a sigh. Your eyes moved to your next-door neighbor’s house. Somehow, you were slightly disappointed not to see him that morning. You didn’t know what good it would do to even catch a glimpse of him. It wasn’t as though you would spill all of your secrets, your fears, the story of your broken families. In some twisted ways, thinking about the criminal next door, had brought you comfort the night before. And seeing him that morning may have brought more. But he wasn’t there.

You let out a deep breath, reaching into your pockets. You pulled out fifty euros and handed them to Bessie. She jus looked at you confused.

“What’s that for?” She asked you.

“Petrol.” You replied.

“No, no, thanks but—ya don’t have to.” Bessie shook her head, refusing the money.

“Take it, Bessie.” You insisted. “You’ve been picking me up for months, the least I can do is to pay for petrol.”

Bessie took the money and shoved it in her pockets. It wasn’t the first time you had offered her money for the trouble. You didn’t have a car and she was driving you to work every day. You were aware that cars didn’t run for free. So, it was only natural and sensible to give her some money for petrol. And whether she liked or not, you would keep on doing it.

You moved through your day on autopilot, answering calls, filing up insurance claims. A deep sigh pushed past your lips.

“Hiya, love,” Bessie pulled a chair to sit next to you, in your cubicle.

“Hey,” You smiled at her. “Can I help you with anything?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I just wanted to check on ya.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” You smiled at her. You lifted one of your shoulders in a shrug. “I’m alright.”

“Are ya? Really?” Her eyes roamed your face.

You pushed out a sigh, and turned to face her. “I’m fine, I’m just—dealing with some family stuff. That’s all.”  

“Ah, family, yeah?” Bessie nodded. “There’s nothing more fucking complicated.”

You scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked you softly.

You exhaled deeply. “I don’t even want to think about it. So, no. Not really. But thanks.”

If you could forget about it all, you would.  Blocking their numbers may have stopped the calls, but it did not erase this plaguing feeling of dread, in the pit of your stomach. As though something terrible was about to happen. You just didn’t know what or when.

You dropped your keys on the kitchen counter. You pushed out a long breath. You dropped in your couch. Your stomach dropped at the sound of your ringtone. Your heart raced beneath your ribcage. You stood up on shaky legs to pick it up. It was silly to be afraid of your own phone. You had blocked their numbers, so it couldn’t be any of them calling you, right? You reached in your bag with shaky hands. By the time you fished out your phone, it had stopped ringing. It rang again. You gasped and flinched. Reading the caller ID, you let out an annoyed groaned. It was your brother Dave.

“What do you want?” You answered the call.  

“Well, hello to you too, sis.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“What do you want?” You repeated, angrily.

“Well, your phone’s working. So, I was wondering why you weren't answering Mom.”

“Because I don’t want to talk to her.” You shot back. “It is as simple as that.”

“Look, you need to talk to mom.” He spoke.

“Why the fuck I would want that, now?” Your heart beating faster with anger.

“We only heard one side of the story, okay?” He argued with you. “You don’t know half of the things Dad put her through.”

“I don’t need to know.” You told him. “I don’t want to know. I don’t care.”

“You should care. Especially, after everything you put her through.”  He hissed at you, through the line.

“I put her through. I put her—” You exhaled through your nose, running a hand on your forehead. “Riddle me this, brother. How did you go from hating her to defending her? When she walked out on us, you told everyone that she was dead. And now, you want me to talk to her. Why?”

“She is our mother.” He said. “And I was a kid. You need to make amends for the lies you told Dad. For the things you put her through.”

“How dare you?” You snapped, slamming your free hand on the counter. “How dare you defend her of all people?”

“You knew better than to spread stories.”

“I was a child and he was being a creep.” You said through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to tell me that there were stories. You don’t get to make demands regarding our mother. You want her in your life, fine. But you don’t get to force me to make room in mine just because she’s mom.” Your veins were boiling with rage. “And don’t ever call me on her behalf, ever again.”

You hung up the phone before he could reply. You didn’t need this. You took a deep breath before grabbing a glass from your cabinet. You filled it with water in an attempt to slow your own heartrate, to calm yourself down. To let go of the anger, your brother just put you in. How dare he make demands? How dare he diminish what your mother had done to you? How dare he call what happened to you stories and lies? Your brother was clearly taking your mother’s side on things. You hated him for it because you knew you would never do that to him.

You roared and threw the glass. It smashed into the wall, breaking in tiny pieces, water spreading everywhere. Tears pressed against your eyes; “shit,” you cursed quietly. Your throat clogged up; frustration was clawing in your chest. You couldn’t believe that your own brother called you a liar. That he was ready to tarnish your father’s character, to defend her.

You crouched down to pick up the broken glass. Your heart was hurting. You loved your brother, you did. So, why couldn’t he just do this one thing for you? Why couldn’t he just respect that you didn’t want a relationship with your mother? You respected his choice of having one with her. The least he could do was to respect that you didn’t. A knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, startling, and causing you to cut your hand with a broken shard.

“Coming;” you yelled through the door; you threw the broken pieces you had already gathered before opening the door.

Michael had an appointment with a councilor that day. He had been hopeful before it. He knew that getting access to Anna would be a long and difficult process. He knew that. But it had not seemed impossible. At least, not in the way Donal Creehan had described it. If he stayed out of trouble, had a job, he would have a chance to see Anna. To have her back in his life. And he did all of that.

It all had been pointless.

His hopes had been snuffed out, like one would a candle. How could they think that him having access to Anna would harm her in any way? He would never let anything happen to her. She was his daughter. The only person that really mattered. All he ever wanted was to see her. They didn’t allow her to visit him in prison. And now they would use it against him, saying that he had not seen her in eight years. Of course, he had not, they didn’t allow it.

They were going to use this and his past, his family name, and his family’s business to keep Anna away from him. Getting a job, staying away from trouble had all been for nothing.  He was already condemned and punished for being a Kinsella. Leaving him no chance to prove that he could be a good father to his daughter. It was all hopeless.

What was the point of saying no to Jimmy? What was the point of it all? Whether he had a honest and proper job or he went back working with his family, it wouldn’t change anything. He would not be allowed to see her. He knew that. His councilor may had said that it wouldn’t be easy, implying that he might still have a chance. But he knew better. He had none. He would lose his daughter in the end. If only because he had been charged with the death of his wife; Alison.

So, when Jimmy came back and asked once again for his help. Michael had said yes. He would help his brother put things right. It wouldn’t change a thing regarding his chances of accessing Anna.

Michael wished he had seen you that day. Maybe, the sight of you would have made things slightly better. He would not tell you everything that was going wrong in his life. You already knew enough. You needn’t know about his appointment with the councilor or his agreeing to put things right. Even if it was for a brief moment, he would have offered him a little peace.

He stepped out of his house about to go on walk. He saw the light coming out of your large window, meaning you had come back home already. He paused, debating whether he should go knock on your door or not, when he heard it. You had screamed, startling him. He took one step towards your house, and rushed the rest of the way when he heard the glass shattering.

You had wrapped your hand in a kitchen towel before opening the door. Michael was standing on the other side, looking worried.

“Michael. Hi.” You smiled at him, although it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Are you alrigh’? I heard ya scream.” Michael asked you, his eyes searching your face.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m good. It’s nothing really.” You shook your head quickly.

“Didn’t sound like nothin’. Ya sure everythin’ alright, Pet?” He asked you again.

You smiled at him using the term of endearment. You were going to answer, when your phone rang. You sighed through your nose. It was probably your brother calling you back. You invited Michael in quickly before going to pick up your phone.

Michael stepped into your home, his eyes landed on the broken glass on the floor or what was left of it. The water that was spread on the wall and floor. His eyes landed on you in the kitchen. You looked agitated as you spoke angrily on the phone. Your eyes found his across the room. You looked away from quickly before you hung up.

You put down your phone, screen down on the counter. It rang again. You let it go through to voicemail. You no longer wanted to talk to your brother.

“Sorry about that.” You apologized moving to the closet in the corridor.

“No worries.” Michael waved it off. You pulled out a broom and a duster pan. “I’ll clean it up for ya.”

“What? No.” You pulled the broom away from him. “It’s my mess. I’ll—I’ll fix it.”

“Let me take care of it, yeah?” He reached out for the broom and duster pan.

You reluctantly let him take the items from you. “Coffee?” You offered.

“Ya should probably do something about yer hand first.” He said as he started sweeping.

“Yeah.”

You put down the cup of fresh coffee in front of Michael. You pulled the chair before sitting down, across from him. You pushed out a sigh before having a sip.

“Who was that on the phone?” Michael questioned you.

“My brother. Dave.” You replied, not looking up from your cup.

“Didn’t sound like a pleasant conversation.” He remarked.

“It wasn’t.” You looked down at your now freshly bandaged hand. The cut was pretty shallow but it had bled quite a bit.

“Hey, ya can talk to me.” Michael assured you.

You looked up at him. You let out another sigh. Could you really tell him what was going on? And how much should you tell him? You looked over his shoulder at the wall, against which you had smashed your glass in anger. Maybe you could tell him a few things.

“My brother wants me to get in contact with our mother.” You spoke. “I don’t want to because—well, she walked out on us. And I don’t like her new husband. He’s a creep. Always has been.”

“S’ that why you smashed a glass against your wall?”

You huffed out a laugh. You dropped your chin in the palm of your good hand, the clog in your throat was back. You did everything you could to keep the tears at bay.

“He told her where I was. Gave her all my information. Which means her husband knows too.” Your voice cracked; your lips turned down. “I’m scared they are going to show up.” The first tears fell. “I can’t believe my own brother would do this to me.”

Michael’s chair scraped on the floor, as he stood up. He pulled you into his arm. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back. You fisted his shirt as you cried into his chest while Michael comforted you, whispering soft words of reassurance. Michael didn’t really know why you were scared of your stepfather and mother. And he didn’t need to know. Knowing you were scared was enough for him.

“I won’t let anyone hurt ya.” He said quietly in your ears. “I won’t let that happen.” He pulled away from you so he could look you in the eye. “Ya hear me? I will not let him hurt ya, yeah?”

You nodded. You believed him. He looked determined, almost angry on your behalf. He didn’t know anything and yet, he was ready to protect you. He didn’t have to say the words, you knew that was a promise on his part.

“Yeah.”

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