#ideal task chair

[ergonomicworkstations]

Upgrade your workspace with the Diffrient Smart Chair! Featuring a sleek black frame, plush cushion seat, and breathable mesh backrest, this ergonomic chair blends style and comfort for all-day support. Perfect for modern offices.

[milkweedman]

Made another spindle. It's very small. Also very irregular and lumpy due to the wood (I wanted the raised brown lines to stay and erred on the side of caution in how much I cut away...but that did lead to a very irregular spindle).

It also wanted to crumble as I carved, so pretty much all the fine tuning I just did by sanding it, which helps to compress the fibers down as well as remove material without crumbling or splintering.

It really came to life when I oiled it. Probably will be best after a few good coats and some time. My woodburning kit seems to be totally gone, which is a bummer. So I'm not woodburning anymore.

Spins well. Obviously being so tiny and light it was always going to be a fine spinning spindle, but effortless thread from an unprepped piece of fleece is pretty indicative as well. I seem to find myself carving mostly thread spindles at the moment. They're always so small and light in the hand, they remind me of holding baby birds.

[tenderwhore]

"I think I fuck you better than your stupid porn videos, little pervert."

✿ Word count: 3082

✿ Summary: You were just trying to relieve some tension after an intense study session, without imagining that the person you hated the most in the world would find you in an inappropriate situation.

✿ Content warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

F!reader x Heeseung, academic rivals, plotless porn, public place masturbation, mention of pornography, rubbing against clothes, PIV, sex in a public place (even though no one sees them), unprotected sex, creampie, Heeseung is a provocateur and talks WAY TOO MUCH, nicknames: (bitch, whore, princess, little pervert), nipple play, compliments (?), Heeseung has a big cock (?).

✿ Note and clarifications: this is probably very bad, since I've never written anything. English is not my first language either, so there are probably many spelling mistakes, in addition to it not being proofread. The main idea came from a spicy AI chatbot, but I couldn't find it SORRY IF IT'S REALLY BAD, DON'T HATE ME

You have always demonstrated your competitiveness because Heeseung has always been ahead in everything, but you... You were always the second, and that bothered you day and night; you hated him for his privileged position, maybe you felt a bit of envy, just a bit.

He pretended to be the ideal guy. Yes, he was charismatic, attractive, insightful, elegant, the class leader, stylish, outstanding in sports, hot... So fucking hot... You definitely hated him.

...

It was approaching 5 PM and, despite the bell having rung about an hour and a half ago, you were still in the classroom because you had a lot of assignments to complete. It had been a day full of responsibilities that had your hair standing on end, so just as you finished your tasks, your body collapsed like jelly in your chair while you let out an exhausted sigh.

You momentarily looked at the ceiling before taking your phone out of your purse and accessing one of your favorite porn sites. It was one of your little favorite pastimes whenever you felt frustrated and just longed for someone to push you against a wall and fuck you until you were utterly spent.

The more you watched, the more you felt your body heating up. As you looked to the sides, you lightly bit your lower lip, making sure there was no one around while you slid your hands over your breasts and abdomen before reaching the hem of your skirt and lifting it, then slipping your fingers into your underwear, lightly brushing your already wet folds.

You adjusted your position in the chair a little more, then lifted your fingers slightly and pressed them against your clitoris, beginning to make circles on it.

You quickly immerse yourself in pleasure, tilting your head slightly back and clenching your jaw to stay silent. Your hips began to rise, seeking greater stimulation. You are so close, your orgasm is creeping up your neck, until you hear a guy ask, "Why do you do it alone when you have me?"

The sound made you jump slightly and stop, bringing your hands to your lap with your face as red as a tomato and your heart racing.

Your orgasmic haze didn't allow you to immediately process whose voice it was, so you searched the room with your hazy eyes until they landed on Heeseung's figure, who was casually standing a few meters away from your body, looking at you with an arrogant smile and his hands in his pockets.

You huff angrily as you close your eyes tightly, readjusting your position in the chair reluctantly and turning off your phone. "Shouldn't you be fucking one of the cheerleaders in the bathroom or something?" Your voice comes out cocky, trying to sound relaxed despite my vulnerable position.

He chuckles softly, advancing serenely towards the classroom with a predatory gleam in his eyes as he approaches you. His imposing figure looms over you. "You always try to get rid of me, don't you? But we both know you don't want that..."

He leans in, placing his hands on your desk, bringing his face closer to yours. While murmuring in a husky voice. "I saw what you were doing, little naughty one. Don't you know it's wrong to give yourself pleasure in a place like this?" He smiles disdainfully as one of his hands slides down to rest possessively on your thigh, squeezing the delicate flesh through your skirt.

You take a deep breath as I shift slightly against the chair. The contrast between his warm palm and the coldness of his rings sends you a shiver down my spine. "Well, I find it more inappropriate to spy on someone while they are enjoying a private moment".

He let out a soft, mocking laugh, without changing his stance towards you. "Private moments? Please, there is nothing private about masturbating while watching pornography in a classroom." His voice comes out deep and the way he speaks feels so disgusting. "And regarding spying on you... Well, let's just say I occasionally keep an eye on you..."

His hand slowly moves up your thigh; the tips of his fingers brush the hem of your skirt. "You are desperate for attention, even if it means getting caught in compromising positions. "It's almost pathetic, really."

He tilted his head and observed your blushing face with a smug smile. "Tell me, have you ever fantasized about someone doing the same things to you as in those videos?"

You swallow nervously as you clench your thighs tightly together in an effort to stop his hand from seeming to sink deeper and deeper between your legs. "Why do you ask? Have you fantasized about being the person who does those things to me?" My voice comes out almost in a whisper.

He easily spreads your legs apart again with a firm grip. "Oh, I've fantasized about many things involving you, like bending you over this very desk and fucking you senseless until you beg for mercy." Your heart almost leaps out of your chest upon hearing his words.

He presses his body against the desk between the two of you, holding you in place while his free hand reaches out to tangle in your hair. He leans towards you and bites your earlobe before whispering, "I've imagined being the one to drive you crazy." He pulls your hair a little harder, making you let out a soft gasp of surprise. He is so close to your face that it seems like he is going to kiss you. "That way, I would show everyone that you're just an envious bitch, always behind me because you need me to fill you up with my cock until you can't take it anymore."

You are so astonished by the simplicity with which he pronounces his perverted and degrading words towards you that you just stand there, looking at him with wide eyes and your heart pounding against your chest.

Realizing that you can only look at him with astonished and embarrassed eyes, he lets out a defeated sigh before releasing your hair and getting up from his position. "You're a fucking coward," he states as he turns around and moves to leave the room. "You're a fucking coward," he says as he turns around and walks away, intending to leave the room.

You feel your blood boil at his words, not because he called you a bitch, a whore, or because he confessed how much he wants to fuck you, but simply because he called you a coward and envious.

You feel your blood boil at his words, not because he called you a bitch, a whore, or because he confessed how much he wants to fuck you, but simply because he called you cowardly and envious.

You stand up from your chair, and the sound of your materials spilling onto the floor due to the force with which you rise causes Heeseung to turn towards you, confused, catching your face red with anger and embarrassment. "What did you call me?" you mutter as you clench your fists at your sides.

Heeseung raises an eyebrow at you. "Bitch?" he questions. "Coward" you correct.

You slowly approach him, trying to look confident, but your steps remain uncertain and trembling.

Once you find yourself standing in front of him, you grab the collar of his shirt, and you smash your lips against his.

He lets out a furious sigh that he didn't know he was holding back before returning the kiss with a suffocating hunger, as he places his hands on your waist and presses your body against his, savoring the way your breasts press against his.

His tongue soon delved deeply into your mouth, savoring your saliva mixed with his, eliciting a gasp from you.

His body began to push you backward, guiding you during the kiss towards the desk. Once there, you pulled away from the kiss, looking at him with narrowed eyes. His beautiful swollen lips, his slightly red cheeks, and the collar of his shirt that was once perfectly arranged are now disheveled.

He smiled; that damn arrogant smile is the same smile he gave you after mocking your intelligence and skills, the same smile he gives when he corrects one of your contributions in class, the same smile he gives after having you tongue-tied.

He leans over, placing his hands on either side of his body on the desk. "Ah, so the little pervert is revealing herself." One of her legs pushed between yours, forcing you to open them and pressing her knee against your center.

"Stop calling me a pervert, idiot", you practically spat in his face.

"I think you're being too pedantic considering I can feel your wet pussy against my leg." To prove his point, he starts pushing his knees against you repeatedly.

The constant rubbing of the fabric of your wet panties against your clitoris makes you tremble and sigh. Unconsciously, your hips move in unison with his leg. "I'm only wet because you interrupted my orgasm a few minutes ago, definitely not because of you", you manage to say before a strong push from his leg makes you moan.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, princess, it was very rude of me to interrupt you; maybe I should make it up to you." He leans towards your neck and starts kissing your neck. Your hands grip his shirt tightly in an attempt to keep yourself grounded.

Something inside you bubbles; the feeling of anger and longing is intoxicating. A part of you just wants to hit him until he cries, but another part of you wants to rip off his pants and suck his cock until he cries. Before you can determine which feeling prevails, his fingers are quickly working on the buttons of your shirt while leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your chest.

He briefly pulls away from your barely covered breasts by your cute bra. "You are beautiful", he declares, completely absorbed. The abrupt change in his words and the tone of his voice make you feel weak; it's as if your body has surrendered to him.

Your hips start moving desperately against him, feeling how occasionally your thigh brushes against his solid erection, which only serves as an incentive to move harder.

One of his hands moves to the small of your back to help you move against him, while the other slides your bra down and frees your breasts. He doesn't resist and brings one of his nipples to his mouth. With force and abundant saliva, causing a bit to escape from his mouth and slide down your chest.

The moans that escape your mouth are dirty, incoherent words. You feel your legs thrashing around his thigh as your orgasm approaches.

"Heeseung..." His name comes out so softly, so gently, barely audible, but he hears it, he definitely hears it. His head quickly turns away from your chest to look at you with the most serious expression you have ever seen on his face. "I... I am close..." You don't understand why you're notifying him, but there's something in his behavior that makes you feel so submissive.

"Let me help you with that." He brings both of his hands forward and lifts your skirt, exposing your completely ruined panties, which makes him laugh. One hand holds your skirt, and with the other, he slips a finger into the hem of your panties to move them aside, allowing your bare clitoris to rub against the fabric of his pants.

It's rough, strange, and delicious. You place all your weight on his legs while you continue chasing your orgasm.

The sight of your small, swollen, and wet clitoris makes him sigh and tense up in his pants. "Come on, go ahead, I want to see that cute pussy ruin my pants."

Her words seem to be enough to make you come with a muffled moan of her name. Your hands grip even tighter against his shirt and you bury your face in his chest in an attempt to muffle your moans.

A few seconds later, when your euphoria dissipated, you slowly withdrew your face from his chest. He reached for your face with one of his hands, gently squeezing your cheeks. "Obviously, this turned out to be more effective than doing it yourself." He stated with a playful tone. "Although... I still haven't had enough fun."

He grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to turn around and press your face against the desk. "Heeseung." You call him firmly, quickly understanding what he is trying to do.

His hands slide your panties down your legs and lift your skirt until it is rolled up at your waist. "You have a very nice little butt." He gives one of your cheeks a hard slap, making you jump and try to move away from the desk.

"Heeseung, we shouldn't..." You try to plead, but he grabs your hair roughly and pulls your body back towards the desk, exerting an even more intense pressure on your body than before.

"I'm not asking for permission." Then, you only hear the sound of his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his pants falling to the floor.

"I can't wait to fill this hole with my cum." He took his cock between his fingers and tapped its tip against your wet entrance, making his pre-cum mix with your arousal.

He aligns his red, dripping tip against your center. "Yes... It should fill you up so much that when you walk down the halls, my semen slides down your legs", he murmurs more to himself than to you.

His cock slides easily into you because of how wet you are. Once it hits bottom, a guttural moan escapes from both of you, and he throws his head back in pure ecstasy. "And when people notice and question you about it, you'll have to say it was me who went all the way." At this point, he was simply rambling.

You feel like it's piercing your uterus; your walls are incessantly struggling to accommodate its size. "Too, too... Big..." You gasp almost without air as you scratch the desk beneath you.

"Shh... Shh, calm down...". Her hips begin to grind against yours in an animalistic rhythm. "I know it's deep." He whispers in a tone that tries to be comforting.

A hoarse moan flows from his throat, causing you to tighten uncontrollably around him. "You're so fucking tight." He groans. "I should have at least inserted three fingers before fucking you." He was lying; he was fascinated by the almost painful way you squeezed him.

Again, he takes a handful of your hair between his fingers to pull you away from the desk, leaving your back aligned with his chest.

He takes your face in his hand and turns it so that your face is in front of his. What's wrong? "Why don't you say anything anymore?" He gives a particularly deep thrust that makes you moan and grimace with pleasure. "You're always so grumpy, but now that you have a cock inside you, it seems like you can't even think."

When you try to respond, a stream of nonsensical words and gasps comes out of you, making him laugh and his laughter echoes against your back.

"You are so tender" The sweet and affectionate way his words come out of his mouth surprises you so much that you turn your face a little more towards him, looking into his eyes through your lashes wet with some accumulated tears and a fucked-up, but so in-love expression.

His free hand, which isn't holding your face, moves to your lower abdomen, pressing right on the bulge of his cock. You follow him and bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers with his.

The world seems to be completely silent, except for Heeseung's gasps and your sharp moans; you feel nothing else apart from the heat radiating from his body against yours.

He starts leaving wet kisses on your neck. "Fuck, you're so wet, so tight, so beautiful..." You are a bitch perfectly made for me. Growls in your hatred.

Your legs start to tremble; the knot in your stomach tightens even more. "Seungie... I'm close..."

"Yes? Are you going to squeeze your little pussy while you cum really hard on my cock?" he asked with a tone that, under other circumstances, would sound very cocky if it weren't for the pathetic moan that accompanied it.

You just nod desperately, not caring how pathetic you might look right now.

Before you realize it, your walls tighten around Heeseung. "Just like that, cum all over my cock." He pushes your body back onto the desk, pressing your cheek against it

His thrusts are careless and aimless as he chases your orgasm. "I'm going to fill you up so much that I'll leave you ruined for anyone else who tries to sleep with you."

You moan overstimulated as your juices start to drip out of you, creating a completely obscene splashing sound.

"My semen will stay so deep inside you that you'll never be able to get it all out." He presses his chest against your back, crushing your body against the writing. With one final thrust, the head of his cock buries itself in your womb as he spurts.

The sensation of his semen so deeply makes you feel relaxed and yet overwhelmed.

They stay like that for a moment, trying to properly process what just happened. "Get off me, you're suffocating me", you complain with an obvious lack of breath.

Heeseung laughs as he slowly pulls away and slides out, then gently takes you by the shoulders and helps you stand up and turn around so you are facing him.

You try to stand up straight, but your legs tremble and fail, so you almost fall to the ground if he hadn't held you tightly.

"I think I fuck you better than your stupid porn videos, little pervert."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[luffington]

private party ♡

➤ summary: It's too goddamn hot out, so Doflamingo surrenders his strength to join you in the pool. (18+)

➤ pairing: donquixote doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.5k

➤ warnings: dom!doffy, pool sex, belly bulge, exhibitionism, getting caught, degradation, established relationship (kinda), fem reader

➤ notes: i am so normal about the doffy pool scene where baby 5 is introduced. i barely ever think about it i swear.... also this is my softest doffy fic and he's still SO unhinged >:3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Dressrosa’s famously perfect weather had been overtaken by a mid-summer heat wave, and today was brutal. The sweltering sun turned the air hazy with heat. Not a single cloud stained the bright blue sky to provide shade from its burning rays. Staying outside for more than ten minutes was a daunting task. Nearly every member of the Donquixote Family was staying cool inside the spacious castle with its doors closed and curtains drawn.

Fortunately, the palace courtyard was an oasis.

An oversized pink flamingo float bounced against the side of the oval-shaped pool as you swam laps straight down the middle, keeping most of your body underwater. The scent of sunscreen and chlorine filled the air. Your lover (for lack of a better word) reclined on a padded couch, sipping a yellowish-pink tropical cocktail decorated with a paper parasol. His signature pink coat had obviously been discarded, but so had every item of clothing besides a tiny pair of shorts. Tan lines had no place on his godly figure.

The king of Dressrosa unashamedly admired you as he sunbathed. Even behind his sunglasses, you felt his lusty gaze trained on the way your body moved – and your skimpy little crimson bikini. You intentionally put on a show for him, arching your back as you dove underwater and making sure your tiny bottoms were pulled a bit too tight against your ass. 

Both of you were completely alone. Doflamingo had even sent away the servants who periodically refilled his drink and brought out poolside snacks. You weren’t entirely sure why he chose to keep the pool after he became king – the only ones who really used it were you and the women who hung around Señor Pink. The Family’s Devil Fruit users safely stayed dry on the surrounding lounge chairs, and Dellinger hated chlorine. Doflamingo did love his pool parties, though.

Getting lonely and bored, you swam to the edge of the pool, emerging near Doflamingo’s feet and wiping water out of your eyes. The blonde placed your own drink on the ground in front of you. 

“You jealous?” You grinned cheekily, sipping the chilled liquid through a neon pink straw. “It must suck to not be able to swim, especially on a day like today. The water is soooo refreshing.”

Doflamingo chuckled at your boldness. “I’ll live.”

“I’ve never even seen you go in.” He was certainly good at keeping you company while you swam, though, and his flamingo float was ideal for cuddling (and less appropriate activities). “You won’t drown in a few feet of water.”

“Water takes away my powers, baby.”

“Boooo.” You splashed a small wave onto his hairy legs. “You can be without your strings for five minutes. Get in here.”

If anyone else did that to him, he would’ve forced them on their knees and made them beg for mercy. Luckily, he found your bratty playfulness more amusing than irritating. Certainly better than an overly passive, demure lover. And the pool did look nice, beautifully shimmering under the relentless sun. It was even more tempting now that cool droplets of water ran down his calves.  

To your surprise, your lover sighed exaggeratedly but actually stood from the couch, stripping down to his underwear and revealing his half-hard clothed bulge. As you excitedly went to grab a blow-up beach ball on the other side of the pool, you could’ve sworn you felt something tugging at the strap tying the bikini around your neck.

Doflamingo kept a cautious hand on the railing as he strolled down the pool steps, hissing in relief at the cold water. Strength be damned, this felt incredible. He kneeled down and reclined backwards to submerge his enormous body, though he kept his head above water, and soaked off the undignified layer of sticky sweat coating his skin. Thank fuck his throne birthright wasn’t on some desolate winter island. 

You trotted back over to him while tossing the ball in your hands. “Doffy, I think my top is coming undone. Can you fix it?” 

Innocently turning your back to him and holding your hair away from your neck. He grabbed the thin red strings pitifully slipping out of their knot, but instead of tying them, the blonde let them fall past your shoulders. Before you could react, his big hands forced their way under your bikini cups to openly grope your tits. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, pet?” He giggled maniacally as he tugged at your nipples. Being on his knees evened out your height difference a bit, so he curled his giant body over yours, his hard abs pressed flush against your back. Kneading your breasts with no gentleness, squeezing them like stress balls. “Getting all wet for me? Teasing me with this pathetic excuse for a bathing suit?”

You bit your lip – he wasn’t wrong, but you did want to play volleyball with him first. The ball fell from your hands and sadly floated away. 

Doflamingo pulled off your top and carelessly tossed it aside. “This tiny thing leaves nothing to the imagination, it’s fucking disgusting. I want you to wear it every day.” He pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder then bit down as he harshly twisted your peaked nipples. “But just for me.”

“P-Please, Doffy…” You wiggled your hips, squirming against him.

“Needy slut.” Laughing giddily, he licked across your teeth then plunged the wet muscle into your mouth. Pineapple juice and expensive white rum lingered on his tongue. One hand cradled your jaw to keep your lips locked as the other trailed down your tummy underwater, slipping under the waistband of your bottoms. 

Doflamingo teasingly caressed your mound then harshly pinched your clit, then tugged at the sensitive nub. “That’s for splashing me earlier.”

“Shit, I’ll splash you again,” you chuckled, letting your head fall back against his shoulder.

“You’re such a damn masochist, making me get creative with my punishments.” You nearly folded in half when his long fingers ran through your slit, but his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. His free hand went back to caressing your tits. The blonde giggled in delight when he felt the slick between your legs – you were so responsive, so easy. “This doesn’t feel like pool water. You’re all worked up from a little kiss?”

“You’re all worked up from watching me swim, pervert.” Grinding your ass against his massive bulge to emphasize your point.

The blonde slapped your tit and you jerked against his tight hold. “It’s a good thing your bratty mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock, since you’re starting to piss me off.”

Maybe your alcohol-induced cheekiness had reached its limit. Doflamingo’s infatuation with you made him no less terrifying. 

He wasn’t in the mood for long and drawn-out foreplay, though he normally adored seeing you break and beg for his cock with tears in your eyes. But your tiny cunt couldn’t even take his tip without loosening it up first. Being blessed with a perfect body, godlike height, and a monster cock was such a curse.

Resting his chin in the crook of your neck, the blonde observed the way his nimble fingers expertly moved inside you. His string abilities were gone but he still worked his puppeteering magic inside you, scissoring your wet walls apart and prodding at your sensitive spot. The adorably wanton whines falling from your lips made his dick twitch. 

Once he decided you were ready, he easily flipped you around to face him and sat down on the pool steps with you in his lap. Doflamingo freed his heavy cock, letting it spring up and bounce against his abdomen underwater. Instead of taking off your bikini bottoms, he simply pushed them to the side to expose your cunt.

“I’ve never fucked in a pool before,” the blonde chuckled, grabbing underneath your thighs and easily manhandling you into position. Even with his strength drained away, he was still much stronger than the average person – those sculpted muscles weren’t just for show. “You better feel grateful, darling. I hardly have any ��first time’s left.”

The thick tip of his cock forced its way inside, then a harsh thrust made your eyes roll back into your head. Water resistance made the movement less intense than he intended, but several inches of his massive length were snugly inside your pussy. He continued pulling you down until a pretty bulge protruded from your stomach, though he still wasn’t fully sheathed in you. Doflamingo sighed in relief and reclined back on his forearms, submerged in the turquoise water up to his pecs. “Go on, please your king.”

You braced your palms right above his flashy gold nipple piercings, found your footing, then started riding his dick at a slow pace, feeling every vein and ridge drag against your inner walls. The water rippled and lightly splashed around you with every movement. 

Doflamingo traced the outline of your lips, and you batted your eyelashes coquettishly as you sucked his finger into your mouth. Definitely a mistake – you pulled away with a scrunched up face and tried to spit out the overpowering taste of chlorine. He cackled and shoved two digits all the way down your throat, twisting them around to hear you gag. 

The king was in paradise. Summer sun beating down on his face, cool water coating his tanned skin, and his favorite toy bouncing on his cock. He was getting bored with the slow grinding of your hips against his pelvis, but he was too relaxed to do anything about it. Getting out of the pool and back into the unbearable heat was the last thing on his mind. 

Doflamingo grabbed the meat of your ass to abruptly take over control of your movements. He bobbed you up and down, admiring the way your tits jiggled before leaning forward to suck a nipple into his mouth. Fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, gripping tighter when he abused your tits even more.

He rubbed the outline of his cock in your stomach then pressed down on it. You bit back a debauched moan. An angry vein popped in his forehead before he grabbed your cheeks and squeezed meanly. “Don’t hide your cute noises from me.”

“S-sorry – mmmh!” You choked on your own spit when he suddenly slammed balls deep into you, his gigantic cock molding your insides to take him perfectly. 

The sound of a door opening echoed throughout the courtyard. You froze and anxiously sought out the source. Diamante emerged into the sunlight, his red eye makeup smudged by sweat and using his hand to fan himself. You leaned forward against Doflamingo to cover your breasts, not wanting to ignite his possessive nature, but made no other move. The blonde didn’t even flinch.

Diamante squinted in confusion. Sun-sparkled water blurred and distorted your lower halves, but what you were doing was incredibly obvious. “Doffy, why the hell are you in the pool?”

His boss was buried in your guts and that was what he was concerned about? 

Doflamingo grinned. “The water actually feels great. You should try it – oh, but not now. I’m a little busy.” The blonde jerked his hips harshly up into you, making you keen. Pink sunglass lenses stayed trained on his friend in an almost challenging way. “What do you want?”

The elite officer just huffed, making you believe that this probably wasn’t the first time he saw Doflamingo like this. An odd pang of jealousy struck you at the thought. He never caught you.

“It’s nothing serious, just find me when you’re done.” He snickered as he stepped back inside, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll keep Dellinger and Sugar away from here. Have fun.”

When the door slammed shut, Doflamingo pressed his lips to your ear and whispered, “I felt your pussy get tighter when he looked at us. You filthy whore. You like being watched? Or do you like being owned by me?” He sounded ecstatic. “I’ll fuck you on camera and broadcast it to the entire country if that makes you happy.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “That’s t-terrible.”

“No, it’s a fucking good idea. Then everyone’ll know who the prettiest girl in Dressrosa belongs to.” His surprisingly sweet comment was punctuated by his hips bucking into you, shoving the head of his cock insistently against your cervix. 

Doflamingo flexed his thighs and began using you like a fleshlight, setting a fast and rough pace while letting out incredibly erotic groans. His tanned skin looked irresistible, so you leaned forward to mouth along his thick neck and then kiss him passionately. Doflamingo eagerly reciprocated, rewarding you by pressing his thumb against your clit to rub circles against it. 

“My perfect little toy,” he panted between kisses, a long string of saliva hanging off the tip of his lengthy tongue. “Such a good girl, so eager to serve me. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” 

Something about the intense heat or the negative effects of water seemed to bring out his more romantic side – though there was nothing romantic about the way his dick bullied its way inside you. You gripped onto his shoulders for dear life, feeling your cunt throb around him. 

“Doffy, ‘m so close, p-please let me…” 

Beautiful eyes peeked out from under his sunglasses – lust-blown, predatory, and crazed. “Cum for me, pet.”

Lips slammed against yours as the building pressure inside you exploded. Your cunt gushed and soaked his cock in your juices, stars flashing behind your eyes. Doflamingo obsessively swallowed your moans, rubbing your clit through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He rutted his hips like a feral dog before he felt his balls tighten. Thick ropes of cum sprayed deep inside your walls and filled you to the brim. Through hazy eyes, you noticed how divine he looked at his peak – damp blonde hair sticking to his forehead and sun reflecting off water droplets coating his skin. Head thrown back in bliss, plush lips parted and letting out a heavenly, whorish moan.

Breathless and giddy laughter snapped you out of your trance. “Whatcha looking at, baby?” His cock was softening, but you felt it twitch from narcissistic delight.

You shook your head to clear your mind, dipped your hands in the pool, then ran your damp fingers through his hair. He instantly relaxed into your touch, sighing contentedly. “I told you it’s refreshing.” 

“And you were fucking right. Maybe I should use the pool more – it’s not like anyone is stupid enough to attack me in my own palace.” Strong, scarred arms wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed you tightly against him. Doflamingo hummed happily, then released you and nodded towards the couch. A grin never left his face and his shaded eyes never left yours. “Be nice and grab our drinks, then get right back here. Our private pool party isn’t over.”

[fayesia]

Freak

Martin (In The Modern World - Fontaines D.C.)

warnings: nsfw 18+, readers lowkey mean to Martin, p in v, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, doggy style, handjob, squirting, fingering, spit play, creampie, hair pulling, rimming (brief), p with a little plot, filthy words on a screen :D

You were always cautious. Walking the same route home. Past the cobbled roads, the dark forested pine trees, and old abandoned buildings. None screamed safety nor comfort, neither of which you expected when moving into the area.

As long a you were free. Successfully escaping the pressures in your life, the heavy weight of hands pressing and pulling you, moulding you, into what they wanted you to become.

So, yes, maybe walking the same route every day to get home wasn't ideal. But neither was the sight you had to witness as you walked across the parking lot in front of your house. The car parked in it. The only car.

In it was him. Your neighbour. That freak. That beautiful fucking freak. A man clambered out, shoving the passenger door open while blood ran from his nose and mouth. His neck marked with ligatures of varying pink and red hues. Pushing past the small crowd forming he briskly stumbled away, the crowd shifting as people left and newcomers joined.

You know you should've kept walking, walking the same damn route, but you didn't. What's that's saying? Curiosity killed the cat. Well, consider yourself the cat.

Making your way over to the edge of the crowd, you stood watching, keeping at least a meter distance so as not to draw attention. His head turned to the window, the side one facing you. His mouth dropped open to reveal a blue stained tongue. Freak. You grimaced. Yet your eyes were unable to remove themselves from the sight in front of you. Your legs were stuck, glued to the cement, your brain ordered them to move, but no movement was made.

Your eyes focused on the scene in front of you, snapping you out of your disassociation, the shuffling of the crowd parting ways. Boys rode off on their bikes, women clutched their bags whispering with one another, and hooker resembling teenagers scoffed sauntering off, losing interest at the dark-haired man in the car.

The very one slumped in the car seat, heavily battered and bloodied as well as unconscious.

You turned to leave, taking two steps before swivelling back on your heels. You stood considering for a few moments the result of what your actions may cause. If the butterfly affect would, in fact, impact what was to happen due to your next decision. Well fuck that, you don't really care about the result of your actions, at least not since you moved here.

Pulling the drivers side door open, you leaned in, tentatively you waved your hand across his face. Was he awake yet? No.

Fuck. Well then. Poking him didn't work either. Grabbing his shoulders, you leaned closer.

"Martin. Martin. Wake up, Martin!"

He grumbled, regaining consciousness, but also the from the pain of his injuries. Pulling him up from the seat, a task proven easier than expected due to his thin build. It suited him. In his own way. Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, you hauled him the short walk to your house beside his. The height difference made it more a half drag on his part. You spoke in hopes of providing some comfort.

"Nearly there, Martin. Nearly home."

You didn't really like the freak, but you weren't a heartless human. His reptiles had escaped to your garden more times than he'd like to take responsibility for, and so had his toy helicopter. Resulting in more hostile neighbourly conversations between the both of you than you'd have liked, considering the majority of them happened at 2am, when he was normally awake.

Unlocking the front door, you manoeuvred Martin's flopping body onto a kitchen chair, dragging it across the floor with a loud screech that jolted him awake.

"What are you doing?"

"Calm down. I'm just trying to help. Now sit still."

You didn't mind the silence, wetting some paper towels with rubbing alcohol as you gently wiped the blood and grime off his pasty white skin. The kitchen was filled by the low hum of your broken refrigerator and the hisses coming from Martin's mouth with every swipe against his skin. His eyes followed you, throwing away the dirty tissues and packing up the first aid kit, placing it in the cupboard before making your way back to the sink.

Stood across from the seated Martin he looked up, shifting in his seat with a pink hue dusted over his cheeks.

"Guess I should go then."

"Umm yeah, let me see you out."

You both walk to the door in silence until his voice scratches out down the hallway.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen my snake have you...I left the side window open again...you know-uhm the one across from your garden."

"Again! Seriously! How many times have I told you. I don't want to see that creepy snake in my garden. What if it bites me -"

"Hey! He's friendly."

"No, i doubt that. It's probably a freak. Like you!"

He angered at your words harshly shoving you against the hallways narrow walls. There was barely any space for two people to walk, so being pinned left you feeling even more trapped. It was like the temperature had increased ten fold, your eyes widened at the close proximity between the two of you. He breath was hot and heavy against the side of your face, daring you to keep talking, but you knew better, rather content with glaring at him.

His fingers dug past the material of your faux fur coat while yours held tightly on his forearms. The silence seemed to drag on with the two of you looking into each others eyes. But it was more than that, both looking past each others iris, the pupils and the nerves, looking into each others souls.

And then he kissed you. Just like that.

His lips were on yours, and you could taste the distinctive artificial flavoured candy only just overpowered by the cigarette he must've smoked earlier.

It was suffocating and comforting. Yet freeing and ferocious. As if you had finally given into a craving after so long, like you were sinning after years of celibacy.

Your hands grappled at each other clothes, needing to remove the thick confines you were in. Various articles of clothing littered the hallway, creating a breadcrumb trail to your bedroom. His hands dug into your hair, only deepening the kiss once you were straddling his lap on your bed. Oxygen wasn't a necessity in this moment. It was the taste of each other that you both were surviving off of.

Discarding your bra, Martin removed his shirt, leaving him in his boxers. He positioned you on all fours facing away. Cold, long fingers dragged your panties off you, and you were bare to him, no feeling of shame, just need, as your arch deepened. His hand caressed the path of your spine where he lay gentle kisses, kneeling behind you, he played with the softness of your thighs and hips. The silent room was now filled by your whines of pleasure.

His mouth was on you, exploring every part of you, tasting and savouring you like it was his last meal. His tongue traced from your leaking hole down to your clit where his lips suckled more noises from you. He brought two fingers to your cunt, spreading your folds as his tongue moved through the mess of your juices and his spit, only spreading it down your inner thighs. You pressed back against Martin's face, moaning out in pleasure but his hands hooked around your thighs holding you in place while his mouth worked on you.

You were so close. "Fuck yes just like that, I'm gonna fucking come don't stop- don't you dare fucking stop."

Your words only spurred Martin on, his thumb prodded at your hole wetting it with a mix of fluids before unexpectedly moving it to your tighter hole above. The action drawing out even louder noises from you. He smiled at that and you could feel the change of expression against your pussy. "Come for me."

You didn't need asking twice, clenching the bedsheets you whined into them, your cunt gushing around Martin's tongue and drenching the bottom half of his face. Small droplets ran down his chest as you fell flat against the mattress, angling your head to see a smiling Martin.

God, what a freak.

But you thought it with a small smile this time.

One that was covered by Martin's lips once again, his body embraced yours. You tugged at his boxers, and he pulled them off barely separating from you before leaning his head back to groan up at the ceiling. Your hand wrapped tightly around his cock. It fit comfortably in your hand, what lacked in girth was made up by length.

He thrust into your hand, jerking to feel more stimulation from you, which you were sure to provide. You were comfortably laying with his cock in your hand, his hand moving to separate your thighs, leaving you open to him. His hand coming down to explore your pussy while your hand continued working on him. Entering two of his fingers you arched at the movements, your own fingers were not of the same length or thickness. Moaning out, Martin was kneeling beside you, your hand jerking him off as his fingers worked in and out of you, his thumb occasionally rubbing against your clit.

It was art. The type the Greeks would've painted. The type found in the Renaissance era.

Pure pleasure and carnal desire.

You felt your release nearing, but when Martin twitched in your hand, he removed his fingers and moved. You huffed in annoyance about to speak your mind, but his hands grabbed your body, quickly flipping you over, the same way he did to the men in that car.

Pulling your hips up and pushing your back down, you were in the same arched position as before. He breathed heavily, almost hesitant, but the teasing movement of your ass was almost too much for him to bear. Holding his cock he spat onto your cunt as he pushed the leaking tip through your folds, only further adding to the mess of your pussy.

The tightness wrapped around his cock, almost pushing him out, but the further he entered, the more your cunt sucked him in.

The two of you made noises that bounced off the walls and were certainly heard from outside your window, neither you could give less of a fuck though. His hand clutched your hair while the other guided your hips back against him with each thrust. There was nothing gentle about his movements but that only made you crave more, the feeling of his cock entering you roughly with each movement had you releasing more liquid along the length of him. It collected around the base of his cock making his movements pass easier.

He hauled you up by your hair, his front pressed against your back, his lips against your ear, licking and nipping at the soft flesh. Bringing your hands up to his head, you pulled him into a kiss. Your fingers ran through his slightly greasy hair, the black soft locks tightly wrapped around your fingers while his tongue explored your mouth.

The change of position only prompted his dick to reach even deeper inside of you. Your moans increased while his hands moved around your body, first around your throat, then down to your tits where he roughly grabbed at them and pulled at your nipples, finally coming down to your clit where his fingers rubbed harshly, spreading more of your wetness around.

That was your breaking point. Your hands reached for anything to hold onto, which was Martin's forearm. Your sharp nails dug harshly into his skin, marking it with red crescent shapes, and his dick pummeled harder into you. The both of you were nearing release. Whispering into your ear, he urged you,

"Come for me. Come around my cock, wanna feel you fuckin' tighten your pussy 'round me."

And so you did.

With a few more thrusts into you, he bottomed out as you threw your head back, moaning Martians name. You doubt he would realise with how much noise it was said with.

But he did. He relished in it.

He'd go so far to believe its what made him cum as quick as he did after you. Still deep in you his cock released his cum, with near animalistic groans and arms that embraced you tightly, willing to never let go.

The thick liquid collected inside you and as his now soft dick was pulled out you could feel it drip out between your thighs, his face nuzzled into the side of your neck as the two of your softly caught your breath, relishinng in the sex of pent up tension. The sheets now soiled by your choices. The result of angry words said in the flurry of an argument.

The consequence of fucking your freak neighbour.

[nightlyrequiem]

Valeria Garza X reader mutual masturbation 👀 maybe it turns into the reader and Valeria scissoring really hard with one another until they squirt idkkkk

Hiding behind anon because im a pussy LMAOAOAO (I am over the age of 18 though ^^ /gen)

You're so real for this, anon. (I'd also hide behind Anon, can't be caught lacking.)

I did some research for this one (Thank you twitter.) I've wrote smut before but there's only so much I can do when I've never experienced it myself #maidenlessloser

Hopefully that means the scissoring part was written well.

Tags/Warning: Pure Filthy Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Scissoring, Squirting, No Plot At All, LESBIAN SEX!!!!

Quid Pro Quo

'You owe me.' those were the words muttered after Valeria lent you money to pay off your debt to different loan sharks. You didn't ask her for the money and you're not sure how she knew about your debt. You were hesitant in accepting her money because then you're just in debt to her. The loan sharks were starting to get inpatient and that was a health hazard. You thought she'd ask you to pay her back or do a bunch of neck breaking tasks. That's not what she wanted.

"What?" You ask, wondering if you heard her right. She stares at you from under hooded eyes across from you. Leaning back in her chair with her legs spread.

"I said, I want you to touch yourself for me." She enunciates slowly, like she thinks you're stupid.

Your face heats. "Like masturbation?" You ask carefully.

Valeria rolls her eyes, ringed fingers tapping the wooden table impatiently. "Is there another way to interpret 'I want you to touch yourself for me' that I am not aware of?"

You sit stiffly with your hands politely folded in your lap.

"You want me to masturbate in front of you."

"Yes." She says with exasperation.

You furrow your brows at her, trying to come up with a reason as to why she'd want that. Your mind blanks. "Why?"

Valeria leans forward, eyes locked on yours. "Because I want you humiliated and leaking all over my desk."

Her words are brash and to the point. Sending heat across your face and to your lower regions.

"Right now?" You ask quietly. Looking around. The door behind you is closed but not locked. You picture yourself with your fingers deep inside of you, Valeria sitting there still as a statue, and someone barging in.

"Yes, now." Valeria says. "Take off your pants."

"... Will you kill me if I refuse?" You ask nervosuly.

Valeria's lips curl in disgust. "Killing someone for rejecting my advances is beneath me. I'll just have you fired."

That's not very ideal either but it does give you a choice. 

Do you really care about your job enough to degrade yourself like this? You let your eyes wander over her toned and tattooed forearms, over the swell of her chest under that gray tank top. She's an evil bitch. An evil bitch coercing you into doing a sexual favour for her. It feels erotic in nature, as much as you hate to feel that way. Were you not attracted to her you'd say no and look for another job. 

"Well?" Valeria raises a brow.

"Okay." You mutter reluctantly. Valeria's lips curl into a small smirk. She gestures for you to take a seat on her desk.

You hesitate before climbing up onto your knees and sitting. You wait for further instruction, but Valeria just stubbornly stares at you. You sigh and lean back, fumbling with your pants before sliding them off, not bothering to make it look nice. You're already giving her a show after all. You let them fall to the ground and begin to work on your underwear next.

"Slower." Valeria barks.

you swallow back an angry reply, slowing your movements. You peel your panties away from your body, embarrassed by the way they stick to your folds. You're surprised by how wet you already are. And a little ashamed.

You carefully set down your panties next you and spread your legs. Too aware of how visible you are. You feel a twinge of insecurity. You've had partners in the past, but not once have you been this exposed or scrutinized. You slowly trail your hand over your stomach. Slowly you push your fingers through your wet folds, gathering up slick onto your fingers. You prod around your entrance before rubbing circles around your clit.

Valeria makes no noise. Just sits there and watches. Honestly, her insulting you would make this experience less uncomfortable than her stony silence. You rub a little harder, hitting an angle that makes you arch your back with a gasp. Your fingers trail down once more, and you slip one inside of you experimentally. It slides in with ease and you slowly pump it inside of you.

Rusling fabric reaches your ears, and you tilt your head to see what it is. Just in time to watch Valeria discard her pants. You go still when you see her slip her hand beneath the elastic band of her panties. She meets your gaze with a scowl.

"I didn't say you could stop."

Quickly you resume. Valeria's heavy breathing sends heat through you, making your walls flutter with excitement. You moan a little louder, exaggerating it just a little for her. You buck against your own hand after adding a second finger. Sqeezing and pulling them deeper into your wetness.

Valeria matches your pace. Swiftly pounding into her cunt with her own fingers. Soaking her panties and the chair from the sight of you spread open on her desk. She can see the cloudy liquid of your arousal leaking around your fingers. Slowly dripping down onto the desk and collecting into a small puddle.

she curls her fingers, seeking that spot inside of her that makes her vision blur. Your moaning makes her inner walls pulse. Throbbing out with need. She stops, unable to take it anymore. Valeria wasn't planning on touching you, but she can't control herself. She stands and grabs you, forcing you onto your stomach. You blink in surprise, hand retreating from your pussy. She clumsily peels off her underwear and lifts one of your legs onto the desk, taking in the sight of your raw, puffy cunt.

Without hesitating she slots herself against you, sliding her folds into yours roughly. You gasp and whine, not complaining at all about the turn of events. This wasn't a part of the deal, but you don't care. Not while she's grinding into you and moaning in your ear. Her pace is fast and rough. Her hands grip onto your hips, aiding in her task. Your pussy throbs and weeps. Thick arousal leaking from you and dripping down your thigh, wetting her mound. she slams herself into you, grunting and panting. The loud slap of skin on skin almost drowns her out. Valeria reaches up and squeezes her breast painfully, adding to the stimulation. Something inside of you snaps. The pleasure and sensation becoming too much. You feel wetness rushing out of you. Each pulse sending more of it to the ground. You hear it audibly splash.

Valeria groans. Feeling it hit her legs. She trembles and sobs, feeling her own dam break. she doesn't stop or slow as she releases. Liquid squirts from her hole, soaking her legs and the floor, accumulates in her folds. she's left recklessly humping on you while the both of you cum. Making a mixed mess of arousal. Her legs shake and she finally falls still. Leaning on top of you, crushing you to the desk. Both you and Valeria can smell the aftermath. Covering your legs and the floor. Her warm breath hits your shoulder blade as the both of you catch your breath. She slowly pulls off you, the space between her thighs wet and slippery.

Your ass is left hanging off the desk, the consequences of your copulation running down your legs. She spreads you, watching your empty hole glisten and flutter.

"Consider your debt repaid." She says.

Your leg twitches. You're too fucked out to form a response. you think you may need to borrow money from her again sometime soon.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Emotional Support Animal Wife

When the PMC you worked for noticed that König was calmer around you and less likely to fly off the handle, they thought it was a fluke. Nonetheless, they asked you to attend several meetings as a guest and sat you near him to test out the theory. When he did not lash out for a single meeting over two months, no matter how inane, your job was officially restructured to spend nearly every hour of your working day next to him with overtime hazard pay for all after hours meetings and parties. Any time he was not down range, you were by his side, it seemed. It didn't take long for the enforced closeness to work its magic, leading to your eventual marriage.

König and several other select team members were contracted out to an international military task force for a minimum six month term. This wasn't the first time he was loaned out and you always tagged along, ensuring that he didn't attack an officer for being rude to his men or take up the challenge often offered by the enlisted who heard rumors of his work down range. This time, the hiring military tried to argue that you were not allowed due to the top secret clearance required as well as you being unnecessary to the mission. Your boss countered that the health and well-being of all employees was a top priority and reminded the opposing bureaucrat that your presence was listed as a non-negotiable aspect of not only König's contract, but the entire team's contracts as his presence was required in every other contract. After several rounds of back and forth, your boss prevailed.

When the C-140 landed, you waited for the men of the team to disembark before following König. He always waited until last to leave so you wouldn't be far away, especially in new areas with unknown threats. You patiently waited behind the wall of tall, broad, and muscular men who were your coworkers while introductions and welcomes were made. Same old same old at this point in your career. You preferred to hide and work in the shadows, so to speak. Calling attention to yourself was not ideal due to past experiences with idiots trying to interfere with your attendance.

Speaking of interfering idiots, the men have barely begun to stride away when a man approaches you, demanding to know who you are and how you got here. You smile kindly, "I'm with König and the others from KorTac. If you'll excuse-."

"No, ma'am. I need to verify your presence before I can release you." The man bars your way, grabbing his radio with urgency. You sigh and lean around him, not wanting to get separated from the group.

"König! I need assistance!" He doesn't pause to assess the situation. Simply turns on his heel and begins running straight at you. The rest of the team also about faces and stands waiting. The man skitters to the side slightly, scared to see such a giant man striding toward him. You simply hold up your arms, knowing his aim and allowing König to pick you up. The man quails under the glares he is receiving and silently vows to stay away from KorTac members at all times. König catches back up to the group easily and sets you down to walk next to him, holding his hand. You can hear him muttering in German and have to fight the grin trying to spread across your face.

Once in the meeting, König sits you next to him, in the seat with Horangi's name tag. Horangi stands behind your chair, ruffling your hair, drawing a huff from you. He enjoys acting the big brother to you whenever possible. Settling in, you put on your noise canceling headphones, and pull out a book to read. Hidden behind König's bulk, you blend in quickly, few noticing you other than the men of KorTac. Their favorite way to pass the time is to try to distract you from your book.

After a few moments, Horangi sits in a newly appeared chair next to you, nearly squashing you between him and König before you put a hand on his chest, shoving him back playfully. He smirks and lets you return to your book to wait out the meeting, one hand resting on König's back gently to ground him. Near the end, there is a tap on your shoulder as König and the others stand, you following suite soon after. It's meet and greet time, which is typically a lot of posturing and crushing of hands. You carefully greet several men, most of whom catch the name tag on your vest and eye König before greeting you from a few feet away. Glancing around, you spot a familiar face that has you tucking yourself behind König. Your hand clenching his waist has him freezing in place, body tensing and readying to face the threat. You slip your hand into his pocket, fishing out a spare mask and slipping it on. His tenseness relaxes slightly as your hand releases his shirt, and you stand near his side again, pressing a hand to his back for comfort.

The team is alarmed by your use of the mask. You've always playfully protested König masking you, preferring to be recognized on your own rather than a smaller carbon copy of him. The atmosphere in the room becomes much more tense as they slowly close ranks, Horangi stepping a bit closer to your other side. When the familiar face, a cousin, greets König, your hand flinches slightly, despite your struggle not to react. His gaze hardens as he evaluates the threat in front of him, hand tightening unconsciously. When your cousin winces, he catches himself, letting go and turning away in clear dismissal. Before he can greet you, holding out his hand, Horangi leans forward, shaking his hand instead. The interaction doesn't go unnoticed, but König makes an effort to greet every other person amicably, and Horangi's smile sets most at ease, even as they eye your red fabric masked face with suspicion.

Finally, the meeting officially ends, and the team is led to their quarters. The sounds of outrage at being placed in bunk beds together in one room are broken up by your giggles. They turn to look and see König laying in the bed, scrunched up into a ball to fit on the mattress and still hanging off. Once the laughter dies down and enough pictures are taken, König stands up. "We will see about proper accommodations. This is unacceptable, clearly." You take his hand quietly, and he pauses. "Schatz, would you prefer to stay behind? I know you are... nervous."

"He is my family, König. I didn't want a fight to break out at the first meeting." He sighs, frustrated. Hearing that your childhood had mirrored much of his had been rage inducing, and it still simmers in the back of his mind. Luckily, he hadn't met any of them before today as you had cut contact when you took your first job as a contractor due to their vehement disapproval and insults. "I would prefer to stay anonymous here as much as possible rather than confront him." König nods, fighting back his protective instincts.

"I will follow your lead. If a fight is needed, then a fight we shall have."

You shake your head, saying, "Don't sound so excited for it, big guy."

König leads you out, nearly running into a soldier posted outside the door. "Colonel, you are to remain in your quarters until your allotted lunch at 1100 hours," the soldier's voice wavers only slightly despite the fear you feel rolling off of him. You rub your thumb on the back of König's glove, gently keeping him grounded.

"I wish to speak to someone about the quarters we have been provided. Please bring me to the person in charge of accommodations." The soldier looks stunned, rocking back on his heels.

"I-I will contact someone, but I must insist that you wait here. My orders were to ensure you did not leave." König nods agreeably.

"Understood. We will wait for this person." The soldier returns the nod before retreating up the hall several paces and calling over the radio. König merely leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest. You mimic his posture, quietly waiting. It is only a few minutes later when the soldier approaches with another person in tow.

"Colonel, you wish to discuss your quarters? They are the standard quarters we provide to all visiting contractors." You honestly don't understand how they could continue to be confused, having to crane their neck back to meet his gaze.

"I am very tall, as are several of my men. The bunks are too short to sleep on. As well, there are not enough beds unless you expect my wife," he casually gestures at you, "to sleep on the floor."

The man stares at him, seemingly noticing his height for the first time, then his eyes flick to you. "Well, it was assumed that your... wife," your eyes narrow at the doubt lacing his tone, "would sleep with you, of course."

Before König can say a word, you snap at him. "He doesn't fit in the bunk, and you expect me to sleep there, too? Am I supposed to slice his belly open and crawl inside like this is a Star Wars movie?" The posted soldier snorts, unable to completely hide his laughter and the man opposite you smothers a grin, not expecting the reference, nor your unaccented, American voice.

"Uhh, no. We don't expect personnel to make such drastic choices. I will arrange for more appropriate beds. They will be exchanged before nightfall."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate being spared as a sacrifice." With that, König turns and guides you back into the quarters. You smile, seeing the team already at work rearranging the room.

With the door shut and locked, you pull off your mask, a small sigh of relief slipping out. Horangi shoots a questioning look at König, to no avail. You stiffen your back and meet his questioning gaze. "One of the men is estranged family. Recognizing me could easily lead to an all out brawl," your eyes flick to König. "Or worse." Horangi nods.

"Then we will maintain your anonymity outside these doors." There are nods of agreement all around. "Though, I wouldn't mind a piece of him myself if he is as bad as the rest of your family." Horangi's eyes shine with a predatory gleam. His name is well-earned after all.

"It's been years. Maybe he is better, maybe not."

When lunch rolls around, you don your mask again, now adjusted for your face so it does not cover your uniform and drapes nicely. König is great with a needle and thread, able to make, repair or adjust masks on the fly with ease. You walk single file, sandwiched between König and Oni who keeps poking you and dodging your jabbing elbow. You swear at him in Japanese, having picked up several languages in your time working with the team. Unfortunately or maybe not, almost all of it is exclusively the slang, curses and crude language they use as emphasis for their English. He laughs loud and long at your inventive cursing in his mother language, but stops antagonizing you just in time to walk into the mess hall full of soldiers.

You can feel the tension radiating off König and step to his side, a hand on his forearm. He glances down at you briefly. "Herz, you will go in front of me. I want both eyes on you in here." You pat his arm in agreement and pick up a tray, quickly moving through the line.

"Man, I thought that Koe-nig was supposed to be some badass. But look at this, he got tits!" You openly laugh at the cook's loud exclamation to his surprise and watch his face turn to shock and horror as König steps forward behind you.

"Herz, did you know that I have grown tits? Why did you not tell me?!" You shrug.

"I felt like that should be a discussion between you and your doctor, König. Or maybe between you and your workout routine." Your flat delivery has hysterical giggles bursting out among the cooks as they realize neither of you are going to kill them for their words.

Lunch is quick. Not as tasty as you usually manage to get, but edible enough. When a soldier appears to herd all of you back to your quarters, König is instantly annoyed. You silently cajole him into cooperating for now. It is only the first day, after all.

The promised beds are delivered to you before dark, though they aren't much bigger. Fortunately, your team has dealt with this issue before and they simply push the metal frames out into the hall to the surprise of the posted guard. He doesn't protest at all, understanding the frustration.

Snuggling that night is mandatory rather than optional. Your front is pressed against König with Horangi's back to yours. Between the two heaters, you don't need a blanket despite the cool Fall temps and the windows wide open to let in the breeze.

[letoasai]

DP- Father Time

What if…. Clockwork was around far longer than Danny knew…. 

~

Life was a parade, and Clockwork had the best view. He was the master of time, he knew all of what was and what wasn’t. He saw the threads of every timeline, and took the best each had to offer for the most people. 

He had pride in his work, and an annoying habit of always being right. How could he be wrong when he knew the future. He knew every future. This was one of the major reasons he was irritated when someone, namely the Observants, decided to tell him how to do his job. 

They saw what was laid out in front of them. They saw what he laid out in front of them. They were spectators that clung too tightly to their oaths to merely watch, while cheating at the motion in the same breath. They acted so haughty but thought nothing of turning around and demanding Clockwork do this or that for them. 

Clockwork would generally avoid having to deal with them by agreeing ‘something’ needed to be ‘done’ and then go back to doing what he wanted in the first place. Observers they might be, ancient even, but they did not have the power to watch his every move. He directed things in the right direction, the way he always had with or without their say so. 

The future he had been keeping an eye on was swiftly on its way to becoming the present. The thrill of it put a smile on his face. Frankly it had been a while since he’d been so eager for anything. 

He’d be busy, but time was such a controllable thing for him. 

Making a portal to the moral plane, Clockwork floated through, remaining invisible. The house was the cozy sort, and deceiving normal though he knew it wouldn’t be for long. The hideous space like craft structure wasn’t yet protruding from the roof like an unwanted appendage. The glowing Fenton Works sign wasn’t out front yet either. 

The contamination was present however. It was still in low, nearly unnoticeable amounts, but that was still double what was generally found in nature. At least in normal places that weren’t consecrated grounds or otherwise filled with abnormal levels of death. 

This really was no place for children. 

Unseen by the two small occupants in the room, he observed as a small boy was seated at the kitchen table, watching nervously while his older sister knelt on a chair at the counter, carefully pouring juice into a sippy cup. It was a small task, but not one such small children should have been dealing with unsupervised. 

“Almost done, Danny.” Jazz said, turning to look at him with a smile. She only just barely noticed the way the chair wobbled, and didn’t notice how it stilled right after, Clockwork holding out an unseen hand to steady it with his telekinesis. It might have been a small thing, but it was unnecessary to have a timeline where the small girl fell off her chair and cracked her head on the counter. She would end up fine, and with seventeen stitches. Her younger brother, terrified of climbing on the kitchen chairs for the following five years. 

It could be skipped. 

It might have been meddling, but after the burden these two would end up growing up with, he saw no reason not to show them occasional good fortune. 

Jazz climbed down from the counter, a sippy cup and small plastic cup in each hand. She set them on the table before running back to the counter to grab the peanut butter sandwiches she’d set on a paper towel. 

It was lunch for two, and both were so young they didn’t see anything wrong with this scenario. It was perhaps wrong to interfere, but Clockwork saw a future that depended on both of them. Young Danny was going to be immensely important, and he would always cling to his sisters unwavering support. 

There were too many futures where accidents harmed these children before the proper timeline could come into effect. Some where one or both children died before puberty even. That could not be allowed to happen, not if he wanted the most ideal time line. 

The problem with that was that there wasn’t always someone present to protect them. Meddling be damned, he was not going to have the future suffer for such a small reason. 

“I found extra new books in my closet!” Jazz said, as she climbed onto her chair at the table. “I’ll read to you after we eat!” 

Danny was small, and possibly should have still been in some kind of booster seat at the table. Instead, he sat on a phone book, and even then was too small to do much more than see over the table. He didn’t talk much. Whether he was too small, or delayed in his milestones, Clockwork wasn’t sure. 

For all his infinite knowledge, child care wasn’t something he would have put on a resume of his skills. Leaving a few books around for the children was easy enough, but care was something rather different. 

Danny ate silently, his feet kicking to show his good mood. Neither child seemed worried about the fact that their parents were locked away in the basement, oblivious to how much time was really passing. 

As the keeper of time he could understand that, but he didn’t think it an excuse to not have proper priorities in place. 

“You can pick the book, okay? One of them has planets on it.” 

Danny’s smile grew, eyes nearly shining with excitement. 

“We’ll start with that one.” Jazz promised. 

Clockwork hovered, deciding he could leave them for the time being. It was a shame that little Jasmine had to be so responsible but the accident had been avoided. Today was a success for the timeline. 

At least they didn’t have to worry about the food from the fridge attacking them just yet. That was a set period of time that Clockwork was not actively looking forward to. The Fenton Parents were quite the extraordinary inventors, but they were rather lacking as parents. It was a shame that even in the best timeline possible so far, the pair had never really realized it. 

~

While some might have called it interference, Clockwork didn’t see it that way. Since he didn’t need to ask permission of anyone to do his job, he used his judgment, as always. 

At best he could visit the Fenton children every couple of weeks to check in or prevent something terrible from happening. At worst, he was there often. The record so far was needing to show up eight days in a row to either prevent a stressful near future, or to just plain take care of the children in some other way. 

The tasks he could do invisibly and unobtrusively were the easiest to handle. The ones were he couldn’t avoid being seen where… questionable. 

The one night he slid into Danny’s room, even the ticking of his own clock stuttered at the sight of the small boy crying into his pillow after a nightmare. He was going to have a few stern words for Nocturn. 

He lifted the child up into his arms, cradling him against his shoulder and maintaining his adult form for this venture. The last thing he needed was to shift into his child form while holding a child. 

For Danny’s part, he didn’t bat an eye, just continued to cry softly. He was still small enough that he didn’t care about the stranger in his bedroom. He only cared about the comfort he was getting and the rocking back and forth motion. 

This interaction would cost him nothing. Tonight, Danny would be soothed and as he grew older, he would forget this moment ever happened. It would fade into dream-like memories. 

“Those scary things can’t hurt you, little King to be.” Clockwork muttered, wiping at the tears falling down Danny’s face. 

Blue eyes looked up at him owlishly, lips still wobbling from his fright. 

“You just need a distraction.” Clockwork whispered, not wanting to wake anyone in the house. It likely would have only been Jazz though. The Fenton parents were either in the basement or out attempting to hunt what wasn’t yet a problem in Amity Park. He hadn’t bothered to look, he only knew enough to know he wouldn’t be seen or interrupted. 

“Nn..” Danny reached up to tug on the hem of his hood. 

“Yes.” Clockwork said, ectoplasm filling his palm. The glowing ball snatched Danny’s attention away in an instant, the child reaching for it only to be pulled away. “Not yet. Touching it isn’t safe for you yet.” 

Danny stretched again, sniffing back tears as he attempted to reach for it a second time. Instead, the ectoplasm split apart into a dozen little pieces. Each floated up towards the ceiling, rearranging themselves into rough star shapes. 

“St-!” Danny pointed up at them, a smile slowly spreading across his little face. 

“How about you keep these for the night?” Clockwork asked, “They’ll keep the bad dreams away.”

The toddler was enthralled, head tilted back. 

Clockwork laid Danny back down in bed, tucking him in and kneeling at the edge of his bed. “These will watch over you, okay?” 

“Nhnn.” Danny’s smile remained, he only spared Clockwork another peaceful look before he looked back up at the ectoplasm stars. Normally, the exposure probably would have been unhealthy but the children were exposed enough. This little bit wouldn’t do any harm. He’d checked. 

For several long minutes Clockwork watched him, the child’s eyes blinking slowly. Sleep was tugging at him, but his desire to look at the stars was strong. 

“There are scary things out there, little King to be.” Clockwork said softly. “But there are plenty of good things out there too if you look.” 

Danny pointed up at the ectoplasm again, the green light spread across the room. 

“Goodnight, Danny.” Clockwork said, knowing it would only be minutes before the child’s eyes closed for a much more peaceful bout of sleeping. 

~

Not for the first time, Clockwork found himself surprised by the very future he had already predicted. Knowing the future and living through it in the present were incomparable. Emotions were vast, every ghost knew that in particular. Emotions overflowed for them, and while Clockwork knew he would care about the children, feeling that affection first hand was overwhelming. 

The disdain he felt for the ghost hunting Fentons grew as their lack of positive parenting became evident. It wasn’t just their ghost hunting focus that was getting on his nerves, though it hadn’t happened yet, but their poor interactions with their own children.

It shouldn’t have been up to Jazz to take care of her little brother. She went as far as to drop him off at daycare by herself before walking to school alone. Once or twice Clockwork would appear, invisibly hovering beside her to make sure she got to both places safely. Once he’d pulled her and her brother out of the way from being clipped by a car, and twice since then he stopped time momentarily to hold the red lights and let Jazz cross the street on her little legs.

It was frankly outrageous that no one seemed to notice the dangers these kids were constantly in, or the neglect they suffered. All the same, even he could only meddle so much, and he was far more than he realized he’d need to. 

As much as he tried to stay out of sight, some occasions were impossible. When he needed to apply baid-aids to both of Danny’s knees when he fell on the concrete steps outside of the house, or when he appeared behind Jazz as a spectral terror to scare away a young man who was following the little girl to the corner store with awful intentions in mind. 

The last one had almost been a disaster when Jazz turned around and looked up at him, then at the young man running away as fear gripped his heart. 

“Thank you.” Jazz said, though she didn’t quite understand what she was thanking him for. She turned around, marching right back to the corner store with dollar bills in her change purse. 

“You’re welcome, Jazz.” He muttered before fading away from sight. Even while being among his predictions of possible outcomes, it was a strange reaction from the little girl who’s parents ranted about ghosts. The blanket acceptance for receiving help. 

He didn’t know where her kindness came from, but it was imperative that she passed it on to her brother. She was small, but she was smart. She was reading at a second grade level already, and wrote on the wall calendar what days the bills were due. She was responsible beyond her years, not out of want but necessity. 

If Clockwork helped distract Danny for a while so she was able to read or make sandwiches for them, that was their collective business, just the three of them. 

“Mr. Ghost.” Jazz blinked up at him one afternoon. She was fidgeting and ended up dropping her gaze to her feet. “Can you help me lift the bottle?” 

“The…bottle?” He stared at her. Danny ran towards them, running through Clockwork and falling onto his hands and knees with a laugh. The small boy kept trying to grab Clockwork's ghost tail and was endlessly thrilled by not being able to touch it. 

“Yeah, for the dirty clothes. I read the directions but i can’t lift the bottle. It’s heavy.” Jazz said, holding out a hand for Danny to help regain his balance. 

“Yes. I can help you.” Clockwork said. It was easy to be proud of these children, and quietly infuriating that it was necessary. 

It wasn’t just that Jazz had learned to be so self sufficient, it was that Danny knew to stay by his sister. While Jazz tossed their clothes into the washing machine, and Clockwork helped Jazz measure out the detergent, Danny sat on the floor nearby playing with a spaceship that Jazz had made for him out of paper plates, duct tape, and plastic straws. 

These kids were growing up with only occasional visits from their parents while living in the same house. 

“Thank you.” Jazz said when they had finished. 

“You’re quite welcome, Jazz.” 

It was almost sad how the Fentons had no idea there was a ghost in their home. Until they did, or until they suspected something was strange. 

Danny was little, and didn’t know who he was supposed to share things with, or what he was supposed to keep secret. When he started to talk about his flying friend, his see-through friend, the Fentons over reacted. 

Clockwork might have had to stay out of the house for a few weeks, but he still watched carefully as Jack and Maddie searched the house, Danny’s room in particular. Ghost hunting was their obsession and they took a toddler at his word. 

When he finally started crying over his parents too loud, nearly volatile search, Jazz lost her temper. 

“He just has an imaginary friend! It’s not real! Not everything is a ghost! Ghosts aren’t real!” 

“Now, Jazz.” Maddie tried to soothe her. “If he says he saw-” 

“He’s a baby! All you talk about is ghosts. Of course his imaginary friend would look like a ghost, but you aren’t finding anything, are you?! Ghosts aren’t real!” She took Danny’s hand and stomped off to her own room where they could play in peace, away from the whirling alarms of ghost gadgets. 

It was the stance the small girl would take for years. Ghosts did not exist, while she knew very well that they did. She chose to protect Clockwork over letting her parents know that there had been a ghost in the house. 

It was however, a reminder to Clockwork that he was becoming a little too complacent. He was being seen a little too often. Danny couldn’t know about him until the time was right, but Jazz was more than capable of keeping quiet. 

He continued to tuck Danny in after a nightmare and a night of glowing ectoplasm stars on the ceiling. He also continued to help Jazz when something was just a little out of her means, but otherwise did better to stay hidden. 

Even invisible, Jazz often knew when he was around. It had Clockwork smiling at the future where she would be in full control of her liminality. The kids were growing to be quite capable. 

~ 

In theory, Clockwork had been looking forward to the day where Danny became a halfa. It was the start of so much, the next checkpoint of the most favorable future. It was a sure thing now, but Clockwork’s own emotions were wavering the day in question. Watching Danny head down into the lab with his two friends trailing behind him had him feeling sick. Yes, Danny would become a halfa, and someday he would become king, but now, this day, Danny was going to die. 

Had there been another way, Clockwork would have considered it. Instead, all he could do was be present, watching invisibly as the child he’d helped raise was killed and born anew in the same breath. It was the most terrible thing he’d seen in recent memory. 

It was difficult not to immediately rush to his side. To offer to teach him how to use the new abilities he’d just gain. He saw the fear on Danny’s face, and saw the cold air puff between his lips. Danny didn’t yet know what his ghost sense was. He didn’t know Clockwork was in the very same room with him. This was the start, and like always, Clockwork would be watching. He would do what he was able to keep the boy safe, and winced at the months it would take before Jazz caught on to what was happening. 

Her brother becoming a halfa was not in the realm of possibilities that she was expecting but she would be his support, well versed by that point that their were both good and bad ghosts. 

Someday, Clockwork might tell Danny how long he’d been in his life. Someday, Danny might forgive him for his rough half ghost beginning and letting things fall where they were meant to. He didn’t revel in Danny’s struggles, but those struggles were what would make him a fitting king. 

Soon he’d get to introduce himself to Danny, and his first task for the boy would be a harrowing one, but he knew what Danny could do when he tried. Until then, Clockwork would watch the parade from above, his pride in the Fenton children immeasurable.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

First Date - Christmas with you

A/N: A little one shot from our Christmas with you universe. Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Tony Stark x Single Mom! Reader

Christmas with you masterlist

.

“You know I will take you out on a proper date. You know the whole wine and dine thing.”

He had said as you walked home with Noah from the coffee shop. You felt comfortable walking with him, it didn’t feel like you’d only met him a few times before. Noah, the little matchmaker, had invited him over for cookies and he’d instantly agreed.

“You know a date doesn’t always have to be dinner and drinks at a fancy restaurant. It can be any activity you choose to do together.” You smiled as your hands brushed against each other, on purpose of course, but you knew Tony wouldn’t admit.

“Right..”

Feeling bolder, you slipped your hand in his, taking him by surprise.

“What do you say to a cookie decorating date, Iron Man? Interested?” You giggled, explaining that you had to give away some holiday-themed cookies at the shelter. It was something you always did, apart from volunteering to help out any time you could.

“I’d say prepare yourself to be impressed, Ms Y/L/N. I am freakishly good when it comes to all things frosting and decorating.” He smirked, lacing your fingers together as you headed home.

Along the way, Noah had wormed his way between you, insisting on holding both your hands and jumping along the path, humming loudly. Your thoughts wandered to how less-than-ideal all of this was, but then you brushed it off quickly. You’d see how it goes before worrying too much.

Back home, you got to work after showing Tony around the kitchen. He had taken keen interest in everything you’d said and had limbered up for the task ahead, making you laugh at his antics.

Having baked some sugar cookies ahead of time, you took them out along with the piping bags with icing. Noah sat in his high chair at the breakfast bar with one of his toys that quickly caught Tony’s attention.

You watched them together, Noah giggling at Tony’s remarks, his eyes wide with wonder, the scene tugged at your heartstrings. It was a revelation that Tony Stark was such a natural with kids.

“Alright, I have everything I need right here. Look at some pictures if you need to but basically we need all Christmas themed cookies, you know?” You set the cookies in line as you spoke, heart fluttering as the man stood close to you, his presence equal parts comforting and exciting.

“Yes, ma’am.” Tony did a mock salute, slipping on the apron you handed him, looking rather domestic and cute.

While you observed him tackle a piping bag that almost got away from him, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. The so called ‘cookie decorating expert’ fumbling in your kitchen was adorable. It was funnier when Noah reprimanded him for not a good job.

It was only fifteen minutes in before Noah was bored and wanted to watch his cartoons on tv. Tony celebrated internally, not that he’d wanted your son to leave, but he’d get you all to himself, for him to impress you..perhaps kiss you even. He’d been wanting to for some time now.

Setting him up with a movie and some snacks, you returned to the kitchen, Tony was busy attempting to decorate a perfect holiday wreath, cursing as the icing ran down the cookie.

“Okay, can I just show you first?” You intervened, placing your hand on his shoulder, the contact making Tony’s heart jump.

Handing you the piping bag, he stood behind you, a little too close but you certainly weren’t complaining, neither was your rapidly beating heart. You could almost feel his breath over your shoulder, his chest inches away from your back as you decorated the cookie expertly.

“See? Apply gentle pressure to the bag, so you control how much icing actually comes out of it.”

“Mmhmm.” His voice hummed right next to your ear, making your heart flip. You turned to find him gazing at you, his eyes dropping to your lips before looking back up.

You really wanted him to kiss you. Unconsciously, you leaned in, mere inches apart now before you heard your son call for you.

Damn it!

You both shared the sentiment before stepping back, the moment dissipating quickly as you went out in the living room.

Tony had managed better than you expected after you returned, soon you were done with enough cookies for the shelter, the moment that passed still lingering at the back of your minds. You brewed some coffee while chatting with the man who seemed more at ease now.

“Here. Taste test.” You offered him a cookie that you’d made, grabbing one for yourself too.

While you packed the rest of the cookies in a container to bring them over to the shelter later, Tony sat on the couch with your son, interested in the cartoons he’d been watching. The cookies were less than perfect, but you were certain once the people knew they’d been decorated by the Tony Stark, it wouldn’t matter as much.

Joining the boys on the couch, you took a seat next to Tony, your legs almost touching. With a sigh, you closed your eyes for a moment.

“You know as far as dates go, this was the best date I’ve ever had, Y/N. God knows I’ve had my fair share of em.” He blurted before he could stop himself. Why’d he have to go on and say that? He didn’t want to blow his chances here.

But you weren’t surprised, he had a reputation that was pretty much available for the whole world to know. Famous affairs and scandals.

“Fair share of them huh? I bet none of them remotely included decorating cookies and a precocious three year old.” You chuckled, reaching out to wipe some frosting that had stuck to his cheek. The little gesture stirring something inside him, making him wish you’d do that again.

“No. This was way better. Wine and dine is overrated anyway.” He shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

“You know Tony, I’ve had a good time too. And I know it wasn’t exactly an ideal date, but, I could be convinced for the whole wine and dine too someday.” You smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. Not had too many of those, I’m afraid. I just don’t know how I feel about being fussed over.”

It was the truth. You didn’t remember the last time you went out on a proper date. Not since Noah. It had been the two of you. Always. And you hadn’t met a man who was comfortable enough with a single mom.

“I’d be honoured. And you deserve to be fussed over, Y/N. Both of you.”

He admitted, reaching out to clasp your hand in his and lifting it to press a soft kiss to the back. The simplest of gestures made your cheeks warm, especially since his big brown eyes bore into yours, conveying he’d wanted to kiss more than just your hand.

But Tony was willing to wait for the right time. To him, you were worth waiting for too.

[universitypenguin]

Chapter 31

Summary: Princess slowly recovers from her brain injury. Nguyen refuses requests for an interview, leaving many lingering questions hanging over the case. Lloyd makes a rash decision. 

Word Count: 3,175

Masterlist

Warnings: Depiction of healthcare settings and brain injury recovery.

Chapter 31

Sunlight filtered in through the casement window of the rehab center and warmed the back of your neck. You sat on the edge of a chair and focused on the buttons of your sweater. First, tilt the button to the side…slip it through the hole… your fingers trembled as you fastened the top button of the cardigan.

“Very good,” the nursing assistant said.

You hated her bright, cheerful tone. It was more suited to training a puppy than addressing an adult. The worst part of it was that the assistant appeared to be even younger than you. For some reason, that rubbed salt in the wound.

“How about you try the next button?” she coaxed.

It was on the tip of your tongue to refuse and say you liked it better with only the top button fastened, but you knew that statement would wind its way back to your occupational therapist before breakfast was served. So, with unsteady fingers, you began to work on the second button.

Dressing on your own was a victory in itself. A month ago you’d graduated from a hospital gown to your own pajamas. This month you’d reached the greatest pinnacle of success possible in a place like long-term rehab: wearing real clothes. It was a huge improvement over being tethered to beeping machines in a sterile white room at the far end of the hall, which was where you’d started your rehab journey before being slowly downgraded through the different levels of care at the center.

The weeks you’d spent in the ICU were hazy, and your memories of that place were colored with an intense feeling of frustration.

Those feelings came back in full force when the nursing assistant spoke. “Good job!”

Your eyes flicked toward her, and your lip curled up in one corner. It was rude, but controlling your emotions—and facial expressions—was still a work in progress. While in the ICU, you’d learned there was a term for that condition: emotional lability. Basically, it meant that your feelings were intense and volatile. Emotional regulation was a natural state for you, something you’d learned so young it was almost an innate ability. Not having that skill post brain injury was a new experience—an unpleasant one.

The nursing assistant went to the bathroom and collected your makeup bag while she rattled off your morning schedule and filled you in on who was coming to visit you today. Lloyd would be here in the afternoon, and so would your mother and Vivian.

You took the makeup kit and carefully unzipped the bag, mindful of your movements. It took focus to keep your hand steady, applying the correct amount of pressure. Everything was slow these days, and it was hard not to slap the makeup bag off your lap and scream. Or maybe cry. You’d spent quite a bit of time alternating between both reactions, but at least now you could button a sweater. Hopefully, the results would compound, and you’d finally get your independence back.

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

“You’re saying we can take her home?”

Lloyd cut through the long-winded social worker’s analysis, stating what he’d understood.

The social worker clasped her clipboard to her chest. “Provided there are no stairs to navigate and she has someone available to assist her during the day. She’s made significant progress, but there are still areas where she’ll need support—particularly with fine motor tasks and spatial awareness. It’s not ideal for her to be alone for extended periods.”

Lloyd glanced at your mother. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Vivian, her hand resting on her pregnant belly, which was just starting to show, shifted uncomfortably. The tension in the room was palpable as the practicalities of Princess’ care weighed on everyone’s mind.

“There’s a bedroom at my house on the main floor,” Lloyd said. “There would be no need for her to deal with stairs.”

Your mother frowned. “I don’t want to impose. You’ve already done so much.”

“It’s not an imposition. It’s what makes sense. She’ll have the space and the supervision she needs.”

Vivian hesitated, glancing between them before she finally spoke. “Mom, there’s steps leading up to my house. Your guest room is in the basement. Neither of us could take care of her. Not safely.”

The doctor nodded. “Given her current limitations, Mr. Hansen’s home is better suited for her recovery. She’ll have outpatient therapy here at the rehab center three times a week, but I do think she’ll make more progress in a less regulated environment where she can relax and practice the therapy skills at her own pace.”

“She would,” your mother was quick to agree.

It was true that you’d reached the end of your patience with the structured routines of rehab. The daily therapy sessions made you cranky, not because you didn’t want to make progress, but because you resented constantly being told what to do and it was hindering your improvement.

“Then it’s settled. She’ll come home with me.”

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

Getting you discharged took three days. There were requirements to fulfill, like having a hospital bed installed in the guest room and arranging for in-home therapy equipment to be delivered. Lloyd handled it all with efficiency. By the time the paperwork was signed and your belongings packed, you felt more like a package whose delivery required a team of logistics experts rather than a human being.

The ride to Lloyd’s house was quiet. You spent it in silence, hoping that you’d start to feel like you were reclaiming your independence at some point along the journey. When you stepped into the guest room and came face to face with the hospital bed that had replaced the luxurious queen bed that used to dominate the space, you wanted to sit down and cry. This didn’t feel like a stop on the way back to normal. It felt like the rest of your life would be spent fighting for every zipper to unzip and every button to fasten.

“Princess?” Lloyd spoke from behind you as you stood in the doorway to the guest room.

“Did you put the bed in storage?”

“It’s downstairs in the basement. The hospital bed is just temporary, I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around you and the solid mass of his chest pressed against your back. “You know, graduating from rehab calls for a celebration.”

You snorted derisively, unable to stop yourself.

Lloyd released his hold on your waist and turned you around by the shoulders to face him. You lowered your gaze, but he took your chin and tilted your head up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” you broke off and closed your eyes. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he pressed.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you shook your head, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

“Come here.”

You sank into Lloyd, sagging against him, and soon the front of his shirt was soaked with tears.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said again when you’d cried yourself out.

This time you forced yourself to put the emotions into words, even though it was harder to express yourself that way now. Everything was harder now.

“I was thinking that celebrating couldn’t involve me eating because I can’t use most silverware right now. I imagined myself trying to cut a bite of food, and then I felt… upset. We can’t go out for martinis because I can’t drink on my medication. If we went somewhere I’d just get tired and fall asleep, regardless of the fact that I’ve had three naps today. I’m just feeling… hopeless. I’m sorry.”

Lloyd’s lips brushed your ear. “You are not hopeless. In fact, you’re the furthest thing from it.”

You bit your lip and choked down another sob.

“Luckily, my celebration doesn’t involve eating or drinking or going out. In fact…”

The rustling of tissue paper had you lifting your head from his chest. He’d reached around you to pick up a gift bag from the dresser beside the door. It was bright red and stuffed on the top with silver paper.

“Open it.”

You tore out the paper and dug into the bag to find a velvet box. It was large, surprisingly so. Definitely bigger than any jewelry box you’d received for your birthday or a holiday. Instead of trying to open it yourself, you handed it to Lloyd.

He lifted the lid of the case and revealed a pearl choker nestled in the middle of the silk-lined box.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Want to try it on?”

In answer, you turned around so he could access your neck.

The cool weight of the pearls settled against your skin as Lloyd fastened the clasp. You reached up instinctively, your fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the choker. It felt elegant and timeless. For a fleeting moment, you could almost forget the hospital bed dominating the room or the tremor in your hand as you felt the jewels.

“Perfect,” Lloyd murmured. He slid off the bed and stood to face you, inspecting the necklace. “It suits you.”

You looked in the mirror above the dresser to see your reflection. The pearls caught the light from the window, gleaming against your skin, and for the first time in ages, you felt like you recognized the person in the mirror. It wasn’t exactly the same person as before, but you weren’t as different as you’d thought you’d become.

“Thank you,” you said.

Lloyd smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You wondered at the expression and then your own smile faltered at the realization that perhaps he was seeing the same thing you were—the lack of similarity between who you were before, and now.

“I thought you deserved something beautiful after everything that’s happened.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers still tracing the pearls. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

“That’s all I care about,” Lloyd murmured.

There was something on his face you couldn’t figure out, but you could sense there was more to this gift than just what he’d said. Unfortunately, your brain was too tired, and a headache was forming in your left temple. You promised yourself that you’d puzzle it out later, but right now your body was too tired, your brain too fragile to process anything. His words hung in the air between you, their weight heavier than the necklace.

“You need a nap, don’t you?” Lloyd asked.

“Mmmhh.” You rubbed your left temple, sighing. “I’m sorry. I’m not very much fun right now.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll celebrate once you’re fully recovered. I promise. Now go to bed. I’ll tuck you in.”

“Tuck me into my hospital bed,” you grumbled.

“Suck it up,” Lloyd said, smirking when you pouted.

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

Weeks turned into months. The hospital bed in Lloyd’s guest room became a distant memory as grueling physical therapy sessions eventually turned into real progress. At first, the exercises were agonizing, breaking you down before you could rebuild. Small victories marked the way—cutting food without fumbling, fastening buttons without trembling, ascending stairs without clinging to the railing like it was a life preserver. Each milestone was hard-won, but by the time you were cleared to return to work, you’d reclaimed most of your independence.

In January, stepping into your office for the first time since the accident felt like slipping into a favorite coat that had been left hanging in the closet too long. The fit was the same, the fabric still warm with familiarity, but there was a stiffness to it now, a faint scent of dust that made it feel a little less like home. The hum of voices from down the hall, the rustle of papers, and the faint smell of coffee grounded you. Flowers waited on your desk, accompanied by a card signed by the paralegals. For the first time in months, you allowed yourself to hope for a normal day.

Lloyd had seemed genuinely pleased to see you thriving, but the shadow you’d glimpsed in his eyes the day he gave you the pearl choker lingered in your mind, like a storm cloud on the horizon. In the four months since Shun Nguyen’s arrest, Lloyd had been busy with new cases and relentlessly pursuing an elusive interview with Nguyen, who was now a full-time resident at the Keen Mountain Correctional Facility. Despite Lloyd’s weekly requests, Nguyen refused to break his silence. 

Meanwhile, you’d been preoccupied with therapy and the slow crawl back to normalcy. Lloyd’s caseload meant he’d been working long hours, during which your mother or sister had stayed at the house. The gaps in your time together had felt like mere coincidences rather than anything more significant, but tonight’s dinner was meant to change that. You were back at work and that meant you wouldn’t just have your normal routine back, you’d also have Lloyd again, too.

The French restaurant near Logan Circle was dimly lit, its ambiance all soft candlelight and muted conversations. The semi-private booth Lloyd reserved offered a semblance of intimacy, but the space between you felt heavier than usual. He picked at his coq au vin, while you tried to fill the silence with stories about your first day back at work, therapy, and plans for the weekend. His responses were polite but distant, each word carefully measured.

“I’m proud of you,” Lloyd said abruptly, cutting into your rambling story.

You blinked, caught off guard. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said, setting his fork down. His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, the shadow you’d seen before was unmistakable. “For how hard you’ve worked to get back here. For everything you’ve overcome.”

Your heart swelled, but before you could respond, he sighed, the sound heavy with regret.

“I wanted to wait to do this,” he began, his voice low. “I wanted to do it differently, but if I keep putting it off, it’ll never happen. And I can’t keep avoiding it.”

A chill ran down your spine. “Avoiding what?”

Lloyd’s mouth tightened as he looked away. His voice, when it came, was calm but unyielding. “We’ve been holding onto something that’s run its course. There were a lot of extenuating circumstances, and after what happened to you in September… you needed support. But this relationship was never meant to last this long or become so… involved. It’s not right.”

“Not right?” you asked, disbelieving. “You mean it doesn’t feel right to you.”

His face betrayed nothing. “It’s not about how it feels. It’s about what’s best for you, for both of us. We can’t keep pretending those are the same thing.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “What are you saying? If you’re breaking up with me, just say it. Don’t dance around it.”

Lloyd was maddeningly composed. “I care about you, but this relationship isn’t working for me. And it’s not working for you, even if you can’t see that yet. I can’t give you what you need—what you deserve. And I don’t want to keep holding you back.”

“This relationship is over. That’s what you’re saying,” you said. “You invited me to dinner to tell me this?”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low to avoid drawing attention. “Don’t tell me you care about me and then say you can’t give me what I need. That’s bullshit, Lloyd. I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

“We need to be realistic about what our future looks like.”

You scowled. “It sounds like you’ve already decided what it looks like.” 

“Think about it. Right now I’m forty-one and our physical relationship is good, but what happens in ten years, when I’m fifty-one? In twenty years?” Lloyd shook his head. “You might be attracted to me now, but when I’m sixty and my age starts to show, that’s another story. It’s going to happen sooner than you think, so ending this now is for the best.”

“What about when I’m in my forties? Will you be attracted to me?” 

“Forty is way different than sixty. Trust me, I’m in a lot better shape now than what I’ll be when I’m sixty. My expiration date is a lot earlier than yours, for looks, energy, and time.” 

“That’s ridiculous!”

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd said, his voice firm. “This is my decision and I need you to respect it. Please.”

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

The ride back to your apartment passed in a blur. That night, you lay in bed, the scene at dinner replaying on an endless loop in your mind. By the time the sun broke through the blinds, you’d given up on sleep. You showered, dressed meticulously, and spent an hour perfecting your makeup to ensure no trace of the night’s turmoil showed on your face.

At the office, the cheerful bouquet on your desk felt like a cruel joke. The hollow ache in your chest burned with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. You felt like an open wound, raw and exposed. Unable to bear it any longer, you climbed the stairs to the top floor. Outside the patent department, you checked your watch. Ten minutes to seven.

The door swung open behind you. Bishop stepped in, brushing snow from his lapel. His brows lifted at the sight of you standing outside his office.

“Princess? How are you? How’s your second day back? You’re here early. Is something wrong?”

You drew a deep breath. “I would like to resign,” you said. “Effective immediately.”

Bishop froze, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. “Princess, I hope this isn’t about Lloyd. Let’s talk about this—come into my office.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your words came out clipped, final, but you couldn’t stop the sting of tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I just… I can’t do this anymore.”

He sighed, motioning for you to sit down in one of the chairs in front of his secretary’s desk. “Look, I get it. Things have been… difficult. But you’re one of the best researchers I’ve got. What if we found a way to make things easier for you here? A different role—less overlap with Lloyd’s team? How about working for Andy? He’d give his left arm to have you on his staff.” 

The offer was tempting, but every fiber of your being rejected the idea of staying at Bishop & Howard. “I appreciate that,” you said, “but this isn’t about Lloyd. It’s about me. I need to go.”

His frown deepened, but he nodded. “If that’s your final decision, I won’t stand in your way. Just know you’ll always have a place here.”

You rose to your feet and extended your hand. Bishop clasped it firmly, his grip tinged with the same reluctance that lined his face. No matter how much it hurt, this was the right decision. You knew Lloyd too well to hope that he’d change his mind and if you didn’t walk away, you’d never heal.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Bishop.”

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

Next Chapter - Coming Soon

Masterlist

Tag List: see the replies

[milkteasweetheart]

『just like heaven, introduction』

this part contains the introduction.

housewardens x reader

author’s note: i depict nrc as an actual college, so first years are 18, second years 19, etc.

summary: crowley has the bright idea of a bonding experience, specifically in the form of a dream potion.

characters: riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia / platonic mentions: dire crowley (ew), grim

genre: romance, fluff, smidge of angst

warnings: female reader, reader is yuu, reader is around ace and deuce’s height, sappy, marriage, mentions of potential children, some suggestive themes

「introduction: dire crowley (derogatory)」

It’s not a very peaceful evening.

It started with Crowley’s bright idea of a bonding experience. That is, gather the students that overblotted (and the overworked, underpaid regular joe that got dragged into solving them) and spritz a potion that will make them see each others dreams. What kind of logic does this birdbrain operate on?

“It will help you understand each other, which will reduce conflict! And since I am oh so generous, I’ve already brewed the potion required for this occasion.”

(Y/N) had the strong feeling that Crowley just wanted to get rid of the problem of overblotting the easy way, instead of actually getting help for the housewardens (and Jamil).

When asked how it works, Crowley talked in circles to the point that it’ll be easier to just go with whatever bullshit he’s come up with instead of pulling teeth any further.

So, that leads to the Ramshackle’s lounge. Grim had willingly left to spend the night in Heartslabyul with (Y/N)’s best buddies, Ace and Deuce. “I don’t wanna hang out with those weirdos! I got better things to do!” She could only hope he’d behave for the sake of Trey.

The rocking chair and coffee table had been pushed away next to the walls to make room for the beds Malleus had kindly summoned. (Y/N) will definitely ask him if she could keep one. They’re very comfortable.

After making supper with the aid of Jamil (and Azul, who butted in, which caused Jamil to glare side-eye daggers at him) and Vil, who wanted to oversee the process to assure the food they made was healthy. Before embarking on this culinary mission, (Y/N) had tasked Riddle to distract Leona from picking a fight with Malleus so that Ramshackle could be spared for another day. Riddle had seemed excited for some reason, and took his mission seriously after giving a small, blushy nod. 

「Riddle: The prefect trusts me to keep peace. I won’t disappoint!」

The meal went by… strangely. Jamil and Azul kept slipping each other snide remarks, and so did Leona and Malleus. (Y/N) had long considered carrying around a spray bottle, and these people did not help the growing need for it. Idia wisely stayed out of it. His strategy to survive the night was to keep his mouth shut and avoid conversation with anyone else other than the prefect. When Riddle attempted to make conversation, Vil would change the subject. When Riddle eventually managed to hijack (Y/N)' attention, Vil looked at him with a freezing stare.

「Vil: Foolish ventriloquist doll potato. She's got better things to talk about.」

Despite the tension, Ramshackle had not fallen, and so the headmage descended upon them with a potion in a fancy perfume bottle.

“What are the ingredients in this, if I may ask?” Vil sensibly asked the incredibly suspicious headmage, who skillfully evaded the question with the command for the students to get comfortable.

Each of the overblotted students were confident that their dreams were not that bad. Sure, letting others see what they desired wasn’t ideal, but they can surely control what they’ll see, right? Right. 

[activesplooger]

ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ | ᴠᴏx x ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) PART 5 LETS FUCKING GOOOOO!!! sorry for the long wait, lowkey got burnt out for a bit and then overwhelmed and then uh life went downhill for a hot sec but IM BACK BABYY. I hope ygs like this one <3

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Life has improved now that Vox is trying to not be shitty! However, a work crisis occurs and Vox starts to spiral, but luckily you're there to help!

ᴄᴡ: company crisis!!!, bickering, fluffffyyyyyy :]

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3,406

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 4 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 5 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 6

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴘᴏꜱᴛ!

Life has improved tremendously over the past week. With Vox working on himself instead of lashing out, the work environment is much better! Employees no longer sulk and cower in fear of upsetting their menacing boss; instead, they stand taller with a diligent work ethic. It not only boosted morale but also boosted profits! More work is getting done and there are fewer errors since the workers aren't so shaken up anymore.

As for Vox.... while he isn't as cruel as before, he's still kind of a dick. Everything shitty he did before is still there, just not as aggressive or hostile. He doesn't yell as much, though he still does. He doesn't harm employees anymore, but he sure as hell threatens to!

It's been a challenge, to say the least. He still lashes out from time to time but always covers it up with an "I'm sorry" and a VoxTech gift basket sent to their desk. That's a reoccurring pattern in Vox's behavior — vile one moment, apologizing the next. It isn't ideal, that's for sure, but it's certainly better than before. Nonetheless, progress is progress! You're proud(ish).

Today was an ordinary work day: getting work done while navigating around your boss's temper changes. You glance at the clock reading "8:00pm", you're at the end of your shift. The lights had gone out an hour ago, the automatic system shutting them off at 7:00 when most employees on your floor had already left. You're the last one in the office, the rest of the building is dark except for the light emanating from your computer. Before you go, you go to check on Vox before leaving in case he has any last-minute tasks for you. Part of you wanted to leave and sink into the couch of your crappy apartment, but alas, you just had to be a good assistant or whatever. You curse yourself for caring about your job. Maneuvering around the office, you find the hallway to Vox's office. You manage to navigate the circular door to his office, stumbling over your heels as you walk through it. Ah, finally, light.

You take a minute for your eyes to adjust to the light, a stark contrast to the pitch black you were previously wandering in. Your heels click on the black walkway to Vox's desk, the closer you get, the more you realize that he seems to be in distress. His jacket was tossed across his chair, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he focuses on the various monitors in front of him. He clicks frantically from screen to screen, seeming to be in search of something important. "C'mon cmon," he mutters, eyes wide and anxious as he continues his panicked search, "how the fuck did it get out?!"

"Vox?" you pipe up, startling Vox out of his work-trance state. He swivels on his chair to face you. "Oh! Jesus," he exclaims, hand clutching his chest, "you scared the shit out of me! How many times have I told you to fucking knock?!". "Sorry," you apologize, you had a bad habit of sneaking up on people incidentally. He sighs, resting an elbow on an armrest and resting his hand in his palm. His eyes close shut as teal claws massage his forehead in slow circles, "No no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled.". You shrug, "It's fine, really. I should've just knocked instead of being creepy. He chuckles softly at that, still kneading his forehead. "You okay?". "I'm fine. Go home, Y/N." he says dismissively. You exhale harshly, he clearly needs help, "No, I won't just 'go home'. Clearly, something's wrong here.". He looks up at you, lifting his head off his hand, "You can't therapize me out of this one.". "Haha, very funny," you remark sarcastically, "Seriously though, I'm your assistant. It's literally my job to help.".

The TV demon groans, standing up from his chair and beckoning you over with a curled teal claw. You walk over to him, looking intently as he points to a news article on the screen. The article was essentially about a company pirating unreleased VoxTech products through some leak. "There's really no reason to worry," you reassure, "it's one measly leak from one of our weaker ideas, we can just make sure nothing else-". "It's too late!" he points to report after report of unveiled products of our company that somehow got disclosed, "It's all from this shady company that's bootlegging my products in different rings. And I can't track them because he doesn't use our technology, they use some shitty electronics brand from the greed ring." Oh shit, this is actually more serious than you thought.

You sigh and set down your things, leaning over the desk to get a closer look at the disclosed information, "Alright, let's see what we can do here.". Vox furrows his eyebrows, leaning to the side to see what you're doing, "What? Who's we?". Whipping your head back, you look back at him with confusion, "You and I. I'm helping you.". "No, no, no," he chuckles, shaking his head with an incredulous demeanor, "'we' are not doing anything. I'm fine, I can do this on my own.". You roll your eyes, "Oh c'mon! I'm your assistant, It's literally my job to help you.". A groan escapes his mouth, begrudgingly accepting your help, "Fine, fine! Come on, then. Don't waste time.".

The TV demon briskly makes his way over to the exit. You scramble to grab your things and catch up to him. He leaves his office and leads you to the conference room. With a snap of his fingers, teal electricity bolts out to the lights and flickers them on. Show off. The light switch was literally inches away from him.

You set your stuff down in front of one of the chairs and sit in it. Vox takes the seat across from you and opens up his laptop. He flips it over to you, gesturing to it with a sarcastic expression, "Alright, work your magic, genius.". Exhaling sharply, you get to work, "Maybe we can track the people who leaked it through there website?". You type away on the computer, searching for any sign of how the leak got out or who disclosed it.

Vox rests his head in his palm, giving you an "impress me" look. A few minutes pass and Vox grows impatient, "See?! It's not working! Just let me do it, this clearly isn't getting us anywhere.". He reaches for the computer but you shift it away from him before he can snatch it. You glare at him, insulted that he didn't trust in your aptitude, "It's literally been like 2 minutes!". A defeated sigh escapes his lips, "Fine. Sorry.".

He looks down at the table with an almost bashful expression, too prideful to look you in the eye as he apologizes. You hand him back his laptop and pull out your own, "It's fine. Let's work together, alright? Just be patient and I'm sure we'll find a solution.". He nods and gets back to work, searching for any clues of how the information got out. A sigh escapes his lips, pushing his sleeves up higher to his biceps.

--

A couple hours passed and you had barely gotten anywhere. "Fuck, we might be here all night at this rate," he complains. "Yeah," you reply, "maybe...". Fuck, why did that excite you? This is so dumb it's literally just working overtime with your boss... but it means more to you. The last time you had "spent time" with Vox like this was pre-Alastor incident; all the post-incident "hang-outs" were just Vox berating you for some minute error. But that's over now, and you have a new start with him... Part of you hopes it'd be like it was before, however, you knew that probably wouldn't happen. Still, you're hopeful.

The TV demon's composure starts to decline, stress sending him into overdrive. His electricity starts to flare around his screen, teal jolts of electricity emanating from his head as his frustration increases. "Maybe we should take a break-" you suggest, not wanting Vox to blow a fuse. He slams his hands on the table, "A break?! During a crisis?! Are you fucking with me?". The lights start to flicker, your laptop screen going wonky as his anger rises. You have to be careful with how you handle this or a ring-wide power outage could happen.

"Vox," you say softly, "I think it'd be best if we take a break, if we just keep overworking our thoughts will clutter.". He scoffs and rolls his eyes, "What do you know about working?! You're just an assistant, I created my own goddamn empire!". That set you off, no longer caring about coddling his feelings. You rise up from your seat and march over to him pointing an accusatory finger, "What do I know?! Oh, I don't know, maybe just a few things from the years of experience I've had working here! Are you forgetting that I've been here since day one?! Nobody has been here longer than me, not even you!".

Vox looks stunned at your outburst, his wide eyes looking up at you with guilt. The tension grows between you, an awkward silence settling. Relaxing your arms to your sides, you take a deep breath and walk back over to your seat. Vox's eyes follow you as you sit back down, a shocked and curious expression on his face.

You wanted to apologize for being unprofessional, but you didn't. What you said was justified, you weren't gonna let him push you around anymore. Things aren't how they used to be, and you needed to make that clear. Vox's expression is one of guilt and pride, not wanting to say anything to hurt his dignity or upset you further. He get's back to work, occasionally glancing up from his laptop to gauge your emotions; you look frustrated and stressed.

The two of you didn't speak, the only sound being the clacking of keys on your computers and the occasional chair squeak. Vox, noticing the tension, tries to clear the awkward silence. He clears his throat, "...remember the last time we had to do this...?". You look up from your laptop, an annoyed expression on your face, "Do what? Fight?". "No, no," he explains softly, "I meant work overtime together...". "Oh," you blink in surprise, you can't believe he'd remember something like that, "that was a while ago, I'm surprised you remember.". The TV demon laughs quietly, his tone reminiscent and tender, "How could I forget? We were two hours into work and you had already fallen asleep, I ended up having to do it all myself.". He remembered that..? You chuckle softly, a playful smile stretching across your face, "Yeah, not this time though.". Vox rolls his eyes lightheartedly, "Yeah, right.".

--

A few hours pass by of hard work, it's now around 2 in the morning. The only sounds for the past hour have been brief updates on new information and the ticking of the clock on the wall. You ended up finding something promising, a well known hell-born hacker that could help find the person who leaked the products, "Hey, Vox! I think I found something!". No response. "Vox?". you peak over your computer and see Vox passed out on his laptop keyboard. Chuckling softly, you mutter to yourself, "Hmph, ironic.".

You do some more research on the hacker and hire him, hoping that this will solve your problems. Grabbing your things, you stuff them in your bag and get ready to leave. As you're about to go, you catch a glimpse of Vox, still sleeping on his laptop. With a sigh, you walk over and clear the clutter from around him, helping him pack his stuff as he peacefully rests. "Why am I doing this..?" you mutter to yourself. Carefully, you remove the laptop from under him and replace it with a pillow. Once he seemed as comfortable as one can get for sleeping in an office, you turn off the lights and leave.

--

You drive home to your little apartment in the entertainment district, just down the street from the Vee Tower. Fumbling with your keys, you walk in and trudge into the bathroom. Feeling absolutely exhausted, you do a short version of your nightly routine and b-line it to your bedroom. You kick off your heels and slip into some pajamas, the soft soothing fabric embracing you like a hug. The lights flick off, darkness enveloping your room as you sink into the warmth of your bed sheets.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, your mind starts playing the "keep me awake" reel. Your thoughts start to drift, randomly remembering embarrassing moments from years back and deadlines that stress you out. "God damn it, why am I like this," you mutter.

You manage to get a few hours of sleep before waking up in the middle of the night with an urge to complete some projects that weren't due for a month. Springing up out of bed, you put on your uniform and get ready for work. 'Gotta check to see if the hacker did his job... then I'll finish making appointments for Vox... and then..." you think to yourself, brewing a cup of coffee and hastily pouring it into a to-go cup.

--

As you try to open the door to work, it's locked. Of course, it's locked. What other psycho comes to work at 3am?! "Ugh!" you groan. Luckily, you made enough noise to alert one of Valentino's workers. The sultry demon clad in lingerie opens the door, an impish smile etched across her picture-esque features as she ushers you inside. "Ah, you must be my co-star!" she takes your hand and shakes it softly, bending over to meet eye-to-eye with you. You then quickly ushered onto some type of library set. "I think you have me mistaken-" you squeak, your face beet red from the mix-up. Did she really think you're a pornstar? Part of you was flattered, the other part completely flustered over the interaction. Dang, a simple handshake and you're jittery?! 'I need to get laid,' you think to yourself.

Valentino walks over, "VANESSA! What is taking so lo-". The moth demon's eyes fall on you, his expression neutralizing, "Sweetheart what are you doing on my set?". "S-sorry Val! I came into work early and then uh your worker thought I was an actor-". "You know," He circles around you, checking you out as he undresses you with his eyes. A chill went down your spine, ugh, creepy. "Our other star is running quite late," He chuckles and leans in, his voice dropping to a buttery whisper, "Wanna be a star~?". "I'm good!" you squeak, backing away for as much personal space as possible. The moth demon's eyes stay fixed on you, "Are you sure? There's a hot market for sexy little tech nerds right now~ And I'd looove to get some-". "N-nope!" you interrupt, trying to ignore the hotness of your face, "seeyouaroundtheoffiebye!". You dart out of the room, using your bag to cover the bright red hue of your face. "The offer always stands, baby!" he calls out.

'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod-'. You wish you could say that was the first time Valentinos tried to convince you to do porn. And every time, you stammered out a decline and left before he tried to manipulate you with his smoke.

--

Vox blinks awake, taking in the familiar surroundings of the conference room, "Fuck, did I fall asleep here...?". The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills his nostrils, the mere scent perking him up. Lifting his head up, he sees you, holding out a coffee to him, "Good morning.". "Morning..." he mutters, grabbing the coffee cup and taking a swig of it, "Why are you here so early.". "Couldn't sleep," you reply vaguely, tidying up the room as you speak. Suddenly, the events of last night's crisis settle back into his mind, immediately flipping open his laptop and frantically scrolling, "W-What? Where's the leaked articles I don't-".

"Oh! The little hacker I hired took care of it," you smile softly as you explain, "I was wondering when they'd pull through!". Vox stares at you with wide eyes, almost like he admires you in some way, "You fixed it? The thing that I was trying to do for hours, all by yourself?". You nod, "Mhm, pretty simple actually I just did some research and hired this infamous programmer that could track and take down the leaks.". A giddy smile stretches across his screen, a bark of laughter escaping him, "Thank God! You have no idea how much that was stressing me out!". Overcome by relief and happiness, he strides over and hugs you, lifting you in the air as he embraces you tightly.

The action takes you off guard, surprised at his sudden display of affection. Your face burns red for the second time today, what's with all the affection?! Maybe you just looked extra hot or something.

His eyes shoot open in embarrassment as he realizes what he just did, quickly setting you down quickly on the floor. He clears his throat, trying to find a subject to ease the tension. "Uh," you stammer for a moment, looking for anything that could ease the tension. Just then, you remember there's a small bottle of champagne stored in the mini-fridge. You grab the bottle and wave it with an awkward smile, "Should we celebrate?". "Oh! Yes," he exclaims, letting out a sigh of relief. "That's a much more appropriate way to celebrate..." he mutters under his breath.

You pop open the champagne and pour a generous amount in two flute glasses. Vox grabs the glass and takes a sip, "So, anything interesting happened while I was asleep?". You shrug, "Aside from seeing you sleep like a baby? Not much.". "You were watching me while I sleep? That's normal," he teases playfully. "But hey," he begins, "can't blame you for admiring a masterpiece.". Rolling your eyes, you take another sip, "Yeah, "masterpiece". That's a funny way to say drowsy mess.".

"Oh, right, because you're soo put together," he retorts sarcastically. You shrug, "Valentino seems to think so.". The TV demon tilts his head, "What do you mean?". "Valentino offered me a job today,". He lets out a bark of laughter at this, "Ohoh! You're flattered, I'm sure.". "Pft sure," you jokingly affirm, "it's every sinner's dream to work for Valentino.".

An alarm goes off on your phone. Setting down your champagne, you reach into your pocket and grab out your phone. The alarm displays the words: "CONFERENCE CALL 10 MINUTES" with a blaring siren. You snooze the alarm and look up at him, "You have a conference call in 10.". "Ah," he says flatly, his expression flattening as he sets down his drink. He unrolls his sleeves and slips his blazer back on, straightening it out with a firm tug, "I guess I have to take that.". Nodding goodbye, he sighs and exits the room. Part of you was kind of upset that he left. To your surprise, he was actually being friendly again. It's nice to have a friend at work, if you could even consider him a friend.

--

The following night, you get a full night's sleep for the first time in weeks, no longer bombarded with anxiety and an urge to get ahead in work. You walk into work, making your way over to your little office in the corner. Swinging the door open, you see a gift basket perched on your desk. 'Must be one of those tacky pre-made Vox-Tech ones' you think. However, the basket looked far different from the others. It's a brown woven basket adorned with a red bow. Upon closer inspection, you see various gifts that weren't in the usual package; A nice bottle of wine, some cheeses, and a card tucked into the ribbon. Grabbing the card, it reads,

"ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇ,

-v- ᴠᴏx

ᴘ.ꜱ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴠᴀʟ"

You chuckle as you read it, a smile involuntarily tugging at your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Vox peaking at you from behind a wall. Once you make eye contact, he darts away through a security camera. "And he says I'm creepy?" you mutter to yourself.

--

AHHHHH IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE!!!!! i hope ygs like it haha this sort of marks a turning point in their relationship. Not exactly romantic, but they're 100% getting along !!!!

TAG LIST:

@lovelyemily, @preppyfellaa, @diffidentphantom, @lil-glum, @leonotlara,

@matpatsstuff, @rapunzelbro, @n0tmentallystable, @thegrovesheart

@tommyjeffjeff, @user0715991108, @meowermeowing,

ʟᴍᴋ ɪꜰ ᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 9

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.

Nine.  九

You wake up the next day certain you will be fired. But when the axe does not fall, you relax slightly, going about your tasks. It occurs to you that maybe you should leave–but you don’t really want to, and only part of that has to do with your fascination with Donaka himself. The coming weeks seem almost normal, and you begin to think that Mr. Mark decided to be a gentleman about it all, and pretend it never happened.

What a fool you are. 

Your first inkling of your idiocy comes when you are called into Mr. Mark’s office, after dinner, when usually you are hanging up your apron and calling it quits for the day. 

You approach his massive carved ebony desk with folded hands, feeling all for like a naughty school girl. Donaka Mark sits behind it, every bit the lord and master of the house. He has discarded his suit jacket, the top buttons of his black dress shirt undone, so handsome it hurts. His eyes are sharp as obsidian knives upon you, and a cold chill runs down your spine as you come to stand beside him, as he directs. 

That is when he produces the colorfully-covered journal you usually keep secreted in your underwear drawer, the little book dwarfed in his hands. Your heart does a swan dive–you hadn’t even realized it was missing. 

He does not seem amused. 

Maybe you can’t blame him. In that book, amidst your more pedestrian musings and accounts of your day, you have detailed every torrid little fantasy your rotten brain ever concocted about this man. Scorching alternate endings to all your encounters in which you were too smart, or too much of a coward to actually see through. Not to mention, the completely fictional bonus scenes too. It’s like an X rated love letter that rambles on for pages and pages and dear lord, it’s in his hands.

He throws the book down on his desk with a clap that makes you jump out of your skin. With narrowed eyes he looks up at you, his voice low and dangerous. "Care to explain this?"

Your mouth makes a perfect ‘o’ of surprise, your blood turning to ice in your veins. A flood of unbearable embarrassment washes through you, and you begin to shake like a leaf. Never in your life have you ever been so mortified, or, so angry, that he has that obviously private book in his hand. 

"How dare you read that?"

Rage flares in Donaka's dark eyes, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth. 

"How dare I read this filth, written about me, in my house? I have every right."

You are quaking, tears in your eyes. The things you wrote about him in that diary...it’s not all filth. Some of it…is foolishly sweet. And he read it all.  Your chest feels like it's pressed in a vice. You feel like you want to throw up...or just die, there on the rug of his office, rather than speak to him further about this. A timely earthquake would be most appreciated; a fissure in the floor to jump into, quite ideal. 

Donaka takes in your reaction to his intrusion of your privacy with secret pleasure; he knows he's got you right where he wants you, completely at his mercy, humiliated and vulnerable.

He leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on your face, drinking in your misery. "I read every single word," he delights in telling you.

You look away, utterly unable to meet his eyes. "Congratulations, Sir," you rasp past the lump of sand in your throat.

Donaka can't help the cold smirk that appears on his face as he watches you look away, unable to meet his eyes. The way you address him as "sir" makes a shiver of satisfaction run down his spine.

“I've got to say, I'm impressed. I never would have guessed your imagination was so...vivid. You seem like such a nice girl.”

A shuddering breath escapes you. You’ve resisted him all this time, taking solace instead in writing in your journal. It was better that way. Safer. But this man is not the type to be satisfied with just words on a page. That's why...he runs a billion dollar corporation, and you...sweep floors.

Donaka watches your defeated gesture, savoring it like a fine dessert. 

“Just what did you intend to do with all this?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” you defend immediately. Dear god, you think. Please don’t let this man think I was planning a ‘Tell All’. 

“This is a lot of energy gone into nothing?” 

He doesn’t have to tell you. “It’s just…my journal. To clear my head.”

“Your journal. Of things that never actually happened?” It sounds pretty stupid when he puts it that way–you feel every pound of pressure he puts in that statement, and you think you really just might faint right there beside his desk. “Do you actually get satisfaction out of that?” He sounds genuinely curious.

You close your eyes, so you don’t have to look at his blazing dark stare boring into you as you nod.

“Just give it back, and you never have to see me again.”

He laughs at you, a cruel little chuckle that pierces you to the core. “No, this little treasure is never leaving this house. And you’re not going anywhere.” 

You can do nothing but shake your head, trembling in your very bones. 

“You’re brave in many ways, y/n,” he tells you, fingering the cover of your damning treatise on The Art of Being Creepy About Your Boss. “But in others? Such a coward.” 

It’s the understatement of the century, and you can’t stand it anymore. You turn on your heel to leave–and a grip like iron encircles your wrist, so tight the bones creak. You get your first real taste of how strong this man is, when he jerks you down into his lap like you are a ragdoll made of straw. A yip of a scream escapes you, as he manhandles you like he owns you.

You feel so small, enveloped by his massive frame, his long arms wrapped around you.

"Let's have story time, shall we?" he says with a wicked chuckle, cracking the journal to a random page, and he begins to read the explicit scene you wrote starring the two of you, against the bookshelves, in the library. You can feel his deep, baritone voice vibrating against your skin as he recites, his arm around your waist holding you tight, preventing you from escaping.

“The strength in his hands makes me weak, those veritable paws gripping my thighs and lifting me, the desperate fury of his kiss pressing me back into the shelves so hard there will be linear bruises imprinted upon my skin. Perhaps I will look upon the souvenir tomorrow with equal parts pride and horror, still unsure if I am a victim, or if I welcomed the beast’s ravishment with open arms. Both feel true. The lush wetness between my legs suggests the latter, and as he explores my center with those long, blunt fingers I embrace the prospect of my ruin, bewitched by his skillful touch… Sweetheart, I’m flattered!”

You are dying in your mortification, your face on fire, your every nerve ending aware of this man. You physically cannot stand it, going feral in his arms, squirming in his lap like a fish on a hook, desperate to get away from this hell of your own making. It’s like pushing on a steel wall; he does not give a millimeter up to you. 

"Forget travel writing, I think your calling is the x-rated romance novel," he congratulates you cruelly when you finally go still with exhaustion. And maybe it’s true–you can feel the bulge of his erection pressing into your behind, and fuck if despite your desperation, you start to ache between your thighs, your unhelpful lady parts casting their usual vote for what is undoubtedly a form of suicide.  

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Look how you’re trembling. You’ve tried to deny it all along, but you want me."

"I want you to let me go." You push at his muscle-corded arm around you again, fruitlessly. You haven’t resorted to nails or teeth yet–somehow, you suspect you would not like the result of such an escalation. 

Donaka's grip on you just tightens even more, squeezing the breath from you. “You know…something about reading this makes me think that’s not what you really want.” 

Suddenly he stands, dropping you on his desk hard, tossing the little book away so that he can use two hands to pin you down. You might have screamed, had it not knocked the breath out of you. "I liked your ideas about this desk," he growls, taking your mouth in a punishing kiss, pressing you down into the wooden surface with his full bodyweight, his slender hips wedged between your legs. He kisses you like he means to devour you whole, starting with your mouth. 

This. This is what you expected all along. 

"Please, Donaka–" you plead when you are allowed to draw a breath. But his fingers in your hair control your head, pulling your lips to his again. His kiss is fueled by a fierce, primal hunger, his tongue delving deep into your mouth, seeking and claiming every inch of you as his own. His free hand moves over your body, exploring and caressing every curve and contour, squeezing the soft meat of your bare thigh, sliding under your panties to cup your ass.

"I'm not angry that you wrote the words," he snarls against your cheek. "I'm angry that you dared to deny me, lying to my face while you wanted me all along." His eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense. "Your charade ends tonight."

“But I–”

You whimper as he tugs at your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes again. "No more excuses, you little coward," he snarls. "Did you think you were going to tame me with a potato chip?”

"I wasn't playing with you," you protest, on the edge of tears. "I never meant to hurt you!" 

“Hurt me?” His tone is incredulous, but in that moment it dawns on you that that is indeed the root of his fury. He’d offered you sweetness, at least his version of it, such a rare and unheard of thing for him, damn near showing vulnerability–and you’d denied him. So now…you were getting the stick, and despite the flood of arousal between your legs, you weren’t really sure you liked it all that much. There were no straight lines with this man. Everything was a jagged edge, or a shade of grey. 

"You didn’t hurt me, you infuriated me,” he insists, his lips on your neck. “You knew what I wanted, what I needed, and yet you still dared deny me." He returns to your mouth, his lips hovering just above yours. "You wanted the thrill of bedding the bad man, but none of the blame. That’s fine, bunny. I’ll be your villain.”

At hearing that you renew your struggle, trying to worm out of his grasp.

Donaka's grip on you tightens even more as you writhe, his weight crushing the breath from you, his hips pinning you like a butterfly on a board. There truly is no escaping him like this.  “Give it up," he admonishes, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You wanted me to make you. I read all about it, and I’ll give it to you, sweetheart. I'm not letting you go. Fight me, I like it. Or submit, I like that too. Either way, you're mine tonight."

You’ve known all along that he is a dangerous enigma, and that was why you tried to exorcise your desire for him in words on a page, and not play with fire, not taunt the beast and offer him your tender flesh because you knew you would get bitten. 

But deep down...God, you’d wanted it anyway. You’d wanted to know, just once, what it would be like to bare your throat to a man like Donaka Mark, wondering if he might find you enticing enough, worthy enough, to kiss rather than kill simply because he could. 

“I hate you,” you hiss through your tears, but all you win is his dark laughter. 

“You wish that you hated me, baby. I read all about that too.” He kisses you again, almost tenderly this time, though his hold on you is still bruising. He kisses your cheeks, savoring the wet tracks of your tears. “Don't cry. I’m going to make your wicked little fantasies come true.” 

He kisses you, a deep, punishing lock of lips, and his hand disappears beneath your skirt. When he touches your soaking wet center he smiles against your mouth. You know it is not a nice smile, but still you moan as his thumb circles your clit confidently, as though he knows exactly how to handle you–as though you already belong to him. When he withdraws you watch with horror as he licks his thumb clean, his eyes all for you. 

“Tastes like little liar,” he sighs with narrowed eyes. “But we’re going to fix that.” 

You scream, when he savagely tears open the front of your dress, the black buttons flying to every corner of the room. He ducks to kiss your freshly bared skin, impatiently pulling down the cup of your bra, presenting your mounded flesh for his delectation. When his lips close on your nipple, his tongue flicking, you feel it simultaneously in your throbbing clit. An involuntary moan escapes you, and you know this is the beginning of the end.

“That’s my good girl,” he encourages between ravishing your sensitive flesh, his hips locked against yours. “Tell me all about it.”

“I do hate you.” 

He laughs, a short bark of mirth before kissing you again. You feel him reach down to work his buckle and buttons and zipper, taking himself out with one hand, the other still holding you down. He’s so impatient he simply pushes your panties to the side, his thick tip sinking past your entrance with embarrassingly little resistance, you’re so wet. He growls as he bullies himself inside, lost in the sensation of you, drunk on the heady high of triumph at last.

When you open your mouth to protest he makes the final thrust that fills you completely, tearing a sound from your throat instead that sounds suspiciously like enjoyment. Your head rocks back against the desk as your body adjusts to this delicious invasion.

This is bad. Very bad. But it feels so very good. 

He pauses for a moment to savor it, looking down at you with a smirk, and maybe you invent it out of desperation–but a smoldering warmth in his eyes.

You are so fucked.

“I just knew you’d have the sweetest little pussy.”

He kisses you, moaning in your mouth as he thrusts, losing himself as he wrecks you with his unfairly endowed cock. When his tip hits your cervix you flinch, your body still trying to get away, even while the rest of you has accepted the inevitable. “Too much?”

“Yes,” you hiss, still writhing beneath him.

“Be good then,” he warns you, his voice rough in your ear. “Or I’ll have to punish you.” 

He ducks to your breast again, his tongue wreaking havoc as his thumb slips between you, moving in time with his manhood stretching you to perfection, hitting just the right spot like he was made for you…

“Fuck,” you pant, out of frustration and need and worst of all…the knowledge of absolute defeat. 

You feel him smile against your skin, surrendering to pleasure while he works inside you once more. “Someone’s finally catching on…” 

You let out a growl…but you’re not fighting him anymore, your back arched as you strain for the release that is building in your hips, that maddening promise of euphoria coiled in your loins, the gratification you’ve craved from this man since day one. The tightening of your walls around him wins you another ragged groan, his forehead pressed to your breastbone as he concentrates on making you cum first. A part of you wishes he’d just get off and leave you alone–but he’s not going to do that. There’s no way in hell, you’re in his claws and so you might as well wring every little bit of enjoyment out of it that you can, before you meet your inevitable demise…

“Come on baby,” he coaxes. “Give me what’s mine. From now on, this is where your pleasure comes from, and I intend to keep your schedule full.” 

“This is not–becoming a thing,” you insist, short of breath, because it feels like he’s in your lungs.

He laughs at you, a wicked chuckle that raises your every hair follicle. “No? Do I have to keep you on the edge until you beg me for it, pretty girl? We could do this for days.”

Is it possible, to cum out of spite? You think it might be, as you wrap your legs around his narrow hips in a bid to control the timing of his thrusts. He lets you, caught up in the moment you start participating rather than fighting. You clench upon his perfect cock buried inside you, desperate to indulge yourself before he can torture you by withholding it. 

Your orgasm takes mercy on you, rising to the occasion valiantly. The rapture of it destroys you like a chain explosion, filling your loins before ripping up your spine, hitting so hard you arch and lift him from desk for a few, beautiful moments of ruin. He moans with you, fucking you hard as your needy, turncoat of a cunt milks him, sending him over the edge to spill inside you. He fills you with hot spurts of his essence, his powerful body locked against yours as though to make sure you get every drop. 

For a few long moments he collapses on you, his breathing heavy in the bend of your neck, his lips gentle behind your ear.

“Was that so terrible?” he asks you smugly, sitting up on his elbows to sweep the wisps of your sweat-plastered hair from your forehead. You close your eyes, lulled by the unexpected tenderness in his touch.

“I still hate you,” you sigh unconvincingly.

“Mmm hmm. I can tell. Are you on birth control?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked that beforehand?”

“Don’t be smart, just answer the question.”

You growl, winning that smirk that quickens your heart. He just thinks you’re cute, goddamn him.

“No, I’m not going bear your demon spawn,” you grumble with an eye roll.

“Hmm.” He smirks down at you, his eyes sweeping your face, then lower, and for a terrifying moment you can’t tell if he’s pleased by your preparedness, or contemplating the thought of filling you with his child. The latter scares you more than anything else he’s done so far tonight.

Spitefully you muse, “I kinda wish I had a venereal disease to give you though.” 

Now he narrows his eyes. “Very funny.”

“You’ll find out, I guess...”

He puts his hand over your mouth; it's so big it envelopes the whole lower half of your face.

“Let’s have silence now.” You glare–and you lick his hand, though you don’t make a sound. He looks at it with a frown, then wipes it on your cheek.

“Come on.” He withdraws, righting himself, then you, papers fluttering to the ground as you make your dismount from the desk. Whatever he was working on is surely ruined by sweat…and other bodily fluids. He doesn’t seem to care, for the smug way he smiles at you. 

You might have fallen, if not for his strong arm steadying your shaking limbs. He gives you a moment to find your legs, and as you rest against the solid warmth of his chest, enveloped by the spice of his cologne, you are consumed by the warring urges to kiss him and to hit him. This man. This man could prove to be the death of you through confusion alone. 

He tilts your face up to his, surprisingly gentle now. It’s hard to believe this is the same man from five minutes ago, when he presses his lips to yours. 

You try to button your dress, but it's a lost cause. Maybe it doesn’t matter, because he is pulling you away, towards the door. In the hallway you try to break off in the direction of your room, but he snorts at you, guiding you in the opposite direction with a hand on the back of your neck. 

“I’m not done with you yet, bunny…”

“Donaka…” You only narrowly resist the urge to sob. “You won. Just let me go…” All you want to do is be alone to lick your wounds, and reflect on what the fuck just happened to you. Your thoughts are a complete jumble; you are a walking well-fucked vessel filled with shame and confusion and you hate to admit–total gratification.  It all went by so fast and maybe deep down you wanted it but he just took you and you– 

As though he knows you are trying to pick all this apart and doesn’t intend to give you the chance, Donaka jerks you to him, pulling you into a punishing kiss that melts your bones all over again. You make a small, kittenish sound that betrays your begrudging enjoyment. You swear you feel his smug satisfaction emanating from his pores.

“Don’t you get it yet?” he asks you darkly, a dangerous sparkle in his midnight black eyes. “You’re mine now.”

[strawburry01]

In The Summertime (Camp Pt 1)

Angus Tully x Femme! Reader

Word: 1.7 k

Summary: You've been working as a camp counselor for the past 3 summers and have become the ideal role model for what a good one should be. What happens when you meet the smart-mouthed Angus Tully who's here to be a first-year camp counselor? This section is mostly set-up, sowwy.

“Ready for another year Y/N?” the blonde teenage boy asked as he set down a towering stack of liability waivers for parents to sign. 

“As always. Third times a charm after all,” you nodded as you thumbed the first few stapled packets, “do you think anyone actually looks at this stuff?” you asked. He shook his head.

“No way. All these parents just want to get rid of their kids as soon as possible,” he affirmed before taking his place behind the table beside you. 

It was your third year working as a camp counselor at the east coast's most premier summer camp, Camp Woodland. You could be as sarcastic and ironic as you wanted to be, but you and everyone else knew deep down how much you loved working there every summer and how you did appreciate the kids 9 out of 10 times. You’d done a good enough job over the past summers that you were now one of the head counselors, meaning you were graciously tasked with getting there a day early and helping check in the other counselors and any early arrival campers.

Your accomplice was the other third year counselor named Todd, who had the camp name of Fireboy, due his skill of seemingly being able to start a campfire out of wet logs and moss. Your camp name was Lightning, which came from an ill-timed hike you went on when you were a camper. 

The two of you small-talked until the first of the counselors arrived. You would check the person in and get their emergency contacts, before Todd would hand them their staff shirt and direct them to their cabin. It was going by smoothly, with a few early campers showing up, duffel bags in hand with sunscreen smothered all over their faces. Todd took the small group of campers to drop them off at their bunks they’d be staying at for the next week or two. 

There was a lull at this point so you decided to sit down and lean back precariously in the folding chair, flipping your sunglasses on to soak up the last few hours of sun bathing you may have.

That’s why when you were interrupted you nearly slipped out of the chair.

“Is this the camp check-in?” a low voice asked, causing you to rocket up. While you were still sitting, his head covered the sun, causing some godly backlight against his curly hair.

“Yes, yes-” you quickly said as you stood up and grabbed your clipboard, “here to check in a child or…” you started before realizing that this man was way too young to have a kid and was definitely there as a counselor, “shit sorry, sorry, you’re here as a counselor right?”. 

He smirked and you could already tell this guy was going to be a pain in your ass all summer.

“Sorry did I wake you up from your nap there? You seem a little out of it- Lightning,” he said, as he eyed your badge. 

“I wasn’t napping, for the record, I just couldn’t see your face at first,” you grumbled as you tapped your pen on the top of the clipboard, annoyed already. You hadn’t seen his face before, so he must be new, “are you one of our new counselors?”.

“Yeah. My name’s Angus Tully. It should be on there,” he nodded. You scanned your pages, feeling his eyes still locked on your head. You found his name near the bottom and left a checkmark next to it.

“You signed up late I see,” you noted as you grabbed his shirt and whistle from the pile Todd had left.

“I had a few other jobs fall out on me before my mom told me the neighbor’s kid was a counselor here in the summer. Seemed like a good gig,” he said as he shifted his bag onto his hip. 

Great, this was a backup for him. The director would kick him out so fast after this first week when he thought this would be easy. You put on a fake cheery smile and held out the staff shirts and whistle.

“Well we’re happy to have you here Angus. You’ll be in cabin 3 with Jason,” you said in a high pitch, “and before you go, we have a bit of a rule here about using real names with campers. Just for the safety of our kids and our counselors of course,”. 

He smirked again and nodded as he stuffed the shirts between his bag and side. 

“And you don’t have to come up with one now off the top of your head but-” you started as you took your seat again to get back to your pseudo-doze.

“Put me down as Thunder,” he said, snark lacing his voice. You darted your gaze back up to him with the pen hovering above the empty box next to his name. “Yours is so good, it just inspired me,” he said with a smirk in the corner of his face. 

Counselors didn’t just take names like that. That’s not how it worked at all. The fucker had no right to just willy-nilly choose a name like that. Hell there were millions of others he could’ve done, but before you could explain any of this camp counselor etiquette, he had walked off, heading to cabin 3. 

You grumbled under your breath as you scribbled his name down and hastily tossed the clipboard back onto the table before trying to settle back into your nap. But you couldn’t stop riling yourself up in your mind thinking now about all the comebacks you could have said to that Angus boy. 

Eventually Todd came back and you heard him pick up the clipboard to look over all the check-ins. You heard him snicker,

“You actually let the new guy just use that camp name? The kids are gonna have a field day with that,”.

“He walked off before I could get him to change it! It’s also not that big a deal. We’ll be mature about it. I’m going into my sophomore year at college for god's sake,” you huffed as you stood up. Todd raised his eyebrows and slowly nodded, not buying it at all.

“Sure, whatever you say…” he trailed as he continued looking over the list.

The rest of the day had a few more counselor check-ins before the mandatory kick-off meeting. The director would meet with all the counselors and assign them to their partners (it was a good way to get the kids to interact with each other and make friends outside of their cabin). Cabin’s were split into boys and girls, with 3 cabins for boys, and 4 cabins for girls. It was shaping up to be a full first few sessions, so it would have to be all hands on deck.

The director was a spry post-grad student who had somehow graduated with a degree in outdoor education and recreation, quite honestly being made for this job. He stood on the wide stage in the front of the moss-covered amphitheater. You sat in the front waving to the other returners as they arrived, with one of your close girl-friends Jenny (camp name Sunflower) taking a seat next to you. She caught you up on her own first year in college and how she’d be going steady with this really great guy. The director blew his whistle before you could answer her question about if you had started seeing anyone.

Phew

You had been so busy with classes all year you didn’t give yourself any time to really deviate from the books. You’d been on one blind-date during the school year, but the guy ended up talking about his fraternity the entire time and seemed pretty generally uninterested with you as a person, but very interested in you as a potential date dash partner (which would have entitled being handcuffed to him all night until you both finished a bottle of wine each). 

“Alright everyone, I hope you’ve had a great past 9 months and are ready to have an even better summer!” the director said, raising his arms for effect, which garnered a few sympathy claps. He went through the normal spiel of thanking everyone for their time and energy, and a few inspiring words of how much this camp does for the kids in the area. Your eyes caught the shifting and fidgeting of a row of boys beside Jenny. 

Of course Angus was a part of them. One of the guys leaned over and whispered in his ear and he pressed his knuckles against his mouth to stifle a laugh it looked like. His eyes suddenly darted to meet yours and you quickly blinked, trying to act like you hadn’t been looking over there at all. Just trying to get something out of your eyes, of course.

“Anyways, without further ado, it’s time to announce your counselor duos! This year we’ll be doing activities in these duos, as well as expecting each duo to plan and host an all-camp event!” the director said with a smile, “I know that’s a bit new, but we have some old faces at this point and I think this a great way to challenge ourselves,”. It was true, he’d never expected counselors to host an event before, much less plan one. 

“When I say you and your partners names you’re free to leave and start chatting,” the director said as he pulled out his paper from his back pocket, “alright to start, we have Jenny and Ian,” he said. Jenny squeezed your hand as she stood and waved at the skinny, blonde boy who waved back from farther up in the amphitheater. The director continued to rattle off names until there was only four of you left. You, Todd, Angus, and a second year returner named Georgia. You whispered a silent prayer, please don’t let me get stuck with the class clown, I’ll do anything.

“Todd and Georgia, you’ll be together for this summer, and-” he said as the director turned to make eye contact with you, “as our oldest returning counselor for the girls cabins, I felt it was only fair to pair you with one of our newest counselors for the boys cabin! Y/N and Angus, you’ll be working together,” he said, chipper as ever.

You sharply inhaled as you felt Angus slide over on the bench to be right next to you. Since everyone else had been called, it was just the two of you left.

“So, partner, what’s up for the summer?” he grinned.

“Please don’t make me regret coming back,” you groaned as you put your head in your hands.

Part 2 out now !!

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Graven Hearts

After being unofficially banished from the Mourn Watch, rebellious Lisbette must recruit one of her former professors, Emmrich Volkarin, to help her defeat two ancient Elvhen gods. Hurt that her favourite professor never stood up for her when she needed him, Lisbette takes delight in provoking the handsome, silver-haired necromancer, perhaps enjoying herself a little too much.

Female Rook | Age Difference | Daddy vibes | low key bratting | Hurt/Comfort | Eventual Smut

Chapter One

The Lighthouse is a sheer delight to Emmrich. The rooms given to him seem to shape themselves around him to his ideals and tastes without him needing to ask. He and Manfredd spend a happy afternoon putting all his things away, and Emmrich makes mental plans for how he may help this charming group of people. They are facing two ancient Elvhen gods, and the task before them is forbiddable. 

Manfredd goes out to explore the lighthouse, and Emmrich sits behind his desk to write letters to his colleagues in the Mourn Watch. How does one post letters in a place like this? He supposed he’d figure it out. 

There’s a soft knock on his door, but before he can call out for the person to enter, the door opens, and Lisbette appears. 

He smiles at her, and opens his mouth to say, “It’s wonderful seeing an old student doing so well,” but the expression on her face makes the words turn to bone dust in his mouth. She’s smiling at him, but it’s a hard, fixed smile, very unlike the friendly welcome he received at the Necropolis. 

But now he thinks of it, Bellara was the one doing most of the talking. Lisbette was merely polite.

Without a word to him, Lisbette takes a long, slow walk around the room. She’s wearing comfortable off-duty clothes, a pale shirt tucked into high-waisted pants. The ensemble is nothing special, but she somehow looks lovely in them. Her masses of curly red hair is down past her waist, and the freckles on her face and glassy green shards in her eyes catch the sunshine.

Lisbette pokes at a skull on a shelf. Examines a bottle. Her attitude is irritatingly overfamiliar, as though she feels she has a right to both examine his things and ignore his presence. She was never rude to him during her student days. Lisbette had been rebellious and provocative on paper occasionally, but in his classes, tutorials, and private meetings in his office, she’d always behaved with manners and respect. 

Emmrich sits back in his high-backed chair and watches her with what he thinks of as his chilliest gaze. Though her student days are over and her relationship with him is quite different, he still expects manners and respect.  

Finally, she saunters over to him, though she still doesn’t look at him. Her fingertips trail across the surface of his desk. “ Coming in here reminds me of being called into your office, professor.”

“How so?”

“I can feel waves and waves of your disapproval, just like the old days.”

“What do you believe I disapprove of?”

Lisbette laughs softly. “Always a teacher, aren’t you?”

“Lisbette. If you don’t want me here...”

“I need you here,” she says with a careless shrug, and perches on the edge of his desk. 

Emmrich opens his mouth to tell her not to sit on his desk, but then closes it again. She wants to provoke him, and he feels certain that he mustn’t be provoked. He supposes she wishes she didn’t need him. Needing someone from the Mourn Watch upsets her after she was unofficially banished from the faction. He feels nothing in particular about that. He wasn’t there when the decision was made, and it’s good for a young person to learn that their actions have consequences.

“You have gathered together quite a team,” he tells her, hoping to change the subject to a topic they can both enjoy. 

“Yes, they’re like family. It’s good to have family around me again.”

Family?

He feels his heart sink. 

Lisbette was found abandoned as a baby in the Necropolis. Like him, the Mourn Watch raised her, and just as it does to him, the Mourn Watch means family. Home. Love. 

Or it did until they banished her.

How would he have felt if the only family he’d ever known shut him out and told him to leave? Has she had one kind word or letter from anyone at the Mourn Watch in the year since?

But Lisbette has landed on her feet, he reasoned. She’s a talented young mage and she’s navigating these unfamiliar waters with confidence and apparent ease. 

All the same, him being here hurts her. Angers her. She doesn’t want anything from the Mourn Watch, but she has no choice. 

He can find a way to win her over, surely.  

In a kinder tone, he begins, “Lisbette, what happened a year ago...”

She scoots around his desk toward him, and then reaches for a book on the far side of his desk. Doing so, she splays herself across his lap in a bewildering manner. His fingers flex on the arms of his chair as he stares down at her. 

Lisbette sits up and pushes her red curls out of her face with a breathless smile. “ Alvarus’ Treatise on the Undead . I’ve always wanted to get my hands on this.”

There’s better light from the window if she’s facing the other way, and she perches on the arm of his chair. Emmrich finds himself with his arm around her, but pulled back as far as he can so as not to touch her inadvertently. She wriggles back, closer to him, making that task difficult for him.  

“ Lisbette, there are chairs for both of us.”

As she turns the pages, she slides further from the arm of the chair until she’s half sitting in his lap. “I’m fine here, professor.”

“Lisbette.”

“Hm?”

“ Lisbette .”

She looks up at him with a dazzling smile, her face just inches from his. “You’re handsome when you’re annoyed.”

“I know what you’re doing. You dislike that you need help from me. You’re provoking me because you’re angry with me. If we could have a mature conversation...”

She blinks innocent eyes at him. “Don’t be silly, professor. I’m provoking you because it’s amusing me.”

Slowly, she sinks even further into his lap. Her bottom feels soft against his bony thighs and very warm. Lisbette rests against his chest, licks her fingertip, and turns a page of the book. 

He grits his teeth. If she won’t speak seriously, he will. “I will speak with the Mourn Watch. You’ve been punished long enough and you should be allowed to return to the order .”

The smile fades from Lisbette’s lips. She reaches up and touches the silver strands of his hair, and then combs her fingers through the locks. Her touch feels surprisingly sweet. 

Then she boops his nose with her forefinger. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had better adventures since being told to leave, and now I have a Mourn Watch professor all to myself. He’s going to help me save the world.”

He gazes at her, feeling unimpressed by her arch tone and the way she’s touching him. She might be their leader, but he was not her pet.

“How may I be of service?” he asks icily.

She muses on this for a moment. “Do you have any advice for me, professor?”

“Your spells were ragged today. Your staff work was sloppy, and your incantations poorly aimed.”

“You called out Beautifully done, Lisbette at least three times.”

He had, hadn’t he. He was delighted to be invited onto the team, and he’d been impressed and inspired by the leadership his former student had shown. The way she smiled at everyone. Her warm confidence. He’d congratulated himself that he’d been responsible in part for the young woman she’d become, the old fool. 

Emmrich clears his throat. “I must encourage as well as correct.”

She tilts her head teasingly toward his. “Ah, so you encourage me in public and correct me in private?”

“You’re trying to provoke me, young lady.”

Lisbette reaches up and ruffles his silver hair. “I am provoking you. Thank you for the book.” 

She snaps the volume closed, gets up from his lap, and saunters out of his room with an maddeningly hypnotizing sway of her hips. 

Emmrich opens and closes his mouth. Too late, he thinks of something to call after her. “Lisbette! I was reading that book.”

But the door closes behind her, and he thinks he hears her laughter in the corridor. 

__

Oh, Lisbette and Emmrich, you're both in so much trouble. Not the same bit of trouble, but definitely a lot of it, and together. Thank you for reading!

CHAPTER TWO

[ghostbustting]

Ok so,firstly hiii! I love your writing style sm!

Would you ever consider doing a Cliff or Jason one shot where the reader is super self conscious about her being “plus-size” and “not being a typical rockstar girlfriend” and them comforting her and it leads to some really sweet love making 😭

Cliff is my number one man and I hardly see any fics for him fr

CLIFFCLIFFCLIFF !! (yes i'm back. yes i'm disappearing again.)

♯ ; 𝑴𝒀 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 ༘⋆

Cliff Burton x Plus size!Reader

Contains Smut.

With my own fingers fiddling with the hem of my uncomfortably fitting dress, my eyes wander around the diner booth we were all sitting at. By we, I was referring to me, my boyfriend Cliff, his three bandmates, and their awfully drop dead gorgeous girlfriends.

It was a relaxing Saturday night, Cliff had brought me with him to go have dinner with his bandmates and their girlfriends at some local diner.

However, the rest of the dinner night, I felt like I do not belong here, like I could never fit in well between these rockstars and their girlfriends. No matter how reassuring and comforting having Cliff's presence close next to me, it didn't make me oblivious to how much of a contrast the difference between me and his bandmates' girlfriends is.

They were perfectly good looking to say the least. Thin figures, curves accentuated perfectly in their tight dress they probably didn't have to overthink much about, no thunder thighs filling up their seats, smiles so wide without their cheeks looking like they're swollen.

On the other hand, I stood out... not in a very pleasing way. It's more like as if I was a sore thumb. My eyes could never stand the numbers that showed up on the weight scales whenever I stood on it. The beautiful small dresses I saw down the streets would never fit the shape of my body.

Cliff made it his task to make me feel loved, and I knew he really do love me. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm not what people expected, doesn't change the fact that I'm not the ideal rockstar's girlfriend.

So here I sat next to him, head hung low, the food I had ordered barely touched, my ears not even picking up on the conversation around me, eyes focused on getting the end of my dress to cover more of my insecure legs.

Even with my mind overwhelmed with that irritating sense of insecurity, the concerned gaze on me that came from Cliff’s eyes were something that I could never ignored, something so familiar that it would always hit me right away whenever I receive it, something I could recognize easily every single time.

It didn’t took long before I feel his warm hands take ahold of my cold ones, the pads of his thumbs running over my knuckles as I hear his beautiful voice whisper softly and gently into my ear, “Are you alright..? You feel sick..?” He asked, the worry accentuated enough in his voice.

However, I try to cover it up, “I’m alright..” I whisper back while shaking my head with a soft smile— a smile so forced and fake that obviously someone that knew me so well and so detailed like Clifford Lee Burton wouldn’t be fooled by.

”You’re not,” Cliff spoke, with an attempt to drown all the insecurity in me with his soft gaze, “I know my happy girlfriend when I see her and this is not her.”

A sigh leave my lips and my eyes look up at him, meeting his own in an instant. He could see the weak and soft gaze of my eyes, the way my eyebrows are slightly furrowed as if I was thinking about something. He can read me like a damn opened book and I can't decide whether I hate or love him for it.

My thoughts drifted away when I hear the man spoke again, this time towards his friends, patting Kirk's back, who was sitting on the chair beside him. "Sorry, it's getting late. We have.. other plans." He say.

That was in fact, not true. I was not aware of any other plans we have scheduled after this dinner.

Hence, a look of genuine confusion was etched onto my face as he took ahold of my hand and pull me up from my seat, giving me no time to say goodbyes or grab one last french fries when he lead me out of the diner with no words of explanation.

We found ourselves driving back to his place in a weird yet comforting silence. One of Cliff’s hands was holding onto mine while the other was fixated on the steering wheel. I can feel his thumb running over my knuckles every now and then, a gesture of comfort I’m used to receive from him.

My eyes drift from our hands to the window, watching as cars drove pass us, watching the motorcycles, watching as teenagers party, craving the body those gorgeous girls possess. My eyes would still run over their perfect figure if it wasn't for Cliff's voice that snapped me out of my trance.

"What's with you tonight?"

He asked. Usually, words like that would be taken as somewhat a complain. But with Cliff, it was clear by his voice that he was asking me out of concern. He wasn't wrong about knowing a happy me and a not happy me, it was quite easy. I would've been smiling to my eyes when I'm happy, words spilling out of my lips endlessly, unlike the state I was in earlier.

A sigh left my lips as I slowly turn my attention back to Cliff, the lights of Los Angeles and the red traffic light combined with the beautiful moonlight illuminates his face, his eyes shining more than how they already were.

"I.."

"Honest. Please. I hate not seeing your smile."

A squeeze of his hand was delivered to mine, making my heart flutter just the slightest bit. There was no way in hell I'm able to decline his plead for honesty.

Slowly, I begin to speak again, a hint of uncertainty was able to be heard in the words that left my lips in a quiet question. "..Do you ever regret dating me?" I ask, my voice soft, eyes avoiding his own as I feel that same exact concerned gaze over my face the moment his head instantly snapped my way.

I could feel his gaze on me for a few minutes until the light turned green, taking his focus again as he continue driving before asking me, "Wha— why would I regret dating you? Don't be silly." He chuckled softly, taking my hand up to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

The gesture was sweet, bringing a soft smile on my face. However, It didn't take too long before my smile faded away yet again slowly as my previous thoughts of insecurity builds back up in my mind. It was like a parasite, unable to be avoided.

”It’s just..” I let out a sigh, “James, Kirk, Lars...— They have these drop dead gorgeous girls as their girls. They’re beautiful, they’re in good shape, they’re— they’re the perfect rockstar girlfriend.”

Only when I feel the car stop and park did I realize we have arrived in front of his house, away from the chaos of the traffic, the door that leads to the inside of the house seems so inviting as my body yearns to just lay on his bed. Meanwhile, the silence between us felt somehow loud, if that even makes sense. And again, his eyes gazes over me.

Cliff let out a small chuckle, “So that’s the problem? You think I’d regret dating you because of this?—” He reach out and pinch the chubby cheek of mine, pulling on it slightly. My eyes slowly gaze up into his own, revealing my glassy eyes to him. A sigh leave his lips as he cup one of my cheeks. “You think I care about whether you’re as skinny as a branch or as fluffy as a pillow?”

I let out a small strangled chuckle at his words, trying to turn my head away, to which he prevent by cupping both of my cheeks now. “I don’t want a rockstar girlfriend. I just want my girlfriend. I just want you. I want you for your heart, for your smile, for your love.” Cliff spoke so sincerely it was impossible to not believe him, especially with how deep his eyes was gazing into mine.

The smile he made at my speechless state melts my heart, listening as he say, “Come on.” Shortly after, I watch him exit the car and jog around the front only to open the door on my side of the car, the sweet smile making a stay on his face as he reach for my hand and help me out, his other hand shutting the door behind me the moment my shoes lands on the ground.

Each and every move of his only made me love him even more.

My body stayed close to him, almost as if we were attatched like magnets, all the way as he leads me into his house and into his bedroom, his hand holding mine so firmly yet gently at the same time, as if he was afraid I’d slip away, as if he was afraid the insecurity will consume me and fade me away from his life. I always loved the way he touched me, always able to make me feel loved, even the moment I lost hope in loving myself, he always made me love myself with his own love.

Slowly, I sit down on the soft matress of his bed, a spot we often find ourself laying in after a tiring day, just wrapping each other in the other’s arms, where our problems never exist, only our bloomin love.

I feel the mattres beside me sink due to Cliff’s weight as he join me, sitting on the bed as well with his hand in mine still, the pad of his thumb running over my knuckles again and again softly, a motion I’ve found rather comforting. I can feel his lips pressing soft kisses all over my cheek, yet my head was hung low, eyes on my lap.

Yet the moment he notices, he held my chin in his free hand, slowly tilting my head towards him. “Look at me.” He smile softly, making me look at him. “I want you to let your mind rest, okay? Let go of your thoughts..” His voice was soft, I couldn’t help but give in and follow the instruction he gave me, letting my thoughts drift away, letting my focus to be for him and him only.

”My girl..” He breathed out, slowly leaning in till our lips eventually meet in a soft and gentle kiss, his palm coming to rest against my cheek, the other that was previousky holding my hand slowly trails to hold my waist instead, gently pushing me down to lay on my back, my head landing smoothly on his pillow.

I sigh against his lips and watch as he lay himself down next to me, mumbling, "Cliff.." The way his hands touch me all over made me felt important, as if I was the center of the earth. To him, I probably was. After all, he never failed to make me feel that way.

Within seconds, I feel my shirt slowly being slipped over my head, my hands coming to cover my body. Despite how many times we've done this, being bare and showing the insecurity I own beneath the fabric always rewinds. Yet, Cliff only chuckled and moved my hands away, his lips pressing a short peck on my stomach.

"Beautiful." In an instant, the tenses in my body relaxes as I hear his voice, a comforting and loving lullaby.

I feel his lips press and trail kisses all the way from my stomach down to the them of my panties, his fingers slowly hooking into the waistband and sliding it down, his eyes gazing up to inspect the way I was bitting my lip from his action alone.

The moment that panties of mine was discarded, Cliff's lips were quick to attach onto my cunt— desperate, yet gentle.

A moan manage to escape my lips, a soft call of his name, "Cliff.." His name seems to be the only thing available in my dictionary at the moment, finding it difficult to let out anything from the back of my throat other than a moan, curses, and his name.

Cliff's warm tongue slides in and out of me, the very tip of his nose nudging my clit every now and then as he eat me out, ignoring the way I was squirming above him, my hand trailing down to run through his long hair. "Fuck.." I whined, my hips bucking up to try and grind against his face.

His tongue was lapping up and down my folds like a dog, a hungry dog. He makes me feel wanted. And I can't help but want him as well.

Not long, he pull back from my pussy with his lips glistening with my slick, his fingers replacing what was once his tongue, two of them running up and down my folds before sliding through them, earning a gasp from me. I feel his lips against my thigh, yet I was too caught up on the feeling of his fingers.

"Can you feel it?"

My eyes struggles to meet his as I utter out a, "What— Feel what..?" Through my moans.

"Just how much I love you."

Right as the words leave his lips, I finshed right around his fingers, clenching the digits as I did so with a loud and uncontrollable moan, my back arching like a cat you'd see down the streets.

I hear a small chuckle and a gentle, "Good girl. My girl." Before I see him stand up, his hands going to his belt as he unbuckles it, swiftly throwing it away and slipping his jeans and boxers both at once, not even wasting his time for even just a second.

Seconds later, before I knew it, he was back on top of me, his body towering over mine as he lean down to press a kiss on my cheek, "My tonight, my tomorrow, my tomorrow night, my every night, and my every day are yours okay? I can't live through this without your sweet soul." He spoke with so much genuineness in his voice.

My thoughts evaporates into thin air as he slowly slides his cock through my folds, pulling out soft noises of pleasure from both of us as one of his hands came to rest on the pillow beside my head while the other holds my own hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before he starts thrusting in and out of me, very gently.

Unlike the rather passionate love making we have done before, he was being extremely gentle this time, passionate still— yet mostly gentle and full of care as his eyes never broke the contact they had with my own eyes, a window that connects our souls.

I feel the tip of his cock hitting every special spots in me without even having to do it hard and fast. He knew me. The real me that lay upon all these insecurity. He knew me all too well. Yet he didn't even have to try. It was like nature have his own way with connecting us.

"I love you too.." I blurted out, a soft moan pulled out of the back of my throat as I slowly close my eyes.

Yet I feel his lips again, this time on my closed eyelids. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to look into my eyes and look deeply. So deep to the point you can see how much love I have." He spoke. Within seconds, my eyes were opened again and stared into his eyes again.

And just as he says, there was a certain look he had on.

A look of love.

So sweet. So deep. So tender.

His hips continue to move against mine, soft grunts slipping through his lips as my walls hug his cock just right. "Fuck.. My girl.." After he mumble this, his arms slowly wrap around my torso, his bodg pressed flushed against mine while his thrusts now becomes more deep, still in the gentle pace he was in earlier.

"Cliff..." I breathed out, my own arms around his body. Each time his cock thrusts into me, a moan would be pulled out of me while a grunt would be pull out of his, both of us becoming closer each seconds we spend in this bed.

"Come with me, sweetheart?.."

"Only with you.. Only with you.."

Not long, I feel an all too familiar knot in my stomach as he continue to hit every weak spot of mine. The way his lips were attached onto my neck and sucking marks wasn't helping with the feeling either. He could be so soft, yet I'll still be the most pleased girl in the earth. His girl.

Before I knew it, my high came crashing down around his cock, letting out a loud moan as his own seeds fill me up, his voice mumbled against my neck as he stayed close to me after our finish. I breathe in and out, all the troubles I had stomped away by a single love making.

But I knew it wasn't the love making

It was him.

He was clinging onto me like a koala, his head in my neck and his arms wrapped around me still yet so tightly, hands stroking my body in an affectionate way. He loves me. It was becoming clearer and clearer each day I spend here with him. He wants me for me. I was too blind to see the way it's all too obvious from his care, from his words, from his eyes.

And I love him too.

My boy.