#office chair seat depth

[interiorergonomics]

Ergonomic Office Chair Dimensions and Measurements

Did you know that.. An ideal ergonomic office chair should have a seat height of 16-21 inches, a width of 17-20 inches, and a backrest height of 12-19 inches. These well studied dimensions and measurements optimal comfort and support with the help of adjustable features

[zebuie]

TEACHERS PET.

❁ཻུ۪۪ ⋅ READ THIS. # DAILY CLICK ➹

# ☆ PAIRINGS ☆ ;: teacher!ellie x teacherspet!reader

# ☆ SYNOPSIS ☆ ;: college student develops a small crush on her philosophy teacher—but is it really small? soon, one thing leads to another. as feelings grow, they grow a secret romance.

# ☆ WC/CW ☆ ;: 9.2k, smutsmutsmut! , age gap between reader and ellie ( r is 20 and ellie 24 ) , cursing / swearing , situationship? , kissing , fingering ( r receiving ) , eating from the behind ( r receiving ) , tit sucking ( e receiving ) , strap on usage ( r receiving ) , pet names ( princess , baby , baby girl , babe ) , aftercare , lmk if there’s more.

You trudge into the school building, dreading the upcoming lecture. The hallway is packed with students milling about, creating a chaotic scene. "God I'm already fucking dreading this." you mutter to yourself as you try to make your way to the classroom.

Finally arriving at the door, you take a deep breath and enter the room. 

It's even more crowded than you expected, with people jostling for seats. As you scan the room for an empty spot, your eyes land on a woman writing on the chalkboard.

She turns to face the class, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. It's Ellie Williams, the notorious philosophy teacher. 

Her sharp jawline and piercing green eyes make her look more like a biker chick than an academic. 

She's got a fit, muscular build evident even under her tight shirt. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to today's discussion on existentialism," she says in a commanding voice that leaves no doubt who's in charge.

As you slip into an empty seat, you can't help but stare at Ellie as she begins the lecture. Her confidence and authority are undeniable, and you find yourself drawn in despite your initial reluctance.

You sit entranced as Ellie begins to expound upon the meaning of life, her husky voice and commanding presence washing over you like a warm bath.

 The way she struts across the front of the classroom, hips swaying, makes you imagine her strutting across your bed; demanding your total surrender. 

Her words echo in your mind long after the lecture ends - "existence precedes essence"...a fitting philosophy for a woman who seems to exist solely on her own terms. As the class files out, you find yourself lingering, drawn to Ellie like a moth to a flame. 

You clear your throat to get her attention, and she turns to face you, eyebrow raised in query. "Yes?" she asks, all domineering authority and sensuality. "I was wondering if you could...um...provide some extra guidance on the reading," you stammer, trying to play it cool. Ellie smiles - a slow, sultry curl of her lips. "Of course, I'd be happy to help. Meet me in my office after your next class." The way she says it, it sounds less like a suggestion and more like a command from your new mistress.

The rest of the day drags on in a sensual haze. You can barely concentrate in your other classes, your mind constantly wandering back to Ellie and the promise of her "guidance". 

Finally, it's time for your next class to end. You pack up your things with feigned nonchalance, all the while sneaking glances at the clock. 

As soon as the final bell rings, you're on your feet, eager to keep your appointment with destiny. 

Making your way to Ellie's office, you take a deep breath and knock on the door. "Enter," comes her response. 

Pushing the door open, you step inside the dimly lit room, the door closing behind you with a soft click - as if you're being locked into place. Ellie looks up from her desk, a gleam in her eye as she takes in your nervous figure. "Shut the door and come here," she commands. 

You obey, your heart racing as you approach her. She rises from her chair, looming over you with an air of quiet power. "So, you wanted some extra guidance, huh?"

"Yes, if you could just explain the chapter on existentialism in more depth, I'd really appreciate it," you reply, trying to sound casual despite your racing heart. 

Ellie nods, her eyes roaming over your face. "Of course. Have a seat." She gestures to the chair in front of her desk. 

You sit, suddenly very aware of how small and confined the space feels with the two of you alone. 

Ellie leans back against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Existentialism is all about taking responsibility for your own existence," she begins, her voice low and hypnotic. "It's about recognizing that, fundamentally, you are alone in the universe. No one else can live your life for you." Her gaze intensifies, boring into yours. "Does that resonate with you?" The way she asks, it feels more like a test than a question. You nod, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, it's like, we have to choose our own meaning in life, right?" Ellie nods, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Exactly. And that's a scary thought, because it means you have the power to create your own meaning. But it also means no one else can control your life for you." She pauses, studying you intently. "Does that set you free, or terrify you?"

"It's freeing, in a way," you venture, trying to sound braver than you feel. 

Ellie leans forward, her elbows on the desk. "It's the most freeing thing in the world," she agrees, her voice dropping to a purr. "But it's also terrifying. Because if you're responsible for creating your own meaning, then you have to confront the possibility that you might get it wrong. That you might waste your life chasing things that don't truly fulfill you." Her eyes hold yours captive, searching. "So, what do you think you're doing with your life right now?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly aware of how small and confined the space feels. "I...I don't know," you admit. "I mean, I go to class, I study, but is that really living? Is that what I want out of life?" Ellie watches you wrestle with the question, a knowing glint in her eye. "You seem like a smart girl," she says finally. "I think you have the potential to create something truly remarkable with your life. But first, you're going to have to take a leap of faith."

Just as Ellie is about to continue her line of questioning, her phone suddenly rings, shrill in the otherwise quiet room. 

She glances down at the screen, her expression unreadable. "Excuse me a moment," she says brusquely, grabbing the phone and stepping away from the desk. 

You sit in awkward silence as she takes the call, trying to ignore the sense of rejection that washes over you. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ellie ends the call and returns to the desk, her eyes avoiding yours. "I apologize, but I'm going to have to cut our meeting short," she says stiffly. 

"I have another appointment." She stands, indicating that your audience is at an end. You gather your things in a daze, feeling the sting of dismissal. As you reach the door, you can't help but steal one last glance at Ellie - who is already focused intently on her computer screen, pretending you were never there.

As you trudge back to your dorm, your mind is a whirlwind of confused emotions. 

Part of you is thrilled at the prospect of getting to know Ellie better - but another part is terrified of the consequences. What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if you get hurt? Lost in thought, you don't even notice your phone buzzing in your pocket until several hours later. 

Pulling it out, you see a call from Lana - your best friend and confidante. "Hey, girl!" she greets you, her usual bubbly self. "How's the first day back going?" You settle in, ready to offload everything that happened with Ellie. 

As you recount the story, Lana listens with increasing amusement.

Lana's laughter echoes through the phone as the mysterious student recounts her tale of woe. "Aww, you've got it bad," Lana coos, her voice dripping with amusement.

 "Seriously, you need to loosen up! It's just a crush." You sigh, the sound carrying clearly over the line. "I know, I know. It's just...there's something about her, you know? The way she carries herself..." Lana snorts, cutting in. "Says the girl who's never had a real relationship. Trust me, I know the type. Ellie seems like a total fuckboy, anyway. You'd just end up getting hurt." There's a pause, and then Lana's tone turns thoughtful. 

"Although...we should maybe make you feel better. Go out, have some fun, get your mind off things. I say we hit up that new club downtown. You game?" You hesitate, uncertainty clear in your voice. But Lana's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon you've both made plans to meet up later that night. "Just relax and let loose, okay? Don't think about Ellie at all. We'll get you forgetting all about her in no time!"

You agree to meet Lana at the club later that night, hoping a night out will take your mind off your crush on Ellie. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of classes and studying, but eventually it's time to get ready to go out. 

You meet up with Lana, who's already dressed to the nines in a tiny dress and heels. "Gorgeous, let's go!" she says, dragging you into the night.

The club is pulsating with music and lights. You and Lana make your way to the bar, ordering drinks as you scan the crowd. 

It's a sea of unfamiliar faces - until you spot a group of girls from your sorority waving you over. 

You make your way over, laughing and chatting as you down your first drink. 

Gradually, the worries about Ellie start to fade away, replaced by the thrill of the night and the company of your friends.

Hours pass in a whirlwind of dancing, gossiping, and letting loose. 

By the time the club starts to close, you feel rejuvenated - your earlier heartache all but forgotten. As you and Lana are getting ready to leave, a boisterous guy approaches, asking for Lana's number. 

She plays hard to get for a bit, but eventually relents with a wink in your direction. You smile, feeling happy for your friend even as you can't help but wonder what Ellie is up to tonight.

You take a seat at the bar, ordering a strong cocktail to help take your mind off things. 

The night wears on, and you find yourself getting lost in the music and the company of a friendly stranger who joins you at the bar. 

Her name is Jenna, and she's charming and easy to talk to. As the hours pass, you find yourself growing more and more tipsy, laughing and joking around with Jenna as the night wears on. 

At some point, you both decide to hit the dance floor, moving and grooving to the pulsing beat. You're having a great time, but as the night wears on, your inhibitions lower. 

You find yourself getting more and more suggestively flirtatious with Jenna, pressed up against her and grinding together as you lost in the music. Just as things are really starting to heat up, you feel a sudden jolt of recognition. Turning, you lock eyes with a pair of piercing green ones across the bar. 

For a moment, you wonder if you're hallucinating - but then you see the familiar fit physique and messy auburn hair. It's Ellie. Your heart skips a beat as you realize your philosophy teacher is staring you down...

Your heart races as you realize Ellie is watching you closely from across the bar. 

you consider waving her over, but then you remember how the night started - with you confessing your crush to your best friend. 

You also remember Lana's words of wisdom about not wanting to get hurt. 

But then you see the way Ellie is looking at you - like she's undressing you with her eyes. Your resolve weakens. 

Grabbing Jenna's hand, you pull her behind you, pressing her against the bar as you rub up against her boldly. 

You catch Ellie's eye, holding her gaze as you grind against the other girl. 

Jenna laughs, assuming you're just playing around, but you can't help the thrill that shoots through you at the prospect of making your teacher jealous. You lost in the moment, feeling bold and reckless. Who knows what will happen tomorrow - but tonight, you're going to enjoy the thrill of the chase.

As you and Jenna put on a provocative show for Ellie, the philosophy teacher's expression grows more and more dark. 

Her eyes narrow to slits, and her jaw clenches visibly. 

You can practically hear the steam coming out of her ears as she watches you. 

Finally, she appears to reach her limit. Tossing some money on the bar, she storms off into the night, disappearing into the crowd. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, assuming the coast is clear. 

Turning back to Jenna, you grab her face and pull her in for a deep, messy kiss. She kisses you back eagerly, and you lose yourself in the moment. 

As you make out with Jenna, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at having made your teacher jealous. 

But as the night wears on, things start to get a little fuzzy... You remember snippets of making out with Jenna, dancing, and doing shots with new friends. 

But by the time you stumble out of the club in the early hours of the morning, you can barely remember your own name.

The sunlight streaming through your window feels like razor blades in your brain. 

You groggily sit up, your head pounding. 

The events of the previous night come back to you in hazy flashes - dancing, drinking, making out with a stranger. 

You feel a wave of shame wash over you as you realize how far you went. Did you go too far? You try to piece together the details, but your memories are fragmented and hazy. 

Just then, there's a knock at the door. It's Lana, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite the early hour. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" she says, bouncing into the room. "How are you feeling?" She looks at you with concern as you wince at the light. "I take it things didn't go exactly as planned last night?" You shake your head, feeling mortified. Lana sits down next to you, taking your hand. 

"Hey, it's okay. We've all been there. But maybe next time, drink more water and less vodka, yeah?" You manage a weak laugh. 

Lana helps you stumble to the bathroom to take some painkillers and splash some water on your face. 

As you're brushing your teeth, you can't help but wonder what Ellie is thinking this morning.

Lana helps you tidy up your room, putting away your clothes and picking up the remnants of the night before. 

As she works, she keeps you company, chatting amiably about everything except the previous evening. 

By the time she leaves you to get ready for classes, your head still throbs, but you feel a bit more human. 

You head to Philosophy 101 with trepidation, wondering how the day will go after your drunken antics last night. As you take your seat, you keep an eye on the door, waiting to see if Ellie will mention anything about your behavior. 

But she says nothing out of the ordinary, launching straight into the day's lecture. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the situation hasn't become awkward. At least, not yet. 

As the lecture goes on, you can't help but sneak glances at Ellie, wondering if she knows about your encounter with her last night. 

Does she think you're just another cheap drunk? Or did seeing you with another woman make her question her own attraction to you? You try to focus on the lecture, but your mind keeps wandering. One thing's for sure - this is going to be an interesting semester.

As the days go by, you try to put the drunken escapades of the first day behind you. 

You focus on your studies, determined to prove to yourself and everyone else that you're more than just a party animal. 

But no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get Ellie off your mind. In class, you keep stealing glances at her, wondering if she's noticed any changes in you. 

Sometimes you catch her looking at you, but whenever you meet her gaze, she quickly looks away. Is she avoiding you? Ignoring you? It's impossible to tell. 

You try to talk to Lana about it, but she just laughs and tells you to stop overthinking things. "She's your teacher. It's never gonna happen," she says, rolling her eyes. 

But you can't quite shake the feeling that there's still a spark there, no matter how much Lana denies it. 

One day, as you're packing up your things after class, you notice Ellie's door slightly ajar. 

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you peek inside. She's sitting at her desk, grading papers. Your presence must surprise her, because she looks up with a startled expression. "Can I help you?" she asks, her tone stern but her eyes revealing a flicker of—something.

You hesitate in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. Ellie's gaze bores into you, expecting an explanation. 

"I just...I wanted to apologize for last week," you stammer, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. "I was way out of line, and I'm really sorry." Ellie considers this for a moment, then nods. "Apology accepted," she says simply. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the tension between you seems to be dissipating. As you turn to leave, Ellie clears her throat. "Actually— Can you stay after class today? I have something I want to discuss with you." Her tone is still professional, but there's a hint of something else in her eyes. Something that makes your heart skip a beat—lust. Pure lust in her eyes.

After class, you head to Ellie's office, your heart pounding in your chest. 

What could she possibly want to discuss with you? You knock on the door, and when Ellie invites you in, you take a deep breath and enter. 

The office is bigger than you expected, with bookshelves lining the walls and a desk in the middle. Ellie sits behind the desk, leaning back in her chair.

 "Close the door and have a seat," she says, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. 

You do as you're told, trying to calm your nerves. Ellie studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming over your face. "I've been noticing you in class lately," she begins, her voice low and measured. "You seem...different. More engaged. More curious." She pauses, searching for the right words. 

"I have to admit, I was worried about how you'd handle last week's activities. But you seem to have handled it with maturity." You feel a flush rise to your cheeks at the memory of your drunken escapades. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Ellie leans forward, her eyes locking onto yours. "I think you have the potential to be an excellent philosopher, But it requires dedication, hard work...and a willingness to challenge yourself." She pauses, studying you intently. "Are you up for the challenge?"

You nod eagerly, determined to prove yourself. "Absolutely," you say, meeting Ellie's gaze with a fierce look of your own. "I won't let you down." A small smile plays at the corner of Ellie's lips, and she reaches for a pen and paper. 

"Good," she says, scribbling down her phone number. "In case you need to reach me...or want to discuss some of the ideas we cover in class." She slides the paper across the desk to you. 

You take it, feeling a rush of excitement. Before you can react, Ellie stands, indicating that the meeting is over. "Think about the ideas we discussed today," she says. "And feel free to call me if you have any questions." You leave the office in a daze, the slip of paper clutched tightly in your hand. 

As you walk across campus, you can't help but stare at Ellie's phone number. 

Should you really call her? What would you even say? But then you remember her words - she wants you to challenge yourself. To grow. 

And what could be more challenging than asking out your philosophy teacher? Taking a deep breath, you pull out your phone and dial the number. It rings once...twice...and then Ellie answers. "Hello?" her voice is smooth as silk. "Hi, it's me." There's a pause, and then Ellie laughs. "Of course."

"It's nice to hear from you." Ellie says, her voice warm and friendly. You can almost hear her smiling over the phone.

 "What's up?" You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "Well...I was hoping maybe we could grab a cup of coffee sometime and discuss some of the ideas from class. You know, challenge myself like you suggested." There's a pause, and for a moment you fear you've overstepped. 

But then Ellie responds. "I'd like that." You feel a surge of excitement, trying to keep your cool. "Great so um, when were you thinking?" How did you go from asking your philosophy teacher for coffee to making plans with her? You're not sure, but you can't help the thrill that shoots through you at the prospect of spending time with Ellie.

 "How about tomorrow afternoon?" she suggests. "There's a cafe just off campus. I know the owner, so we can get a quiet table if you'd like." You agree on a time, and hang up the phone with a huge grin on your face. 

You can't believe it - you're actually going to have coffee with Ellie. And who knows what might happen after that.

The next day, you arrive at the cafe early, nursing a nervous energy. You spot Ellie outside, looking even more finer than usual in a casual grey sweater and jeans. 

She smiles as she sees you, and you can't help but return it. 

Inside, the cafe is cozy and quiet, just as Ellie said. 

You take a seat at a small table by the window, and Ellie joins you a moment later, sliding in across from you. "So," she says, leaning back in her chair. "Tell me more about what you liked about last week's reading. What stood out to you." You launch into a discussion of the finer points of existentialism, surprised at how easily the conversation flows. 

Ellie listens intently, interjecting with insightful questions and comments. Before you know it, an hour has passed, and you feel like you've barely scratched the surface of the topics you want to discuss. 

Glancing at the clock, you realize you've been talking for over two hours. 

Ellie laughs as she catches you checking the time. "I guess we got a bit carried away," she says, smiling. "But I have to say, I'm really enjoying this. It's not often I get to have such thoughtful discussions with my students." You feel a flutter in your chest at her words. Is this a date? Or just a fun intellectual exchange? Either way, you're not ready for it to end.

As you finish up your coffee, Ellie glances at her watch. "I suppose I should let you get to your next class," she says, a hint of reluctance in her voice. 

You stand up, gathering your things, and Ellie does the same. Outside the cafe, she falls into step beside you as you begin the walk back to campus. 

The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. "I have to say, I'm impressed," Ellie remarks, glancing at you sidelong. "Most of my students wouldn't bother showing up to a coffee date dressed like that." You feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you realize you're wearing the same outfit you had on the first day of class. 

Ellie must have been checking you out. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. 

As you walk, the conversation continues, flowing easily between you. You discover shared interests and favorite authors, bonding over your love of philosophy. 

By the time you reach your dorm, the sky is dark, and stars are beginning to twinkle overhead. Ellie pauses at your doorstep, looking up at you. "I had a really great time today," she says softly. "Would you like to do it again sometime soon?" Her eyes search yours, and you can't help but wonder what she's looking for. With that, she leans in and presses her lips to yours in a sweet, brief kiss. It's chaste, but filled with promise.

The next few weeks pass in a blur of coffee dates, long walks, and deep discussions about life, philosophy, and everything in between. 

You find yourself falling for Ellie, hard. She's brilliant, passionate, and genuinely interested in you and your thoughts. 

You discover a sexy side to her, too - the way her eyes smolder when she's excited by an idea, or the way her hands move when she's gesturing enthusiastically. But even as you grow closer, you can't shake the feeling that there's something holding Ellie back. 

She's always quick to deflect when you try to get too personal, and there are moments when her expression shifts, just for a second, into something guarded. One evening, as you're walking back to your dorm after another amazing date, you decide to confront her. "Ellie—" you pause for a moment. "what are we?" you continue.

Ellie pauses, looking up at you with those intense green eyes. 

For a moment, you think you see a flicker of fear in their depths. Then her expression smooths into a mask of calm.

 "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice even. You take a deep breath and plunge ahead. "I mean...we've been seeing each other for weeks now. 

We have all these deep talks and go on dates. It feels like more than just a friendship to me. So...what are we?" Ellie looks away, staring up at the stars twinkling overhead.

 "I care about you, Really deeply. But..." She pauses, seeming to struggle with her words. "My job is to teach and mentor you. That's a pretty big power imbalance, and I don't want to compromise your academic experience." 

She looks back at you, her eyes searching yours. "I'm scared that if we keep going down this path, it will complicate things in ways I'm not sure I'm equipped to handle." Your heart aches at the vulnerability in her voice. 

But then Ellie does something unexpected - she reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "But I enjoy your company more than anything else in my life right now. So...let's just see where this goes, okay? We'll take things slowly and figure it out as we go. Deal?"

You nod eagerly, not trusting yourself to speak. 

Ellie smiles, squeezing your hand once more before letting go. 

"Good," she says simply. As you continue walking, the weight of her confession hangs in the air between you. 

You're not sure what the future holds, but for now, you're content to enjoy each other's company. When you reach your dorm, Ellie walks you to the door, just like she has every night. 

But this time, instead of kissing you goodbye, she leans in close, her forehead pressing against yours. "I really like you," she whispers. "More than I should." You can feel her words vibrating against your skin.

 "I know it's not ideal, but I don't care. I want to be with you." With that, she pulls back and waits, looking up at you with those deep green orbs. 

You realize this is a turning point. You can walk away now, preserving the status quo. Or you can take a chance on Ellie, and see where this forbidden connection takes you.

You look into Ellie's eyes, seeing the sincerity and vulnerability there. You feel the same way about her - more than just likes and crushes. 

This is real. And as much as you know you should be careful, you can't bring yourself to let her go. "I really like you too," you whisper, mirroring her words. Ellie's face lights up at your response, and she leans in once more, her lips brushing yours in a sweet, tender kiss. 

It's not a chaste kiss this time - there's heat and promise in it. As you pull back, you realize that this is the start of something new. 

Something that terrifies you, but also fills you with exhilaration. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Ellie asks, her voice filled with hope. You nod, smiling. "Definitely." 

As you step inside your dorm, you can't help but glance over your shoulder at Ellie, who's still standing there, watching you. 

You know that you're taking a risk by being with her. But right now, you don't care. All you can think about is the fact that the woman you've fallen for wants you too. And that's worth fighting for.

It's the week before finals, and you're running on fumes. 

Between classes, work, and your blossoming relationship with Ellie, you're stretched thin. 

You've been putting off studying, hoping you could somehow magically absorb all the material through osmosis. 

But as the pressure mounts, you know you need to buckle down and focus. 

The problem is, you don't know where to start. You consider hitting up Lana, but you know she'll just tell you to chill out and study with her later. 

You need help - and fast. So who do you turn to? Your philosophy teacher, of course. 

You're nervous about asking Ellie for help, but you're more desperate than ever. 

You send her a nervous text. "Hey...I know this is last minute, but would you be willing to help me study for my exams? I feel totally overwhelmed and I know your class is key to understanding a lot of the material. I really appreciate you, and I know this is a big ask..." You wait with bated breath for her response.

You nervously wait for Ellie's response, your phone glued to your hand. 

After what feels like an eternity, you see her name pop up on your screen. "Heyyy, no worries at all, Of course I'd be happy to help you study. 

When were you thinking? How about tomorrow afternoon, we could meet at the library and go over some key concepts together?

also how are you holding up, honestly? Finals week can be really rough. lemme know if u need help with anything else:))" You feel a rush of relief and gratitude at her response. 

You quickly type back a thanks and a confirmation of the study session. 

As you set your phone down, you can't help but smile. Even when you're being a mess, Ellie is there for you. 

She's not just your teacher or your girlfriend - she's a true friend. 

The next day, you meet Ellie at the library and dive into your studying. 

Having her guidance and support makes all the difference. As you work together, you can't help but steal glances at each other, both aware that this is more than just a study session. 

It's a moment of intimacy, of teamwork, of shared goal-oriented effort. And it only serves to strengthen your bond. 

By the time you wrap up your studying, you feel confident and ready for your exams. Plus, you got to spend quality time with the girl you love. It's the perfect outcome. 

As you finish up your studying, Ellie glances at her watch. "We've been at it for a few hours," she remarks. "How about I walk you back to your dorm?" You agree, gathering your things, and Ellie leads you out of the library and onto the quiet campus streets. 

It's a chilly evening, and you can see your breath misting in the air. 

But as you walk alongside Ellie, you don't feel the cold at all. You're too busy stealing glances at her, admiring the way her hair falls in loose waves around her face. Eventually, you arrive at your dorm. You pause at the door, unsure what to do. 

Do you invite her up? Do you kiss her goodbye? Before you can decide, Ellie leans in, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. 

One moment you're standing there, the next you're wrapped up in each other, hands exploring, tongues entwined. 

The kiss deepens and lengthens, until you're both panting, pressed up against each other. 

Ellie breaks away, her eyes dark with desire. "I want you," she whispers, her voice husky. "Right now." You don't need any further invitation. You lead her inside, your hands roaming, your hearts racing.

Ellie steps inside your dorm room, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. She looks around, taking in the scatter of books and clothes, the general chaos of a student's space. 

But her attention is quickly drawn back to you, as she takes a step closer. "Can I...touch you?" she asks softly, her fingers hovering against your cheek. 

You nod, your heart pounding. Ellie's fingers trace the line of your jaw, your neck, slipping beneath your shirt to feel the curve of your shoulder blade. 

Each touch sends shivers down your spine. As her hand explores your body, you can't help but touch her in return - running your fingers through her hair, tracing the shape of her breasts through her hoodie. 

The air between you crackles with electricity. Ellie steps closer still, until her body is pressed up against yours. 

You can feel every curve, every ridge - the swell of her hips, the jut of her collarbone. 

It's like fitting together two puzzle pieces, so perfectly do you mesh. Ellie's head dips down, her lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. She kisses you there, and then suckles gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

One of her hands slips under your shirt, fingers splaying across your stomach. You can feel her warm breath on your skin, her heartbeat pounding in time with yours.

As Ellie's lips trail down your neck, her hand slides further under your shirt, her fingers teasing the waistband of your pants. 

You can feel your heart racing, your breath coming in short gasps. The sensation of her touch, so soft and feather-light, is driving you crazy. You want more. 

Need more. With trembling hands, you reach down to grip Ellie's coat, pulling her closer still. 

Her body presses up against yours, and you can feel every inch of her, from the curve of her breasts to the line of her thighs. It's overwhelming, in the best possible way. 

Ellie's head dips lower, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. Her tongue slips inside your mouth, tangling with your own. You can taste yourself on her, musky and intimate. As you kiss, Ellie's hand slides further down, fingers brushing against the front of your pants. 

She cups you there, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head. You arch into her touch, a needy little moan escaping your lips. Ellie breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with lust. "Clothes off," she whispers, her voice rough. "Now."

Ellie's words send a jolt of electricity through you. Without breaking eye contact, you reach back and pull your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly across the room. 

Ellie's gaze rakes over your bare torso, her eyes lingering on your nipples, hard and betraying your arousal. She takes a step closer, her hands coming up to palm your breasts, feeling their weight in her hands. 

You let out a shaky breath as she leans in, her lips finding yours once more. 

The kiss is deep and hungry, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. With a strength you didn't know she had, Ellie pushes you back towards the bed. 

You fall onto the mattress, Ellie looming over you, her hands still on your breasts. She leans down, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, "I've wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you." With that, she claims your mouth once more, even as she reaches down to start undoing your pants.

As Ellie undoes your pants, you realize you haven't asked her to undress yet. You reach up, grasping at the hem of her hoodie. 

"Take this off," you manage to gasp out between kisses. Ellie nods, breaking the kiss to pull the hoodie over her head, revealing the sports bra beneath. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to her nipples, visible through the thin fabric, straining towards you. You can't help but lick your lips, the sight arousing you further. 

Next, you work on the drawstrings of her pants, pushing them down along with her underwear. 

Ellie steps out of the puddle of fabric, now wearing nothing but her sports bra and socks. You drink in the sight of her, from the toned curves of her arms and shoulders, to the flat plane of her stomach, to the juncture between her thighs. She's beautiful. Perfect. 

You sit up, grasping at the back of her head, pulling her in for a deep, devouring kiss. As you kiss, your hands roam - tracing the lines of her muscles, feeling the dips and curves of her body.

As you kiss Ellie, your hands explore her body, mapping out every dip and curve. 

You can't get enough of her, and you pull her down onto the bed with you. Ellie lands on top of you, her weight a comforting pressure. 

She shifts, straddling your waist, her sex aligning with yours. You can feel the heat of her, even through the thin fabric of her sports bra. 

Ellie breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with desire. She reaches back, deftly takes off her bra. It falls away, revealing her breasts - full and heavy, topped with pink nipples. 

You reach out, taking one in your mouth, suckling gently. Ellie throws her head back, a soft moan escaping her lips. 

As you kiss Ellie, her hands start to roam over your body as well - slipping her hand under your panties to cup your pussy.

She breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with desire as she pulls you back down onto the bed. "On your hands and knees," she orders, her voice husky. 

Obediently, you flip over, presenting yourself to her. Ellie settles between your legs, her hands spreading you apart. 

You can feel her hot breath on your most intimate areas, making you shiver. Her tongue dips out, licking through your folds, finding your clit. 

You let out a choked cry, your back arching off the bed. Ellie laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin as she continues her ministrations. 

She pays special attention to your nipples, rolling the sensitive buds between her fingers and sucking them deep into her mouth. You're lost to the sensation, your hips rocking against her face as she brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Ellie stops. She flips you over onto your back, her body looming over yours. "what d’you want princess? hm?” she whispers, her eyes burning with need.

You look up at Ellie, your lips parted, your chest heaving. 

You can't form words, not even a whimper. All you can do is point to your pussy, pleadingly. 

Ellie gets the message. She settles between your legs once more, her hands holding you open. 

This time, she doesn't tease - her tongue dives in, licking up your wetness, circling your clit. 

You feel yourself getting close, your walls clenching around nothing. 

Just as you think you're about to tumble over the edge, Ellie stops again. This time, she's got a finger poised at your asshole. 

"Like this?" she asks, looking into your eyes. 

You nod, too far gone to form words. Ellie presses her finger against you, pushing past the initial resistance. 

You feel her digging deeper, curling her finger inside you. It's a weird sensation, but not unpleasant. 

As she fingers you, Ellie leans down, her lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss. 

She tastes like you - musky and intimate. You can feel yourself getting close again, your body tensing. 

This time, when you crest, Ellie is there with you. She licks into your mouth, swallowing your cries as she brings you both to climax. You collapse back onto the bed, Ellie half on top of you, both of you panting. Ellie pulls her finger out of you, licking it clean. "Fuck,"

As you catch your breath, Ellie starts cleaning you up with gentle, soothing touches. 

She wipes the sweat from your brow, the saliva from your lips. Her fingers trace patterns on your skin, calming you. 

You feel like putty in her hands, pliant and relaxed. Eventually, you're both clean and comfortable, curled up together in a tangle of limbs. 

Ellie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Goodnight princess." she whispers. You smile, feeling happy and sated. Ellie pulls away, slipping out of bed. 

She gathers up her clothes, stepping into them one piece at a time. As she leaves, she turns back to kiss you once more, her lips soft and warm against yours.

 "I love you," she murmurs. Then she's gone, closing the door quietly behind her. 

You're left alone in the dark, a satisfied smile on your face, her words echoing in your mind. You love her too. More than you ever thought possible.

The next morning, you wake up feeling refreshed and happy. 

You can't help but smile as you remember the previous night's events. 

You're still on cloud nine when you head to philosophy class. But as soon as you walk in and see Ellie at the front of the room, 

all your good feelings evaporate. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as you realize how inappropriate your relationship is. How could you do this with your teacher? You take your seat, keeping your eyes fixed on your notebook. 

But as the class progresses, you can't help but sneak glances at Ellie. She seems distracted too, her usual enthusiasm dampened. 

Eventually, class ends, and you file out with your classmates. Ellie hangs back, waiting for you. 

As everyone else leaves, she steps closer. "Hey—about yesterday... I know this is complicated. But I care about you so much. I don't want anything to ruin what we have. Can we just pretend class is cancelled today? Spend some more time together?" She looks at you with those earnest, hopeful eyes. 

You feel your resolve crumbling. What could a few more hours hurt? "Okay," you find yourself agreeing. "Let's go for a walk."

As you walk with Ellie, you can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Isn't this just repeating itself? You're just delaying the inevitable, aren't you? But the warmth of her hand in yours, the sparkle in her eyes when she looks at you, make you forget your misgivings. 

For the moment, anyway. You walk and talk, enjoying each other's company, trying to ignore the fact that you're alone on campus on a weekend day. 

Eventually, you find yourselves at the edge of the woods. A path stretches into the trees, dark and inviting. 

Without a word, Ellie takes your hand and leads you down it. The canopy of leaves blocks out the sun, casting the forest floor in cool shadows. 

Ellie pulls you into a clearng, the center of which is taken up by a small pond. In the center of the pond is an old stone fountain, dry and cracked. 

Ellie lets go of your hand and walks over to it, running her fingers over the worn surface. "I used to come here a lot when I was a student," she says softly. "It was my escape." She looks at you then, her eyes dark with emotion. "I know this is wrong, I'm your teacher, and you're my student. But I can't help how I feel. And I don't want to lose you." She takes a step closer, her hands reaching out.

As Ellie steps closer, you can see the desperation in her eyes. She wants to touch you, to hold you, but she's holding herself back. "I think... I think we need to take a break," she says softly.

 "Not from each other, from all of this. From the secrecy, from the taboo. It's eating away at me, wondering when someone is going to find out. 

When this is going to blow up in our faces." She takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. "I don't want to lose you, but I also don't want to do something that could ruin your life. You're too important to me." You feel a pang in your chest at her words. 

She's right, of course. But the idea of giving up what you have with her is impossible. You reach out and take her hand, squeezing it. "No," you say firmly. "I don't want to give up what we have either. We'll find a way to make this work." Ellie looks at you, her eyes searching. "How, How are we going to make this work when everything is against us?"

Ellie's eyes darken with emotion at your words. She wants to believe you, wants to think that you can overcome all the obstacles in your way. 

But she knows, deep down, that it's unlikely. She pulls her hand away, rubbing her temples as if to ward off a headache. "I think... I think we need to stop seeing each other. Until we can figure out a way to make this work, we need to stay away from each other. For your own good, for both of our sakes." Her voice cracks on the last word, betraying the pain she feels. 

She looks at you then, her eyes pleading. "Can we do that? Can we stay away from each other for a little while, until we can come up with a plan?" You feel a lump rise in your throat at her words. 

The idea of not seeing her, not touching her, feels like a death sentence. But she's right, of course. You both need to take a step back and regroup. With a heavy heart, you nod. "Yeah," you say softly. "Yeah, I think you're right." Ellie exhales shakily, some of the tension leaving her body. 

"Okay, then. We'll do that. We'll stay away from each other until we can figure this out." She looks at you one last time before turning and walking back through the woods, leaving you alone by the pond.

It's been a few days since you and Ellie decided to take a break. The last few days have been a blur of sadness and loneliness. 

You've been lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, missing her more than you ever thought possible. 

Just as you're starting to drift off to sleep, you hear a soft knock at the door. You stare at it in surprise - who could it be at this hour? You shuffle over and open the door, finding Ellie standing there, looking pale and exhausted. "Can I come in?" she asks softly. You nod, moving aside to let her in. 

As she enters and closes the door behind her, you can't help but notice how different she looks from the vibrant, energetic Ellie you know. 

This version looks defeated, her eyes shadowed by lack of sleep and worry. "I've been thinking a lot about us, about this situation. And I think I know how we can make it work." She looks at you, her eyes pleading. "But we're going to have to trust each other completely. Can you do that for me?"

As Ellie finishes speaking, you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to make this work. "Yes," you find yourself agreeing. "I can do that." Ellie's face brightens at your words, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Good. Because I don't want to live in a world without you in it, princess." She reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you towards the door. "Come on, let's go for a walk. We need to get out of this room." You follow her quietly, enjoying the feeling of her hand in yours. As you walk, Ellie talks, explaining her plan for how you two can be together. 

It's ambitious, and it won't be easy. But with Ellie by your side, you're willing to try anything. 

The walk eventually leads you to a quiet neighborhood, one you've never been to before. Ellie pauses in front of a small, cozy house. "This is my house," she says softly. “come inside with me?” You feel a blush rise to your cheeks, knowing what will likely happen once you're inside. 

But you want to be with her, no matter what. "Okay," you agree.

As you follow Ellie into her home, you feel a sense of nervous anticipation. You know what's likely to happen next, and a part of you is thrilled, while another part is terrified. 

Once inside, Ellie locks the door behind you, turning to face you with a serious expression. "Listen, princess," she says softly. "What happens next is up to you. If you want to stop, if you want to leave, just say the word. But if you're willing to take a chance on us, then...then I want to show you just how much I care." She takes a step closer, her eyes burning into yours.

 "I want to make you feel so so good baby girl. I want to show you that we can make this work." As she speaks, she reaches up and cups your face, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her touch.

Ellie's words send a jolt of electricity through you, her touch setting you ablaze. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing growing ragged. "Show me," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible. 

Ellie smiles softly at your response, her eyes darkening with possessiveness and desire.

She guides you further into the house, leading you upstairs to a small bedroom. 

It's simply furnished, with a large bed taking up most of the space. Ellie walks over to it and sits down, patting the space beside her. "C’mere baby," she invites, her voice low and husky. 

You hesitate for a moment, your hands shaking as you remove your clothing. 

But as you climb onto the bed and settle beside Ellie, you feel a sense of rightness, of coming home. 

Ellie pulls you close, wrapping her arms around you and holding you tight. Her lips find yours in a soft, sweet kiss. 

 she kisses you, her hands start to roam - tracing the lines of your back, the curve of your hips. She rolls you onto your back, looking down at you with those earnest, adoring eyes. "I love you, princess, so so much.” she whispers.

As Ellie's lips meet yours, you feel like you're melting into her embrace. Her touch is electric, setting every nerve ending in your body on fire. 

You kiss her back with all the passion and love in your heart, your arms wrapping around her waist, holding her close. 

As she rolls you onto your back, you feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you. 

But it's a good vulnerability, a trusting kind. 

You look up at her, seeing the love in her eyes, and you know that everything is going to be okay. 

Ellie's hands start to explore your body, tracing patterns on your skin, tugging gently at your clothes. 

She undresses you slowly, reverently, each article of clothing eliciting a soft gasp from you as it's pulled away. 

Once you're naked, Ellie settles between your legs, her eyes feasting on your bared flesh. 

You feel her warm breath on your most intimate area, making you shiver. 

And then her tongue touches you, sliding through your folds, seeking out your clit. You let out a soft cry of pleasure, your hips arching off the bed as she begins to lick and suck at you.

After a while, Ellie slows down her ministrations, her tongue dragging lazily through your wet folds. 

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. Without a word, she climbs off the bed and walks over to the closet. 

You hear her rummaging around in it for a moment before she returns, a long, thick strap-on dangling from her hand. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of it, a mixture of excitement and nervousness washing over you. Ellie looks at you, her expression serious. "ready princess?" she asks softly. 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You nod, your mouth too dry to form words. 

Ellie helps you move into position, her hands guiding your hips as she presses the thick head of the strap-on against your entrance. You feel a moment of hesitation, of doubt, but then the head begins to slip inside, stretching you in ways you've never been stretched before. 

You gasp, your body tensing as Ellie works the strap-on deeper inside you. Finally, it's all the way in. 

You feel full, so very full. But in a good way, like you're being filled with potential, with possibility. Ellie leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "We're gonna take it slow," she promises.

As Ellie begins to move the strap-on inside you, you feel a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. 

It's a lot to take, being stretched and filled in ways your body isn't used to. 

But Ellie is patient, letting you adjust to the sensation. 

She starts off slow, her hips rocking in a steady, rhythmic motion. You feel yourself relaxing into it, your body starting to crave the sensation. 

As Ellie picks up speed, you start to feel a building pressure inside you, a sense of anticipation. 

It's like your body is getting ready to explode, to release all the tension and pleasure that's been building. And then, suddenly, you're coming. 

Your whole body seizes up as your climax hits, your fingers clutching at the sheets, your toes curling. Ellie keeps thrusting through your orgasm, riding it out with you. 

Finally, she slows to a stop, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

You collapse back onto the bed, spent and satisfied. Ellie lies down beside you, pulling you close. "That was amazing," she murmurs. "But I know it was a lot. Are you okay, princess?"

You nod As you lie there, caught on the wave of afterglow, Ellie tends to you with gentle, loving care. 

She takes the strap-on out of you, cleaning you up with soft cloths and warm water. Her touch is soothing, calming any lingering discomfort. Once you're clean, she sets about filling you up with soft, sweet kisses. Her lips trail across your skin, dotting your body with tiny pecks. She pays special attention to your breasts, your hips, your inner thighs. Each kiss feels like a promise, a seal of love and affection. As she kisses you, she wraps her arms around you, holding you close. You can feel her heart beating against your own, a steady, reassuring rhythm. "I love you," she whispers, punctuating her words with more kisses. "So very much."

“I love u too Els.”

tag list— @youfoundheavenn @gaylittleellie @xaaaavleg @sleepy-sheep-things

[persicipen]

₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝓑𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒔. NEUVILLETTE. WRIOTHESLEY ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

ৎ୭ — · · 1.8k ノ afab gn reader — inappriopriate use of work desk and work chair. semi public space — their office. no one is getting caught. petnames — love, beloved, darling. rewritten old post!

₊ ˙ ⊹ . NEUVILLETTE ノ

“Monsieur Neuvillette, if someone walks in…” You try to negotiate weakly, but his eyes are closed and lips parted, his hands resting on your hips, guiding your movements. He’s sitting on his chair in his office; you’re in his lap, riding him.

How did this happen? You cannot think of it anymore, mind hazy and compliant ideas flowing out of your mind in the rhythm of his pelvis colliding with yours. In the middle of the day, to perform such activities is beyond improper — who would even think of assuming that the Iudex is busy urging you to continue impaling yourself on his leaky cock?

Not even an hour has passed since you entered your workplace, and he already has you on top of him, bouncing on his thighs, moaning into his shoulder, trying not to get too loud.

He’s not helping, not one bit, whispering obscene words into your ear, his grip tight, his girth stretching you so wonderfully, his breath shaky and hot, his chest pressed against your back.

You’re slipping away from the realm of consciousness at the sensation of him so deep inside of you, rubbing confessions of love against your inner walls with each languid roll to match your weakening moves. You don’t care about the consequences, the potential gossip, or the risk of getting caught.

It doesn’t matter anymore. He is now busy with you, and you let him do it all simply because his touch is addicting and his shaft is hitting places that make your brain fuzzy.

Surely, there must be a way to ensure your privacy in his office, at least to a sufficient extent. His grunts are so manly, just a tone lower than his usual whispers, and his lips leave a burning trace on your neck. He must feel rather confident in this situation.

“They will not see. I don’t want to risk showing you to anyone else,” he explains softly, his warm breath fanning your skin and his fingers gripping your waist. “I have the most beautiful darling in the world in my office, and I am lucky enough to enjoy you. I want to do it at my own pace, without distractions.”

Your heart skips a beat at his praise, and you feel your cheeks getting warm, cunt clenching around his delicious girth at the thought of being complimented like that. Seeing how Neuvillette takes you so lewdly, the sounds of your bodies filling the beautiful room lit with the early noon sunbeams.

“Ngh—! I beg you, Neuvi—” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his heartbeat pulsing on your skin, your arms wrapped around his torso.

His fingers trace circles on your lower back, his hips lifting up just an inch above the seat to meet yours, the poor chair under you both creaking with every thrust as his cock reaches your dewy depths. He’s not going rough, but rather slow and passionate, making you melt under his touches, your drenched pussy twitching around him, welcoming him each time anew.

Perhaps unnecessary to add — quite obvious, if you reevaluate his personality — but he’s not the kind of man who takes you quickly. He prefers to take his time and savour every moment, making sure that you know what you mean to him. Not a hopeless romantic, not in this meaning, but his love language is on a whole different level than of any mortal, making you cry tears of ecstasy and pleasure every time he claims you in a similar manner.

“Good… You’re so delectable and outstanding,” he murmurs, sounding so tender, a distinct contrast to his previous rhythm, the change of pace unexpected but welcomed. “I will let you come soon, alright? Will you cum for me, beloved?”

He asks so kindly, like a gentleman brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. The combination of his sweet pleas — nothing that could even be called a dirty talk — and the endearments he uses to address you send shivers down your spine, making your toes curl in a rush of affection.

“Yes, I will. Of course, I will,” you answer, grinding against him harder, trying to find the perfect angle to reach the vertiginous peak of delirium.

“My pretty, pretty darling,” he continues, and his words alone send you over the edge.

You arch your back, moaning his name, riding out your orgasm on his shaft, trembling in his arms. His hands move down your waist and grab your ass, digging into the supple flesh. He keeps you pressed tightly to his hips, the tip of his cock nuzzling against your womb. Just once, a shy kiss to bring you to the finale as your fluttering walls squeeze his whole girth in spasms.

The warmth spreading from his groin and the pressure building announce the impending release, following not long after you. Neuvillette bites his lip, stifling a loud groan, whilst burying his face into your chest, like he’s seeking a safe embrace during the moments of the highest sensitivity. His hips stutter with spurts of hot, creamy cum spilling inside your pussy, filling you to the brim, dripping down his length as he tries to push into you for the last few times.

“Ohh, monsieur—” you weep, such a saccharine sound reaching his ears, when you try to lift yourself off his lap, too weak to actually do this and giving up to sink into his arm once again.

“Yes, my love? Are my words that much of a blessing?” his voice is ragged, a wee decoloured from the perfect tone, but smiling nevertheless.

₊ ˙ ⊹ . WRIOTHESLEY ノ

You accidentally yelp, the sound immediately causing the crumpled tie to be put into your mouth with force. But are you really sorry for breaking the promise of being silent? If disobeying only results in you being pounded faster and deeper by Wriothesley, the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, where are the bad consequences?

Isn’t that exactly what you wanted to achieve, anyway?

“Shh, little thing,” he mutters, his voice a low whisper, a dangerous growl that sends shivers down your spine. “I told you not to be too loud. I would hate if anyone interrupted our little meeting.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know that his words have their effect on you. He can feel you twitch around his length, squeezing him so tightly he needs to exhale deeply to control himself from cumming immediately after. The friction is so delicious whilst his cock pounds against your fluttering walls, sinking into the warm tightness.

The sounds of your sweet, debauched sobs are muffled by the fabric he shoved between your salivating lips, so there’s not much you can do about the overwhelming pressure building up from your underbelly. The very confirmation of your state are your juices creaming his balls and creating a wet patch on his thighs.

The Duke is a man of honour, more or less, and his promises are true. He told you not to moan, not to scream, not to beg for more, and here he is — pushing his whole girth into your needy hole in a punishing rhythm, pounding into you with all the force he has.

But, again, are you sorry? Not even one bit, especially when his pelvis hits the curve of your ass, the impact sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

However, knowing that he may leave you unsatisfied is enough not to tease him any more and to obey the only rule he has set for you from now on.

It’s difficult to imagine what it must have felt like to see you bent over his desk, picking up stamped documents, the perfect angle and curvature of your silhouette accentuated with the dimmed light. And now you are paying the price — the sweet, sweet consequence of your sultry subconcious teasing.

He’s been stressed, dissatisfied. On edge for a while, ever since that previous issue in the Fortress, and seeing the work piling up in the corner of his office wasn’t helping. Thankfully, at the very moment he has you flat on his working space, his cock buried deep in your hole, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, and everything is so much better. Well, nearing painful, the pleasure so intense, and yet, his strong, rough hands gripping your hips and forcing your body to meet his are the best feeling you could ever hope for.

Driven by lust, fucking you like his life depends on it, his veiny shaft hits spots that make your eyes roll back in ecstasy. He’s not a gentle lover. No, not even a bit. His breathing is ragged, his usually spiky hair now sticking to his sweaty forehead, his collar shirt soaked around his neck.

Alas, who can blame him? He’s been deprived of his daily dose of intimacy and finally getting what he desires. The sound of his hefty erection ramming into you fills the room, his shuddering thighs slamming against your own in a feral dance. One slip up, one tiny mistake, and he will leave you without a satisfying ending; thus, you try your best to stay silent, his orders still echoing in your head.

“Yes, lovely, just like that,” his praises are whispered right into your ear, his lips brushing against your feverish skin, the heat radiating from your bodies.

Wriothesley adores this sight.

The taste of your lips, the scent of your arousal, the vice grip of your pussy swallowing his cock, the damp sounds of your juices mixing with his precum…

It seems so trivial, as if your fucked-out brain is mocking you for even thinking about this. But all you can hear is his soft moans and curses under his breath, and all you can feel is him sinking into your warmth over and over again, splitting you open.

A broken man with his own morals, and he has his own way of expressing affection. Sometimes, it’s sweet and tender lovemaking, and sometimes, it’s rough fucking on his desk, and sometimes he will simply eat you out in the dark corner of the Fortress. Regardless, it always ends with your breathless voice telling him how amazing he was, and then the soft giggles once the adrenaline and the heat die down.

“Endure it just a little bit longer,” he purrs, and his voice sounds so raspy, his accent stronger, his words laced with addictive affection.

That little game of being quiet or getting caught by the people passing by — well, he didn’t lie about it, did he?

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 1 masterlist

-

In the end, gazing out of the ship's portholes into the dark vastness of space proves to be less comforting than the architects must have originally anticipated. You can attest to this more than most.

Every morning, you get up an hour earlier than the rest of your crew and make your way to the galley to make your morning cup of coffee. A pack of instant crystals into your favorite mug and hot recycled water from the kettle. Sometimes you stay to have breakfast, but often you take your coffee with you to the main viewing deck for your morning sojourn. 

There, you sit curled up in the navigator’s chair and stare out of the flight deck window until your breathing levels out. Early morning meditations. With the sun only visible through the rear porthole, the Milky Way stretches out before you, immeasurably vast. Ancient cosmic entities, some already long dead. 

Stars fill your field of vision like an intricate latticework of varying brightness. The watery glass warps at the edges, bending the far off light. All things with their propensity for brightness and decay.

A deep, steady hum fills the room. It’s cathartic to be alone. Sometimes, when you look out into the depths of space, you imagine yourself as a cartographer of old, labeling everything beyond this point: “here there be dragons.” 

Farah is the first person to join you, the ship’s maintenance technician already washed and dressed, floral cumberbund cinched around her midriff and her headwrap pinned in place. She greets you with a firm nod upon her entry, never one to mince words. In the months since your ship set off on its course for Jupiter, you’ve exchanged all of ten words, most of your conversation one-sided. 

She glides in like she’s been up for hours, likely running through her routine maintenance checklist. Monitoring propulsion, life support, and all critical systems. You wouldn’t doubt if she had been, descending into the bowels of the ship and cataloging every minute difference from the day before. Nothing if not thorough. 

Graves sweeps in not twenty minutes later, his uniform pressed and ironed. When he glances your way, you shrink under his gaze, self-conscious about something unidentifiable. He is every bit the commander you met briefly back on Earth, never a hair out of place. If he were less intimidating, he’d be insufferable. 

“Morning,” you murmur, the mug still close to your lips making your voice reverberate. He doesn’t respond. You wonder if he even heard you greet him. It likely wouldn't matter.

Medic has a different connotation this far from Earth. Hierarchy out in space is typically determined by way of one’s importance to the ship, and the scope of your role does not, unfortunately, include maintaining the ship. What that means, unofficially, is that you speak when spoken to, and not for any other reason. 

In the months to come, there may be moments or days when your usefulness is acknowledged, usually much to your colleagues’ chagrin. Though it’s not likely that any of the crew will encounter foreign pathogens while on a hermetically sealed ship in the middle of space, they’re all still susceptible to falls and cuts and worse. Nikolai, the chief engineer on board, had sprained his wrist during the first week of the mission, lending you immediate purpose and validation. 

You make way for the second officer when he finally deigns to make an appearance, sliding quietly out of his seat and stepping to the back of the cockpit, back pressed to the wall closest to the door. 

“Morning, everyone,” he greets, peppier than the three of you despite his rumpled appearance. His thick mustache twitches with the force of his smile. “Ready to seize another day?”

“Jesus Christ, Keller, let’s tone it down ‘til about ten o’clock, alright?” Graves sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache.  

“Our clocks are off, commander,” Alex jokes, coming over to give him a little shake by the shoulder. It would be insubordination from anyone else. “I’m about ready to eat lunch.” 

“Let’s just get through formation and then you can go fill up the bottomless pit you call a stomach.”

The morning briefing never takes up too much time. It’s as much of an excuse to have coffee together as it is to go through the day’s schedule. Graves spends most of the time reviewing the flight course, charting where the ship will be by day’s end. 

“Almost through the belt,” Alex remarks, staring down at the monitor in front of him. It’s an incomprehensible jumble when you try to peer over his shoulder, but he must be able to make sense of it. 

The crew had been on high alert since entering the torus-shaped region between Mars and Jupiter a month back. For the most part, they needn’t have been so on edge—the average distance of the asteroids in the circumstellar disc between the two planets tended to be quite substantial—but a collision the previous day had reinstated their earlier anxiety. 

“Can we switch from manual yet, Farah?” Graves asks from his seat at the helm of the ship. 

She shakes her head, lips tightening with frustration. “I still have to figure out what’s going on with cruise control—it’s not responding correctly.”

“Was that from that little ding the other day?” you ask, blurting out the question without thinking.

Farah’s expression is flat when she glances over at you. “That ‘little ding’ nearly took out our communications system altogether.” 

You wince at that, staring down at your feet instead. Better to just shut your mouth than make a fool of yourself. Had you not blurted out the question, you might have even surmised the nature of the situation given the comm specialist’s notable absence from the cockpit. 

When Nikolai eventually ambles in with a thermos of coffee and deep troughs under his eyes, Farah looks up and frowns. “Where’s Hadir?”

The man shrugs, nonplussed. “Cargo?” he grunts, rolling the toothpick between his teeth around the words. 

She sighs. “I’ll go find him.”

No one says anything when she leaves, the double doors sliding open and shut automatically at her approach, and she doesn’t bother saying goodbye. 

“Dismissed, I guess,” Graves sighs, collapsing into his chair and spinning around to face the stars proliferating in front of him. 

The informality digs at you sometimes because you know you can’t indulge in it. The times you’ve attempted to, you’ve been rebuffed. Sometimes unintentionally, but often to remind you of your place.

This isn’t a crew you’ve ever worked with before. From conversations you’ve overheard, you’ve gleaned that they’ve all worked together in different capacities before, years of familiarity breeding an easy trust and companionship between them. Two of them might even be lovers—though Farah maintains a neutral facade at all times, the same can’t be said for Alex, the man always hovering nearby, eyes going soft at the sight of her. 

You’re the only odd man out. The newcomer. And though you sit with them in the mess for meals and partake in conversation and pass jokes like small stones from hand to hand, you know deep down, in the dark well of your heart, that you are not one of them. You are a passenger that they picked up along the way. A straggler. 

This wasn’t supposed to be the case. When you signed on to the mission months ago, the circumstances were wholly different. A newer ship, a different crew, some of which you’d worked with before. Then ownership changed hands and budgets were cut. Slashed to ribbons even. You had a chance to tour the ship before the launch date, and even down on Earth with all the glitz and glam available to trick the eye, you hadn’t been convinced of the vessel’s ability to withstand the extreme conditions of space.  

But by then, you were locked into a contract so iron-clad that the consequences of breaking it seemed worse than simply seeing the mission through. 

Most days, you feel like you’re waiting for something to give. You pass through halls that echo with low creaks and a deep, rhythmic thrum. Sometimes the walls of the ship groan so loud that you wait with baited breath for the hull to implode around you, to feel the metal crush the delicate eggshell of your body beneath its weight. 

It’s not any better to just stay in your room, your quarters too cramped to nurture anything other than claustrophobia. A recent, unfortunate side effect of spending months on such a small ship. You’ve become accustomed to crews numbering in the tens and hundreds, ships so colossal in size that even months spent aboard weren’t enough to explore all of its nooks and crannies. Cargo holds with excavators and backhoes for excavations on Mars and humvees for getting around the rough terrain. 

This ship barely holds six people and the payload you’ve been hauling to Europa. Pipes hiss in the corridors. Once a week, the radiator splutters or the intercom overhead crackles, kicking your heart into hyperdrive. 

You leave formation more out of sorts than ever. Vaguely aimless. With nothing to do, you grab breakfast in the galley and eat at the counter, too uncomfortable to venture over to the mess. Your days consist mainly of hovering around the ship or sitting quietly in the medbay, waiting for something to happen. A morbid preoccupation. 

The stairs clunk under your feet as you make your way down towards the medbay. You’ve long grown used to the sharp sound of your boots against the metal floor. 

Rationally, you know they don’t dislike you. You might even venture to say that you get along with the majority of them, particularly the chief engineer and Farah’s brother. The big man likes that it only takes a single drink to get you plastered, often howls with laughter when you stumble out of the mess after drinking with the crew, always the first to turn in for the night. Farah herself is only frosty because she works twice as hard as anyone else, burning the midnight oil on the regular. 

You swallow half-truths like stones to help settle your stomach. 

It doesn’t replace real companionship though; it approximates, but doesn’t quite replicate it. You feel its absence most acutely in the sidelong glances you sometimes get of real affection: Alex grazing his pinkie across Farah’s when he thinks no one is looking; Farah’s eyes softening at the sight of her brother; Graves and Nikolai reminiscing about something a decade past, hardly even aware of your presence in the room. 

It’s something you’ve endured before, but never for such an extended period of time. Prolonged isolation prickles at the mind, feathering the edges. It purples space; passes through the vents. The crew rarely goes on spacewalks (hardly any need for it), but sometimes you swear the ship’s oxygen has a faint sulfuric undertone, like rotten eggs. It permeates the air wherever you go. 

Someone knocks at the window just as you walk by.

You pause mid-sip, the mug raised to your lips and just pressing into your bottom lip, not yet tilted. 

“Hello,” you hear through the thick-paned glass, the voice muffled through the layers of glass and plastic partitions. “Could you let me in, please?”

Though your reflex is to look up, you don’t for some reason. The muscles in your neck stay locked instead. Shoulders stiff, weighed down by an unnatural force. 

The thing outside the ship knocks again. “Love? Can you hear me?”

Your head turns towards the porthole, the hand holding your mug drifting away from your mouth. It tips in your hand and a drop leaks down the side. Your lips tingle, almost numb. 

There’s a man outside the porthole, clear as day. He hovers outside the window, a hand raised in a friendly wave and full lips splitting to reveal perfect, white teeth when he smiles. He’s dressed in a spacesuit, no different than any of the crew on a spacewalk. Through the helmet, you can make out dark eyes and dimples. A close cropped beard.

It’s not a face you’ve ever seen before though. You think you might’ve remembered someone so handsome working on the ship with you.

Something needles inside of you though. A sickening feeling, like something you’ve forgotten but you desperately need to remember. 

“Hi there,” the man says, voice as charming as you’ve ever heard, so velvety rich that you feel the blood heat your cheeks. “Glad you were passing by. Mind letting me in?”

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 8: Cockwarming

Summary: You had no idea how you ended up in this position, slotted so prettily on your husband's aching cock as he left you to fend for yourself in the search for friction. Maybe you could convince him otherwise. Warnings: Cockwarming, the reader has a vagina, mentions of genitalia, pet names, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @redvexillum Their writing is so scrumptious, I can't believe I am honored enough to exist in the same world as their masterpieces.

You could hardly stand it anymore, the teasing. How his smug smirk, nonchalant attention made your skin crawl in delicious ways that you wouldn’t dare to admit aloud. But he knew, you didn’t have to tell him. Your fingers dug into the plush velvet of your husband’s seat, weeping cunt slotted perfectly on his hard and angry cock. Hair disheveled, lips puffy and red from how hard his teeth had assulated them mere minutes ago…you couldn’t stand him anymore. 

The green light illuminated the office, allowing the soft pitter-patter of rain to take on an eerie glow through the oval window. Cascading streams of water glistened, letting the green street lights shake and shift across the floor with each passing droplet. When you had visited your husband late into the night, the Eye of Zaun hard at work scanning over various papers, you had no idea what would occur. With a steaming cup of tea in your hand, the whisps of steam wafting off it in a comforting air that could soothe even the worriest of worriers. You had crossed the hardwood floor, placed it gently on his desk as you propped yourself up on the corner. 

“Silco…it’s been hours.”

The world swam in that window’s green light, the hard maroon cushion,and those bi-colored eyes that penetrated your soul when he looked up to observe your form. Neither eye displayed much emotion to the untrained eye but after so long you could nearly tell what your husband was thinking. The orange eye held depths of a fire unknown and the loving rage of a thousand comets hurling towards each other with a fire too hot to be extinguished until they met. The blue, however,  the crystal blue one showed the most restraint surprisingly. You were wearing more casual clothes, a button up white shirt and a pair of maroon suit pants. Nothing you would have deemed anything worth the heated and lustful gaze you were receiving. 

“I know, my dear. But Zaun waits for no man.”

Filting around his chair, you sat in his lap, running your nimble fingers through the locks of his slicked back hair. Cooing softly as his head craned back in relaxation, you thought you had finally won him over for the night. 

“My dear, if you keep that up I will have no choice but to indulge myself in what else that heavenly body of yours can offer me.”

Choking back a surpirsed gasp, a frantic blush coating your cheeks, you halted your movements. You had no idea what had warranted such a bold reaction from the Industrailist, but here it seems that you had done something. 

That is how you ended up now, pussy full of cock, drooling onto the shoulder lining of Silco’s vest as he did nothing. Sliding slightly, attempting to get more friction, to feel him deeper inside you, his rough fingers came to grip your hips in a bruising manner. 

“Shhh now pet. You did this to yourself, looking so delicatable while I work.”  His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, one hand returning to scribble some notes down on the paper he was viewing while the other stayed on your hip. You let out a desperate whimper, grinding your hips down once more in a plea. Your nails dug into the fabric of his chair, tearing the material slightly. Growling into your ear that the friction you had caused, your husband roughly bucks his hips up into you. 

“Behave yourself. I’ll treat you well soon enough love…”

Guess you were here for a while then. 

[eevees-hobbies]

My Boyfriend Works at a Butler Cafe - NSFW

Author’s Note: This is in response to the maid cafe requests I’ve gotten. While I don’t think I can add to the body of work that other content creators have already contributed to the fandom, I am dropping this at your feet. It may or may not be inspired by my trip to the Butler Cafe at Anime Expo, hehe.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Multiple Characters (Mostly separate). Contains Fluff and Smut (Smut indicated by “after hours” text). P in V. Use of pet names like pretty girl, Daddy, possessiveness in Sakura’s, sex in public, cunnilingus, sharing, mention of a handjob, reserve cowgirl. Tis smut!

Synopsis: Picture a scenario in which Umemiya is concerned about the welfare and sustainability of some of the shops in Makochi, primarily because many of the shops are owned and kept up by some of the more elderly inhabitants. Some stores are dilapidated and at risk of shuttering their doors, which Umemiya sees as a significant loss to the community. After brainstorming potential ways to earn some donations, he has a brilliant idea! It’s a concept that has almost every Bofurin alumni grinding their teeth and shaking their heads in protest. Welcome to the Butler Cafe!

Word Count: 3.2K

Cottage dividers by Saradika. Story and character banners by me.

“I’m so happy to see you, baby!”

If he weren’t volunteering his time to work in the cafe, he would be terminated immediately. As soon as he sees you walk through the door, he shouts your name from across the dining room and beelines straight to you, arms open and with a broad smile on his face. 

The customers he was just serving? Ignored.

He’ll make sure to sit you in his section and pull up a chair to chat with you, which is a significant annoyance to management as Umemiya is a big draw to the cafe. His admirers line up at least an hour before the restaurant opens to see the cutie with the toned biceps serving them strawberry crepes.

Regardless, I hope you’re comfortable with your lover staring into the depths of your eyes—and soul—as you recount your day. 

He’s so incomprehensibly smitten with you that the only thing that he’ll allow to interrupt your verbal reverie is him spoon-feeding you a piece of cake. 

“I’m so glad you came to visit me today! Wait, what do you mean you’re genuinely here to eat lunch?”

Grade: C+

After Hours

“Let me have some of you before my shift, sweetheart. I need you.”

“D-don’t worry about those…let them fall.” Paperwork, pens, and even a stapler aren’t safe from the laws of gravity as Umemiya picks you up and pushes you onto the desk in the back office. He only has so much time before opening the Butler Cafe doors, and he needs to fill your womb to ensure himself a good shift.

Could you imagine a sex-famished Umemiya? It’s a terrifying thought!

You kiss each other hungrily, tongues meeting outside your mouths before you can press your lips together. Your hands are already fussing with his uniform, particularly where his toned chest strains the buttons of his ironed coat.

“If I’m not inside you right now, baby girl-” His sentence is cut off as his mouth latches to the sensitive skin on your throat, suckling and nipping until the spot begins to sting. But if it hurts, you aren’t showing it as your eyes roll back into your skull. 

He’s pressing his body into yours as though he’s attempting to collapse into you. His hands desperately tug at the fabric that covers up his favorite parts of you–your breasts, your stomach, and most importantly, the sweet treat you have between slick-stained thighs.

“Ume, this has to be a quickie!” 

You can feel him grumble against your skin, lips trained into a pout as he grapples with your words, but he knows you’re right. He shifts the seat of your panties to the side and sinks into you, inch by agonizing thick inch. 

And you thought you were ready. You thought the way your cunt was drooling for him just by seeing him in his uniform would mean you were fully prepared to take his girth, but the sheer thickness still has you gasping and gripping his shoulders.

“Shhh, you can take it, pretty girl. You always take me so well. I got ya’”

As he’s pushing into you, his words slur, drunk off your pussy, head swimming with love, lust, and adoration for his sweet girl. There’s no time for preparation; his shift starts soon, and weren’t you just rushing him, anyway?

But for all the stretching you must endure from taking him, Umemiya is still nothing but gentle.

“God, you’re perfect.” His fingers stroke your cheek, and you melt into the familiarity of his soothing touch. “Keep your eyes open for me ok, love? You close them, and we start over.”

Once you collect yourself, walls finally fitting snugly around him like a glove, you bat your eyelashes innocently, brushing your lips against his thumb before sliding it into your mouth. You don’t break eye contact with him as you flirt your tongue against the underside of his thumb, pretending as though you’re sucking on something much bigger and thicker—that of which is already inside of you.

For a brief instant, you see something flash in Umemiya’s eyes, something that you feel sink into your spine and crawl its way up each individual vertebrae with sharpened claws, something that would threaten your health and ability to walk if you were home instead of at the butler cafe. But he begrudgingly sets his desire to defile you to the side and removes his thumb from your mouth, hand moving down and using that same digit to rub at your clit.

“I love it when you help Daddy out like this. Suuuuuuch a good girl.”

The way the desk bangs against the wall and drags across the linoleum floor as he drives his thick cock into your sopping-wet mess makes you consider that you two might be found out before your quickie can conclude. 

Grade: A+

“Stop staring at me like that, and hurry up and order!”

“Ugh!”

Death has never been more welcome as soon as Sakura dons the butler uniform. Even worse is when he peers into the dining room and sees you. 

Why would you do this to him? Why would you show up here? Don’t you have any pity for him, or is this all some sick, twisted fantasy for you? 

He’s spiraling!

Staff must physically grab him and force him onto the cafe floor. 

He’ll approach you, grumbling, and every bit of him the reddest he’s ever been—and is that steam pouring from his ears?

As he mumbles out the delicacy of the day, you have to lean in just to hear what he’s saying.

“S-stop pretending you can’t hear me!”

But best believe that when he sees another butler giving you too much attention for his liking, he’s stepping in and taking care of all his girl's orders.

“Hey, she’s mine.”

“Y-you mean the table, right?”

“She’s mine.”

Oof, he said what he said!

And if Umemiya is popular with the younger crowd, Sakura, to his disdain, is popular with the older ladies. They don’t think he’s particularly cute or lovely to look at; they just enjoy a visit from this loud-mouthed kid telling them to hurry up and order.

They think he’s a hoot and taking method-acting to the extreme.

Aren’t the tsundere types so cute? 

He’s honestly a really bad butler. His inability to be friendly to the customers—except you—and attempts to always switch his shift with someone else does not go unnoticed by management.

Grade: F -

After Hours 

“I kinda like fucking you at work.”

As you gazed down at your plate, an unfinished parfait staring back at you, a simple sentence was all you needed to gulp the rest of the dessert down and follow your butler outside.

“Gonna be good for me and finish that so I can finish you, yeah?”

Um, fuck yeah!

“S-sakura, don’t you have to clock back in?” You mumble into his ear; you know you sound like an absolute mess, your breathing rapid and uneven, with small moans erupting from your throat.

“Fuck this job.” He has your hands pinned above your head; your legs are wrapped around his waist as he fucks you against the alley wall behind the cafe. “I’m exactly where I should be.”

His thrusts forward are hard and urgent, but the retraction of his dick is slow, drawing out the feeling of your satin walls grazing every inch of him. Your slick is staining his bicolored pubic hair as he grinds into you. His fingers dig into your wrists, seemingly in rhythm with each snap of his hips. 

“G-god, Sakura! Maybe I should make you dress up like a butler more often?” 

“P-pervert, you’d like that, huh? You want me to dress up as your fantasy and fuck you in costume?”

He nestles his face into your neck. You sound so good for him, and how could he resist the urge to take you outside and fuck you right here and now with how pretty you look?

You’re intoxicating, you’re perfect, you’re about to make him fucking cum, fuck! He considers pulling out, letting you finish him off with your hand or that cute mouth of yours, but you grip your legs around him in a vice grip.

“H-haru, stay inside, please?”

Oh, god, how could he say no to that? To you? He smashes his lips against yours, moaning loudly in your mouth as his cock twitches, spurts then fountains of his love and devotion for you filling you up to the brim.

His shift at the butler cafe is the last thing on his mind as he wraps his arms around your waist, peppering kisses against your lips and cheeks.

Grade: A+++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hey, you came just to see me, sweet girl? Aw, I’m so lucky.”

Although he technically didn’t have to attend this fundraiser, given his relationship with Bofurin and Makochi, he thought it was a good idea to show up ready to work.

Togame quickly becomes a shift manager. He’s reliable, a natural leader, and every client likes talking to him and even though he doesn’t walk with a sense of urgency, they don’t mind!

When Togame sees you enter the cafe, he’ll shoot you a lazy grin—the kind that makes your heart skip a beat and forces you to long for him even when he’s right there in front of you.

During his lunch breaks, he’ll take you out on the private patio he reserved just for you two and have the butler on duty bring out all the cafe items he knows you’ll like. 

As you speak and enjoy your time together, he’ll grab your hand in his, rough fingers drawing smooth circles around your knuckles, deep-green eyes trained on yours, and occasionally flickering down to look at your lips.

Of course, you want to kiss him, but he’s at work!

Knowing precisely how you are, Togame makes the first move, leaning over and capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft, unabashedly intimate, and that of which touches the furthest and most difficult-to-reach edges of your very soul. He’s breathing life into you, and before you know it, he’s pulling away, smirking, daring you to be the aggressor, and daring you to follow him. And you are, and you do.

Grade: A

After Hours 

“Gonna make you cum before my shift, beautiful. How does that sound? Look at me when I ask you a question.”

Your trembling hand shoots out to grasp the ledge of a nearby shelf in the cafe’s backroom. Togame has your legs draped over his muscular and broad shoulders with your back against the wall in the back office.

Togame loves using your thighs as earmuffs. The harder you squeeze, the more he can tell how good of a job he’s doing. When you squeeze and tremble because he’s sucking on your labia, taking each one into his mouth, sucking, biting, he knows that he’s doing exactly what he needs to get you to absolute euphoria.

“Jo,” you hiss through parted, glossed lips, “They’ll be able to hear us!”

“No, they’ll be able to hear you.”

And he’s right. He snuck you into the back prior to his shift so that he could devour you as though you didn’t pack him a bento box. 

But he’s doing such a good job, licking at your clit until you feel a dull throbbing sensation, making out with your pretty pussy until thick cream coats his lips, and leaving a reflective sheen on his cheeks. 

Unfortunately, the diners aren’t too far away, and you don’t want them to hear every sound Togame is pulling out of you.

And as though he’s intentionally trying to make you louder, he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, no longer teasing the nub but making deliberate infinity shapes that make her twitch.

“I’ll stop when you cum in my mouth, baby.”

He wants you to cum? Might as well take him up on the offer. 

You grab loose fistfuls of his hair and start grinding on his face, allowing his nose to rub against your clit as he offers your pretty hole free use of his tongue.

“That’s my girl. You’re such a good listener.”

“Jo, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Grade: A+

“I’m at your beck and call. Whatever you need is yours.”

To no surprise to anyone, Suo is poised and proper enough to make the butler gig look easy. He knows how to carry the trays without spilling a single crumb of food, he knows where to put the silverware when placing them on the table, and he’s certainly never stressed out during a midday rush.

However, his faults lie with you.

When Suo sees you enter the cafe, he becomes apathetic to the other patrons. He still serves them, yes, but his thoughts are obviously elsewhere. His eyes hardly leave you, watching as you bring a fork up to your mouth and it pushes past your plump lips. 

Your tongue darting out to lick the whipped cream from the corner of your mouth has his eyes widening ever so slightly, and the tea kettle he’s pouring tea from shaking just a bit. 

And when he’s able to serve you? He’s never been happier. Sure, you may not have asked for that extra piece of pie, but you’re absolutely going to get it. Can’t possibly drink any more tea? Nonsense. He’s topping you off again.

Anything for you.

Always.

And forever.

Grade: B

After Hours

"Pretty girl needs to cum at least one more time for us. I need you to cum in my friend's mouth before I touch you."

Your pleasure is Suo’s pleasure, so be a good girl and spread your legs for his friends, mkay? Suo’s tongue slides into your mouth as his fingers brush against the strands of your hair that have managed to fall into your face. 

He can’t help but admire you, your beauty, and your fucked out expression as your mouth opens and closes, waves and waves of pleasure rocking you to your core. 

His beautiful girl.

The cafe's shades are drawn closed, and the interior of the restaurant is only illuminated by dim amber lamp lights placed sporadically throughout the medium-sized room. 

Suo cups your chin, his mouth only leaving yours as he tilts your face forward, “Tell Sakura how much you like when he sucks on your clit.”

Sakura grunts from between your thighs. He’s on all fours, face so flush against your cunt that there’s surely no room for him to breathe. But if that’s the case, he isn’t indicating that oxygen is a necessity as he’s dragging his tongue, flattened and broad, against your swollen clit in long licks. 

“That feels really good, Sakura. You’re doing such a great job.” You pause, but Suo’s quick, heated glance in your direction wills you to continue. “You’re doing a great job, and I like when you suck on my clit”

“Good girl. It’s important to thank your butlers. Now be sure to thank Umemiya, too.”

You turn your head to the side, gazing up at Umemiya, who is pulling up his undershirt in clenched fists, exposing his toned stomach and chest, and his pants hanging loosely around his thighs. His pectorals have been a rosy pink all night, the persistent blush only spreading as he lays witness to you and what you’re capable of.

Your hand is wrapped around his cock, fingertips unable to touch each other from the sheer circumference of him, but dammit you’re trying. “Thank you, Umemiya, for letting me jerk you off.”

Suo lets out a quiet hiss, pleased with your obedience. He grips you by the cheeks and leans down, his lips so close to yours, his eye peering into your soul.

“Who do you think should go first? Which butler would you like to request, love?”

You’d smirk if his hand wasn’t forcing your lips into a pout, but your eyebrow twitches, and you get that familiar glint in your eye that Suo loves so much.

“I don’t think anyone has to take turns. Everyone pick a hole.” 

Grade: A+

“P-please tell me how I can help you?”

When you see Nirei in his butler outfit, you swoon. How could someone so innocent and cute look like that? And while he blushes and stutters when taking your order, he’s probably the most impressive butler in the cafe.

He knows the menu like the back of his hand, is always on time, and is willing to stay late if need be.

Unlike the other participants on this list, your presence isn’t enough to shake Nirei, and admittedly, that might hurt a bit, right? In actuality, Nirei does so well because of you.

He knows you’re watching, so he’s careful with every movement and every word he says. He so desperately wants to impress you. So you might not always see it, but he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, hoping you saw him interact with a client with perfect protocol. 

As you have lunch with your friends and your eyes meet, he’ll shoot you a little wave as he turns his attention back to a customer. Your friends will giggle because how did YOU trap someone so cute, sweet, and innocent?

And you’ll take offense to that because 1) you aren’t a predator who hunts cute little animals–-Bambi is most certainly safe when you’re around and 2) Nirei is anything but innocent.  

Grade: A+

After Hours:

"O-oh god! You’re amazing, so beautiful, please don’t stop! I-I’m gonna..!"

With shaky hands, Nirei hangs onto the plush of your ass–and on for dear life–as you ride him in reverse cowgirl position on the floor of the Butler Cafe. 

“O-oh, my god…” He musters the strength to bring his head up to look at you expertly bouncing on his dick, swallowing him whole like you were made for this.

He doesn’t think he’s going to make it.

“Y/N! P-please slow down!”

You let out a breathless giggle, your nails digging into his thighs for leverage as you sit up straight and roll your hips. “You did so well serving me today, Nirei! I’m just rewarding my butler.”

God and he’d serve you for a lifetime if it meant experiencing this.

“D-do you know what I’m doing right now, baby?”

He lets out a grunt, the only sound he can manage, as the muscles in his calves tighten to the point of almost cramping.

Fuck, why are you so good at this?

You swivel your hips to the left, right, up and down, dragging the head of his cock against your g-spot. “I’m spelling your name.”

S-spelling his-

Oh, fuck.

Nirei bites his lip, eyes rolling into the back of his head as something so inevitable, so ridiculously powerful, hits him like a freight train. A cross between a whimper-whine escapes from parted lips, and it catches you off guard because, if anything, his moan is a clear indication of how much he desires you and how much he’s always wanted you. 

You consider stopping, the rolling of your hips slowing, but the feeling of immense pressure makes you moan. The licking of your lips replaces the cocky grin on your face as you throw your head back.

Because, god, there’s just so much of it! 

You look between your legs as his cum drips from your cunt and onto the cafe floor. His balls still clenching and unclenching as he continues to pour into you. 

“Nirei, there’s so much!”

“Mmmm, h-happy to give you some more?”

Grade: A+

Special thanks to @suosgirl and @hayatoseyepatch for your ideas/contributions. 

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Tim pulls a fast one on Batman for their mutual benefit. Everybody giggles. Danny goggles.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

(Additional TW: I think this counts as a panic attack ngl)

On the one hand. The room Danny’s in has a killer view of the earth from the moon.

The wall is basically just one big window. Danny is also apparently permitted to mash his face into the glass and ogle the Earth from Space for as long as he wants until the stinky dad, whoever he is, finally emerges from the depths of the building.

Diana’s the only one beside him today. She looks nice—nicer than usual, in her armor and bright clothing rather than soft scrubs and hair net. She can push his chair without getting tired—she could probably fly and carry him too, if she had to, so. Danny’s maybe counting on her liking him if this stinky dad tries to be mean.

So. Diana (nice lady) and Danny (half-dead ghost boy) are quietly seated in a dim, peaceful board room, absorbing the early morning (?) space radiation when the door hisses open across the room.

In the doorway is a long, dark, shadow of a man.

…And the green guy!!

Okay, if the stinky dad man brought a friend to this meeting the same way Diana’s meant to supervise him, Danny feels like he’s been lawyered up for the sake of some kind of court trial. This is not fair. Danny wasn’t able to review his case with his legal representation before this.

Well. Danny fumes. Whatever. His lawyer is Diana, the most powerful living being he’s seen ever in his life, and she can totally kick the green guy’s ass. Hell, Danny could probably kick the green guy’s ass.

...You know. If he wasn’t. Sick.

The stinky dad guy looks a lot like the blob his kid drew him as. That’s kind of neat—his suit is all black with little to no variation, which sort of just washes out the colors Danny might have been able to see if his eyes were still good. He’s very quiet, which is nice, and he’s very not-trying-to-read-Danny’s-mind, which is even better.

The two sit. Danny’s already in a wheelchair, so he just lets Diana wheel him to the table. The lady sits beside him in the spinny office chair.

Hello, the green guy opens with, already toying with the edges of Danny’s aura.

Danny sends back an abundance of ass-kicking emotions.

…Alright then, the green man capitulates, the barest hint of bemusement quickly stifled.

Good. Danny is mean. He’s awake enough to be mad about other people touching his aura from any end of his personal bubble.

But then the green guy…says stuff to the dad guy? And it’s very? Quiet?

Explanations, the green guy says. The image of a sign language translator at a baseball game floats over to him, and—

…Oh. He’s translating. For Danny.

That’s…nice? Nicer than Danny expected, honestly? Most of the time, people are perfectly happy to misinterpret him. It was kind of the way of the world at this point. Getting blamed for stuff, getting accused of stuff…

Man. If they turn out to be indoctrinating him for secret war purposes, at least they’re going all in. Danny might actually. You know. Like it here. A little.

He squirms in his chair, and tries not to look at anyone in particular. Diana—the lady who’s been nice to him—makes as if to straighten his hair for him, and remembers at the last second that he doesn’t like to be touched.

And sure. Danny doesn’t want to be touched. By bad guys.

…But Diana’s been really nice to him, so. Maybe. He scratches at the back of his neck, and ducks his head down—and remembers to use his words. “Yes,” he consents verbally. He can’t make eye contact. But he can…let her. Brush his hair back. A little.

Diana asks something long and complicated—and the green guy presses an image of Wonder Woman asking permission, being kind, being gentle­—up against the edges of Danny’s awareness.

Danny nods at the floor instead of at the lady. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s fine.

And her fingers carefully brush through the front end of his fringe, and Danny. Danny is so normal about it. He doesn’t even cry or anything. Not even in front of his friend’s stinky dad.

And she doesn’t do it like Mom did it. And she doesn’t ruffle his hair like Dad did.

But it’s. Nice. And she doesn’t pull.

…And she doesn’t hit.

Danny eventually leans back into his wheelchair. It’s a little bit embarrassing to be halfway in and halfway out, but. Whatever. The scary-looking-dad with the earsies on his helmet has his own teenager. He should understand what it feels like to get emotionally weird with your teen in a public place. If he doesn’t, well...he wouldn’t be a great dad, then, and his opinion would suck anyway.

Based on what Danny knows about the masked kid, Danny isn’t sure the guy would tolerate a bad dad. The teen seems kinda unhinged.

The man says something, and the green guy presses a number of translated feelings against Danny’s awareness: Greetings. Questions about Danny’s wellbeing. Curiosity, but not demanding.

“…Hello,” Danny says back, and. Waves.

The man waves back. He’s got little claws on his gloves.

…Like a cat? Is it to go with his ears? Danny wonders about the possibilities of the guy being cat themed. It’s possible, presumably.

So…they want to know how Danny’s doing? Danny shrugs, and he glances at Diana, since, you know, she could probably fill them in? She does speak their language. And she’s been here the whole time.

The lady leans in close to him, black hair falling out from behind her ear. “What do you want to say?” she whispers into her ear, hand covering her mouth from their watchers.

Uh. It’s up to…Danny?? Somehow??

Danny winces. “…Good?” he tries, unsure if the word he uses means okay or fine or well. “…Not…hungry?”

“Very good,” Diana agrees, a little louder. She looks proud. Being not hungry must mean a lot to her, then. It means a lot to Danny too—he can remember the sensation of his stomach rubbing against itself, friction pulling raw at his insides as acid ate at him.

It was. Bad.

It was bad.

Danny’s glad he’s not there anymore. Anyway, there’s a guy in the room who reads minds, and Danny doesn’t really want to share that memory with anyone ever; especially someone who could turn it back on him.

The stinky dad says something else, but he uses words too thick and long for Danny to understand. The green guy translates, pure conceptual recall brushing against Danny’s outer aura—Needs? Wants?

…Danny frowns.

Danny looks at Diana, who looks back at him. Wants, needs…? What?

“Do you need aniþing?” Diana whispers to him, which. You know. Mostly makes sense.

Does Danny…need anything? He has medical care, he has food, he has water, he has toys and brain teasers, even…he has people to hang out with, he has people who stretch his legs with him so that he can go back to normal…heck, he doesn’t even have to clean his own waste bag. There’s people who do that for him.

Like. What more could Danny ask for?

Danny shrugs. He just wants to heal up and run away. Maybe…maybe, if Diana is real and not just pretending to like him to keep an eye on him, she’d let him visit her later or something. Danny would do what Dani doe—did. What Dani…did. And he’d just go a bunch of places and come back when he wants to.

But. No. There’s nothing he really needs right now.

The pointy-eared guy and the green guy share a look and a couple quiet words. Danny flares his annoyance into the silence, but all he gets is a silent Apology/Apology, which isn’t answers.

Ugh. Danny leans over the arm of his wheelchair. This is kind of super boring; it’s more boring than it is frustrating, even.

The stinky dad guy says something else, and Danny feels the push and pull of something double ended tugging on the outer edge of his aura. Additional/information, giving/take?

Danny really wishes he’d brought a fidget toy or something. His nerves are ramping up but all he can do is contort his fingers together, feeling the strain in and the joints click as he pushes them together and twists them apart. They want…to ask him questions? No, they’re already asking him questions. They want Danny to…give them questions??

…Danny doesn’t really want to. Still, he probably…should.

“The…space station,” he says, using the wrong word for their big space building but not knowing the better one; “Is this…where…why is it?”

The black-caped dad grumbles something vaguely approving. A tablet pops out of the table—spooky—and the guy starts drawing on it, explaining all the way. The green guy simplifies more of the verbally complicated concepts for Danny as they go.

Anyway. So they’re in space because it’s their…job? Danny thinks? They do…fighting stuff. Which Danny knew. Because he’d seen them on the news.

But it looks like they do a lot of things—they clean up after storms, and chase regular bad guys and super-bad-guys instead of just big ones. And they stop bad aliens from hurting people on Earth.

The green guy shifts from a green-looking, pointy-headed, red-eyed form to a warm, brown, human skin tone. And even. Like. Human clothing.

Danny stares.

…And the guy immediately takes back his natural form, his body physically shifting and morphing, which, fair, but holy crap. He’s living, on Earth. He passes as normal, on Earth. No one snitches on him. No one’s selling him to the government for parts. No one’s trapping him in a cage and not feeding him.

This guy works here, and everyone lets him.

Danny shifts in his chair. He…he wants that. He wants that. He wants to pass as human and not have to worry about…about anyone getting rid of him. He wants to go back to school. He wants to hide, and never ever not ever be found by anyone or anything when he does.

“I want that,” Danny says. There’s no inflection. He feels dead. He is dead, but usually he doesn’t feel it. “What do I do for…that.”

Help/Searching/Finding? the green—alien—questions, but there’s nothing for Danny to find. He knows exactly where everyone he loves is—and unless they’re already fully formed in the ghost zone…

…Well. Danny has forever to wait and see if he’ll see his friends and sister again. Maybe he’ll find them again one day, in a world purely green and glowing.

He shakes his head.

The next question comes…softer. Gentler. The mental push feels more like a breeze than a gale. Friends…Home/family?

The question comes tinged with all sorts of sensations that Danny’s suppressed—warmth, security, happiness, oxytocin, fondness, pride and being the source thereof, warmth and love, love, love—

Danny’s sweating. He can’t stop. His hands are shaking faster than usual—he kicks the brakes off his chair with the heels of his palms, and jerks the wheels back, pulling away from the desk—

He’s halfway across the room before he hears the noise. It’s just. Noise. It’s Diana, carefully shushing the loud heartbeat churning in his ears, hands on his hand, trying not to cage him but trying to keep skin on skin contact. Her hand is on the back of his hand, and on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Diana whispers. Danny’s shaking. His whole body is shaking. “Shhh, sh sh sh. It’s alright, it’s okay.”

It’s not it’s not it’snoit’snotit’sNOT. His sister is dead. His friends are dead. His parents sold his captors the equipment to catch him and they didn’t care if he got hurt doing it and now they’re DEAD. They tore open his hometown down the middle just to catch him, they stole him—they took his dead parent’s things as tools to hurt him—they HURT HIM and there isn’t—he can’t—he can’t—

Something is holding him down, and Danny thrashes. He has arms, but they’re injured—he has legs but he needs a tail and he—and—

He cries into Diana’s arms, sobbing and wailing. It’s a miracle that the building stays together. She holds him tighter, and he cries even harder into her soft under-layers.

He wants to run away. He needs to run away. Someone is holding him, and he can’t even flicker through her the way he wants to; his core is already too strained just from talking.

Danny’s sick. He’s dying. He’s—

“Take a breath,” Diana whispers, calm and sure. She models it for him. Danny gasps in air. “Good. Lete it out slow. As bobbels in a straw.”

He tries to copy her he does and she’ll be so angry if he can’t do it right on the first try but she lets him try, over and over again, until Danny’s able to stop hiccupping and leaking tears and ectoplasm all over her and realize that she’s holding him like a baby. Like. Actually cradling him against his body armor.

…You know what. He’s too tired to even be embarrassed. Screw that. Danny leans all the way over her and goes completely limp. Someone else can deal with his him for a little bit.

She does. Diana just…holds him.

It’s nice. Mom and Dad used to do that for him, when Danny was still…more human, he supposed. More than he is right now.

Something else touches his hand. Danny looks blearily downwards.

The teenager’s dad gets to his knees and takes Danny’s hand—and he doesn’t need the translation to understand.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Danny blinks sleepily. What does his friend’s stinky dad have to be sorry for? He didn’t even do anything to Danny in the first place.

Danny won’t remember, afterwards, being wheeled back to his room for a nap. They must have wheeled him back, though, because the alternative is that Diana tucked him into bed like a baby, and that’s just kind of embarrassing to even think about for too long.

[a-ikuoliver]

hiring you after a particularly tense night could either be the best decision endeavor ever made, or the worst.

pairing: enji todoroki x f!reader w/c: 2.7k warning/s:fem!reader, escort!reader, cheating, reader has hair out, finger sucking notes: sorry not sorry i just wanna be a rich mans toy; dialogue is a lil clunky my bad lmao

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

“so, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” despite the firepower of his quirk, the ice is thick between you, your teasing words hardly making a crack in the frigid surface. undeterred by it’s solidity, you make your way over to the hero, still seated at the desk on a chair that makes him seem more imposing than he is, his shoulders flaring past the edges of the high back, the only thing in the room that towers over his seated frame.

the expansive office isn’t enough for the both of you, the air already thick when you take another step closer, the heavy mahogany swinging shut behind you, latching into place with an echoing thud. still without a word, endeavor stares you down like he would a villain, watching your every move, every rise of your chest, the slow sway of your hips. his ears tingle hearing your sleek heels click along the hardwood floor, slow, calculated steps across the ice, no fear of falling when you venture further into the icy depths of the office.

crystal blue eyes trail over your body with every click, drinking in the sight of your tight, white blouse, the top three buttons undone to expose a sliver of your lacy bra, the skirt with a slit far too high on your thigh to be appropriate, your sheer black stay-ups that stop at your mid thigh, a peek of your garter poking from beneath your skirt to keep them up. his ears are ringing when his glare reaches your heels, unsure if it’s his blood rushing to his head, or the sound of you stepping over the rug echoing in his head.

the hero’s heart pumps in his chest incessantly, he can already see the headlines now, top hero hospitalised for cardiac event after inviting escort to his agency. your proximity might be a fate worse than death.

drawing his eyebrows down, he averts his eyes; it shouldn’t be this easy to work him up, you’ve just walked into his office and his mind is already wandering. and yet, when he slouches in the leather, he spots the dark red lace beneath your skirt, the minute layer of fabric doing nothing to hide your dizzying cunt. enji’s sure he’s pale as his head rolls back, the blood rushing from his head, swallowing hard, he wills himself to just relax. you weren’t a threat, you were a woman. so, why was his skin burning so damn hot?

slinking around the corner of his desk like a cat readying for a nap in the sunlight, your non-existent tail curls around his throat, bringing his attention back solely to you. perching yourself on the edge of his desk, shuffling back just enough until the bare skin of your thighs squishes against the cool surface, your position hiking your skirt higher on your limbs, even more so when you cross one leg over the other, pushing the fabric to your hips. he’d never admit it, but his cock jumps just watching you move, gliding over the slowly melting ice with a confidence that made his head feel like static the longer he stared.

your allure makes his head fuzzy, your little office getup flattering every curve and plain of your body; the cliche glasses perched on your nose working better for him than he’d thought. it only gets fuzzier taking you in, your exposed thighs, squishing around the elastic of your garter, the curve of your throat, the shape of your tits when you leaned closer, the colour of your lips. you study him through the glass, licking your lips just to watch him squirm, nearly drooling yourself at the flex of his thighs as he adjusts in the seat, his bulge more than enough evidence of everything he refused to say aloud.

despite calling you after a late patrol, heaving and panting down the line with his fat cock grasped in his hand, he never quite expected the follow through.

“i’ve never been inside the number ones office before,” his gaze is still glued to your thighs listening to you speak, the weight of your sultry gaze making him shift side to side again. quirking your head, your voice is low and even when you lean closer to question him, “what are you so nervous about, endeavor?”

it takes every ounce of his self control to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head at the sound of your purring voice, instead, he keeps his blue eyes trained on your sparkling, mischievous ones. even with his attempt to remain stoic, the glimmer in your eyes makes it abundantly clear you remember the low, gravelly tone of his voice when he’d called you, the addictive rumble in his throat as he’d all but groaned down the line, asking to see you. you didn’t bother to respond with your rates, you knew he’d pay from how fucked out he sounded.

“i’m not.” enji wordlessly thanks any god above that his voice is even, that he doesn’t choke on the words, even when you drift closer. your scent clouds his mind, he doesn’t know if it’s your perfume, or a quirk, but the smell sticks to the inside of his nose, melting into every wrinkle and ridge of his brain with every slow breath in. shaking his head doesn't quite clear his head. countless villains defeated by him, but a gorgeous escort clad in a tiny skirt was making him tremble, the pure lewdity of you draped on his desk dressed like that had his blood rushing to places it hadn’t been in years.

growing closer to the hero,his dick twitched like it did the night he called you, the fat tip of his cock starting to stick to his boxers when your lips brushed against the stubbled skin of his jaw in an addictive, barely-there touch, marring the skin with a line of dark lipstick from the corner of his lips to his ear.

“let’s get you more comfortable,” you purr in his ear, the sound waves sending jolts of electricity down his jaw, through the jugular in his throat, down his oesophagus into the depths of his stomach with a deep shudder. your head is just as foggy as his when you drop to your knees in front of him, the wet dream of the hulking hero falling apart at the seams when you’d hardly touched him, hadn’t done a thing to make him so clammy, to get him so worked up, to have his fists clenching at his sides. you hadn’t even looked at his fat cock yet, let alone touched it.

kneeling between his thighs, each wider than your head, you lift a heavy foot that’s nearly as long as your torso, setting his heel in your lap as he studies you like you’re alien; dark red eyebrows furrowing, wrinkling in the centre when you unzip the side of the boot, tugging the moulded lather off his foot. he can see down your thin shirt at this angle, his stormy eyes locked on the charm at the centre, hypnotised by the way it catches the light like a crystal sun catcher in the middle of july, his attention only drawn away from your chest when you tugged his other foot into your lap.

the longer you fiddled with his shoes, the more strung out he got, his tendons feeling like they were about to rip under his skin, his knuckles itching to reach for you, to tug at the flimsy buttons holding your shirt together until the stitches split, growing more and more desperate to bury his cock in your cunt. fuck, he nearly forgot how a warm, wet pussy felt gliding up and down his cock. his eyes fluttered shut, the relief of his boots slipping off his feet doing little to relax his wired body, especially the more he thought about how you’d look bouncing in his lap, still in that short, tight skirt, your pretty manicured fingers rubbing at your clit, your mascara smudging under your eyes when you came, how you’d moan his name when you ride him. would you shudder feeling him dip his head into your weeping cunt? would you ask him to go slow, shiver atop him sinking down his length? would you let him spill his seed in your cunt? or swallow all his cum while you lick him clean of your juices. biting his lip, he stifles a groan at the fantasy of your cheeks full of his cum, of it spilling over your perfect lips, dripping down your chin onto your chest, tainting your thin shirt.

—his eyes squeeze shut with a groan, a heavy hand rubbing at his lidded eyes, the pressure of his knuckles in the socket forcing the picture of you from his mind. he shouldn’t be doing this. he can’t do this. his cock is aching, he can’t be doing this, but fuck, he needs it.

“i can hear you thinking,” you study his face, taking in the bright topaz of his eyes, the indecision swirling in them, the jagged scar tearing through the left side of his face, leaving a gap in the hair on his jaw, the stubble spattered around the clear skin surrounding it, the start of a beard a red only a shade darker than the hair on his head. enji’s hand drops to his thigh, his bright aquamarine gaze meeting yours, the blue a deep navy in the shadows stretching over his face, somehow still glowing an electric blue despite the darkness beneath them, the weary lines that come with the job, and age. propping your chin on his knee, his head rolls back, the front of his boxers nearly wet from staring at you, the glittering of your eyes that looked like you were starstruck, the dark eyeliner smudged around your lash line that he desperately wanted to make run down your face, the creamy lipstick already starting to smear around your lip line, half of it still left on his cheek.

“i don’t know if i can do this…” running a hand through dark red hair, leaving it in spikes. even with his apprehension, he doesn’t stop you from dragging your fingertips over the hard muscle of his thighs, doesn’t jostle your chin from his knee, allowing you to slide your hand under the hem of his shirt to feel the heat of his bare abdomen.

“i..i’m married.”

there’s a flash across his face, a guilt, a worry. you we’re used to clients having… commitments, someone to go home to after you, although, this was the first time you’d seen a man so concerned about it, the morals of betraying his family, the morals of just thinking of you laid bare for him to lick, nip and suck as he pleased, to make your spine arch into him. he’s itching to have you melt on his tongue, on his fingers, fuck, the longer he ogles you, the more he thinks tarnishing his reputation might be worth it. your posture straightens, the hero doesn’t miss a single twitch in your muscles, waiting for you to stand, to storm out. instead, you hum, an amused sound from low in your throat, your hands sliding from beneath his shirt back down the length of his thighs.

light as a feather, your touch grazes his aching cock, his blood running hot through his veins to his crotch, like it was his own hellfire ablaze beneath your touch. it doesn’t cool when you reach for his left hand, tugging the limb easily into his lap, not a single one of his bulging muscles straining to stop your light touches on his skin. sparing a glance at him, you gently trace your fingertips over the cold gold of his ring, the metal dinged, scratched and worn smooth at the edges from years of marriage, decades even.

“i’m not trying to be your wife, endeavor,” your eyes shine looking up at him, “it’s cliche, but i’m anything you want; a lover, a girlfriend, a date— if you don’t wanna touch me,”

your pink tongue pokes out from between your lips when you trail off, slowly licking down the length of his finger. the digit’s calloused, thick from years of hero work, his skin hot in your mouth like a cookie was right out of the oven, when you were too impatient to let them cool, instead savouring the dough melting in your mouth. wrapping your lips around his finger, your eyes are still locked on his, hardly sucking at the digit when he breaks the eye contact, heavy eyelids fluttering shut with a deep groan at the sensation of your tongue and lips around the third knuckle. he sounded even better than he did down the phone; so gravelly, like the noise was alien to his vocal chords.

“then, you don’t have to touch me,”

neither of you have shed a single piece of clothing, he hasn’t even touched you, you’ve barely touched him, yet, his head rolls back when you moan around his finger, licking at his hand like you were trying to taste his leaking cock, your ministrations hardly helping the pre steadily dribbling from his tip. enji’s hips jump when your tongue dips in the webbing between his fingers, any apprehension melting inside him with every pulse of his echoing heartbeat, desperation thrumming in his veins, the need to feel your drool dripping down his cock, to feel the heat of your cunt beneath the red lace of your panties. he throbs with the need to sink into you, he’d fuck you on the floor of his office right now if it meant he could see your pretty pussy dripping with his cum. unfortunately, instead of your creamy slick gathering in his palm, sliding down to his wrist, it’s your saliva, drooling from your bottom lip onto his thick skin, dripping onto the front of his trousers to make a patch on the front mirroring the ever-growing one on his boxers.

“i won’t touch you unless you decide it,” your voice is like an angels chorus, even as devilishly sultry as it was.

“huh-i’m—” breathing heavily, enji’s voice is garbled, his mouth drawing into a tight line, every muscle in his body tensing when you bob your head, sucking his fingers deeper into your throat like you were trying to milk his dick. your hair falls onto your face when his hips jolt off the chair, his hips pushing his palm into your face, his ring finger pressing against the back of your tongue. his resolve is melting, his hips grinding shakily into the air the longer you sucked at his hand in his lap, your soft lips wrapping around the ring beneath his last knuckle, the sensation of your teeth against his skin forcing a rumbling groan from his chest. gold ring between your teeth, you sensually drag your tongue along the underside of his finger, setting every nerve on fire with the tip of your wet muscle fluttering against every ridge of his knuckles.

he’s fucking ruined above you, bulky thighs raising off of the office chair in search of your wet, hot mouth to release into, his hair sticking up in every direction from his fingers constantly tugging on the ends, the veins in his throat shining with sweat at every heavy thrum of his blood. with white knuckles, his abdomen tenses, every muscle in his body fighting against the urge to cum, to wait until he had you beneath him, on top of him, on his face would be less fucking shameful than making a mess of his boxers from a little pseudo-blowjob.

enji mumbles something, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to make any discernible words, especially not over the sound of your slurping at his fingers, he sounded more like he was huffing and grunting than speaking, the sound clawing itself out of his throat when his eyes screw shut, his muscles losing the fight to restrain himself.

shuddering, every solid muscle relaxes at once, the tension ebbing, melting from his veins into pleasure when his cum spits from his hot tip, sticking the front of his boxers to his cock.

his head drops back when you sit back up on your knees, his ring looped around the tip of your tongue, his finger falling from your mouth with an audible pop in the quiet room, the only sound his heavy breathing and the shuffle of your clothes as you adjust your position.

he can fucking hear the grin in your voice spotting the dark stain at the top hero’s crotch, “still worried about your marriage, endeavor?”

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[sytoran]

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

you, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. now, the goddess of lust, natasha, is going to grant you a wish. you could've had just about anything, but looking at the ethereal being before you, there's only one thing on your mind.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: hello, folks! this is the long-awaited goddess!nat fic for the milestone event! i am quite proud of this fic, ngl... got a bit too carried away with some parts ;)

word count: 2.5k

the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

When you jumped in front of a speeding car to save a cat on the road, you had absolutely no clue that the cat was not, in fact, a cat.

This not-cat was a species of flerken, and it’s name was Goose. Flerkens were extremely dangerous alien creatures. At least, that’s what the Goddess of Galaxies, Carol Danvers, told you.

Trust me, meeting an intergalactic space goddess with a pet killing-machine (that looked awfully like a cat) was about as chaotic and unbelievable as you would imagine it to be.

—

“H-holy fuck!” you yelled, jumping in your seat, as a glowing woman materialised before your very eyes, in your shithole of an office. 

“I do not believe I am holy, even though I am a Goddess.” The woman stated, watching with curious eyes as you tittered over your split coffee. Lifting your laptop and muttering curses, then sifting through the messed up paperwork.

“You’re a what?” You asked distractedly, still panicking over the mess that is your desk. “My boss is actually going to murder me. Or maybe I’ll murder myself first. I am literally- Yeah, okay, how the fuck did you appear like that? And aren’t gods supposed to be like, really huge? You look kinda…… human.”

“I am a goddess.” Carol reiterated with slight annoyance. A literal extraterrestrial being was in front of your eyes, and the only thing you cared about was your damn coffee? 

“We are beings you could only ever fathom from the depths of your imagination, powerful beyond measure. Which is also why we can shapeshift to look like regular human beings, so we won’t scare the shit outta you. Which seems to have still happened.”

You let out a dry bark of laughter. Carol wasn’t sure if you thought she was funny or you were about to burst into tears.

“So, why did you decide to visit me, ever-powerful, omnipresent, all-mighty being?” You asked, half-sarcastically, half simply given up on life itself. The report you had been working on for nearly an hour had been ruined by the fiasco earlier. 

You dropped into your chair, kicking your feet up onto your desk. Loosening your black tie with a weary sigh, you looked at the Goddess’ eyes and continued. “I’m a nobody. I’m an overworked and underpaid attorney. I run on caffeine. I don’t know why or how you’re here, but I really–”

“You saved us. The Gods and Goddesses.” Carol interrupts, firm and unyielding. “We owe you, alright? You get one wish.”

“One wish, to get whatever it is you desire. Anything. Anything at all.”

—

Your story was absolutely one of zero to hero. From an ‘underpaid and overworked attorney’, to having the fucking gods of the multiverse indebted to you, it seemed like a rather unorthodox situation.

“So… what do you want?” Carol had asked you. 

“Uhm, I don’t need anything,” you mumbled, fiddling with your loosened tie. “Like, it’s totally chill between us even if I saved your cat.”

Great. Real cool, Y/N. The middle school boys could never compare to your level of failed attempts at being cool.

“Goose is not a cat, alright?” Carol commented, offended. You mutter an apology. 

“So, what do you want?” she continued impatiently. “Humans thrive off greed. You mortals always want something. What is it, money? A fancy car? A boyfr– okay, not to be stereotypical, but you’re definitely not straight. So, women on your mind?”

You splutter at her outright but nevertheless true allegation. Carol gives you this blank stare that makes you feel stupid. 

“Well, I guess, as a woman, there’s something I do want,” you speak up after a while. Carol raises her eyebrows in interest. “Something I have wanted to try, you know.”

Leaning closer to whisper your deepest desire in the goddess’ ear, Carol’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Her impressed, intrigued, embarrassed, and taken aback emotions all morphed into one expression, almost steals a laugh from your lips.

—

“You want me to grant you a cock.”

The Goddess of Lust sits in her throne, a picturesque image of perfection, the statement falling from her lips with such ease. There’s a lilt to her voice you can’t decipher. You just nod, looking unfalteringly at the goddess, as if it was the most normal request in the world. 

The Goddess was slightly perturbed by your lack of, well, awe. There you were, standing in her grand palace, unfazed by the multi-million dollar chandeliers and gold-framed pictures, unfazed by her.

Natasha was just about the most exquisite sight people would kill to lay their eyes upon. Soft curls framed her delicately sculpted face like curtains to a stage, magnificent deep eyes and a more than well-endowed body to complement her pretty face. Her rose-gold dress of satins and sequins dripped with money. There was the thrall she exuded, of seduction so strong that had men and women falling to their knees.

Natasha was the Goddess of Lust for sakes, and the only thing you cared about was redeeming your wish?

She would’ve been annoyed, if not for how unfairly charming you were, standing with your hands in your pockets, a charming gentlemanly smile on your face.

“What kind of cock do you want?” Natasha resorts to ask, a playful smirk on her features. “I’ve seen some interesting ones over the years, intergalactic sex is far crazier than you would imagine. Ooh, do you want tentacles to-”

“Uh, no thanks.” You say hurriedly, a hand going out of your pocket to rub at your nose. It’s the first sign of discomfort or embarrassment Natasha’s seen from you. She grins. 

“Just a regular human one?” She clarifies, pouting at you slightly. 

“That’d be great, yeah.” You respond, back to smiling brightly. Natasha frowns. She knows that there’s something under that stupid gentlemanly facade you’re putting on. She’s craving to get a taste of it.

“What size?” The Goddess asks bluntly, like a Starbucks barista asking for your order on a Monday morning.

“A regular size would be fine, I suppose.” You respond in kind, nodding to yourself assuredly. Natasha winks at you. “Ah, a regular size, I see.”

Before you can decipher that cryptic response, the Goddess stands up, a pillar of superiority and authority. She snaps her fingers, and you’re being pushed back into a fancy chair. Where did the chair come from, anyway?

You forgo the answer to that question as the Goddess begins what you would assume to be the procedure. “Sit tight.”

A surge of pain presses against your crotch area, and you almost keel forward in shock, but the pain goes as quickly as it comes. 

“Wait….. that’s it?” You ask, almost disbelievingly. Natasha nods proudly.

You look down, hands resting on your belt buckle. 

You look up at the Goddess, and she only smirks. 

You pull down your pants in swift fashion, letting out a quiet ‘whoa’ at the bulge in your boxers. It definitely feels bigger than would be regular, but then again you don’t have much knowledge of a man’s cock per se.

“Thank you,” You say, pleased with the results. Trying something new in the bedroom would definitely bring more life to your desolate days.

All too quick for the Goddess’ liking, you’re putting your clothes back on and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for your help,” You say calmly, turning to walk down the long passageway.

God, you just wanted to watch her fall apart.

As you walk, you feel Natasha’ eyes burning holes through your back. Oh, the tension was palpable, building with each step you took. It was getting harder to walk, with Natasha’s thrall like a heavyweight on your shoulders, willing you not to leave.

As you stand before the tall doors, you come to a standstill. Natasha waits in her throne with bated breath, so many words fighting to fall from the tip of her stubborn lips.

Your hand pushes down on the door handle, and that’s the last thing you can do before Natasha snaps her fingers again, and the tension is broken like a snapped coil. Suddenly, you’re pressed against her, looking into her dilated pupils.

“You’re so annoying, you know? I’ve been so fucking horny, looking at you this whole time, and you were about to get up leave?” Natasha asks, her tongue coming out to dart at her pink lips. Her hands have grasped your forearms, but your hands are cinched around her waist, disabling movement.

“No,” you breathe, head moving down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her poised neck. “I was waiting for you.” The Goddess throws her head back under your fleeting touch. 

“Fuckin’ tease,” she mumbles, and you smirk against her skin. You’re rough with her, too, knowing that she isn’t made of glass, sucking purple marks into the pale skin of her neck, shoving your knee between her legs to spread them wider.

“Too much clothes,” Natasha breathes, and then with a burst of magic you’re stripped bare of any article of clothing. Her hands fly to your cock instantaneously, wrapping her delicate fingers around your semi-hard member.

You grunt against her skin, struggling to find a better position to properly have her. Since she’s sitting in the throne and you’re bent over above her, you can barely have her the way you want. Due to your lack of magical power, you resort to doing things the hard way.

Your hands slide under Goddess’ dress, going under her thighs, and then manhandling her up. Natasha’s whines of disapproval turn on deaf ears as you sit yourself in the grand chair, plopping her onto your lap. You don’t miss the way her thighs are already slightly damp.

“Need you inside now, fuck,” Natasha growls into your skin, climbing onto your cock as your hands squeeze at her thighs. You proceed to rip the fabric off her skin, deciding that there’s too much clothing restricting you from getting your hands on her.

And boy, was that a sight you’d never forget. 

“Oh!” The Goddess cries, when you lean forward to wrap your lips around her hardened bud. Your hands don’t rest for a moment, squeezing everywhere – hips, thighs, breasts, ass — whatever you can get your hands on. She’s fucking exquisite.

The stimulation seems to work wonders for Natasha’s pleasure, as she engulfs your cock in her warmth with fervour.

You gasp lowly, a throaty sound escaping your lips. Her hips and ass go up and down, working her cunt around the girth of your cock, wet and warm and slick. You can barely keep up with how desperate she is, and the fact that you have this wonder of a woman falling apart at your hands makes your heart soar.

Matching the rhythm of short upward thrusts with Natasha’s riding makes her moan out loud, a pretty melodious sound that imprints itself into your brain all at once. You wanna hear it a hundreds of times more.

Natasha gets more messy with her riding, as you suck hickeys, light ones and fierce ones, into her collarbone and her neck and breasts. You can’t resist the urge to slap her on the ass as she rides you like it’s the last day she’d be on this universe.

“Ah!” The Goddess moans, and you grip her thighs and push her down hilt deep, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. You feel her cum around your cock, so needy and desperate and mindless, and that triggers your own climax. 

Natasha hadn’t even begun to open her eyes again before she ends up on the floor and you hovering above her, your hands fervently spreading her cunt open. You duck your head down, licking a long stripe up her puffy clit. 

The Goddess writhes, unintelligible moans falling from her lips as you proceed to give her the best fucking cunnilingus of her life.

You’re more than determined to make this an unforgettable experience for the Goddess who probably had sex every other day. 

Natasha doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing with your tongue, but you’re ravenous and your carnal desire makes her even wetter than before.

She’s slept with plenty of people, human or not, but none of them had ever been this uncouth about her pussy. Oh, it nearly drove her mad, but she was already seeing stars.

Before the Goddess registers what’s happening, your hardened cock slides into her cunt with a flippant ease once again. Natasha lets out a filthy moan as she feels it throb inside her, clenching around you hard.

You slap her thigh in retaliation, but feeling the sudden strike of pain only turns her on further. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you pant. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” 

Natasha takes it as a promise, when you spread her thighs and line your cock up with her pussy. The Goddess of Lust doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone this bad.

You enter her roughly, your previously calm exterior completely faded away. You fuck her deeper with each thrust, opening the Goddess up. Pounding into the woman’s cunt like a woman starved, you hear her beg and cry with each thrust.

“Oh, please! More! More!” The Goddes cries, nearly screaming your name every time your blunt head pushes against her cervix. You only get spurred on further, going at a pace so painfully fast you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

You swallow at the sight of this Goddess, completely breathtaking in her state of unravelling. 

“My divine Goddess,” You say, leaning down to press a kiss against the bulge of your cock at her lower stomach. 

Those words in itself have Natasha uncoiling before you, your name falling from her lips like a sacred mantra. Her walls are wrapped around your cock so tight, her nails digging into your back so hard it nearly draws blood.

“My divine Goddess,” you repeat, eyes glazed over, reaching your own climax inside her. Natasha lets out a filthy moan, feeling each throb of your cock in her as walls of cum pulse inside her, again and again. 

God, it feels so good, everything everywhere all at once, your world becoming Natasha, Natasha, Natasha. 

You think you could stay like this forever.

—

A long bath and a trip to the Goddess’ bedroom later, you’re laying on her expensive silk sheets, hair smelling like rosemilk or whatever that shampoo had been called.

You honestly don’t know how this gorgeous woman’s been charmed by your awkward humour and the coffee stain on your work shirt, but you’re definitely not complaining as she nuzzles into your neck, humming in satisfaction.

“You sure that’s the first time you’ve ever had a cock?”

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02 @jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69

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the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

[orinfucker]

cravings

summary: your desperation to learn about your past has led you to the door of the one and only enver gortash, and he is more then happy to refresh your memory.

warnings: fem!reader, durge!reader, blood, slight manipulation (gortash), suggestive, making out, finger sucking, pet names, dom!gortash

note: small drabble of durge x gortash because i am sooo normal about them! might write a part two to this but i’m not sure yet.

you knew this was wrong; sneaking out of camp in the midst of the night to meet with a man you had no knowledge of. but, who could blame you? everything he said about your urges wasn’t wrong, only someone who experienced them first hand would have the information he possessed.

so here you are, blindly trudging your aching legs up the staircase towards enver gortash’s office. you had your doubts about the man obviously, the way karlach had described him made your blood boil with anger; how dare he hurt one of your companions so badly. you knew this was a carelessly bad decision, but you needed to know more about this ‘past life’ of yours, and gortash seemed to have answers you craved.

“second door on the right.” you whispered aloud, reminding yourself of the steel watcher’s directions to the lord’s office. once you reached the polished door of his quarters, your body froze for just a second. was this really your only option? could you live knowing nothing of who you truly were? with a shaky breath, you curled your hand into a fist and knocked onto the wood of the door.

“ah, come in please.” a heavy voice spoke, the sounds of paper rustling echoing filling your senses. you fiddled with handle before finally opening the entrance to reveal the man you’d sought out: lord enver gortash. his presence was overwhelming to say the least, he held himself with such confidence it made the depths of your body ache. “i’m shocked to see you here, my dear. have you had a change of heart since the last we spoke?” you swallowed nervously, trying to search for the words to say, but nothing came up.

“perhaps we should make ourselves comfortable, to speak plainly with one another, yes?” gortash spoke, his eyes seeming to pierce right into your mind. a simple nod was your response before descending into his office, taking a seat at one of the chairs placed in front of his desk. “i, well, wanted to speak with you about my past.” gortash glanced towards you, and then a smirk plastered itself onto his face. “of course dear, ask me anything you would like.” the sultry tone of his voice sent a jolt of arousal through your body, one that felt oddly familiar to you.

“you’ve told me of my urges, something that is deeply personal to me,” you took a breath before continuing, “but i want, no, i need to know more about us.” gortash’s face twisted into a more sinister one before an amused laugh exited his throat. “you’ve been thinking about me then, is that it?” he began, leaning back into his chair as his eyes bore into your own. you shifted in your seat before shyly nodding in response. “when i heard your voice, it held such a familiarity, yet i have no clue who you are.”

gortash stood in his chair, circling around towards you own before kneeling to match your height. “that’s because we were something much more than business partners, my dear.” your face flushed over with red, immediately understanding the intent behind his words. “that.. can’t be right. i would never sleep with the likes of you.” you spat out in denial, refusing to believe you’d stoop to that level. “yet here you are, sitting in my office, begging to know about us. it seems to me that you want to indulge in our old ways.”

one of gortash’s hands began to trail over your knee, slowly edging up towards the clothed flesh of your thigh. you peered down at him for a moment, a feeling of lust clouding over your mind as the ministrations of his hand continued. “your body craves my touch, it aches to be used by me again.” you so badly wanted to refuse him, to feel repulsed at the feeling of his touch upon you, but every part of yourself cried out towards him.

gortash observed the way your face contorted from one of disgust, to one of desire. you felt an insatiable hunger rise within you, and without thought you leaned down to capture his lips in a messy kiss. the man below you groaned at the feeling, his teeth brushing against the flesh of your mouth before biting into your bottom lip, letting pecks of blood slip through them. you felt his tongue lick away the metallic substance before finally pushing away, heavy sighs leaving the both of you.

“my love, how i’ve missed you.” gortash breathed out as he stood from his knees, letting one of his hands come down to caress the side of your cheek. his thumb brushed against the fat of your bottom lip, wiping away the blood that was left from your raunchy kiss. “open.” your body could no longer resist; it obeyed every word, every breath that left gortash’s mouth. the flesh of your lips parted as his calloused thumb entered the cavern of your mouth, pressing down on the slimy organ inside before reaching for the back of your throat.

“you always were a nasty little thing.” his words sent chills throughout your body, a gag leaving your throat as his finger sunk deeper into you. “good girl.” gortash slowly removed his finger from you, wiping the spit and saliva away on the sides of your face. you looked up at him with doe eyes, practically begging the man to do anything he wanted to you. gortash took your hand between his own, helping you raise to your feet before guiding your body to lean against the edge of his desk.

“now, we have lots of catching up to do, don’t we pet?”

[interiorergonomics]

Adjustable Armrests and Seat Depth for Comfort

When evaluating ergonomic office chairs, two of the most reviewed features are height-adjustable armrests and seat depth adjustments. While some clients a puzzled with either to choose fixed or adjustable chair armrests, others prioritize the seat depth due to their varying body sizes. These 2 features are simply a cog in a machine as they also a subset of what makes an office chair ergonomic. Without any doubt, they greatly contribute to creating a supportive and comfortable workspace

[cocoakrispis-blog]

✭ 1. ADMITTING YOU’RE A HOMOSEXUAL ✭

pairing ~ ellie williams x fem! reader

summary ~ (y/n) finally comes to terms with the fact that she may not be as normal as she thought.

warnings ~ homophobia, tones of a little bit of religious trauma, cat, ellie being a bit of a meanie

wc ~ 3.2k words

SERIES MASTERLIST

you followed close behind maria while still trying your best to take note of your surroundings.

despite the fact that this what you assumed was maria’s home everything in it seemed almost fake.

it was like you were walking on an untouched movie set and it seriously creeped you out.

the walk wasn’t very long and soon you and maria entered a small room that resembled an office.

you silently sat in the chair facing the desk while maria seated herself across from you.

“okay (y/n) once again welcome to true directions and allow me to go a little bit more into depth about how this camp will work. the others that are going to be staying here with you have already had the run down so i’m just going to get you caught up.” you nodded at her words and she continued.

“the true direction camp is a two month rehabilitation program that helps misguided girls straighten themselves out, more specifically correct their imaginary beliefs on sexuality. we use an easy five step program to reeducate and help our campers get back on the right path.” maria pointed to a black sign behind her that displayed all of the steps.

“for now we are going to focus on the first step which is admitting that you are a lesbian.” your brows slightly furrowed at her statement and you reach up to your neck to fidget with your cross necklace anxiously.

“i’m not a lesbian.” you mumble to yourself quietly.

maria ignores your quiet retaliation and doubles down.

“so you’re telling me that when you find yourself in the bathroom before class with one of your friends and you’re watching your friends apply their cherry red lipstick to their plump lips, or maybe you’re cheering and you glance at your teammates in their short frilly skirts using their strong thighs to jump into the air giving you a glance at their round butt, or when your team is showering in the locker room after a long sweaty practice and they’re lathering their perky breasts with the slippery soap your body doesn’t begin to react in unnatural ways and your mind begin to wonder to forbidden places.”

you gulp at maria’s over the top descriptions but can’t help but clench your thighs together to keep yourself grounded.

“no.” you croak out a pathetic response.

maria sighs at your reply and shakes her head in disappointment.

“(y/n) you will not be able to make any progress if you can’t complete the first step of admittance.”maria goes behind her desk and drops a pair of ugly grey scrubs on her desk. “until you are able to get past the first step you will be wearing these.”

you reluctantly grab the clothes from her desk and silently look at her to resume.

“for now i would like you to meet one of our other friends here at true directions, dina.”

as soon as she finishes her statement you turn to your right and watch as a tall tan girl with long black hair walks into the office with an almost sickly pink shirt and skirt combo.

“dina here will be showing you around our facilities and doing her best to help you feel welcome.”

you continue to stare at the beautiful girl as she stares ahead silently before maria clears her throat and shoes you two off out of her office.

as soon as you two make it out of the house dina let’s out a sigh of relief and sends you a small smile.

“sorry i was so quiet back there that lady totally gives me the creeps she’s like an evil barbie.” dina says her first words in ice you met her.

you giggle at her words and reassure her that you feel the same way.

“okay so i’m gonna be completely honest with you the schedule is a little bit nuts. we have to be up at 7:30 and then breakfast starts at 8 after that we have group therapy until lunchtime then in the afternoon we’re finally given a little bit of room to breathe and left alone to do whatever we want and then finally we come back inside to do some reorienting exercises oh and family therapy is on the weekends.” you nod along while listening to your new schedule for the next two months while dina leads you to another building with a pink door.

“do you have any questions so far?” dina turns around fully to look at you.

“no nothing so far.” you send her a smile.

with that dina turns back around to open up the pink door to the building.

“and then this is the pink prison where we sleep.” you follow dina into a very pink room with five beds.

“hey i think it’s cute i like the color pink.” you give her a playful nudge.

as you survey the room you seee an auburn haired girl with a tattoo on her forearm lying on one of the beds while smoking a joint.

you almost didn’t notice her because of how well her pink uniform blended into the pink bed.

dina doesn’t say anything to acknowledge the girl and continues her explanation.

“everyone has already claimed a bed so you’ll sleep there” dina points to one of the beds in the corner.

“you don’t really look like you’ll need this warning since you look about as innocent as can be but we are under no circumstances allowed to engage in any inappropriate behavior.” dina sends you a wink.

“but she’s smoking over there.” you cover your mouth with your hand and whisper to dina as quietly as possible.

dina laughs out loud at your confusion and looks at the other girl to explain.

“by inappropriate behavior she means fucking other girls.” the auburn haired girl speaks up for the first time since you’ve entered the room to defend herrself.

your cheeks warm at her vulgar language and the sultry nature of her voice.

dina laughs even harder at your flustered reaction and walks out of the bedroom while still snickering.

you quickly turn around to follow after her but forget that the scrubs you were given did almost nothing to cover your nether region.

“cute panties newbie.”

you squeak at her comment and quickly shut the back of you scrubs closed before rushing out of the room and making sure to shut the door behind you.

once you made it out of that embarrassing situation you look up to see a chart with you and dina’s name on it as well as three other unfamiliar names.

“sorry about ellie she’s kind of a bitchy wannabe bad boy don’t mind her i’m pretty sure she’s actually a softie deep down.”

you nod silently at dina’s words and make sure to remember the name of the girl who left you feeling extremity embarrassed.

“so this chart is kind of meant to like show our progress through the five steps.” you observe the chart and see that everyone already has a check next to their name and under the first step except for you.

“i promise it’s not really that hard you just need to say it out loud ‘i’m a lesbian!” dina giggles slightly as she repeats the phrase her and the other girls were required to say the day before.

you let out a breathe and grab the cross necklace dangling from your neck tightly.

“sounds easy enough.”

after the tour was over it was time for the group therapy so dina leads you back into the house to a room that already held ellie two other unfamiliar faces and maria.

dina very quietly makes her way to the other side of the room to take a seat in her empty chair while you stand awkwardly at the doorway.

“why don’t you have a seat and join us (y/n)” maria gives you a bright smile and motions to the seat facing everyone else with a bright pink bow wrapped around it.

you stare at the chair and bow in confusion and look at maria for further explanation.

“go ahead unwrap it!”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes at how extra the whole thing is and grab one end of the hot pink bow to unravel it.

once you unravel it maria bursts into applause and urges the other girls to do so.

you awkwardly give everyone a crooked smile before finally taking a seat.

“well everyone why don’t you introduce yourself.” maria turns to the girls.

a sweet looking girl with brown skin and dark brown curls is the first to stand up and introduce herself.

“hi i’m riley i like to play softball and i’m a lesbian.” she smoothly gets out her introduction without any mess ups.

once she finishes everyone begins clapping again which catches you by surprise but you quickly begin to catch on just as the applause is dying down.

next dina decides to stand up to introduce herself.

“hello my name is dina which you already know i’m a very loyal friend to all and i’m a lesbian.”

everyone begins clapping again a before the next girl stands up to introduce herself.

the girl that goes after dina is an asian girl with a very grunge aesthetic despite being in all pink and a mean look on her face.

“i go by cat i like pain and i’m a lesbian.”

you slightly wince at the girls kind of scary introduction but make sure to clap like you did for the rest of the girls.

you turn to look at ellie to introduce herself but she stays seated.

“you already know me.” ellie sighs slumps even further into her seat.

“ellie.” maria gives the freckle faces girl a stern look which makes her roll her eyes.

“hello fellow lesbians my name is ellie williams and i really really really like girls like a lot.”

everyone slightly snickers at ellie’s goofy introduction but awards her with the same applause.

once the clapping stops maria turns to you.

“okay (y/n) now it’s your turn.” maria asks you to introduce yourself.

you nod and stand up to face the group.

“hi my name is (y/n) i like cheerleading and uh yeah.”you quickly sit down when you realize you’re still not exactly ready to say the words out loud.

“okay well um how about i start with a question to jumpstart this discussion.”

“so (y/n) when was the first time you realized you may be a lesbian?” maria sends you what you consider a very inappropriate and uncomfortable question.

“oh no i’m not a lesbian everyone just thinks that i am. i’m really just here to prove my friends and family back home that i’m not” you clear your throat and shift in your seat awkwardly.

the room goes very very quiet and you feel your palms start to sweat at everyone’s eyes being on you.

“that is a perfectly fine place to start (y/n) may i ask about the issues that were brought up in your intervention.” maria tries her best to keep the bright smile on her face despite your lackluster answer.

you think to yourself for a second before recalling all of them.

“well i recently decided to become vegetarian to stay more in shape for cheer i have some pictures of women’s round my room and locker-”

riley speaks up to cut you off.

“do you think that’s normal” she asks he question everyone in the room was probably thinking.

“i mean yeah i think it’s pretty uh normal….. i don’t know i haven’t really thought about it too hard i just hang up pictures that make me happy.” you look down at your lap in shame.

“how about we move onto my next question have you ever had a boyfriend before or do you have any experience with boys?” maria asks you plainly.

“well yes of course i have a boyfriend whom i love ver much back at home he loves football and well me!” you finally give a response that sounds good in your head.

“oh wow he sounds extremely interesting.”ellie snickers at your lackluster description.

“h-he is very interesting.” you cross your arms defensively.

“have you guys done the deed before?” dina gives you a curious look.

“no of course not i’m a christian!” you gasp at the implication of even going further than kissing with your boyfriend.

“well does he at least make you a little bit hot and bothered?” cat follows up dina’s previous question.

you frown at the question and give her a weird look.

“i mean do you think of him when you’re like touching yourself and stuff.” cat rolls her eyes at your obliviousness.

your jaw drops to the floor and you have trouble picking it up to even formulate a response.

“well i ever- t-that’s just not- i don’t t-think that.” you cut yourself of and take a deep breath to find some composure.

“listen no offense to any of you guys but i’m just not like you.” you give them all a sorry look.

“i get good grades, i go to church, i’m a cheerleader!” you exclaim proudly.

everyone in the room gives you almost a stare of pity causing you to get even more frustrated.

“i’m normal guys everyone reads magazines, likes receiving compliments from other girls, and enjoys staring at their fellow girls to admire their beauty all the time.” you hero your hands up in the air in exasperation.”

“yeah you do all of that and assume that they want to do the same thing as you but they don’t” ellie finally puts her two cents into the conversation.

you feel yourself freeze in your tracks at ellie’s statement and you stare at the room almost mortified.

“i-i thought everyone thought the same way i did i thought i was n-normal.” you reach up to grab onto the cross necklace you wore.

“so you admit you’re not normal then.” maria rises from her chair to softly pat your shoulder.

you gasp as the sudden realization hits you and immediately feel tears start to well up in your eyes.

“i’m a lesbian!”

you begin to sob as you finally say the phrase out loud and repeat the phrase over and over still in disbelief.

“you did it (y/n) you completed your first step at true direction!” maria gives you a gleeful look.

all the girls in the room rush up to you to give you a big hug to comfort you.

unfortunately the hug doesn’t work and you continue to cry harder than you ever had before.

maria gently pulls you to the side to give you some comforting words.

“it’s all gonna be okay (y/n) don’t you worry.”

maria hands you an identical pink uniform to the rest of the girls in the room and sends you a smile. “here put these on you’re making progress.”

eventually everyone files out of the room to leave you alone to continue to cry it out.

“i can’t believe everyone was right.” you clutch your new uniform close to your chest.

you don’t know how long you were in the group therapy room crying but after a while dina comes in there with a concerned look.

“i know this can all be very shocking you i promise it gets easier why don’t you go change so we can head to dinner.” dina leads you out of the room as gently as possible.

soon after you find yourself in the corridor grabbing dinner with the rest of the girls.

you notice ellie was siting with cat while dina and riley sat at another table.

as you walk past her table she gives you a smirk.“congrats on making your first big step in this place pom-pom.” she snickers at her own nickname while cat chuckles alongside her.

you give them a look before beelining it towards the table where dina and riley were sitting.

once you make it to the other table. ilya don dina send you a sympathetic look.

“don’t worry about them we are genuinely proud of you (y/n) we both know what you did today was very difficult.” riley gives you a genuine smile while dina nods in agreement.

“thank you guys.” you return the smile before beginning to eat your surprisingly good meal.

after you all finish dinner you head back to your shared bedroom to get ready for bed.

everyone was pretty quiet most likely due to their exhaustion and before you know it you’re tucked away in your soft pink bed.

it was a little bit difficult to fall asleep in such an unfamiliar atmosphere but eventually you find yourself in a light sleep.

much to your dismay your light sleep is disturbed when your ears pick up an annoying continuous buzzing sound.

you pry open your eyes to see cat’s bedsheets high over her head and a red light emitting from underneath the covers.

you realize this is where the buzzing is coming from nd you quietly rise from your bed to go investigate.

“hey cat what are you doing are you okay?” you lightly tap on her moving form form under the sheets.

you wince when you see how roughly she rips the sheets from her head and do your best to calm her.

“sorry i didn’t mean to scare you i just wanted to check on you.”

cat rolls her eyes and gives you a half ass response. “i’m doing AV now leave me be.”

“what’s AV?” you questions yhe unfamiliar abbreviation curiously.

“its aversion therapy you use it to help you stop having inappropriate thoughts about other girls.” cat further explains herself. “you shock yourself whenever you start to have those naughty thoughts.

“sounds painful.” you frown.

“no pain no gain.” cat shrugs her shoulders casually.

you glance down and realize you see an item that looks extremely out of place in her sheets.

“hey is that ellie’s sock?” you question cat cautiously.

“fuck off.” she gives you a glare before throwing the covers back over her head.

as soon as you make it back into bed the door the the room opens and mary flashes a bright flashlight into your face.

“(y/n) you have a phone call.” she sighs plainly.

you rise from your bed and follow mary into her house where she leads you to her phone.

“hi sweetie!” you hear the familiar voice of your mother on the other side of the phone.

“hi mom.” you smile to yourself softly.

“sorry we’re calling s late honey we just had to make sure you were doing okay.” you then hear your dad.

“hi dad and yeah i’m doing okay miss you guys a lot.” you fiddle with the phone line.

“well that’s all we needed to hear we won’t keep you long we know it’s late.” your mom hums.

“we can’t wait until you’re normal sweetie sleep well and remember we love you.” your dad brings a swift end to the conversation.

“love you guys too!” you respond softly before ending the call.

maria then dismisses you and you walk back to the bed room in silence.

“yeah normal.” you sigh to yourself quietly.

a/n: this took way too long my head hurts so ad and i am so tired will come back and edit in th morning. this took forever to write but i think it came out a little bit better than the last chapter. if ou didn’t already notice i am not going to be asking in any of the gay guys because i couldn’t think of enough male tlou characters to fill the role hope that doesn’t;t irk anyone too bad. anyways i hope you guys enjoyed!

taglist: @st4r-b3rries @dollyvuu @lvlymicha @jellyfishrnice @machetegirl109 @smiths-fan--13 @elliewilliamssrealgf @ravyaryn @yuhgetintoonit @nelzooo @luvmily @dearestdolly444 @venuzasmuse

[princesscait26]

An Unlikely Friendship

Summary: Who knew marriage came with a side of rivalry?

Alastor x Reader, Vox x No named wife, Reader x Vox’s wife platonic!

Part 2

In the confines of Alastor's radio tower, Y/n, his wife, lounges on the plush couch, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation as Alastor engages in his usual broadcasted, banter with the TV demon. With each witty comeback from Alastor, she rolls her eyes, familiar with the routine of their sparring.

As Alastor concludes his broadcast with his trademark sign-off, Y/n rises from the couch, her steps deliberate as she approaches him. With a hint of irritation, she exhales audibly before speaking, her voice tinged with sarcasm, "When are you two going to cease this endless bickering? It's like dealing with children."

Alastor, ever the charmer, feigns offense, his laughter echoing in the room. "My dear, you wound me with your accusations. I assure you, I am the epitome of civility. Once Vox comes to realize the error of his ways, our little disagreements will be a thing of the past," he responds with a disarming smile, his innocence clearly feigned.

———————————————————————

In the heart of the city, within the confines of Vox's office, his wife occupies the chair beside him, her demeanor a mixture of frustration and resignation as Vox's irritation mounts in tandem with each of Alastor's lightning-fast comebacks. With a weary sigh, she rests her head in her hand, her exasperation palpable as the verbal sparring between Vox and Alastor continues.

As the television screen abruptly flickers, losing signal, Vox releases a defeated sigh, the weight of yet another round lost evident in his slumped posture. Sensing his defeat, his wife rises from her seat, moving to console him. She envelops him in a comforting embrace, her arms encircling his neck from behind as she leans in, her voice laced with both affection and frustration, "When will you two finally put an end to this childish fighting?"

Vox swivels in his chair, his movements sharp and agitated, causing his wife to step back crossing her arms. His gaze darkens with annoyance as he retorts, his tone laced with venom, "This isn't merely bickering, my dear. We are rivals. I despise him, and he will soon realize that I am the epitome of power. That radio of his will be nothing more than a relic once I'm through." With a disappointed shake of her head, Vox's wife exits his office, leaving him to stew in his frustration and determination to best his rival, Alastor.

—————————————————————

Seated in the cozy ambiance of a charming café, Vox's wife's laughter rings out melodiously, punctuating the air as she cradles an iced coffee in her hand. Opposite her, Alastor's wife, Y/n, joins in the laughter, her own amusement evident as she delicately sips on a cup of tea.

"I can't believe this feud is still going after all this time," Vox's wife exclaims between giggles, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Y/n nods in agreement, her laughter bubbling forth, "Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like I signed up for a lifetime of babysitting rather than marriage." She punctuates her remark with an exaggerated eye roll, a smile playing on her lips.

Bonded by the shared antics and bickering of their spouses', Y/n and Vox's wife have forged a strong friendship. The two women share a knowing glance, as they exchange amused looks. It's an understanding between them, the necessity of meeting in secret. If Vox and Alastor were to discover the depth of their friendship, the consequences could be unpredictable, even chaotic.

Their laughter echoes in the cozy café, mingling with the soft clinking of cups and saucers. Y/n and Vox's wife revel in the absurdity of their situation, finding humor in the thought of their husbands' potential reactions to their clandestine meetings. Their bond forged in the secrecy of their friendship and the shared understanding of their husbands' unpredictable antics.

————————————————————————

Short story: (Should I make a part 2?) I was at war writing this as a double y/n story so you could choose who to be married to but I feared it would become too confusing.🫤

[lupinmoonlight]

oh if lupin had caught me reading smut about him during his class i think i would have just avada kedavra myself out of embarrassment 😭

Red-handed

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Professor Lupin catches you reading a smutty story about him. He keeps you after class and makes you touch yourself on his desk as he watches (1,642 words).

Warnings - Professor/student, reader masturbating, age gap, jerking off, cum on clothes, mentions of embarrassment, some "good girl", orgasm control, very slight edging, my grammar (english is my second language), not proof-read.

Notes - This fic was inspired by anon! It was a lot of fun to write! I would be so mortified haha. The fic I am referring to in this fic is Sinful if you guys are interested.

You sat in the back row, your quill idle, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Your eyes weren't on Professor Lupin but on the parchment concealed within the pages of your textbook. You had been careful, oh so careful, not to let anyone see what you had been reading, but the pull of the forbidden words was irresistible. 

You continued reading, your eyes captured by the elegant, looping handwriting that described a scenario that would make even the dirtiest minds squirm. 

A string of curses fell from his lips, "Ah, fuck..." he moaned as thick ropes of warmth spilled onto the lace of your skin, hot and sticky.

Your cheeks burned with a blush that you prayed no one would notice. You were so engrossed in the sinful text that you didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching your desk. 

"Y/N?" Lupin's voice pulled you back to the reality of the classroom, and your heart skipped a beat. "Is everything alright? You seem...distracted."

You snapped the book shut, but it was too late. Lupin's hand was already extended, palm up. "May I?"

Your hands trembled as you handed over the parchment, your eyes fixed on your desk as you muttered, "I'm sorry, Professor. I was just..." 

Lupin unfolded the parchment and his eyes quickly scanned the page. You didn't need to look up to know when he reached the passage you were just reading; the slight hitch in his breath was giveaway enough. For a moment, the room was utterly silent except for the frantic pounding of your heart resonating in your ears. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite identify. "I think we should discuss this...after class." 

You nodded, your mouth dry, unable to form words. 

The remaining minutes of the lecture stretched on interminably. When it finally ended, you remained in your seat, frozen, as your classmates filed out. The door closed behind with the last student with a soft click, leaving you alone with your Professor. 

"Come," he simply said as he climbed the short staircase to his office. 

You stood up, your legs feeling wobbly, and followed him. It felt like the longest walk of your life despite his office being only a few meters away. 

"Please, take a seat," he gestured towards a chair facing his desk. 

You sat, clutching your hands in your lap. 

Lupin leaned back against his desk, his demeanor markedly different from the gentle, approachable Professor you were used to. His eyes, usually warm and understanding, held a depth of seriousness and a flicker of something that looked like...hunger. Something you had never seen in him before. He unfolded the parchment and handed it to you. 

"I'd like you to read a passage for me," he said, his voice low and steady. 

Your hands trembling, you took the parchment. You glanced at the text, your face heating up as you felt like you had lost the ability to speak. 

With a low growl, his hips began moving on their own accord, the desperate grind of his arousal evident in his every movement...the friction, the heat of your body, was intoxicating...

As you read, your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You couldn't believe you were reading these words to Professor Lupin himself. You dared not look up at him, focusing solely on the parchment, absolutely mortified.

"That's enough," he said softly, stepping closer to where you sat. He studied you for a moment, his gaze traveling over your form perhaps a moment longer than necessary, making you squirm uncomfortably. 

"Do you enjoy these stories, Y/N?" he asked, his tone more curious than accusatory. 

Your eyes darted to the floor. "I...I supposed I do, Professor," you admitted, your voice a mere whisper. 

He stared down at you, making you feel like a small, cornered creature perched on the edge of the chair. He tilted his head slightly, a faint hint of a smile playing on his lips. He was enjoying this. 

"Look at me," he commanded gently. 

Reluctantly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. There was no judgement there, only a thoughtful curiosity tinted with something you could only describe as lust. 

"And what is it about these stories that you enjoy so much?"

"I-I don't know, Professor," you stammered.

"You don't know? That's unfortunate...I thought perhaps you could show me," he continued, taking the parchment from your hands. 

"Professor, I-" but before you could finish your sentence, he swiftly hauled you up from the chair and placed you on the edge of his desk, standing right between your legs. 

"Was this part of the story you were reading, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low as he leaned in.

You could only shake your head, the tone of his voice going straight to your loins. 

"Do you want to stop?" he continued as he tilted your chin to look into your eyes. 

"N-No, Professor", you whispered. 

With a low growl, his hands traveled under your skirt, gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. You could feel his arousal pressing against you through his trousers. 

"I want to watch you," he commanded in a husky voice. "Touch yourself for me." 

Your mind went blank. You hesitated, your eyes darting nervously around the dim office before settling on him. His gaze was intense, demanding, and you weren't sure if you were going to combust or simply pass out. 

Tentatively, you slid a trembling hand between your thighs, feeling the dampness of your panties as you pulled them aside to give your fingers access to your heated core. A slight gasp escaped you as you made contact. 

"That's it," he encouraged, his hands starting to unbutton his trousers to free himself from the constricting fabric. You dared looking down, your eyes landing on his hardened length. At the sight, your hand started to move slowly, your fingers dancing in a way you were oh so familiar with. 

He tightened his grip on your thigh, his other hand gripping himself firmly, beginning to stroke in tandem with your movements. "Show me how you like it. Show me what you do when you read those stories about me." 

You responded to his commands, your fingers moving in slow circular motions over your sensitive spot, your breathing growing ragged. The sight of you, spread out on his desk in your uniform and touching yourself at his command, only intensified his arousal.  

"What a good girl," he praised as he continued to stroke himself slowly. "Is this what you do when you're alone? When you think about me?" 

You nodded, your cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink as he watched you intently. Your movements grew more and more frantic, pathetic whimpers escaping your lips.

Your eyes darted to his, instinctively seeking some kind of permission. He could tell you were close, on the verge of falling apart. 

"You want to come?" he teased, delighting in the desperate whimper you gave in response. "Not yet," he warned, drawing out the pleasure and anticipation. "You'll come when I say so. Do you understand?" 

"Y-Yes, Professor," you whimpered, your eyes closing shut as you fought against the impending climax. 

Watching you, Lupin's grip on himself tightened, the pace of his strokes increasing as he felt himself nearing the edge too. "Beg for it," he commanded suddenly. 

Your body trembled, your movements growing faster. You were dangerously close and you didn't think you could hold back any longer. The only response you could give him was a desperate whimper. 

"You can do better than that. Come on, use your words," he teased, his grip on your thigh now bruisingly tight.

"Please, P-Professor...I can't...I need..." you stammered, unable to form a cohesive sentence. 

He watched you, taking in every twitch of your body, every flutter of your eyes, every ragged breath you took. It was a sight to behold, your desperation to obey him, even as your body yearned for release. 

"Now," he finally growled, his voice strained, "Come for me." 

Your body arched in pleasure, your fingers working frantically, soft moans escaping your lips as you fell apart on the desk. 

The sight of you, so undone, combined with the sound you made as you came was almost his undoing. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your neck, and stroked himself furiously. 

"Ah...fuck," he cursed loudly as the tension finally snapped. After a few hard strokes, his climax tore through him, his seed shooting forth, splattering all over your school uniform in thick, warm strands. He continued to move his hand, his hips jerking reflexively as he milked every last drop of his release.

You were both panting, chests heaving from the intensity of what had just transpired. He took a moment to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. 

Covered in him, you looked up at your Professor, trying to recover from your own release. Lupin pulled back slightly to take in the sight of you. 

"That's a good girl," he murmured, "All messy in your uniform..." 

You looked down, the contrast of his white seed on your dark skirt was stark, and it made you feel like you belonged to him, like you were his. 

With a gentle touch, his clean hand reached out, his fingers carefully lifting your chin, coaxing your gaze to meet his. 

"Now, remember to save your reading for after class," he advised, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that hinted at a leniency his words didn't fully express. 

"Yes, Professor," you responded, a small, bashful smile playing on your lips.

[bxwitched]

To Be With You

Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.

Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.

A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.

You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.

You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.

That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.

Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.

Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.

"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.

"Ok. What's the damage today?"

It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door and breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.

The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.

"Afternoon, miss."

"Good afternoon-"

"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.

"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.

"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.

"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."

You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.

"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.

"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."

He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.

"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.

"Please, call me Hangman."

"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.

"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.

It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.

You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.

"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.

"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.

"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.

"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.

"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."

His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.

You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.

"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."

Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.

You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.

"Come in."

You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.

It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.

You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.

"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.

"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.

"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.

"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.

"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.

"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.

Can you believe that he's interested in her?

I don't get it either!

Who?

You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.

You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.

Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.

Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.

You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.

At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.

You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.

You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.

Why me?

Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?

That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.

You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.

"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.

"No Sir."

"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.

Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.

"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.

"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover

"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."

"A friend?"

He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.

"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.

Are you ok?

"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.

"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.

It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.

You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.

It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.

Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.

You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.

You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.

You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.

You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.

By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.

You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.

As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.

Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.

He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.

You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.

"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.

"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.

"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.

"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.

"You're not serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.

"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."

He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.

"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.

She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.

His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.

"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.

"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.

"Listen, Hangman-"

"Jake." He insists.

"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.

"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.

"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"

His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.

"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.

"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."

You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.

"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."

He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.

"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."

You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.

"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."

"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."

"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."

You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.

"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."

You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.

"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.

"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.

Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.

"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.

"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.

He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.

"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"

That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?

You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.

You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.

"Alright. We can start with dinner."

[thorougly-melted-brains]

Ghost keeps a clean house. Soap knows this is true for his pack, his office, his room, and—to all assumptions—his apartment.

The circumstances of how Soap got there are too jumbled with the high of a mission and the drop of mandated time off. He didn’t want to take time off, neither did Ghost.

He can’t quite remember which one of them fumbled through the offer to stick together- only to maintain their schedules, of course. They still had additional reports and inventory to do, it was only tactical.

So now here he stands, in Ghost’s wholly spartan apartment. It’s been stripped of all charm and frivolity not painted on the walls or molded into the quaintly patterned glass by the front door. It’s not intentionally devoid of comfort- Ghost may be many things, but even he didn’t go out of his way to live without small comforts. There’s an old but soft couch, rugs and mats placed around the doors, and even lamps to offset the harsh over-heads.

The most curious thing, the one that really catches Soaps eyes, is the only visible adornment, quilts.

Great, sprawling tiled blankets (tapestries?) are hung from most of the walls. There’s one draped over the back of the sofa, tucked into the seat of the solitary plush chair. There’s smaller, flat pillows on the few chairs in the kitchen. There’s even placemats on the table. All colored with swirls of vibrant linen in dazzling patterns.

Ghost catches him staring as he leads them through his space (They decided on his apartment, given Soap’s was a bachelor pad, while Ghost had a guest room).

“My mum used to quilt.” Ghost says cryptically, and snags the pack off Soap’s shoulder while he’s still too busy gawking to protest.

Later, after they’ve showered off their travel and eaten something not wrapped in plastic and some amount of mud, Soap tries to breach the topic. Ghost replies as vaguely as ever,

“She tried to make me a baby blanket, never finished it.” Which takes Soap for a spin because based on what Ghost had previously (not) said, he’d assumed his mom had made them. He leaves it be.

Much later, after they’ve settled back into some semblance of their normal routine, Soap finally figures it out. It’s late at night, later than he should be awake after running himself ragged in the gym.

He’s stuck in a state of un-anxiety, which is in itself anxiety inducing, when he hears something next door. It’s rhythmic, mechanical, sharp, but in a way that’s distinctly well milled.

It’s coming from Ghost’s room, and if it were earlier in the night he might’ve just let it be, but he’s curious and without anything better to do.

He drags himself out of bed, slips on a shirt, and makes his way to Ghost’s room. It had been excluded from the gruff house tour he’d been giving on arrival, and right as he creaks the door open he understands why.

There are shelves covering the whole wall opposite to the door, obviously custom built, filled with bat upon bat of colorful fabric. The same colorful fabric, Soap realizes, that makes up the sole decoration in Ghost’s apartment. Sat at a desk, hunched slightly over a near-antique sewing machine, is Ghost.

Soap stares.

Ghost stares back at him, deceptively warm in the light of the machine. Soap can only imagine what he looks like, half awake and face cavernous in the dark of the hallway. There’s a momentary stand-off, Soap inanimate, Ghost giving him a look of challenge.

Soap breaks it first, glancing away and to Ghost’s project. It’s half-way finished, colored with calming blues and grays. Ghost seems satisfied and turns back to his work, ignoring him entirely.

Soap, sleep addled and out of his depth, takes the dismissal for all it could be. He shuts the door behind him, for both their sanities, and sits down on Ghost’s bed. It’s covered in a thick quilt, made of reds and golds and the occasional maroon hexagon. It’s unlike anything he’s thought of Ghost as, but he’s beginning to think this is the most raw he’ll ever see him.

The hum of the machine, combined with his tiredness, or maybe with the air of safety that curled around him with Ghost in his sights, starts to lull Soap to sleep.

He blinks himself an awake every time, waiting for the cozy haze to lift and Ghost to kick him out. But it never does, and the time between his eyes closing and opening slowly becomes longer and longer.

He must’ve properly fallen asleep when he’s jolted awake by the sound of plastic on plastic. Ghost had switched off his machine and was clamping closed a large, sorted box of pins. He glances back at Soap,

“Go to sleep, Mactavish.”

And Soap is nothing if not trusting of Ghost, so he does as he’s told. He’s woken again, briefly, by Ghost pulling the quilt out from underneath where he’d laid on top of it. There’s a rush of cold air, a dip in the bed beside him, and then the warm blanket being draped over him.

He makes a slight noise of alarm as he realizes it’s Ghost crawling into bed with him. Ghost huffs and grabs him by the arm, stopping him from sitting up and pulling his head to rest on a pillow in one motion. He lets go, then, and turns away from Soap.

“You can go if you want.” He rasps. Soap belatedly realizes he hadn’t talked to the other man much the previous day. He hums in clumsy thanks before finally falling asleep.

Later, Soap asks (he doesn’t beg, he’s a grown adult) Ghost to make him a quilt. He doesn’t expect him to say yes, or to have him pick the patterns, or to let him intrude on his room again almost nightly, but Ghost does.

They both know it’s not about the quilt.