#repeating in my head over and over WHAT IF THEY HAD BABIES WHAT IF THEY HAD BA

[whimsicalwritersstuff]

── The Chicken incident.

Pairing: gumpy!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: you're soft, a little impulsive, and deeply in love with your chickens. Joel… is trying his best.

Content warnings: Contains chickens, domestic chaos, stubborness, rural home outside of town and a LOT of flapping.

Word count: 668

Notes: I've had this cute little idea for soo long and I've been debating about it if I should or should not write it but went for it anyways, I loooved writing this one soo much and I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I did!! ^^ 💛💛

The first mistake was telling Joel you were just going to look at the feed store.

The second mistake was brining your wallet.

By the time you pulled into the driveway with a cardboard box chirping on the passenger seat, you knew you were dead.

"It's fine," you whispered to yourself, lifting the box out of the truck with both hands. "He loves animals. He loves me. He won't even be that mad." The chickens chirped louder, as if mocking you.

You tippptoed up the porch, box tucked in your arms like a sacred offering, hammering with both guilt and joy.

Joel was already waiting at the door.

Grey t shirt, scowl in place, arms crossed. Classic 'i heard that truck the second it turned on the gravel" stance.

"Tell me that ain't what I think it is," he said flatly.

You gave him your sweetest smile. "They're babies, Joel."

"That's a box of chickens."

"Six chickens," you clarified, as if that helped. "All hens. No roosters. Perfectly quiet. Very cute."

He blinked.

"You told me you were goin' for birdseed."

"I did get birdseed!" You nudged the brown paper bag with your foot. "For these bjrde. So technically -"

"You brought livestock into our house, honey."

"They're babies," you repeated, like that solved everything. "Little peeping marshmallows." You carefully opened the top of the box to show him. Six fluffy chicks blinked up at you, golden and downy and completely unaware of the tension in the room..

Joel stared into the box like it might explode.

"They're not even outside animals yet," you said quickly. "They'll need a warm crate inside for a few weeks. I'll set it up in the laundry room."

"So we're raisin' birds in the same place I wash my jeans?"

"They won't poop on your jeans."

"You sure?"

You hesitated.

Joel exhaled. "I should've known this would happen the second you walked into that damn sore in overalls and a Pinterest board..."

~~~

By the time evening fell, the chicks were tucked happily in a cozy crate under a heat lamp, and Joel had retreated to the porch with a beer and a deep sigh of resignation.

You joined him not long after, settling into the chair beside him, hands still smelling faintly like chick feed and sawdust.

He gave you a side glance.

"You love those damn birds already."

"Of course I do. They're babies, Joel. They chirp when I talk to them."

"You talked to 'em for twenty minutes."

"One of them leaned her name."

Joel took a sip of his beer, mumbling, "Jesus Christ..." But hisjps twitched in amusement. You leaned your head on his shoude. "You'llove them eventually."

"I won't."

"You will. You're gonna name them and build them a coop and everything."

"I'm not building no chicken castle."

You patted his thigh affectionately. "We'll see."

~~~

The next morning you were halfway through breakfast when a wild screech echoed from down the hallway, followed by a crash and a very loud southern:

"What the hell is that doin' in the shower?!"

You dropped your toast and sprinted to the bathroom.

There, stood a very bold, very unbothered chick, peeping wildly, wet feet leaving muddy prints on the porcelain edge of the tub.

Joel was half naked, dripping, holding the shower curtainike a shield,face somewhere between exasperated rage and absolute disbelief. "WHY is there a chicken in the shower??"

You clapped ahand over your mouth to keep from laughing. "Oh my god, peaches!"

"Peaches?! You named it?"

"Shes adventurous!'

Joel looked at the chick, then at you, then at the chick.

"She watched me get in the damn shower. Then she got in with me."

You stepped forward, scooping peaches into your hands like a contritle toddler. "She must've hopped out of the crate, I swear I closed the lid!" Joel wiped a hand down his wed face. "That he's saw me naked."

You giggled. "So what?? You're handsome."

Joel gave you warning glare.

~~~

That night,

Joel sat in the Livingroom, reading a manual on chicken coops, you passed by holding peaches, "she apologized for the shower thing." You said sweetly.

Joel didn't look up. "Tell her she's grounded."

"You're such a good chicken dad,"

"I'm not their dad. I'm their victim."

You leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Sure, daddy."

He glared. "Don't."

You winked and walked away, Barbara peeping softly.

Soon you and joel sat on the back porch with coke and beer respectively, watching the hens peck lazily in the grass. Joel sighed, his arm around your shoulders.

"They're a menace."

"They're our girls."

"You spoil 'em more than you spoil me."

"They'll lay breakfast. You just steal the covers."

He smirked. "They don't make you scream my name in the middle of the night."

You choked on your coke. "Joel! The chickens are right there.."

He kissed your cheek. "They don't speak English."

[thatonegrimm]

🌙 Saja Boys – Drabbles # 3

🧿 Jinu “Wrong Familiar”

You were halfway through your sandwich in the park when Jinu looked down at his feet and went pale.

“That’s not Derpy.”

You blinked. “What?”

He pointed at the massive striped tiger sitting calmly beside him, licking its paw like it owned the bench.

“That’s. Not. Derpy,” he repeated.

In the distance, a zookeeper screamed. Children scattered.

The tiger purred and leaned against Jinu’s leg.

He looked at you in panic. “Say nothing. Walk slowly.”

You took his hand, trying very hard not to laugh. “You really just attract chaos, huh?”

💪 Abby “Cooking is Cardio”

When you walked into the kitchen, Abby was already mid-spin, apron flowing, spatula in hand.

“Welcome to Iron Chef: Boyfriend Edition,” he announced. “Today we’re cooking with passion. And cheese.”

He flexed one arm while cracking an egg with the other. The egg mostly landed in the pan.

You laughed. “Is that a smoke alarm or applause?”

Romance popped in briefly, phone raised. “Don’t stop him. This is performance art.”

You leaned against the counter, watching Abby shimmy while sprinkling cheese.

“Cooking is like cardio,” he said, placing a perfect omelet in front of you. “But this comes with kisses.”

📚 Mystery “Ceiling Thoughts”

You looked up and saw him lying flat on the ceiling.

Again.

“Mystery,” you said gently, “you know normal people sit on couches, right?”

He didn’t answer at first. Then: “The stars aren’t gone. They’re just... waiting.”

You smiled. “And what are you waiting for?”

He dropped from the ceiling like a cat, landing soundlessly. “Warmth.”

You handed him a pancake Abby left for you, still warm in your hands. Mystery took it with both palms like it was sacred.

He leaned against you on the couch, chewing silently.

You didn’t say it out loud, but you felt it too: he’d found it.

💋 Romance “Emergency Lip Gloss”

The demon burst through the alley wall like a wrecking ball.

The boys jumped into action—Abby flexing like a tank, Mystery fading into the shadows, Jinu shouting instructions.

Romance froze. “Wait. Where’s my gloss?”

You stared at him. “Now?!”

He rummaged in his jacket. “Not matte, not matte, not—YES!” He triumphantly pulled out a glittery tube of lip gloss.

You sighed. “You’re gonna die pretty, huh?”

He applied it mid-dodge, spun, and kicked the demon so hard it hit a dumpster.

Then he landed next to you, lips shimmering. “Aesthetic violence. You like?”

“…I hate how much I do.”

🔥 Baby “Daycare Drop Off”

You had just turned the corner when the teacher-demon reached out and patted Baby on the head.

“Aww,” she cooed. “You must be so lost—”

“I smell something rotting under your skin,” he said flatly.

The woman’s face melted into her true form. You sighed, reaching for your blade, but Baby was already swinging his backpack like a spiked weapon.

By the time the others arrived, the classroom was smoking and the demon was unconscious. Baby was calmly drinking a juice box, one leg crossed over the other.

“I handled it,” he said.

You ruffled his hair. “Yeah. You did.”

M-List

[koalaflower]

bllk boys !

controlling your vibrator ⋆｡°✩

— shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, sae itoshi.

includes. afab!reader. toys, public teasing, orgasm denial, binds, established relationships, no explicit fucking, heavily implied sex.

shidou ryusei ☆

oh, you gave this power to the wrong guy. the moment you were engaged in conversation, distracted, or had simply forgotten the fact you had a mini vibrator inside you, he’d turn it on again. there’s a wolfish grin on his face, relishing every stutter and whimper you let out. you wanted this, so don’t get mad at him for playing along.

“y/n~ you were saying?” he rests his head on his palms, staring at you adoringly as he cranks the vibrations up. one of your old friends had the unfortunate luck of running into you today, entrapping you in an agonizingly long conversation with them. he kept his eye on you, transfixed by the way your leg thumps up and down against the table like an anxious little bunny.

you shoot him a quick glare, about to repeat yourself when your back shoots up straight, a little yelp slipping out at the sudden onslaught of vibrations. he almost snickers, but he holds it in, cocking his head to the side instead. “what’s wrong, baby? feeling unwell?” he coos, pretending to press the back of his palm to your forehead in faux concern. you turn to your friend, offering tight-lipped apologies, but he sees the way your fingers grasp at the edge of your seat. shidou leans in a little closer, breath brushing against your already reddened ears. “tell him to fuck off already. i’m getting bored,” he pouts. his voice is level, but his expression is anything but, boring into you with a ravenous hunger.

he was going to have so much fun with you tonight.

nagi seishiro ☆

he blinks down at the remote cluelessly. what is this? part of a new gaming console? he’d tried playing with the on and off button or what he assumes is the volume meter, his thumb nudging the switches up and down, but to no avail. before he could do any more damage, he hears hurried footsteps and a distant hum.

“s-sei, have you seen my…” you trail off, eyes widening when you notice the circular remote in nagi’s hand. you look flushed, and he can’t figure out why. your legs are pressed together, brows pinched tight as you lean against the sofa for support. “your?” he echoes monotonously, already seeming bored of the mysterious gadget as he unknowingly bumps it up to max.

“hnng… sei,” you gasp, the vibrations hitting your clit just right. it’s not until he looks at you again—really looks at you—that he puts two and two together. his brows raise just slightly, holding onto the device tight when you attempt to swipe it from his hand. “so that’s what this is…” he holds it up to your face almost tauntingly, making your cheeks grow redder. “sei, g-give it back!” he pulls it back before you can reach out, fully intent on exploring all of its features.

“don’t wanna. can’t i test it out first?”

itoshi sae ☆

how cheeky of you, to buy this without his knowledge. he drags his thumb up his phone screen, watching as you writhe and squirm, pitiful moans mixed with a quiet buzzing. “again? what was that, the third time?” he teases, a playful lilt in his usually apathetic tone. he’s been at this for what felt like hours, bringing you to the brink of satisfaction before lowering the vibrations again and again. you were needy and sensitive, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t going to give you what you really wanted. not yet.

“p-please, sae,” you beg pathetically, thighs rubbing against each other as you’re denied again. he gazes at you like you’re art set in motion, eyes raking over your naked and bound body. “didn’t know they made apps for this,” he says, testing the different rhythms and paces with a casualty that made you shudder in need. “so innovative.” he finally settles on one.

the leather digs into your wrists, making you whine as the vibrator hums. you were already making such a mess, cunt drooling and soaking the sheets. “s-sae, mmf, fuck!” your head falls back, lips parting into a pretty ‘o’ shape when he glides his thumb all the way up again. “c-coming! ‘m gonna—“ before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, phone completely discarded as he pulls the vibrator out of your greedy walls, making you cry in frustration. sae tilts your head up, leaning close enough that you can smell his cologne. “wouldn’t you prefer the real thing?”

that shuts you up real quick.

[chromehoney]

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME, chap one, chap two, chap three, chap four.

synopsis; After a messy, short-lived situationship with Stack—reckless, flirtatious, and all the wrong kinds of possessive—you swear you’re done with hood boys who can’t keep up. But when you drop something off at his mother’s store and find both Stack and his older twin brother Smoke inside, something shifts.

Two weeks passed.

Fast, but heavy.

You hadn’t seen Stack since the pool party—not in person, not online, not even on accident. Word in the group chats was that he was “back on” with Mary, whatever that meant. You didn’t care enough to ask. Not officially. But every time you slid through Ms. Moore’s shop lately, it was Smoke sitting by the register, not Stack.

And Smoke?

He’d been showing you attention like he had time to make up for. Late-night texts turned into all-day conversations. Good morning messages that sounded deeper than friendly. You found yourself laughing at your phone more than you meant to. Thinking about his hands when they brushed yours. Replaying that poolside kiss in the back of your head like a favorite song.

He didn’t move fast. But he moved with intention. Which is why it felt so weird when, today, you pulled open the beauty shop door and saw Stack behind the counter. Not Smoke. Not Ms. Moore. Him. His eyes snapped up before the bell even finished jingling.

He froze.

You stopped mid-step, but it was too late to turn around now.

He looked the same—white tee, black jeans, chain glinting under the soft yellow lights. Only difference was… his energy. He looked at you like you weren’t supposed to be there. Like you’d messed something up just by walking in.

“Oh,” you said dryly. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“Clearly,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

You walked past him anyway, hips swaying more than usual out of spite, and headed straight to the haircare aisle just as Ms. Moore came out from the back. “My favorite girl!” she smiled, arms open. “What you doin’ back again, baby?” “Needed more of that aloe oil,” you said, hugging her. “My scalp been actin’ up.”

She nodded knowingly and handed you a jar without hesitation. You two talked for a few minutes—hair textures, protective styles, whether or not you should try copper highlights this summer. The whole time, you could feel Stack’s gaze on you from behind. He wasn’t even subtle. His jaw was tight. His hands flexed against the counter like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it without cussing.

Eventually, Ms. Moore was called to the back by a client, promising she’d be back in five. You were halfway to the register when Stack finally moved.You didn’t hear his steps—you just felt him near.“So,” he started, low and rough behind you. “What’s up with you and Smoke?” You blinked. Turned halfway. “What you mean?” “I mean,” he stepped closer, “he been smilin’ lately. Textin’ all the damn time. That ain’t like him.” You crossed your arms. “You keepin’ tabs on your brother’s moods now?”

“Nah, I keep tabs on you.” That made your brow arch. You scoffed. “Go be with Mary. Mind her business instead.”He kissed his teeth hard. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your waist, warm and too familiar.

“Cut that shit out wit’ me.”

You frowned. “What—?”

“Cut that shit out,” he repeated, stepping closer, voice lower, darker. “You tryna act like I ain’t ever mean nothin’. Like you ain’t still think about me. Like you cool just givin’ that mouth to my brother.” You froze. His grip on your waist wasn’t tight—but it was there. And it was him. All over again. That same heat. That same pressure. That same familiar pull.

“Stack—”

“You think you gon’ play me to the side and play house wit’ Smoke? That what you think this is?” His voice was so close to your ear now. You could smell the mint on his breath. Could feel the jealousy sitting behind his teeth. “Touch me again and I’ma scream,” you said, soft but sharp.

He let go. But his eyes didn’t back off.

“You just gon’ throw all that away, huh?” he muttered. “For him?” You straightened your top and stepped away. “You already threw it away. I’m just finally done holdin’ it.” Stack didn’t respond. Just watched you with that same bitter grimace as you walked to the counter and rang yourself up. Ms. Moore returned just in time to hand you a sample bag and a smile.

“See you next week, baby.”

“Yup,” you said, eyes pointedly avoiding Stack’s. “Hopefully Smoke’ll be back by then.” And then you walked out. Not flinching. Not looking back. Even if your stomach was doing flips.

who yall think she gone end up wit? and don’t mind how short this shit is, i just wanted to put something out before the fourth of july andddd before my birthday since it is next week! and i ain’t gone be thinking bout writing while i do my birthday festivities! as always ignore errors.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers!

taglist for this series! @thickianaaaa @gwenda-fav @spicypiscesssss @d1gitalb4rbie @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @queenofklonnie22 @gunznroses4life @mjustag1rl @maniifesto @nikkitheunpredict @yana3sworld @katezy2x @kqmbr1a @5starsirl @bl3ssyn

[goldfades]

no thoughts—just munch joe

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

ᝰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | compilation of munch joe burrow thoughts... need i say more?

ᝰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut! oral (fem. receiving), praise, unedited, third person and no use of y/n, cumming in his pants... um 🙂‍↕️🤗

ᝰ 𝒆𝒗'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 | im ovulating. no comment. i hope yall enjoy this compilation of munch joe <3

it starts off as a joke.

just a throwaway comment joe said once on a mic’d up game day video when a media guy asks him what his pregame meal is:

“pregame meal?” he repeats with a smirk. “my girl.”

(followed by a shoulder shrug and a sly little “what?” when the guys around him start clowning.)

everyone loses it.

it becomes an inside joke on the team—guys are always side-eyeing him pregame like

“yo, joey—did you eat?”

and he’s always straight-faced: “yep. full plate. my girl special.”

but the thing is… it’s not a joke. not really. he’s deadass.

joe swears by it—swears his best games, the ones where he’s locked in, extra aggressive without breaking a sweat—they all have one thing in common: he got a taste of his girl that morning.

like this man has it down to a routine.

home games? he wakes her up early, rolls her over and eats her like it’s brunch service and he’s on shift.

road games? if she’s there with him, even better—he’s lifting her up onto the hotel sink or laying her across the bed, jersey pushed up, her legs over his shoulders while he mutters something about

“can’t play hungry.” or like, “this is the real carb load.”

even if he can’t finish (like they’re pressed for time or he doesn’t want to be late), he still makes it a point to at least get his “appetizer” in. just a couple minutes of her thighs shaking around his head and his hands gripping her tighter than he does a ball.

he’s so convinced it works that when he has a bad game, he’ll literally go back and say:

“i didn’t eat.”

and the guys know exactly what he means.

his girl is mortified every time he says it out loud—and he says it a LOT. interviews? podcasts? casually in the locker room?

if anyone asks about superstition or game prep, he’s like:

“oh yeah. i got a secret pregame routine. tastes better than anything on the team menu.”

so now it’s canon.

“my girl is my pregame meal.”

he says it proudly. smugly. and his girl hates it and loves it at the same time.

because it’s funny—but also he means it with his whole chest.

--

the first time joe had came from eating you out, it was rare—accidental, even. the first time, he didn’t even notice. joe was just locked in, deep in the zone, her thighs around his head and hands in his curls and her voice shaking in his echoing in his ears like—

“j–joe, i’m gonna—”

“good.”

“baby i—”

“i said good.”

and that was all it took. he came in his boxers. fully.

like he didn’t even process it until a few minutes later, when he finally sat up, pupils blown, chest heaving and he realized he was soaked.

she thought it was hot as hell—kept teasing him like,

“damn… didn’t even need me to touch you, huh?”

but joe was literally stunned. like his whole life changed that day. he was already obsessed with eating her out before—but now? now he had proof it was enough.

that he could get off just from her reactions, just from the way she tasted, just from her body trembling under his.

so it kept happening. more and more frequently.

especially when:

she’s pulling his hair while whispering filthy encouragement

she’s being bratty earlier and he’s “shutting her up”

she’s overstimmed and begging and he wants to watch her come undone again

she’s riding his face with both hands in his curls and he’s moaning into her

those are the dangerous combos. he’ll finish in sweats, in tight compression shorts, sometimes even while holding himself back from fully grinding into the bed ora pillow.

like he’ll try to keep it under control but it’s just too much sometimes.

and she knows, she always knows. like her favorite thing to say afterwards is:

“you came again, huh?”

“jesus, joey, you’re actually sick in the head.”

and he just wipes his mouth and shrugs like,

“told you i didn’t need anything else.”

“you’re the whole damn meal.”

(he’s not joking either.)

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[douceurrrr]

“say that again” 🇪🇸

cw: 18+ smut (oral both ways, dirty talk in both languages, praise kink, dom energy, slow tension buildup, reader with dark skin/bonnet mention/stretch marks, handsy pepe, “repeat after me” kink)

you weren’t even paying attention.

you were walking through the dressing room, bonnet on, lip gloss shining, water bottle in hand — when you heard pepe’s voice.

low. smooth. spanish.

and whatever he was saying?

you had no clue.

but it made your knees go weak.

he was talking to bryan, back turned, lips moving in that deep, soft rhythm that made you stop in your tracks.

“ella se ve tan jodidamente buena cuando se muerde el labio…”

you blinked.

“…y si ella me pide que le enseñe algo esta noche, lo voy a hacer con la boca primero.”

your breath caught.

you didn’t speak spanish — but that last part?

you knew what he meant.

he turned. saw you.

didn’t flinch.

just smirked.

“you good, mami?”

mami.

you swallowed hard and nodded.

“just… passing through.”

he looked you up and down slowly, dragging his eyes over your thighs, your waist beads peeking out from under your tee.

“you sure? ‘cause you look a little… distracted.”

“what were you saying?”

he tilted his head, lips twitching.

“just chatting.”

“in spanish?”

“mhmm.”

“say it again.”

he stepped closer.

“you want me to translate?”

you nodded.

he leaned in — so close his breath hit your neck.

“i said you look so fucking good when you bite your lip.”

you exhaled slowly.

“and the rest?”

“i said… if you ask me to show you something tonight—”

his lips brushed your ear.

“i’m gonna do it with my mouth first.”

you should’ve walked away.

should’ve said something smart.

should’ve laughed it off.

instead, you whispered:

“then show me.”

he kissed you slow.

real slow.

hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, like he’d been starving for it.

his tongue slid into your mouth — warm, teasing — and when you moaned, he smiled.

“mm… that sound,” he muttered. “you make it so easy to get addicted.”

⸻

he didn’t take you to the hideaway.

he took you to the downstairs hallway bathroom — locked the door, turned off the lights, and kissed you against the sink.

the mirror behind you fogged up in seconds.

“you still want translations?” he asked, pulling your shirt up.

“only if they’re nasty.”

his grin went sharp.

“okay… say quiero sentirte.”

“kee… eh…?”

he laughed softly.

“i’ll teach you later. right now? i want to taste you.”

he dropped to his knees.

dragged your shorts down.

pressed kisses to your thighs.

“you ever had your name moaned in two languages, princesa?”

you gasped as his mouth closed around your clit.

he licked you like he meant it.

slow, focused, like he wanted to remember your taste.

“tan dulce…”

you didn’t know the words, but his tongue translated for you.

you gripped the edge of the counter, moaning, hips twitching.

“you gonna cum for me?” he asked, switching back to english.

“yes—yes, please—”

“that’s it, baby. just like that.”

you came with his mouth still on you, thighs trembling, voice caught in your throat.

he stood up, kissed you hard, and flipped you around.

“you good?”

you nodded breathlessly.

“still want more?”

“yes.”

“then say más.”

“más.”

“good girl.”

he slid into you from behind in one deep stroke, groaning low in your ear.

“so fucking tight,” he growled. “you take me so good.”

your hands braced on the counter.

he kept one hand on your waist and the other wrapped around your throat — not hard, just a little pressure to keep you focused.

“you’re mine tonight. say it.”

“i’m yours.”

“again.”

“soy tuya.”

he groaned again, hips snapping harder now.

you lost track of the words.

but you didn’t need them.

his body said everything.

you felt the knots in your stomach falter as his thrusts became sloppy and inconsistent.

you came again.

he followed, whispering filth in spanish, his breath ragged, your name tangled in his moans.

after?

he helped you fix your clothes.

kissed your shoulder.

tugged your bonnet straight.

“you wanna learn some more spanish tomorrow?” he asked softly.

“depends,” you smirked. “you gonna be my teacher?”

he laughed.

“only if you keep being such a good student.”

[likeanangell]

Thinking about….overprotective girldad!quinn

SYN. When your three year old daughter, Melody, is confused and teary after some girls make fun of her curly hair.

WARNINGS. teasing/bullying

AN. For my curly haired queens! (also peep Demi’s hair :)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🧁♡

“they said it’s ugly.”

her voice was so small you almost didn’t hear it.

Quinn’s hands stilled behind her head, gentle fingers frozen in middle of the braid.

you looked up from across the bathroom, mascara wand in hand.

“what, baby?”

melody sat on the counter in her little leotard, pale pink with satin ribbon crisscrossed over her tiny chest. she was all glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, fingers picking nervously at the tulle. her curls were damp from the morning spritz, one braid done, the other barely started.

she had been acting weird about going to ballet practice. You could only guess she couldn’t handle it anymore, and spilled

“my hair,” she said, blinking fast. “some girls said it’s ugly”

your heart dropped. Quinn’s face didn’t move, but you saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

“what girls?” he asked quietly.

melody shrugged. “just some in the class. they said it looks messy. and one girl said it’s so hard to look at.”

you blinked hard.

your hand lowered.

Quinn crouched slightly, brushing one of her golden spirals off her cheek. “did they say anything else?”

she nodded, eyes filling. “they said uhm … they said their mommies do their hair the right way. and that i should ask mommy to make mine flat.”

melody shifted on the counter, voice thick and shaky. “but I like it…”

Quinn’s fingers clenched at his sides.

he didn’t say anything for a second. just looked at her, looked at you. your eyes were already wet. she didn’t even realize what was happening … not really. she was just repeating things. things she’d heard. things she felt.

“baby,” you said softly, gently rubbing her back. “your hair is beautiful. so beautiful.”

she sniffled. “i know you think that.”

“and you know who else does?” Quinn asked, clearing his throat. “Your uncle Lukey, he has the same hair as you”

melody nodded slowly, “He said I look like a ballerina.”

“you are a ballerina,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “and ballerinas can have any kind of hair they want.”

you felt your throat burn as you watched him finish her braid while she stared at him through the mirror. he was quieter now. a little too quiet.

when melody hopped down from the counter to go grab her coat and shoes, Quinn’s jaw locked again.

“we’re talking to her teacher.” he said low.

you bit your lip. “Qui—”

“no.” he glanced at you. “i don’t care if they’re kids. i don’t care if it’s a ‘phase’ or if they ‘don’t know better.’ someone needs to tell them. i’ll do it nicely. but i’m not letting her think there’s something wrong with her.”

you nodded, wiping your cheeks.

“we could switch studios,” you said softly. “i don’t want her somewhere that makes her like that.”

“she loves it there,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “she loves the music and the teachers. she’s good there.”

you blinked hard, watching melody in the mirror, twirling in her tutu, her curls bouncing with each spin.

“okay,” you said, voice quiet.

and that afternoon, after class, you knelt beside melody while Quinn talked to her teacher, Mrs Greta.

She said that her and the other teachers had no idea that this was going on. They would be having chats with the girls and their parents about the situation.

in the car on the way home, with her water bottle in her lap and her bunny clutched in one hand, melody whispered

“i love you mommy, and daddy.”

Quinn reached back and squeezed her ankle gently.

“We love you more, baby”

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. Hope y’all enjoyed…and for the record I wouldn’t call this “overprotective” but I needed a title

[mustyrosewater]

𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙

𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖐 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖝 𝖆𝖋𝖆𝖇!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 : (𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲) 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 6,921

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: a halloween party held by julia ends up having a much more promising conclusion, as the leaves start to fall off the tree's and spirit halloween pop up stores begin to appear, so too do devious ideas and thoughts.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: p in v sex, use of daddy and the traffic light system, drinking and weed smoking, rough erik is good erik, references to the movie creep.

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: halloween fics in july? more likely than you'd think. while this is technically a part two of after dark, it can be read on its own, something a little bit shorter to keep you all satiated in between chapters of midnight sky and getting my first tryst fic off of the ground, enjoy!

The chill in the Autumn air that came around every October brought with it the opening of Spirit Halloween pop-up shops, pumpkin-spiced-flavored everything, and the ever-repeating question.

“What are we gonna go as for Halloween?” 

Erik’s gaze turned away from the TV and over to you, your sudden question breaking through the silence, only to result in him furrowing his brows.

“What?”

Fairly distracted by what he was playing when you’d first asked, you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend and poked at one of the legs that was thrown over your lap, making him jump slightly.

“What should we be for Halloween?” you repeated, making a point of enunciating the words in an exaggerated way as you smiled, tilting your head as Erik turned back to the tv.

“No fuckin’ clue.” he shrugged, continuing to play but still maintaining at least some concentration on your conversation. 

“Well, Julia’s party is next week, so we have to think of something.”

With Julia moving into her own house, it had been fitting that she’d chosen a Halloween party as her own version of a little christening, promising that it was going to be one to remember. 

The little “Uh huh.” Erik made had you letting out a huff and rising suddenly, pushing his legs off of your lap and turning to face him with your hands on your hips, looking down at him with an unimpressed expression.

“Baby, I’m serious.” you spoke, leaning forward to grab the controller out his hand, watching him let out a sudden sound of protest as you held it away from him when he tried to reach for it. “If i have to scramble last minute to find a costume for you, i’m gonna be pissed.” 

Erik only grunted as he reached for the controller that you were now holding above your head from where you stood, even if he knew he could just stand up from the couch and be a whole head taller than you to grab it with ease, he stayed seated, glaring up at you.

“Okay, okay, fine.” he huffed, stopping his reaching only for a moment before he gripped your wrist and dragged you back down, falling onto his lap with a squeal and trying to keep holding the controller away from him as his hands found their way onto your waist. “We’ll go to Spirit Halloween tomorrow, you happy now? You fuckin’ brat.” he muttered the last part.

You couldn’t exactly argue with such a statement, especially not when a smug smile came across your face, nodding your head as you handed him back his controller.

Moving to rise from his lap, Erik’s grip on your hips remained, keeping you planted there on his thighs as he tossed the controller by his side on the couch.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he asked with raised eyebrows, his face suddenly disappearing into the crook of your neck as you let out another small squeal. 

-

Without a doubt, each time a Spirit Halloween popped up in your town, you still managed to get the same amount of joy each year you returned, if not more.

The aisle was littered with masks hanging on the wall, ranging from Michael Myers to Pennywise, the choices being limitless, well-known, as well as obscure choices for you to pick from.

Behind you, Erik followed along with his hands in his pockets, lazily looking up and down the walls at all of the options without a huge amount of care, letting you take the lead in directing the pair of you around the store to look at all of the possible costumes you could wear next week.

Reaching out for one of the bagged costumes, you turn around and hold it up to Erik, watching his face morph into disgust as he looked at the costume, only to look back up at you.

“Absolutely not.” he stated, shaking his head and pulling the costume out of your hand and hanging it back up on the wall.

“Really? Art the clown is cool though!” you protested, reaching for one of the pairs of flower sunglasses that were part of the display, just the same as in the movie, sliding them onto your face and turning back to tilt your head at Erik. “I thought you liked that movie.” you mused, only for Erik to pull the sunglasses off of your face.

“I’m not dressing as a fuckin’ clown.” he spoke, a small, amused smile appearing on his face as he put the sunglasses back.

Pouting, you sighed and turned back around, walking further through the aisle and continuing on your quest to try and find something for him to wear.

“For someone who didn’t seem to care that much, you’re being really picky.” you sighed, swinging your arms as you walked, exacerbated by your options being continuously refused.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something else, you felt his hand on your shoulder making you turn around to face him again, now seeing him holding one of the masks up that he must have gotten off the wall, looking at you with raised eyebrows and a grin.

Looking down at what he’d picked up, your eyes raked over a silicone mask with tufts of hair on it, modelled to look like a werewolf with a frozen snarling expression. 

As much as it was a minimal effort costume, you reached forward to take it out of his hands and inspect it, running your fingers over the fake fur and ears, a small exhale of laughter leaving you.

“What do you say, little red?” he asked. “Wanna go home and dig around for that hood?” 

Looking back up at Erik, his face had now morphed into a smirk, quirking his eyebrows at you in a way that read nothing but absolute debauchery, already knowing exactly what he was talking about.

That same little red riding hood costume you’d worn about five Halloween’s ago before the pair of you had gotten together, when you were fresh out of high school graduation and going to a Halloween party with his sister. 

Pushing the mask back into his hands, you narrowed your eyes at him before jerking your head in the direction of the checkout. 

“Ring it up then.” 

-

Over the course of that week, you’d taken the liberty of gathering up the other things that would be needed for a convincing werewolf costume, a pair of jeans from the thrift store to splatter some fake blood on, as well as an old shirt you could put a bit of wear and tear in. 

Even if Erik was content pulling off a lazy costume, you weren’t. 

Now here you were, applying the last little touches to your makeup and looking yourself over in your mirror, adjusting the costume that was now sitting snugly on your body. 

Even taking the trouble to pull on the thigh highs with the little bows on the end, you were the perfect picture of a little red riding hood, just as you’d been a few years ago. 

Loud knocking on the bathroom door made you jump, feeling the slightest bit thankful you hadn’t been trying to apply any makeup as you did. 

“Are you finished?” Erik’s annoyed voice came out muffled on the other end, obviously getting a bit sick of waiting on the couch in his costume for you finish getting ready. 

“Just a second!” you called out, lacing up your boot and turning to grab your purse.

“If you don’t let me in..” he started, earning an immediate roll of the eyes from you “i’ll huff, i’ll puff, and i’ll-“

Before he could finish his sentence, you swung open the door, staring up at him with a raised brow. 

Mask in hand and costume on, Erik didn’t bother to hide the way he was looking you over, a low whistle leaving him as he put a hand on your waist. 

“We might not make it to the party.” he laughed, reaching down to pinch your butt as you tried to push past him, earning a small yelp from you. 

Smacking his hands away with a laugh that you couldn’t hold back, you reached to grab your keys and placed them in your purse, already feeling a pair of arms wrapping around you from behind, an annoyed groan leaving your lips and you gripped Erik’s wrists. 

“Eriikkk..” you whined, trying to wrestle his hands off of you and walk for the door, only for him to follow your steps and walk with you. 

“I can’t help it, I just wanna eat you.” he teased, finally pulling his arms away from you so that you could open the door, readying yourself for the short walk to Julia’s house. 

Before you opened the door, you turned to have one final look in the mirror, smoothing down your skirt as Erik came to stand behind you. 

Pulling out your phone, you smiled as you opened on the camera, wanting a nice little memory before you left the house.

“Baby, put the mask on.” you asked softly, holding up your phone as you tried to frame the mirror selfie nicely. 

“Kinky.” he laughed, receiving a momentary glare from you before he pulled the mask over his head, making a show of posing with his arms over you and clawing his hands, looking like he was about to strike. 

Snapping the photo, you grinned as you looked at it and turned the phone to show Erik who pulled up his mask and let it rest on the top of his head. 

He nodded his head in approval at the photo, turning to give you a quick kiss on the head.

“Does this mean the mask stays on in bed?”

Making a show of sighing loudly, even if your smile gave away your amusement at his antics, you continued walking and let him shut the door behind you. 

-

If there was one thing that the Campbell’s seemed to take pride in, it was their ability to host, Julia’s house was decked out in string lights and fake spider webs hanging from the ceiling, music already blaring by the time you’d both arrived. 

Making the rounds and saying hello to everybody, Julia had brought you guys both something to drink before scurrying away again to be a good host, fittingly dressed as tinkerbell with wings and a little green dress. 

The fire pit outside had been where you decided to settle in, setting yourself down on Erik’s lap as he sat on one of the deck chairs, comfortably sipping at your drinks while you chatted with a few of the other guests. 

Drinks continued to flow, courtesy of your host, even a joint got passed around the fire pit, which Erik held for you to take a hit of, grinning like an idiot while you sat on his lap. 

By the time the party was starting to move inside, the pair of you were feeling fairly inebriated, nearly tripping as you walked up the small steps to get back inside the house where the music was pumping louder than it had been when you arrived. 

It hadn’t taken long for you and Erik to drift away from each other in the small sea of people, both spotting people you knew and separating to go and talk with them.

You stood in the kitchen with Julia, sipping at your drinks and laughing loudly, taking a few selfies that you were certain weren’t going to look anywhere as good in the morning as you thought they did now. 

“I can’t believe you wore that again.” Julia wheezed, gesturing to the little red riding hood costume, memories of one of the first halloween parties you went to with Julia coming flooding back.

“Remember when I nearly sprained my ankle on the curb cause we had a bottle of vodka between us?” you spoke through your laughter.

It was your phone buzzing that caught your attention, a message coming through which you squinted your eyes to read, your vision having now become the slightest bit blurred after the amount of drinks you’d consumed. 

You could see it was from Erik, nothing more than a simple one word text. 

‘Bathroom.’ 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you messaged back asking if he was okay, only to receive radio silence in return. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” you asked Julia, who pointed towards the stairs at the end of the kitchen. 

“Just up the stairs and left down the hallway.” she directed, turning back to keep talking to other people with you in the kitchen.

Putting your phone back in your purse, you ventured through the kitchen and began climbing the stairs, your initial worry being that you’d find your boyfriend hunched over the toilet throwing up his guts, or that maybe he’d done something in a bout to impress a friend and now needed to go to the emergency room. 

Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you peered down the hallway and could see a closed door with a light on, assumption leading to to believe that must have been exactly where Julia was talking about. 

Walking down the hallway, you reached the door and tried to door knob, finding it locked. Furrowing your brows, you knocked on the door lightly. 

“Erik, baby, you in there?” 

Your words received no response, but you did hear some shuffling and watched a shadow moving through the crack of light at the bottom of the door.

Without any sort of warning, the door was swung open quickly and a flash of light had you shielding your eyes as you were pulled into the bathroom, the door shutting behind you quickly. 

Adjusting to the change of light quickly, you turned around to see Erik standing at the door with his mask over his face, reaching with a hand to lock it once more before he turned to look at you.

In what may have been a bid to intimidate you, you weren’t sure, but as he stood with his back to the door and stared at you not saying a word, a smile formed on your face before you burst out into laughter. 

Slumping his shoulders, Erik dropped the facade.

“What’s so funny?” he enquired, his voice slightly muffled underneath the silicone mask. 

“You look like peachfuzz.” you wheezed, stepping forward to grip the bottom of the mask and pull it up and off his head, looking back at the sight of your boyfriend with his now messed up hair and discouraged expression. 

“Not what i was going for.” he muttered. 

Placing the mask on the basin, you put your hands on his cheeks and tilted your head at him. 

“I thought you were up here sick or something.” you mused, letting your hands move down to rest flat against his chest. 

Shaking his head, Erik only leaned forward to connect his forehead with yours, hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Potentially due to the alcohol, it seemed to be a reflex to lean forward and plant a lazy kiss on his lips as he did the same, gripping his shirt as you pressed him against the door. 

It had just started as a few softly planted kisses for the sake of it, purely because you were both alone and had a moment without distractions. 

Yet the kisses continued to get deeper and didn’t stop where they probably should have. 

Where you had Erik planted on the door, it didn’t take him long to grip your waist and step forward, moving across the small bathroom to have you trapped between him and the sink by your hips, your ass pressing firmly against the basin as his tongue swiped at your bottom lip. 

Letting out a soft moan into his mouth, like that alone had been enough to access some nerve in you, you’re mouth opened up upon reflex, allowing his tongue to slip inside and meet your own, velvet against velvet, the taste of the beers he’d been drinking coming together to mix with the vodka red bull’s you’d been tossing back in the kitchen. 

Your tongues ran against each other as Erik’s hands started to explore further without hesitation, like he was entitled to your body, which of course, he kind of was.

He knew you inside and out, all of the little things he could do to make you a whimpering mess, it wasn’t a difficult task by any means to get you begging for him. 

The bass of the party going on downstairs was the only sound that could be paired with the sounds of a sloppy make out and the occasional moan from you, you were suddenly thankful there was loud speakers and that everybody was downstairs, already you knew there wouldn’t be any stopping what had been started. 

Erik’s hands found their way under your thighs, propping you up to sit on the basin while his hands glided down your thighs and to your knees pushing your legs open with little resistance from you. 

The skirt of the little red riding hood costume was skimpy, and would barely keep you covered if you were to bend over, something that Erik was seemingly using to his advantage, taking a moment to run his thumbs over the little silk bows that were attached to the thigh highs the costume had come with. 

Pulling away only for a second, you sat there panting and looked up at your boyfriend, his hair was messy from pulling off his mask and his face was blushed a subtle hue of orange, just as he always had; letting your eyes travel down further, you could see just how rock hard he was through his jeans, there was no chance of that going down on its own. 

Your lipstick was likely already smudged, probably made worse when Erik’s hand reached forward for your face, his thumb coming to run over your swollen lips and smudge it even more.

“Fucking, look at you..” he breathed, his eyes blown out and his chest rising and falling. 

When you took his thumb into your mouth and shut your eyes, you made a show of sucking on the digit softly, moving your head up and down with a precision and skill that had him outwardly groaning just from the sight. 

“That’s it… you wish that was my cock huh? you wanna taste it that bad..?” 

His words had your eyes opening once more, your mouth opening and releasing his thumb only for you to be promptly sliding off the counter and onto your knees on the cold bathroom tiles, reaching for his belt and scrambling to undo the buckle.

Erik knew he made you like this, and he loved every second of it, when you’d slept together for the first time and he’d been able to tease all of that out of you, it wouldn’t have been the last time. 

Since then, he’d had all the time in the world to learn exactly what it was that made you tick, the things you liked to hear coming out of his mouth and the things he had to do in order to get you positively cock hungry. 

God, he really did just turn you into a slut, and the worst part was, you didn’t even care, you embraced it if anything.

Pulling down his black jeans, you were left with the dark grey boxers that outlined the shape of his cock perfectly, something you couldn’t resist as you opened your mouth and mouthed at the shape through the fabric of his boxers as you looked up at him, running the tip of your tongue along the fabric.

His hand came to rest on the side of your face, which you leaned into for a few seconds, but not before a semi hard slap was delivered to your cheek, enough of a sting to have you gasping, but nowhere near enough to send you off your knees. 

The moan you let out was borderline pathetic, returning straight back to mouthing at his binge through his boxers and letting him grab a fist full of your hair as you pulled them down.

His inhales were sharp, hissing through his teeth when his cock was spring free, the slightly cold air hitting it and sending shivers along his spine. 

You watched as Erik reached down to grab it by the base, holding your mouth open and letting your tongue hang out as he tapped the tip against your flat tongue a couple of times. 

“You want this, huh..?” he teased, pulling your head back by your hair every time you tried to wrap your mouth around the tip and holding you in place. God he could be mean about it. 

Unable to help yourself, you let out a whine, nodding your head as you kept your mouth held open, finding your hands coming to grip at the fabric of jeans that was still hanging loosely around his hips and tug harshly to bring him closer to you. 

The moment the tip of his cock hit your tongue, his grip on your hair loosened and he let you push your head forward to send his cock sliding down your throat, taking him all in an instance until your nose was pressing against his pubic bone. 

“Jesus- shit..” he breathed, head falling back as his hand came out to brace himself against the sink so that he could keep his balance. 

Pulling back, you took a breath for air, adjusting to the harsh entrance in your throat and ran your tongue flat along the underside of his cock and ran your thumb against the tip.

Just as easily as he could turn you into a whimpering mess, you could play him just as easily as a fiddle. 

His mouth fell open as he looked back down at you, taking shallow and quick breaths while you took his cock back into your mouth and began to bob your head at a pace that was quicker than he’d anticipated.

“Holy fuckkk, pretty baby needed my cock in her mouth that bad..?” he mused, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, running along your hair and guiding the bobbing of your head lazily. 

His words had you already bringing your hand between your legs, readying yourself to start running them along your clit when Erik seemed to notice and quickly pulled your head back harshly by your hair, a soft cry leaving you at the pulling as well as the sudden loss of his cock in your mouth. 

“You put those fingers anywhere near your pussy and i’ll make you regret it.” he ordered, his voice low and croaked. 

Your eyes shut and you raised your hands to grip his own hand that was currently pulling at your hair and making your scalp sting.

Another harsh pull had you crying out softly, pulling your head back to open your eyes and look up at Erik as he leaned in to be closer to your face. 

“Colour.” he whispered softly, his eyes taking in a slightly softer feeling as he broke the scene for only a second.

“Green, daddy.” you whispered back, offering him what little of a small smile you could manage, which reassured him enough to be straight back into his mode. 

His hand wrenched your head forward, forcing his cock back down your throat while his other hand came to rest on your head, holding it at either side as he held you in place and began to slowly thrust in and out of your mouth. 

You knew if it got too much you would just have to tap him on the thigh twice and he’d let up, as roughly as he’d always treated you in bed, you trusted him to stop if it ever got too much, just as he’d done before. 

He kept his thrusts slow at first, gave you enough time to get acclimated to the feeling and seeming to speed up with every single thrust he took down your throat. 

Eventually, the light slapping sounds of Erik fucking your throat and holding your head in place were all that could be heard, along with the moans that came from you and the occasional gag when he hit certain spots. 

“You like that..? You fuckin’ slut..” he whispered as he stared down at the sight before him, your mouth wrapped around his cock and letting him fuck your mouth, just kneeling there and taking it. “Wanted my cock that bad, huh?” 

His words made you moan, eyes starting to roll into the back of your head, as much as you wanted to reach down and touch yourself, even if you knew it would have been enough to finish you off right then and there, you held back. 

Daddy had given you an order, and only bad girls don’t do what daddy says. 

The sudden absence of Erik’s pierced cock in your throat had you gasping for hair, a string of milky saliva and pre cum connecting your tongue to the large silver piercing ball that glistened from the moisture. 

You were certain you must have been a sight i behold, mascara running and lipstick smudged as Erik’s pre cum leaked over your tongue. 

His hand came to rest under your chin, raising you up further on your knees as Erik leaned down and spat into your open mouth. 

“Swallow it.” he ordered flatly, watching you close your mouth and swallow what he gave you without any hesitation. 

“Good girl.. such a good fuckin’ girl..” he sighed, the hand on your chin moving to your cheek where you leaned into his touch and shut your eyes, eating up the whispers of praise as if they were being fed to you with a silver spoon.

His hand gripped your upper arm and pulled you back into your feet, wasting no time before he was turning you around to face the mirror and basin, bending you over and forcing you look at the image of yourself that was before you. 

Lines of teared off mascara and swollen lips, your eyes seemed almost glazed over, whoever it was in front of you, you only recognised a part of her. 

“You did so good, baby.” he whispered to you as he began to pull your panties down, no doubt soaked, and guided you to step out of them, stuffing them into his back pocket before returning his attention to you.

As he kneeled behind you, you couldn’t help but feel the least bit shy, knowing you were completely exposed to him, especially when you felt his hands resting against you ass cheeks and his thumb beginning to run up and down your slit.

Your whole body shivered and you let out a small whimper, a physical reaction that only seemed to be encouraging Erik.

“Look at that.. god you’re fucking soaked..” he partly whispered to himself and to you, admiring the way your pussy was glistening right in front of him face before he leaned forward and licked a long slow stripe along it with little to no warning.

Your cry couldn’t have been heard thanks to the speakers and being an entire other level up, but you brought your hand to rest over your mouth anyway, unable to stop yourself from whimpering audibly as Erik began to lap at your pussy with mercy, intent on feeling every minute of it. 

He used his thumbs to pull you open, making sure his tongue was reaching deep inside you, leaving you pulsing and your thighs shaking. 

“Tastes like honey.. like you always do..” 

His words weren’t helping when it came to you being a pathetic moaning mess, already feeling your legs starting to struggle more and more to hold your weight up as he continued, moving to focus his mouth on your clit, sucking on it and running his tongue in circles around it that had you clinging to the marble counter for dear life. 

“Please.. daddy..” you cried out, your eyes shut tightly and gritting your teeth, you weren’t even sure yourself how much more of this you could take, coming closer and closer to the brink of organs before-

He pulled away out of nowhere, the sudden lack of attention when you were just that fucking close having you whining out and stamping your foot in frustration. 

“Don’t be like that.” Erik warned as he stood up again, “Otherwise we can stop right here and now.” he offered, looking at you through the reflection and seeing the way horror brushed across your features at the idea of stopping when you’d come so far.

Shaking your head, you felt tears pricking in your eyes. 

“No, no, please daddy, I promise, I'll be a good girl, I will..” 

Your pathetic begging evidently seemed to have an effect of him to some degree, a breathed out chuckle leaving his throat just as he reached forward to lay a harsh smack across your ass which had you crying out and leaning your head forward.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he teased, which had you nodding profusely, only for another smack to land across your other cheek, which had to whimpering softly as your legs shook.

They were harsh, leaving your skin stinging and no doubt red, but you couldn’t stop the soft moans that were following your cries of pain, biting your lip and leaning your head back to look at Erik through the mirror.

“God, look at that slutty little pussy..” he grunted, running his fingers over your slit softly, letting the wetness gather across his finger tips before he plunged his middle and ring finger inside with no warning, invading his way into your pussy which left you with your mouth hanging open and a moan flowing out of it.

Even if he pushed them in and out of you softly initially, when he felt how wet you were, how easily they glided in and out, he immediately began to ram them in and out of you at a bruising pace, leaving you trying to press your legs together which he promptly kicked apart.

“Shh, come on, you can take it, keep those fucking legs open..” he growled, adding a third finger and stretching you open with relative ease, yet still making you inhale sharply and shut your eyes tightly.

As your head fell forward, you immediately felt Erik’s fingers tangling into your hair and forcing your head back up, forcing you to look at him and yourself in the mirror.

His eyes were dark as he stared at the image of you before him, you getting filled up by his fingers, letting out pretty little sounds as your eyes rolled back.

“Look at me..” he breathed, opening your eyes and forcing yourself to keep them open so that you could look across at Erik, a look of deep concentration coming over his features as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you at a pace that had the most pornographic sloppy and wet sounds emanating from behind you.

“You gonna cum on my fingers, princess? you gonna fuckin’ soak em?” His words had you nodding your head, your whines and cries being your own way of begging him to let you cum, even if you were far past the point of being able to form words. 

“Keep looking at me, don’t take your eyes off me, even when you cum, keep your eyes on me.” he ordered, watching as your mouth fell open and your brows furrowed, the telltale look on your face that told him that you were on the brink.

Within only a few more seconds, you felt the tightness in your stomach loosen rapidly, your pussy began to pulse over Erik’s fingers, those same sloppy sounds only getting even wetter as you began to soak his fingers in your release.

Erik didn’t stop pushing his fingers in and out of you until your head hung forward and you reached around to get him to stop, which he did.

You were shaking softly as you began to recover from your orgasm, panting softly and keeping your eyes shut, feeling like one small movement would result in your knees giving out at any second.

As opposed to previously, Erik’s hands on your body were soft, treating you like a little china doll as he stroked your back softly and allowed you to recuperate. 

“You’re okay, baby, you did great.” he whispered softly, keeping you upright with a hand on your hip to maintain your balance.

You felt him lean forward, laying a soft kiss on your cheek which had you humming happily.

“You gonna let me fuck you, baby? you gonna be okay?” 

His question had you taking in a deep breath before nodding, lifting your head once again to finally look at him through the mirror, giving him those puppy dog eyes that always had him doing whatever you wanted him to.

“Just be gentle, please daddy?” 

As you said that, a smirk came over his features, nodding his head as he took hold of his cock and ran the tip over your slit slowly, already electing a few soft whimpers from you.

“Of course I will.” 

With that, he pushed his cock inside you, while in no way slowly, he didn’t slam it into you, just pushed and allowed it to glide in with one swift motion, eliciting a soft whine from you, his own low moan accompanying yours.

“Fuuuck..” he breathed out, his grip on your hips growing tighter as he leaned forward and bottomed out, letting himself just sit there for a moment so that the both of you could adjust.

Every single time without failure, when the pair of you had sex, you followed this step like a ritual, just sitting there for a few moments with his dick inside you, enjoying the feeling, letting yourselves really breathe it in before he started moving.

As he finally began to start moving, pulling in and out, in and out, the dull slap of his hips against your ass was the only sound that could be heard, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as he began to let his tip brush over that spongey part of you that made it feel like he was deep in your stomach.

His cock was a beautiful size, perfect for you in every way, lengthy with just the right amount of thickness, tied up with a bow that came in the form of his silver prince albert, like it was a present only you got to see.

Kicking your legs apart just a little bit more, he put one of his hands flat in between your shoulder blades and pushed you forward, making you lean down further against the counter until your cheek was pressed against the cold hard counter. 

As he moved faster and harder, any promise he’d made beforehand of being gentle was starting to look like an outright lie, especially when he began to let out growls that came from deep in his chest, cut off moans and grunts while he began to fuck the daylights out of you. 

It hurt in just the right way, enough pain that had you clenching your jaw and reaching around you to try and grip the fabric of his shirt.

This proved to only give him an idea, feeling him grip both of your wrists and pull them behind you, holding your wrists with his hands and using it to keep you in place as it made you only arch your back more, allowing him for a deeper angle that had you seeing stars.

Your shoulder joints ached as he pulled your arms back but you continued on, baring it all for the sake of the feeling of Erik’s cock ramming in and out of you, addicted to the feeling in a way that could have been described as borderline unhealthy.

“God, my perfect little fucking slut, taking my cock so good..” his words were only serving as motivation, causing you to spread your legs and arch your back further, desperate to hear his words of praise by showing him what a good girl you could be for him.

“Oh fuck, yes, that’s it, right there, fuck, don’t move baby..” 

As he ceased holding onto your arms, he reached forward for your throat, leaning forward and putting his hand on it, yet not squeezing, but holding it in a way that had you arching your back so hard you could have almost looked up at him if you strained hard enough. 

“Fuuuuck, yes, yes, oh my god.. i’m gonna cum in your pussy… i’m gonna cum in your pussy baby..” 

Holding your mouth open, your exhaled moans lined up with his fast paced thrusts, coming out in a “unh, unh, unh.” type of sound as he began to pound into you so hard you wondered if you’d even be able to stand up and walk out of this party without arousing any suspicion, unlikely.

“Shit, i’m gonna.. im gonna-“

The sound he let out was palpable, similar to a growl and a cut off high pitched moan all at once, his thrusts suddenly slowing down to a snails pace, barely even pulling out of you as you felt him painting your walls with thick ropes of cum.

“Good girl, such a *good fucking girl…*” he groaned, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes as he finally let go, letting you fall forward and brace yourself against the counter as he stood, staying deep inside you as he began to pant as if he’d just run a marathon. 

Maybe it was minutes, maybe it was seconds, but as you both stood there in silence and allowed yourselves for a slow recovery, it was quickly spoiled by the sound of somebody knocking on the door.

In a moment of panic, you both stood quickly, reality setting back in as to where you were, and who’s bathroom you’d just had filthy, nasty sex in. 

Pulling out of you, Erik began to tuck himself back into his pants and do them up with a rush.

Turning around you felt his cum beginning to leak down your thighs already, scrambling to reach for some toilet paper and quickly clean up what you could that was slowly pooling out of you.

“Just a second!” Erik called out, finally doing back up his belt when you turned to him with wide eyes.

“Where are my panties!” you hissed, watching him feel around in his back pocket before pulling them out and handing them to you. 

With shaky hands you lifted your leg and pulled them back on, already feeling Erik’s cum beginning to gather as you stood straight again but you didn’t care, intent on getting out of here asap.

“I swear to god, if i have to disinfect that fucking bathroom!” Julia’s muffled voice came through the door, clearly annoyed but nowhere near pissed enough to genuinely be upset, or at least not directly at you.

When the door finally opened and you and Erik stepped out, your blushed faces paired with your almost entirely ruined makeup had made it very clear that there was no hiding what had just happened in that bathroom.

“You fucker!” Julia snapped, immediately landing hits in Erik’s shoulder which he only tried to return, the siblings getting into one of their usual little unserious slapping fights that weren’t uncommon in the slightest.

Unable to stop yourself from laughing, you leaned a hand against the wall to steady yourself as you wheezed, reaching forward to try and pull at Erik’s arm to pull him away.

“I’m sorry!” you yelled out to Julia through your laughter, knowing that she was inclined to forgive you more so than she was her brother. 

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween!” he called out to his sister, gripping your hand as you giggled together like a pair of school kids and began to book it down the stairs before she could catch up to you.

You’d just be sure to send her a lengthy apology in the morning.

Weaving through the people and waving with rushed goodbyes, by the time you and Erik had made it out of the house and were walking out onto the street to walk home, you were still wheezing and cackling.

“Oh shit, the look on her face, i feel so bad!” you cried through your laughter, Erik’s arm coming around you as you walked shoulder to shoulder.

“She’ll get over it, it’s not the worst thing she’s gotten pissed at me over.”

Erik comment had you narrowing your eyes, recalling the worst fight they’d ever had.

“I remember, when you did the nose piercing for the girl she had a crush on and totally spilled the beans, you do realise i was there for that one?” you joked.

Letting out a chuckle at the memory, Erik leaned across to lay a kiss on the top of your head, a content sigh leaving his throat.

“Where would I be without you?” he breathed, looking up at the night sky as you made your way down the sidewalk lit up by streetlights.

“Dead, probably, or with a serious case of blue balls.” 

Erik laughed, pulling you closer to keep you safe and warm from the October air.

“Happy halloween, princess.”

[4ranghaes]

kim woonhak x reader [smut, fem!reader]

a/n: i accidentally posted this before it was finished so thats why its formatted like this😭

warnings: grinding, teasing, no real smut actually it kind of stops abruptly but ya i hope you enjoy still!!!

22:16 - “how long left, baby?”

woonhak hummed, his hands gently stroking your waist as you sat on his lap, your back resting against the desk. “i don’t know, babe. you know i don’t.”

you sighed dramatically, beginning to shift on your boyfriend’s lap, your hips moving back and forth, “but woonie i’m so bored!”

woonhak whined, gripping your waist harshly, “babe, please, i’m working! i can’t be distracted like this.”

“my handsome guy, who works so hard all the time,” you cooed in his ear, moving your hands to run through his hair, your hips moving in on woonhak’s bulge, suddenly able to feel his cock hardening through the fabric of his jeans. “don’t you need a break, baby? you work so hard, and it’s so late.”

woonhak groaned, resolve crumbling, as he leaned back, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling, “i am tired…”

“and you won’t even have to think, baby. let me do all the work, hmm?” you hummed, stroking his face with your thumb gently, in contrast of the harsh rolling of your hips.

woonhak whined, bucking his hips up slightly as his cock became fully hard, and his wanting overtook any rational thoughts, “y/n…”

you smiled, stilling your hips as you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “well… let me know when you’re finished then, okay? i’ll be waiting for you at home.”

you climbed off his lap, grabbing your bag that lay on the sofa in woonhak’s studio as your hand met the door handle. before you could turn the metal, woonhak had grabbed your free hand.

as you turned to look at him, eyebrows raised expectantly, woonhak whimpered, puppy dog eyes looking straight through you.

“please don’t leave me like this,” he murmured, moving closer to you as he took your hand and trailed it down to his hardened bulge, “l-look what you’ve done to me… i can’t– i need help.”

“are you saying you can’t get yourself off, baby?” you ridiculed.

woonhak whined, similarly to how he did whenever he threw a tantrum, “y/n… i need you! please, i’m so hard…”

you scoffed, gripping his cock through the fabric as woonhak’s head flew back, his mouth dropping open, “i thought you were busy?”

“no! no i’m not busy! i-i’ll do whatever, please baby, i need you so badly,” woonhak whimpered, now with both hands holding one of yours as he begged.

you smirked, “okay, baby. well log out of that computer, then get undressed and on that couch.”

“b-but—”

you gripped his face with one hand, “you just said ‘i’ll do whatever’, woonhak, now do as i say.”

woonhak nodded, quickly escaping your grasp and moving to log out of his laptop before shedding himself of all his clothes.

“i told you, you don’t need to think at all, i’ll do everything for you,” you cooed, climbing onto his lap as your boyfriend sat on the sofa, hard dick upright.

“thank you, thank you,” woonhak repeated like a prayer, as you removed your t-shirt, woonhak’s head immediately finding your boobs. your hand worked on his cock as your boyfriend moaned loudly, “oh– oh god— thank you, thank you, oh my god, y/n– so—”

you giggled, after deciding his pre cum had lubed him up enough, you stood up, making woonhak whine. you ridded yourself of the rest of your clothes, your boyfriend biting his lip as he looked you up and down.

you positioned your hand by his face, underneath his mouth, and raised an expectant eyebrow, woonhak knew what you wanted and spit over the skin of your fingers before you moved them down to finger yourself gently, just enough to open yourself up.

woonhak moaned at the view, watching as you worked your soaking heat, before harshly grabbing his cock once again and sinking down. woonhak felt like he could’ve exploded then, brain melting at the sensation, his mouth hanging open as whines, whimpers and moans beyond his control came flying out.

you giggled as you watched him, this boy who was so unwilling just five minutes ago, god you could talk him into anything.

“feel good, baby?”

woonhak nodded, collecting some saliva that had started to drool from the corners of his mouth before speaking, “s-so good, y/n, you’re– you’re so good for me.”

[sherewrytes]

Song Inspo: Baby by me 50 cent.

Just wanted to write a choso fic... This aint got another part cause na..

Ps: I forgot this finished fic was in my drafts so here ya go.

The music pulsed through the lounge like a heartbeat, steady and heavy, the low hum of voices and clinking glasses adding to the atmosphere. You looked up as the bartender slid a cocktail your way, chilled and clear. A smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth as you sipped, eyeing the room. Tonight, you had no agenda other than to enjoy yourself—but then you felt it, a gaze burning into you from across the room.

You didn’t have to look around to know who it was. You’d already noticed him the second you walked in—tall, dark hair pulled back, intense eyes that could cut right through you. He had that unbothered vibe, leaned back against the bar, calm like he owned the place. And now? He was looking right at you, giving you a once-over that lingered a little too long to be innocent.

You raised an eyebrow, letting him know you weren’t just anybody. He noticed, smirking back like he was ready for whatever you had to offer. With one last sip, you decided to close the distance and sauntered over, heels clicking against the floor as you stopped a few inches from him. Close enough for him to feel your presence, but not close enough for him to think he’d won anything yet.

“So you just gon’ stare all night, or you got somethin’ to say?” you asked, letting your voice hold a little tease, a little challenge.

He chuckled low, leaning in slightly. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, voice smooth and deep, every word like velvet. “I was just waiting to see if you’d come over on your own.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” you said, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Big man, too good to make the first move, huh?”

“Not too good,” he said, eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stand up. “Just don’t gotta chase when I know you want it just as bad.”

His confidence was practically dripping, but there was something else—something about the way he looked at you, like he was studying every inch of you and committing it to memory. He took a step closer, eyes trailing from your face down to your lips, then back up.

“So what’s your name?” you asked, finally.

He leaned in, voice a low murmur. “Choso. And you?”

You told him your name, watching his expression shift as he repeated it, as if savoring each syllable. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a spark as he held your gaze. He wasn’t playing, and something about his vibe told you he wasn’t just another smooth-talker. He wasn’t about to ask for your number or play the usual games—he looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

He took another step forward, leaning down just slightly until you could feel his breath on your neck. “You know,” he murmured, voice just for you, “I don’t like wasting time. So if you’re feelin’ this too, maybe we can take it somewhere else.”

A shiver went down your spine, but you kept your cool, raising an eyebrow. “Boy, you really think you just gon’ walk me outta here like that?”

Choso tilted his head, amused. “Depends,” he said, voice steady and low. “You wanna see what I got in mind?”

Something in his eyes made you pause. You didn’t break eye contact, your heart picking up speed, but your voice was steady as you replied. “Lead the way.”

Choso led you through the dimly lit hallways of the lounge and out into the cool night air. He kept his hand light on the small of your back as you walked, but the heat radiated off him. The moment felt thick, like you were both waiting for the other to say something, but words didn’t feel necessary. He exuded this quiet confidence—like he knew exactly where this night was headed and was content to let it play out in his own time. You could tell he wasn’t one for unnecessary small talk.

Minutes later, you were stepping into his place: sleek, masculine, all dark tones and low lighting, with a floor-to-ceiling window showing off the city skyline in all its late-night glory. It was impressive, almost too perfect—but that only made him more intriguing. He walked a few steps ahead, then turned, looking you up and down slowly, like he was weighing every inch of you.

“So this how you do things?” you asked, crossing your arms, keeping your tone easy but your stance ready. “All quiet and mysterious, huh?”

He let out a quiet laugh, closing the distance between you with a few deliberate steps. “You got a problem with that?” His voice was low, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent chills down your spine.

You shrugged, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ll let you know if I do.”

He tilted his head, a faint smirk pulling at his lips, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, trailing a hand slowly down your arm, his touch light but deliberate. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, but every word was weighted, like he was savoring the way you looked under his hands.

You raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to impress me?”

“Nah,” he replied, his eyes holding a dark gleam. “It’s supposed to let you know I don’t play games. When I want something, I make it clear.”

The air between you practically crackled, a heavy silence settling over the room. Without waiting for a response, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity through you. He was testing you, seeing how you’d react, and when you didn’t pull away, he continued, his touch becoming bolder, his grip firm around your waist as he pressed you closer.

“Tell me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice dropping lower, rougher, “how much can you handle?”

You smirked, running a hand along the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there. “Think you can find out?”

That was all the invitation he needed. He backed you up slowly until you felt the wall at your back, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you in his gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, but the look in them was sharp, calculating, like he was mentally cataloging every reaction, every hitched breath, every glance.

He leaned in close, his mouth hovering just a breath away from yours. “You like a challenge?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, each word laced with something dark, almost dangerous.

Your heart pounded, but you kept your tone steady, meeting his gaze with equal intensity. “Why don’t you give me one?”

In response, he smirked, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was possessive, claiming, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt about who was in control. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, just enough pressure to send a thrill through you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed you harder against the wall.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath coming in low, steady beats as his thumb traced slow circles against your neck. “You can try to play coy all you want,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, “but I know you’re feelin’ this just as much as I am.”

You gave him a slow smile, your pulse racing. “Guess we’ll see how long that confidence lasts.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate through you. “Oh, trust me,” he said, leaning in close, his lips brushing your ear. “I got enough to last all night.”

The next moments were a blur of heat and hands, each touch more intense than the last. Choso’s dominance wasn’t loud or showy; it was a steady, deliberate control, like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you. His grip was firm, his movements unhurried, every action calculated to push you just a little further, to keep you on edge.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. “Told you,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw as he held your gaze. “I don’t do anything halfway.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting out a slow breath. “Neither do I.”

He chuckled, stepping back just slightly, but his gaze never left you, a promise hanging in the air. “Then you better keep up.”

The tension between you and Choso thickened as he pulled you from the wall, guiding you through the dimly lit apartment until you found yourselves in his bedroom. The city lights cast shadows across the room, a faint glow illuminating his sharp features, the intensity in his eyes undeniable. He watched you, hands grazing your arms as he stepped closer, letting his fingers trail slowly, possessively, along the line of your jaw.

“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice low, with a slight rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. “I knew it the second I saw you.”

Your breath hitched as his hand slid down, his grip firm around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and powerful, like he was barely holding himself back.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, your voice steady but soft, feeling the energy between you two grow thicker, more electric.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating low in his chest. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning.”

Without another word, he tilted your chin up, bringing his lips down to yours. The kiss was intense, but slow—controlled, almost like he was savoring the taste of you. He wasn’t rushed or careless; every movement felt purposeful, like he was taking his time, memorizing each reaction, every shiver that coursed through you.

Choso’s hands trailed up your back, his grip firm as he shifted you onto the bed. He hovered above you, a smirk tugging at his lips as he took you in, his eyes dark with a possessive hunger.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper as he pressed kisses along your collarbone, down to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. His teeth grazed your skin, a rough edge that sent a surge of anticipation through you, his hands exploring every inch, testing how far he could push you.

“You talkin’ big game, but I don’t know if you really ‘bout it,” you teased, eyes challenging as you met his gaze. You weren’t going to let him have full control without a fight.

His grin widened, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Is that a challenge?”

You smirked, leaning up to press your lips against his, daring him to show you what he was made of. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and the air between you turned charged, electric. Each touch, each kiss, felt like a promise—a thrill of something dangerous, like he was giving you just a taste of what he was capable of.

Choso pulled back, his fingers brushing down your neck, lingering at the pulse point, feeling your heart race beneath his touch. “Then let me make one thing clear,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing yours, his voice like velvet. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, filling the room with a dark intensity that was intoxicating. You didn’t break eye contact, letting him see the challenge in your gaze, knowing this was only the beginning of something that felt bigger than either of you.

“Prove it.”

And that was all it took. His control slipped just slightly, enough for him to let go, to press you against the bed with a fierceness that left no room for questions. He wasn’t just taking you; he was showing you the lengths he’d go to leave his mark on you, to make sure you’d remember this moment, remember him, long after the night was over.

As his hands roamed, as his touch grew rougher, you felt yourself surrendering to his rhythm, to his pace, each sensation blending into the next, pulling you deeper into his orbit, where nothing else mattered except the two of you.

He picked her up like nothing  like she weighed nothing. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she let out a soft gasp as his grip dug just slightly into her thighs. He was hot to the touch, shirt off, skin gleaming with a light sheen from the heat they’d been building between them all day.

“You good?” he asked low in her ear, voice a full-bodied promise that vibrated in her bones.

Before she could answer  before she could smirk or toss something slick back  he dropped her onto the bed. The bounce of the mattress caught her breath in her throat, silk sheets ruffling beneath her body as she landed, wide-eyed, lips parted.

Choso stood at the edge, towering. That look in his eye, full beast mode, full claim, full You gon’ feel every second”

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, eyes roaming over her body like she was art, war, and worship in one breath.

“Spread,” he said.

You bit her bottom lip. “What if I don’t?”

He tilted his head, smirked, then crawled onto the bed slow panther-like. The mattress dipped beneath him, one hand planted beside her head, the other gliding up the inside of her thigh till it hooked under her knee and pulled her open, lips brushing her jaw.

“Then I take,” he growled, and kissed her  deep. One of those tongue-and-teeth kisses that had her back arching into him, her arms winding around his neck, her body remembering how perfectly he fit.

“You want me to behave?” she breathed between kisses, teasing but breathless.

He kissed her harder. “No. I want you to remember.”

Then he dipped down, slowly, kissing every inch of collarbone, chest, belly  making her feel each place his mouth landed like a ritual. When he got lower, her hips already rising for him, he paused, looked up with that dark, honey-slick stare.

“Hold still,” he said, voice gritty. “You ran before. Not this time.”

And then he devoured her.

The kind of devouring that made her moan out his name, the full one CHOSO! over and over like a prayer gone rogue. His hands pinned her hips down, his tongue and lips moving with mastery, devotion, and intent to have her unravel under him like silk sliding off flame.

By the time he came back up, lips glistening, beard damp, her chest was heaving.

“You good?” he asked, cocky but breathless himself now.

“I was.”

He didn’t even let her finish, flipped her over gently, hand flat on her back. “Nah, mama. You will be.”

Hours slipped by in a haze of touches, whispers, and promises. By the time the first light of dawn crept through the window, you lay next to him, breathless, tangled in the sheets. He looked over at you, his eyes softening just slightly, a rare vulnerability there that made your heart skip.

“What?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you caught him staring.

Choso shrugged, a lazy smirk crossing his face. “Just makin’ sure you’re still breathing. Thought I might’ve taken you out for good.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you propped yourself up on one elbow. “Boy, please. I’m not that easy.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You think you can handle me?”

You leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back, meeting his gaze with a steady confidence. “I can handle a lot more than you think.”

Choso laughed, the sound low and genuine, like you’d finally managed to catch him off guard. “Guess I’ll have to keep pushing, then.”

You didn’t need to respond; the look in your eyes said enough.

[mivogjk]

HE WANTS IT GENTLY

warnings: gentle fingering, bath sex, teasing, pet names, kinda fluff in the end? english is not my first language

words count: 0,6k

water spills over the edge of the bath, making a wet, slippery puddle on the floor. soft moans and nervous sighs slip from your swollen, red lips—puffy from kisses.

"сhris..." his fingers brush over your stiff nipples, squeezing them lightly between his thumb and index finger.

"what's that, sweetheart?" his gentle voice whispers right next to your ear. he bites your earlobe softly with his sharp teeth, making goosebumps run all over your body.

"please," a shaky breath escapes from your lips. you can't take the teasing from chris anymore. you need him more than anything right now, inside you. "i can't do this anymore...please"

"please what?" you startle, feeling your name spoken behind you. even now, just hearing him say it makes you tremble, no matter where or who you're with.

"i need you..." you whimper. his right hand still rests on your chest, and his other hand moves down your body: first squeezing your left breast, then moving lower to gently stroke your stomach, pressing a little on the soft skin.

you can no longer control your feelings and desires, so you blurt out abruptly. "i need you... inside me." you repeat it when a low chuckle sounds behind you.

"not today, sweetheart." then the pads of his fingers cover your throbbing, swollen clit and almost immediately start rubbing the sensitive spot at a quick pace, making you gasp at the sudden pleasure. you’ve waited so damn long for him to finally do something to your body—because chris had spent the whole day teasing you, pushing you to your limits and now, sitting here with your legs spread as wide as the bathtub allows, you’re finally getting what you wanted.

his fingers speed up—he can tell you’re close by the way your moans grow louder and more frequent. "chris..." a heavy sigh escapes your lips. it’s too hard to focus on anything else when, the next second, his stupidly long fingers push inside you. the spiral is tightening even more in your stomach, your eyelids are too heavy to keep your eyes open. your mind races, painting a vivid picture of everything happening right now: the position, the time, the place, you and him. and it only fuels your arousal, making your core burn hotter, craving him even more. you just... fuck, you want him so badly that you can’t think about anything except chris and his body.

you clench around him with every thrust, and he feels it. in response, his fingers move faster, more intense. your moans echo through the bathroom, bouncing off the walls, distorted behind the door. water spills out violently from the edges of the tub, hitting the tiles. "c'mon, sweetheart," he murmurs between soft kisses along your neck. "don’ hold back. do me a favor," you feel his breath against your temple, his lips gently capturing your earlobe before he whispers: "cum f'me."

it works like a trigger—your whole body stops listening to you. it doesn’t take long for the pleasure to peak: a violent shiver runs through you, your back arching sharply. a loud cry tears from your throat, your pulse ringing unpleasantly in your ears.

his strong arms wrap around you from behind. soft kisses trail down your shoulder blades, chris’s large hands gently smoothing over your skin. there’s nothing vulgar in these touches—just love, warmth and tenderness.

"‘s okay," his head drops lightly onto your shoulder, his fluffy hair tickling your neck. "‘m here."

your nails dig into the flesh of his forearm resting on your stomach. you feel his cock pressing against your lower back through your clothes.

"don’t. i can handle it," he says it faster than you can even reach for him.

"but—"

"you owe me."

you turn your head, and he greets you with a playful wink. you close your eyes, a soft smile curling your lips. chris notes to himself how damn cute you look like this.

"i love you."

"love you too, sweetheart."

awwww my babies 🤲

just wanted something cute in the end of the day so yup. if you have any requests let me know 😋

with love, m ❤️

© mivogjk

[melika-elena]

do revenge

this fic is for @pittpilled who was having a rough day at work, and when i said i’d write a little pick-me-up fic, requested “frank and/or samira getting revenge on their boss” which, you know what that means! sorry (not sorry) robby 😇 i hope this satisfies the request.

Robby stood in front of his motorcycle, at a complete loss. His beloved Honda Hornet, which had gotten him through a multitude of tough times, including med school, residency, multiple relationships, and the pandemic, had been completely and utterly wrecked. 

It looked like something out of a country music video— tires slashed, mirrors smashed, deep grooves into the upholstery and the deep red detailing paint scratched into so thoroughly it looked like it was naturally striped. Just completely, utterly desecrated. His baby. Something he loved more than most people. 

Numbly, he made his way back to the Pitt and asked for security. 

Dana, who was also bundled up, ready to leave, hustled over to him. “What the hell happened to you?” 

“My motorcycle…” he said, just as security ambled over. “It’s been totally trashed.” 

Her face scrunched in disbelief. “What the fuck?” 

“I need to look at security cameras of the parking lot,” Robby turned to Ahmed and Olsen. The calm he felt wasn’t even faked; he was firmly in denial about what just happened. 

Ahmed looked apologetic. “You can, but we’ve been having trouble with the cameras, lately,” he said. “The unexpected heat wave a couple weeks ago fried some things, we think, putting everything on the spritz. We’re still waiting on replacements.” 

Fucking figured. 

“Let me see them, anyway,” Robby offered. He unzipped his hoodie, feeling a flush of frustration zip through him, throwing it on the counter of the charge station. He’d get it later, after his visit to the security offices. 

“Who would do this?” Dana asked, once they were firmly ensconced in the office, abandoning going home in favor of getting intel. “Some sort of revenge?” 

“Maybe?” Robby shook his head as Ahmed sat down to access the camera feeds. “I mean, we get dissatisfied patients all the time, but they would have to know this was mine.” 

“Premeditated, then,” Olsen offered. “Any disgruntled coworkers?” He looked uneasy saying it, pointing fingers at their own. 

Robby sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. He flicked a look at Dana. “None of this gets out to the nurses or anyone else.” 

She rolled her eyes. “What do you take me for?” 

Good enough for him. 

“I just wrapped up annual reviews,” Robby said. “And not all were great, of course.” 

At this, Dana looked surprised. “No one’s perfect,” she said, “but was anyone’s really that bad?” 

Robby shifted uncomfortably. “Well.” 

Dana frowned. “Well?” 

“Langdon and Mohan…” 

“Really, Robby?” Dana cut him off, visibly irritated. “What the fuck? They’re two of our best!” 

“Mohan’s speed has hardly improved, you know this!” Robby defended. “It’s a problem for everyone else.” 

“She has improved, and only because you’ve nearly broken her spirit to do it,” Dana pointed out. “Not to mention she does best when you’re not around. Coincidence?” 

Robby glared. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” 

“The truth,” Dana shot back. “Ok, fine, you were overly harsh on Mohan, what else is new. What about Langdon?” 

He refused to feel guilty. “He’s still too abrasive with the trainees. Favors King too much. Argues with Garcia in front of patients. Cherry picks cases. He’s a senior resident, he should know better.” 

Dana, Olsen, and Ahmed all stared at him. 

“What?” 

“Is that it, man?” Ahmed asked, incredulous. “I thought it was gonna be something serious, like he was using again.” 

Olsen sighed in exasperation. 

“You’re serious,” Dana said. “Like, completely serious.” 

“Yes!” Robby said, throwing his hands up, feeling a little cornered. “What part of senior resident do you not get? Not to mention he’s repeating it, so he should definitely know better.” 

“Robby, these are such minor infractions, it’s worth barely a mention while on the floor, let alone the focus of an annual review,” Dana said, irritation now bleeding into true anger. “Tell me it’s not going in his file!” 

“Well, no,” Robby said. “Although… I might have led him to believe it would.” 

“Un-fucking-believable,” Dana snarled. “I would’ve keyed your motorcycle myself for that kinda shit. What the hell were you thinking?” 

“I don’t know,” Robby said, too flustered to be anything but honest. “I just—” 

“Haven’t forgiven him for his addiction,” Dana said, “or forgiven yourself for not seeing it sooner. Or forgiven each other for fucking up your friendship over it. Take your pick.” 

Ahmed and Olsen noticeably did not say a word. 

“Right for the jugular, huh, Dana,” Robby said dryly, trying to break the tension. 

“Sure, just like you in those annual reviews,” she shot back. 

“Ouch,” Olsen muttered. 

“Let’s just see those tapes,” Robby said. He clearly wasn’t going to get any sympathy here. 

The tapes, as Ahmed and Olsen cautioned, were grainy, skipping in and out. To make matters worse, Robby had parked in a corner of the lot where the cycle was hidden in the shadows of the building for the majority of the time. At one point, a couple hours before, they noticed two figures,  average-height, clad in bulky black, dart towards the motorcycle, but then the cameras cut out again. 

“Dammit!” Robby said. “Wait, can we go back and pause?” 

Ahmed dutifully did, but they didn’t gain any other information from it. 

“Do you actually think it’s Mohan and Langdon?” Ahmed asked. “I can’t see either of them doing this.” 

“I can’t either,” Robby admitted. “Especially Mohan. But I guess I should investigate.” 

“Or you could call the cops and let them do their jobs,” Dana said, supremely unimpressed.

Robby waved her off. “Of course,” he turned to Olsen. “You’ll call?” 

Olsen nodded, already on the phone. Honestly, protocol stated they should’ve done it from the beginning, but well, sometimes the Pitt was the wild west when it came to involving the cops. 

Robby left the security office, Dana on his heels. “What are you doing?” She asked. “You can’t just go and accuse—” 

He held up his hand. “I’m not gonna do anything, just info-gather,” he said. “And I know the perfect person to ask.” 

Mel King had just come in for the night shift, and looked up with her usual sunny smile when she saw them approach her, although at their expressions her smile dropped, brow furrowing quizzically. “Good evening,” she said, cautiously.

“Hey, Mel,” Robby said, trying his best to inject some joviality into his tone. You caught more flies with honey, after all. “Question for you: I know both Mohan and Langdon are off today. You seen them at all? Heard from them?” 

Mel, gloves in hand, paused. “Um.” She said. “May I ask why? Is everything ok?” 

“He’s just being silly, hon, you don’t have to answer,” Dana assured her. 

“N-no, it’s okay,” Mel said, wringing the gloves in her hands. “Um, as far as I know Fr— Dr. Langdon took his kids to Hershey Park for the weekend. His sister’s in town. And Dr. Mohan is actually hanging out with my sister, Becca, for the day.” 

Robby blinked. “Oh.” He blinked. “Your sister, Becca? The one who… lives in the facility?” 

Mel frowned. “Yes,” she said, a little sharply. “Is there a problem with that?” 

“No, no,” Robby said. God, he was digging holes left and right. “Do you… happen to have pictures?” 

“Robby,” Dana said sharply. 

Mel shrugged. “My phone is in my locker,” she said, “but it’s on their Instagram stories? If you follow them?” 

“I do,” Dana said, and she reluctantly got her phone out. “Let’s just shut down this nonsense once and for all, okay?” 

She got on her readers, opening up Instagram. Sure enough, in @ FrankLan’s Instagram stories, there were selfies of Frank with his kids and sister, chocolate-y mouths spread into wide grins at Hershey. There was even, Robby noted, a repost from Frank’s sister of an artsy above-shot showing some chocolate bars, merch, and a chocolate-bar shaped ticket with today’s date stamped on it. So Langdon was out. And @ SamiraMohan showed smiling selfies of Samira and a brunette woman who looked like Mel, out and about at cafes, the movies, and a bookstore. 

“They look like they had fun,” Dana commented, sounding like a proud mom. 

“Samira and Becca are good friends, but she also knew I would want a quiet apartment so I could sleep before my shift,” Mel explained, although she only spoke to Dana, ignoring Robby entirely. 

“Thank you, sweetheart, for indulging us,” Dana said, putting her phone away and shooting Robby a look. “Right, Robby?” 

Robby deflated. His head hurt. He suddenly wanted to go home, right this instant. Too bad his ride was totaled. 

Just then, the cops walked in. “That’s my cue,” he said. He nodded to Mel, awkwardly. “Thanks, Dr. King.” 

“No problem,” Mel said, although it wasn’t as chipper as normal. Robby couldn’t blame her. Between his faux pas about her sister and what she surely heard about her friends’ reviews, he doubted even her good nature would induce her to think kindly of him. 

Robby half-turned. “Oh, wait, just let me grab my—” 

Whitaker, on the night shift, was also passing by. He was moving precariously, hands full, but that still didn’t save him from slipping on the newly mopped floors, pitching forward onto the charge desk.

Fortunately, Robby’s sweatshirt padded his fall a bit.

Unfortunately, it also padded the fall of the multiple urine samples he was carrying, completely soaking Robby's beloved, favorite sweatshirt. 

“Sorry!” Whitaker said, strangled. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” 

Of fucking course. 

“I give up,” Robby said, tilting his head up, speaking to god or the universe or whoever. “You won.” Fuck this entire day. 

He never did find out who wrecked his motorcycle. 

[conelluwrites]

One Of Us Will Have To Spend Some Days Alone

Finding your soulmate wasn’t something you fixated on much these days, your financial ruin had left you concerned about far more things- though you did hope your soulmate would ease that burden eventually.  Unfortunately for you, you met your soulmate here of all places and even more unfortunate, it seems you don’t have all the time in the world to spend with them.Ao3 link Warnings: angst (no comfort), Reader is referred to as "you" and has no explicit parts mentioned, drug use, not a full fic just some blurbs Other: Doomed soulmates yippie. I would love to explore more characters with this idea and even do full fics for this. Doomed soulmates is an idea I hold it near and dear to my heart. Wrote while listening to this song on repeat, which always makes me cry lol Nam-gyu vers here

You nervously scratch at your arm when you first see him, the seared name on your wrist practically aching before you even get his name.  He’s far more concerned with another player, but you just know it- he’s yours.  Of course your soulmate would be just as financially fucked as you are, but you’re more concerned about getting his attention.  How do you even approach that concern to him though, a simple “Hey, can I see your wrist to see if my name is there, you can see my wrist too”?  Actually…  That isn’t such a bad idea…  Man is over the damn moon his soulmate is so damn fine.  You are taken aback when he suddenly raps for you, but hey- he’s sweet and he’s yours. Goddamn, your soulmate is an annoying lil shit isn’t he?  But he’s all yours, so even when his overwhelming personality makes you exasperated (I mean you’re in a literal death game, can he take it seriously for once!) you can’t help but lean against him for comfort.  He’s really good at calming you down, his crooning words, gentle “shh, cariño, I gotcha…”s, and the promise that he’ll vote to go home the next round.  Even when your stress gets the better of you, he always knows what to do and say.  He waves off your thanks saying that’s what soulmates are for. When he offers you one of those damn pills, you don’t hesitate to trust him.  Well… You do hesitate, but only for a moment before allowing him to pop it into your mouth and then cup your cheek as you feel the drugs take effect.  It does make everything easier, the constant threat of death looming over your head seems to ease up more and more.  Games go by quicker, time with Thanos skips ahead like the beating of your heart. You feel invincible, like you two can actually make it out of here together.  Upgrade that shitty apartment of yours, get him the help he needs, and live a life that you only dreamed of when you were younger.  With him by your side, you can take on the games.  Fuck it, you can take on the entire world! After the last game, mingle, you sit together on his bunk.  He looks so damn perfect as he stares off into space, his eyes looking at the far wall before they snap over to you and he gives you a lopsided grin. “You all there, baby?  That pill still working on you?”

You can’t stop yourself, you lean over and kiss him.  It’s not a simple kiss, not a small peck that breaks away within a second or two.  No, you hold his cheeks and close your eyes tight while savoring the feel of his lips on yours.  They’re chapped, they’re rough, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like everything you needed.  It deepens easily into a slanted, passionate makeout.  It’s immature, but what the fuck, when has that mattered to Thanos. You feel something, a dreaded ache that runs through your veins and sets your blood cold.  You don’t even realize you have tears budding up in your eyes until they fall to your hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck- you check your wrist frantically.  His name is still there, you run your fingers over the branding of his sweet, sweet name to confirm it.  It doesn’t feel like it used to, but surely it’s just your imagination right?  Surely any moment he’ll walk in and- When Nam-gyu returns to the dormitory without him, your heart sinks.  You don’t hear the pointless babble from his mouth, you don’t hear anything other than your own heartbeat in your ears.

Player 230Player 230Player 230No, it’s gotta be some fucking hallucination or something, right?  It can’t- it can’t be true.  His number couldn’t have just gotten read out amongst all the others, it makes no sense.  He was just here, he couldn’t have left you.  Not alone, not… He couldn’t have died there.

Your legs move on their own, going to the door before you’re stopped.  You can’t even hear your own voice as you cry and fight, demanding to go to the restroom to see him, to cradle him, to assure him that he’s okay.  Your stomach churns and you’re certain you’re gonna throw up as Nam-gyu struggles to pull you back.  You know you’re making a scene, but you can’t care- not when your soulmate is in there.

His last thoughts, aside from goddamn this hurts, were all focused on you.  The way you looked, the way you held him, the way your tongue felt against his fingers as you’d take a pill.  You trusted him so intimately, he loved it. He loved you.  It’s ridiculous, the Thanos loving someone within the span of a few days.  He gurgles and chokes, he can feel his own blood seeping from his wounds and his skin growing cold.  He doesn’t want to die here, doesn’t want to die without you.  But he can’t move, fuck he can’t move.

[cookietails]

Happy Julance!

Day 4: Greatness 🤍

"Some are born great. Some achieve greatness. Some have greatness thrust upon them."

He doesn’t know where he fits into this quote from Shakespeare.

Lance McClain never thought he was the birth of greatness. Maybe his Mom and Pop Pop disagrees, but nobody is born great. Maybe cute?

…But most babies look like shriveled up potatoes when they’re born into this wide, open world.

He digresses. Being born doesn’t necessarily mean you’re born into greatness. You can still be born into higher than average circumstances and still have a bad life.

His family grew up okay. There was an abundance of love to make up for the lack of funds. So, if he was born into greatness, that would mean that greatness stems from his tight-as-a-clam family.

But that doesn’t make his birth great.

He scratches off the first part of the quote on his notebook with a pen and presses on.

Okay. “Some achieve greatness.”

Hmm. He did get into the Garrison on a scholarship, that’s a pretty good measurement of greatness, right? He felt really good about that…

Veronica’s letter of recommendation did help that process. Alright, he had a slight advantage but outside of that, he worked really hard to get into the Garrison to become a fighter pilot.

Okay, but what about being able to fly a mechanical lion into space? That’s a pretty great moment.

It’s not everyday (if, at all) that you get to do something like that. Flying those bad boys is hard too, especially when he transferred over to red as Keith’s right hand man.

Maybe it was unlocking all the different types of weaponry in his bayard. The Altean broadsword was pretty badass. The rifle, too!

But now, he thinks that’s not an appropriate answer to which category he fits into.

Maybe it was when they rebuilt Keith’s barren farm into a flourishing farm with relief supplies post-war?

Sigh.

He scratches off the next part of the quote with his pen, even messier than last time.

Too complicated. None of that shows how he achieves greatness.

Okay, last part: “Some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Well—

“What are you doing?”

He almost leaps out of his skin, closing his journal in fright. Lance sits on a hay bale in the barn writing in his brand new journal he got for his birthday—blue, leather bound, and velvet in touch—as he writes down all his thoughts.

Well, was, until Keith scared him shitless.

“God, Keith, can you not be a ninja for five minutes?” Lance stresses, pointing a pen at him like it would absolve anything that just occurred.

Keith doesn’t respond. He just hands him a breakfast bar (“Oh! Thank you.”) and sits down next to him.

“So, back to my question: What are you doing?”

Lance sighs, looking downcast at the journal in his hands. He flips back to the page and points at the quote, now scratched out almost completely bar the last sentence. Keith leans in closer to read.

"Some are born great. Some achieve greatness. Some have greatness thrust upon them…?” Keith repeats word for word, line for line.

“I’m trying to do some self reflection exercises as per our mandated therapists, and they told me to find a quote that resonates and write down how you fit into it.”

Lance leans his head onto Keith’s shoulder. “So I found one, and it’s like—the answer is right there, tip of my tongue—but I can’t seem to write it down without psyching myself out.”

Keith hums, deep in thought. “I see why you chose this quote.”

“I knew you saw greatness within me, Keithy-boy.” Lance replies with a cheeky cat smile, low and playful in tone.

“Well, duh.” The ex-black paladin rolls his eyes. The direct nature in which he says that throws Lance right off. “But that’s not why.”

“Then… why?”

“You fit all three categories.”

Lance blinks, a little stunned by his answer. He waves his hand silently at him to continue. In the meantime, he opens his breakfast bar and digs in, chewing away on the yoghurt-y granola bar with joy.

Keith points at the first sentence. “So, some are born great. You took on every challenge since birth. Didn’t Marco say you took on every hobby you could find as a kid and were naturally great at it?”

“I mean, yeah, surfing, skateboarding, wasn’t that good at drawing, but I worked hard to be good at those hobbies. I refused to give up.”

He lifts his brows with a small, catlike smile and continues: “I can do aerial silks too, a-and gymnastics, and cheerleading!”

His grin turns cheshire like in nature to illuminate a point at the man next to him: “I’m also very… flexible.” His brows bounce; a subtle implication.

Keith grins at him, pride laced across the peaks of his eyes. “See? Not many people can do that.”

Lance groans internally.

Externally, he bites on the bar and chews in thought. He swallows, shrugs off the silent compliment, and waves at him to continue.

Patiently, Keith proceeds to the next part of the quote: “Some achieve greatness… that’s an easy one.”

“Gosh, you gonna take me to dinner, too?” Lance jests.

Keith tilts his head, leaning in a tad closer and meeting his eyes. “If you want.”

Lance’s eyes almost bulge out of his head. Keith tilts his head back to the journal and points at the scratched words.

“Now, you’ve achieved a lot.”

He lifts his fingers and puts them down with each example: “Let’s start with being accepted into the Garrison, becoming a universal diplomat, piloted two lions, unlocking as many bayard forms as you did, you became an uncle to Silvio and Nadia, you saved the universe, restored the farm, you’ve been learning to cook, and became a Blade Leader without having any Galra lineage and had the idea to reform its message in the first place—“

Lance shrugs it off. “Well, the whole Victory or Die thing and putting the mission over yourself subtext was kind of bleak, so…”

Keith looks at him with concern. Lance takes another bite of his bar and refuses to look at him.

“…Why do you brush off all of your achievements so quickly like that?” Keith asks, genuinely curious.

Lance doesn’t know how to answer that one. He chews, swallows. His mouth opens, then closes again. He truly doesn’t know how to answer that one. He might have to unpack that with his therapist later.

Keith keeps his eyes on him, laced with a gentle tinge of concern, before dropping off the topic and pointing at the final sentence and emphasising the final point.

“Some have greatness thrust upon them. I’d argue you had a destined path since birth. You were the only one able to wake up the blue lion we found.”

“True.”

“You were also the most adaptable and flexible paladin. Pidge and Hunk were great in their own right, but you moulded yourself to fit where you needed to in order for the team to grow. You’ve also done that here on the farm. You took one look at this place and said—ahem.”

He does his best impression of Lance, hand gestures and all.

“Keith! This place has potential, pizzazz—let’s start fresh!”

Thankfully, it doesn’t fall flat; he was able to get a giggle out of Lance.

Keith looks his way, warmth laced beneath his tanned skin. “Do you think many people could do that?”

Lance hums. Keith continues.

“You have greatness within you. That’s all you.”

He gasps, eyes widening in surprise.

…there is greatness within you, Lance…

He just remembered. Allura said that, too.

A smile blooms from Lance’s lips, dimpling into his cheeks. “Wow.”

Eyes sparkling in sheer delight, he turns Keith’s direction, beaming and oh so fond.

“Thank you, Keith.”

His counterpart blushes a little pink on his cheeks, unable to handle the way Lance is looking at him. He smiles, however, also delighted at the attention pointing in his direction.

“No problem. Did I help at all?” He asks, curious.

“Sure did, samurai.” Lance nods, pen in hand and itching to write. “I’ll write down my thoughts and come inside.”

Keith nods, “Glad I could help. Don’t be too long,” and walks out of the barn, leaving him to his own devices.

You have greatness within you. That’s all you.

Damn right, he does.

[nevarrantorte]

A Word With Friends - June 30

Thanks for tagging @hedwigoprah! I finally had time to get one of these done.

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends.

This week's word is:

Moribund

I wrote a little angsty scene where Emmrich finds out Persephone is only 24, and gets very dramatic about their age gap. I think I'll work this into my fic Through Their Eyes when I one day actually get to the point that they're together hehe.

"24?" he paced in front of the fireplace. Rook sat on the couch, her brows knotted in confusion and concern, the corners of her lips pulled down slightly. 24? She's only 24? That would put what, 33 years between us?

"Yes… I thought you knew, Emmrich. When I mentioned I had been found in the crypts as a baby you said you remembered."

He paused and stared, eyes wide and hands running nervously through his hair.

"I— yes I do remember but it was so long ago, I thought I had my dates wrong. I had assumed you were at least 30" he was such a fool, tricking himself into believing she had been found at least 10 years prior than the actual date. An old man lying to himself to feel better about pursuing a younger woman. He realized he was still standing there, frozen, fingers on his temples. He looked at Rook, her brows still furrowed but a smirk playing lightly on her lips.

"I know humans aren't good at guessing Qunari ages Emmrich but that's a bit of a stretch don't you think?"

His hands flew to his mouth "Oh, oh dear! I didn't mean to — I'm so sorry, Rook." look at him, making even more of a fool of himself. First he unknowingly starts a relationship with a 24 year old, then insults her by saying she looks far older!

"Oh, Emmrich it's okay, I was just teasing you." he felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes, the familiar feeling of panic under his skin. Rook stood and placed a hand on his upper arm, and he grabbed her shoulder for balance.

She led him to sit down on the couch. 24. He repeated the number in his head. Over and over. 24! How could she want to be with him? How could he let their relationship continue?

She sat beside him and tried to direct his head to her shoulder, but he flinched away. She looked down at him — she was so tall — and her eyes were wide, sad and hurt by his reaction.

"I - I'm sorry Emmrich." she stuttered "I should have told you sooner I - I thought you knew I thought you were okay with it I —" she cut herself off and turned her face away. Her chest moving slowly as she took several slow, deep breaths.

"No, Rook, I should be apologizing." he reached up and gently cupped her cheek, turning her face back towards him. "I should never have pursued you, never should have allowed it to get this far. You are so young and vibrant and full of potential, you deserve better than a moribund old man as a partner."

"Isn't that a little dramatic Emmrich?" she asked softly "Last I checked you weren't on your death bed."

"I may as well be. By the time you reach my age I may very well be… gone, and if not I'll be rapidly approaching 90. I can't put you through a life of nursing me in old age and then watching me die while you're still so young."

"Why not? I care about you, deeply. I want to be there for you, take care of you, no matter the circumstances. That's what you do when you lo — when you care about someone."

They stared at each other, both keenly aware at what she had almost said before she trailed off. Love.

If he was honest with himself, he would admit he loved her too. It had only been a few short weeks but they had come to depend on each other. For support, for reassurance, for the understanding of another watcher when the rest of the team was wary of their necromancy. But he couldn't say it, not yet, possibly not ever if he could convince her that she would be better off looking elsewhere for love.

"Please, Emmrich. Don't do this. I need you." tears had started leaking from her eyes, and he realized he was crying too. He took her hands in his, and took a deep breath. He could do this, he needed to end it. It was the right thing to do.

"I care for you too, Rook." he choked out "In a way I've never cared for anyone else."

It was the right thing to do, but he couldn't do it. After all, he was only a man. A weak, selfish man.

"I'm sorry, dearest, I am a fool." he leaned over and kissed her softly, then pressed his forehead to hers.

"All is forgiven." she sniffled, and he watched the light dance off the tears on her gray skin "Just promise you won't scare me like that again."

"I promise."

She embraced him, enveloping his lithe frame with her much larger body. He found himself in her lap, safe and comfortable in her arms, face pressed to her neck. "I'm sorry, my darling." He murmured, as she shushed him softly and pressed kisses to his hair.

Tagging @blightbright @maagisterpavus @choccy-zefirka @captainmagpie-risha @bronzieinthedas @antivan-sprig @bronzeagelove @nevesserialwriter and YOU!

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ baby daddy!satoru who wants needs you back.

in fact, you should've known he was playing a game the instant that text blinked onto your screen: pick your daughter up from his place, not school. a casual oops, totally forgot it was your day! that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.

what choice did you really have? the entire drive to that too-familiar house, your nerves were a tangled mess. pulling into the driveway, parking crookedly in your haste, the only thing screaming in your head was this used to be ours.

this small, unassuming house, a world away from the sterile grandeur of his old penthouse. the first grand gesture of your marriage had been this new place.

"the bigger the house," satoru had murmured against your bare skin that first night, "the further i'd have to be from you." so, your mornings had begun with tangled limbs and hurried kisses, and your evenings had ended in the same breathless way.

it had been the kind of dizzying happiness you foolishly thought would last forever. but then the cracks had started to show – the endless work trips, the hollow promises of things changing. he had gotten better, ironically, after the papers were signed.

satoru stood in the doorway, that infuriatingly charming, utterly knowing smirk plastered across his face. your gaze darted around the living room, a quick, almost desperate search. "where's she?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

his reply was a casual flick of his wrist. "oh, she's at a friend's."

a harsh scoff escaped you. arms crossed tight against your chest, you scoffed, "what? why? i drove all the way out here!"

"you were coming anyway," he purred, those soft puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours. "i can bring her back later. thought we could, you know… catch up."

"catch up?" you repeated, incredulous. "are you serious right now? we're not catching up, satoru. we're divorced."

but those eyes. they always had been your undoing. and somehow, against your better judgment, you found yourself agreeing to this ridiculous "catch-up." you'd pictured awkward small talk over lukewarm tea, maybe a stale cookie.

not this. not being bent in a cruel mating-press, his body a brutal, insistent press against yours, fucking you with a desperate hunger that stole your breath and any semblance of rational thought.

"god, it's been so fucking lo- long since i felt this," he grunted, his hips slamming into you with a possessive force that made you cry out. "this tight little cunt clenching - shit - around me like that."

"ah, 'toru," you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, clinging on for dear life.

"been even longer si- since i heard you say my name like that." his sweaty bangs were plastered to his forehead, a flush creeping up his neck. his pace was relentless, each thrust deeper, harder, a raw, primal need driving him. he hadn't touched anyone since you, didn't want to.

tears streamed down your face, a messy mix of pain and something dangerously close to pleasure. and that bastard, your soon-to-be-not-ex-husband-anymore, thought you looked beautiful. his thick cock stretched you, filled you completely, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"did you miss this, huh?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. "because i fucking did. bet- bet no one else makes you feel like this."

a choked whine escaped you as his teeth sank into your shoulder, a stinging sensation hitting. you can't think of a response, literally. you can't even think of your own name - you can't remember.

all that mattered was the way he was making you feel, the dizzying spiral of sensation. and in the name of "catching up," he makes you come, at least half a dozen shattering orgasms ripping through you before he finally relented, burying his face in the space between your tits.

he looked up at you, panting, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "so… about moving back in?"

fuck those puppy-dog eyes.