#sian x reader

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝖽' ༄࿔ 𝖡.𝖢.

⤷ Size Kink | Stomach Bulge | Teratophilia (Wolf-Hybrid)

♱ word count: 1.8k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, Red Riding Hood reader x Wolf Hybrid Chan, I never specify body type but this has stomach bulge & Chris is described to be bigger than the reader so read at ur own discretion, size kink, teratophilia, knotting, kinda corruption?, bribery/coercing, lowkey kinda mean chris (everyone act surprised. Sian wrote mean dom), rough sex + big dick chris with no mentions of prep, biting, public sex? Its in a forest but nobody is around, 1 use of “good girl’

sorta proofread

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“Tsk tsk tsk… You should know better than to be this far out in the woods, Red. You know this is my territory.”

“C-Chris! Listen… I’m really sorry but I need that plant over there. Grandma isn’t doing well and the only remedy that will help needs just a few of those flowers…” The tall man looks over his shoulder, eyeing the purple-colored flowers that you had pointed out.

“Hm… Okay, you can have a few.” The bright smile that grew on your face was almost enough to let you take it for free. Almost.

“Thank-” “On one condition.” 

“C’mon, sweet girl. You know I don’t do things for free~” His rough fingers stroked your cheek and he couldn’t help but grin as your smile dropped. The canines that peeked out from behind his plump lips were enough to bring you back to reality and remind you that he was in fact still a wolf hybrid and not so much your “friendly” neighbor.

“What exactly do you want…?” His grin seemed to get wider before he took his bottom lip between his teeth. A predatory glint took over his eyes as he slowly looked you up and down.

“I have something in mind…”

“Open the fuck up.”

His growl rumbles from deep within his chest and he thrusts his hips forward aggressively, causing you to cry out. Your thighs ache from the action, along with your swollen pussy thanks to the big dick that was currently tearing your insides up. You lost count after the first 5 inches, and now the seemingly never-ending length was quickly becoming too much for you.

He knew this all too well. But that didn’t stop him from forcing you and your little human body to take every last inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“C’mon Little Red, you can take it. You need to, remember?” He chuckles and pushes your thighs further apart. “You need those pretty little flowers, so you need to take my fucking cock.” His smile drops at the end of the sentence and he pulls out just to roughly thrust back inside. You moan out in surprise and his fingers dig further into your thighs, leaving crescent-shaped divots in your skin. 

“P-Please…” He clicks his tongue and leans forward more, shoving his face into your neck with another growl. With this, he manages to push another inch or two into your puffy hole, but your mind is so foggy that you don’t even notice it right away. The feeling of him breaching your walls so aggressively, all while he growls and huffs about how he needs to be all the way in for it to “count as payment” makes your head spin.

Even more so as a sob rips from your throat when he finally bottoms out. Your jaw drops and you squeal as his hips grind against yours, causing him to feel deeper all while he rubs against your G-Spot so perfectly. He throws his head back at the feeling of you completely wrapped around him and groans deeply when you clench subconsciously.

“There we go~ Good job, baby.” He licks a stripe up your neck before placing kisses all over it, letting you take a few seconds to breathe. He wasn’t that much of a brute- he did still care for you after all. Plus, what good is a new toy if you break it so early on!? So he takes a few seconds to himself, backing away and fixing his posture, allowing him to get a good look at you. And God do you look exquisite.

He licks his lips and looks over your body multiple times, doing everything in his power to burn this image of you into his head. He starts with your pretty lips, swollen and shiny with drool, and then your flushed cheeks that are wet from the fat tears that fall down them.

His eyes glance at your arms, smiling to himself at the army of goosebumps that have littered your skin as your body shakes deliciously with what he can’t decipher if it’s pleasure or pain. Your chest catches his eyes next; the way it heaves with each breath you take makes his chest swell with pride. But the thing that took the most of his attention, was the not-so-little bump on your tummy.

His lips were slightly parted and his breath was quickening as he lightly traced the outline of his dick. It’s at this point that he realizes just how large and wide he is compared to you. He’s always noticed- it’s quite hard not to. But when he has you like this, below him and completely at his mercy, he finally realizes just how much bigger he is. The sun only urges him further, casting a giant shadow over you that completely covers you and some of the ground you lay upon.

It makes his instincts go absolutely crazy and he can’t hold himself back from experimentally thrusting, moving at an angle that makes the bulge more prominent. The squeak you let out causes his eyes to flicker back up to your face, essentially snapping him out of the daze he was in. And when he meets your confused face looking up at him, he realizes how long he has been staring.

“Haha… Take a look at this, baby.” He wipes some of your tears and tilts your chin to help you look down. The desperate moan you let out sends his ego to the moon, causing him to twitch against your walls. He huffs out a laugh in disbelief and begins to move his hips, thrusting into you slowly yet roughly.

“I’m so deep… You feel that, baby?” His hand moves from your thigh and pushes down on your lower stomach, right on top of where the bulge popped out each time he bottomed out. “Fffuck.. ‘S my fat cock in your tummy?”

“God- Fuck, shut up Chris-” You clench tightly at his words despite your words and he ignores you in favor of picking up his pace, groaning when your walls flutter around him even more.

“You feel so fucking good. It’s almost like this pretty pussy was meant for me.” You swear you almost see his eyes roll into the back of his head, but he immediately brings your attention away by folding you in half. Pushing your knees to your chest and letting your ass hang in the air as he completely hovers over you, fucking into you with carnal need.

This new position makes you see stars and he uses it to his advantage, pounding into you and not allowing you time to think straight. He chases this brutal pace until your legs begin to ache, the pain of it overpowering the pleasure and making you hurriedly tap on his shoulder and push him back, “Fuck, wait- my legs.”

He huffs in annoyance but responds immediately, sitting up straight and allowing your legs to fall to his sides. His hips continue to thrust shallowly as you breathe deeply and try to rub the ache away, but this break doesn’t last long. You owe him payment, and he wants it now.

So he pulls out, opting to quickly flip you onto your knees and push your chest into the ground. You’re given no time to object before he’s shoving his entire length back inside with a groan. Your body shakes at the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. The back of your throat even itches as if his tip was poking it. And god, did it genuinely feel like that.

It’s not hard for him to find his previous pace, especially now that you’re seemingly more pliant for him. The only disobedient action from you is your cries for him to slow down, but he has no plans to. Not when you look absolutely ruined below him.

He shushes you and leans forward, holding you down with his chest against your back as he continues to fuck you as if his life depends on it.

“Shhhhh… It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re gonna be good and take it right? You're gonna let the big bad wolf fuck your brains out? Yea?” Your fingers dig into the ground and you nod as best as you can with your cheek shoved against the floor.

He’s unhappy with the silent answer and bares his teeth, sinking them into your shoulder with a growl to “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes! Please, Chris!”

“Goood girl. Just sit there and take this fucking dick. Let Wolfy use you like the good chew toy you are.” The new name makes you clench tightly around him and he groans as you cum, causing the squelching noises to become even louder. He moans and nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving small kisses before he chomps down again.

The overstimulation is starting to hit and you cry out, desperately pushing against the ground in hopes of pushing your torso up and off the floor. But that’s not what good toys do. So he growls against your neck and pushes you down, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place as he fixes his posture.

“No. You’re gonna sit still. Good toys don’t fucking move. I can’t knot you if you’re misbehaving.” As if to prove his point, his other hand digs into your waist, holding you even more still as he rams into you.

Thanks to his thick tip incessantly knocking into your cervix, you don’t process what he says right away. At least, not until you feel an extra mass pushing against your swollen folds. “W-Wait, your knot?!?”

You hear his earrings jingle as he tilts his head and you can almost hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he mocks you. “Yes, my knot. You’re gonna take it inside of this tight. little. cunt. And you’re going to take every last drop of my cum.” You go to disagree but your body reacts on its own, clenching around him and trying to suck him in impossibly deeper.

“F-Fuck- feels like you do like that idea, baby.” He grits his teeth and starts to focus on sharp thrusts. Once his knot finally breaches your hole, you sob into your arm and bite into it to hold back a scream.

He whines and grinds into you, rubbing against your G-spot roughly as he pushes himself over the edge. You can feel his breath on your neck, heavy and heaving as he pumps you full of his seed. His body shakes with each spurt of cum he releases, and the overwhelming movements are enough to push you over the edge again; the needy grinding from him mixed with the mind-numbing feeling of being overfilled, yet forced to hold every last bit, pushing you towards another orgasm.

“Mmmm… Hold it there, yeah? Keep my pups nice and safe in their new home, and I’ll let you take as many plants as you want. Deal, Little Red?”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

[dearyuls]

#. — chae yul x reader (she/her pronouns used.)

#. content warnings! — extreme yandere behaviour, failed recovery, obsession, stalking, kidnapping, murder, violence, blood and injuries, gore.

#. word count! — (so far) 13,500.

#. < full fanfiction, slowburn, no update schedule just whenever I feel like writing. only three chapter have been written so far, slow updates. also being crossposted on ao3 and wattpad as “ hand in unlovable hand”

#. > 0 | 1| 2 | <

PROLOGUE.

He swore to himself that this would be a new chance, he wouldn't waste the second chance at life that Eun Sian had graciously gifted him, in not ruining his life, that was all he could do in thanks to his dear person...well. Ex-dear person.

It was only one picture, he wouldn't let it get out of hand again, he probably wouldn't see you ever again, fate was cruel like that, and more than anyone, he knew he couldn't bend it to his will, even if he were to break all of his fingers doing so.

He had been moved far away from Sian, all on his own. A fresh slate. And, now he had no school to preoccupy himself with, he figured that finding a job would be the best thing for him to do in order to try and get his life back on track from the disastrous place he had steered it to, he blamed himself for it all, so, he decided he must be the one to fix it.

His father had given him the money to move in, and apart from that, he had no contact with his family in the slightest, he had no family left that wanted anything to do with him, he had no support system, and with this came more reason to job hunt, with no money he wouldn't be able to feed himself, or pay the bills he had.

Since he was already skilled in photography, that was the easiest first step in his mind, he'd build up a portfolio and become a photographer for events ,such as weddings, and put his prior experience to use.

It was a somewhat warm day in spring, Yul stood outside, camera in hand, snapping pictures of the scenery around him, he was just wandering around, finding whatever he saw pretty he wore a plain outfit, all black, with a hat on so that less of his face was visible, he was aware nobody that knew him could be here, they had actual lives to attend to, but, the thought of it happening but him on edge, he was lucky to be holding his camera or he would've bitten his fingernails half to death.

" At least it's a nice day out.." he mumbled to himself, as he moved to snap a photo of a water fountain that he had found in the middle of one of the nearby parks, surrounded by the greenery it made for an aesthetic picture, just what he was looking for.

CLICK!

The shutter went off and Yul waited to check the photo on the screen...

Fuck, He'd have to retake it, he couldn't have that person standing in the frame.

He looked up, he had to see if whoever you were had moved, and, it was as if the first domino had been pushed over, you were looking away, it appeared an orange butterfly had caught your attention, so you didn't make eye contact, but Yul felt his heart speed up. The rays of sunlight painted your face, the gentle breeze made your hair flow ever so slightly..and you were just wearing the cutest outfit..he wondered what Sian would look like if she wore it.

He slapped himself in the face. He hated the way he thought, he needed to stop thinking about her, it wouldn't get him anywhere. He wanted to change, it was what she wanted. He knew Sian would never wear a skirt like that, what a dumb thought.

By the time he'd finished his self argument, she had already gotten out of the frame, and Yul hesitated before taking another picture, he wouldn't delete the first photo, something compelled him not to.

He bit his lip, harsh, almost like trying to draw blood as he went back to the first photo, infact, your presence there seemed to elevate the scene, maybe it was better with you in it... the more he looked at the photo the more he seemed to agree.

He shook that feeling off and kept walking, he had to learn to do something by himself without the thoughts of her creeping in.

By the time the sun started setting Yul had already gone home, he felt strange, unable to take anymore pictures. His mood had turned completely dejected. It hasn't been all that great after getting out of hospital, he had been miserable despite trying, and today he just started to feel worse.

He was on his computer, which sat on a little desk in the left corner of his room. And was clicking through the photos which he had taken, figuring out which one would be the best to show to professional companies, he had only found two of actual quality for that day, and he clicked right, going to the next one, the one with that girl in it.

He zoomed in, and in and in.

He just sat in his dimly light room, illuminated by a single lamp, with his eyes pressed to the computer screen. Staring at you, Unblinking.

He stared, and stared, and stared.

It didn't take him long to realise he was being creepy, this behaviour wasn't right. He needed to stop.  In the short time he was at therapy, he had been taught a few ways t stop himself when he got all worked up like this, but, it was a shame he couldn't remember a single one of them.

It had been some time since he showed proper interest in anyone, and, you were just some random girl, he wouldn't let it get any worse again, he didn't even know your name or anything, plus he didn't even know anything about you.

Despite the kind look on your face and your general demeanour, you could still be a serpent lying beneath.

Why was he even questioning any of that? He didn't even know you, why was he trying to figure out what kind of person you were? He shook his head, minimising his gallery before closing his computer completely, maybe he was just feeling vulnerable and this is why his strange feelings started to act up again..

Yul had no other explanation outside of it being that, so, he decided to try and sleep it off. He got up from his desk and draped himself over his bed, staring up at his empty walls. With no pictures spread over them, it didn't look right, he could just imagine her face staring back at him...but she wasn't there. She had abandoned him she was horrible she was

Something he no longer needed to worry about, he reminded himself. He had no right to be angry.

He just needed to search and find something to overwhelm the still lingering feelings he has,  or he needs to actually get better, one of the two, he'd settle for.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 31)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Birth, Complications

Moments later, Cillian joined the others in the dining room and, after you were finished feeding Mara, you followed suit.

Everyone sat down at the table, exchanging polite greetings and small talk. Your mother was still upset, but she refrained from saying anything more hurtful. Instead, she focused on making pleasant conversation with Siobhan and Cillian's other sister Sian. 

As time progressed, Cillian's mother rose from her seat, carrying a steaming dish to serve everyone. "Dig in, everyone!" she encouraged, gesturing at the array of delicious food. "We can all eat now," she announced cheerfully.

"Siobhan, why don't you start passing out these plates?" she suggested, handing a stack of dishes to her daughter. Siobhan obliged, distributing the food among the guests. The aroma wafted enticingly through the air, tantalizing their senses and drawing their attention to the feast laid out before them.

"This smells amazing, mum," Cillian praised, serving himself generous portions of the delectable dishes. "You've outdone yourself once again," he complimented sincerely, watching his mother beam proudly.

"Thank you, Cillian," she murmured appreciatively while Frank rolled his eyes for reasons unclear to you. 

Cillian and Frank then shared another round of heated glares, their tension escalating with each passing moment. Neither one of them uttered a word to one another, but their body language spoke volumes. Their rigid postures and clenched jaws hinted at the animosity brewing beneath the surface.

"Would anyone like some wine?" Cillian's mother asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence, causing Cillian to nod. 

"Are you alright?" she then added worriedly, her gaze darting between Cillian and Frank.

"Of course," Cillian assured her, forcing a tight-lipped grin. "Just tired," he lied smoothly, reaching for his glass of wine. 

"Well, babies do that to you, Cillian," his mother laughed kindly, patting the hand he rested on the table. "You need to pace yourself because it will get worse," she then chuckled, her gaze flitting between him and you.

"We will," you promised, meeting her sympathetic gaze. "We seem to be working well as a team so far," you added, attempting to lighten the mood.

Cillian nodded, flashing a brief smile before returning to his meal. The group fell silent, each member consumed by their own thoughts as they savored the scrumptious food. The air buzzed with an undercurrent of tension, but the palatable dishes successfully managed to divert their attention from the simmering hostility.

Despite the occasional strained laughter and forced smiles, it proved somewhat challenging to maintain a cohesive conversation and, at around 9 o'clock, after a few more glasses of wine, Cillian's mother called it a day.

"I think I should get some rest before tomorrow," she said, yawning widely before she left the dining room and, as soon as she did, your mother and Frank looked at each other, rose from their seats and disappeared into separate rooms without saying a single word, leaving you, Cillian, Siobhan and Sian sitting there awkwardly.

"Don't worry," Siobhan tried to console you, her hand squeezing your arm comfortingly. "Tomorrow will be better," she then smiled encouragingly, causing Cillian to shake his head in disbelieve.

"This is ridiculous," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "I didn't expect that we would have to deal with such nonsense when we came here," he lamented before walking towards the living room in order to confront them both.

"They are behaving like children," he said, his jaw muscles bulging visibly. "Frank especially," he then added bitterly while Siobhan and Sian exchanged knowing glances.

"Just give them some time to process this Cillian," Siobhan reasoned patiently though Cillian merely shrugged in reply.

"They had nine months to process this," he argued stubbornly, crossing his arms defiantly. 

"I understand, Cillian," Siobhan consoled sympathetically, her tone gentle and understanding. "You're frustrated right now--"

"I'm beyond frustrated," he cut her off impatiently, his brows furrowing in agitation before barging off to find them.

"You'll only provoke them," Siobhan called after him, her words falling on deaf ears.

Sian sighed heavily, shaking her head in exasperation. "Why does everything involve drama in our family?" she moaned despondently, casting a sorrowful glance at you.

"Fuck, I feel like I am at fault," you sighed, biting your lip nervously. "If I hadn't gotten involved with Cillian in the first place, none of this would have happened," you lamented, staring blankly at the empty wine glass on the table.

"Y/N," Siobhan said to you, patting your hand. "We all do dumb things sometimes, especially when we are in love," she assured you fiercely, her unwavering gaze conveying a certainty that suprised you.

"I am not in love with him," you lied, your voice trembling slightly. "It was a short-lived and stupid little fling," you dismissed it, biting your lip nervously. "We weren't really serious about it," you insisted, although the truth was much different. 

"Sure, if this is what you want to tell yourself," Siobhan replied, offering you a comforting smile. "But, in any event, what I am saying is that you aren't responsible for other people's reactions or behavior," she emphasized, her gaze lingering on you thoughtfully. "Cillian and you seem to be happy enough with whatever arrangements you have in place so your mother and Frank will just need to let it go and deal with it," she concluded resolutely, her voice firm and unwavering.

You sighed heavily, mulling over her words carefully. She made sense, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for inadvertently causing turmoil within Cillian's family. 

"You are right," you admitted reluctantly, your voice barely audible. "Cillian and I are content with our arrangement and if my mum doesn't want anything to do with her grandchild then that's her loss," you determined, swallowing thickly.

"Exactly," Siobhan agreed wholeheartedly, her gaze locking onto yours just as Cillian appeared again, sighing heavily.

"I give up," he muttered, throwing his hands into the air dramatically.

"I told you there was no point talking with Frank when he gets like this," Sian reminded him, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, he's got to learn that the relationship between Y/N and myself is not his business," Cillian growled, shaking his head in frustration. "He can't control everyone's life," he added before barging upstairs. 

Cillian was visibly upset, his anger and irritation plainly evident in his tense posture and stormy gaze. You watched him disappear upstairs, his footsteps echoing loudly against the hardwood floors.

"I will be back," you told the sisters before following Cillian and, as you approached the bedroom in which Mara had been sleeping, you could hear Cillian speaking softly to your Babygirl. 

"Shh, it's okay my perfect little girl," he cooed, his voice low and soothing. "Let's just get that nappy changed, shall we?" he told her, seeing that, clearly, it was this time of the night for her. 

"Do you want me to do this?" you asked quietly as you opened the door of the bedroom, observing Cillian cradling Mara lovingly.

"No, I've got it," he replied, looking up at you briefly before tenderly laying Mara down on the changing table. "I actually enjoy this part," he explained, his voice soft and soothing. You watched him closely, admiring how adeptly he navigated the task.

"Really? You enjoy changing dirty nappies?" you queried skeptically, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Really," he confirmed, his lips quirking upward in amusement. "I mean, it's something I can do, you know. She won't let me bottle feed her and she most certainly won't go to sleep for me anymore," he then explained, chuckling slightly. "She prefers you to do it," he continued, grinning broadly at you.

"Well, I do have the mother's touch," you winked while Cillian disposed of the used diaper into the bin, before he grabbed a fresh one and placed it on the changing mat.

"Or maybe you're just naturally gifted Y/N. You are amazing with her," Cillian said honestly while putting a new nappy on to her and taping it securely before he lifted her up in his arms. "Ready for mommy to feed you again?" he then asked your baby sweetly while she gurgled happily and kicked her legs in excitement.

You took her out of his hands, kissing her forehead affectionately before responding to Cillian. "I guess the only real difference is that I have got the goodies and you don't," you joked lightly, watching him chuckle softly.

"You are perfect with her Cillian and you are most certainly perfect with me these days," you admitted quietly, feeling Cillian's gaze lock onto yours. 

"If I was really that perfect, then I wouldn't have made you come here with me," he retorted, his gaze flickering across your face. "I mean, with the way Sarah and Frank are acting, this is far from ideal and I am sorry for making you come. You deserve to be treated so much better," Cillian apologized, his gaze boring into yours.

"Cillian, you didn't make me come here," you countered, your gaze flickering across his face. "I chose to come with you, remember? It wasn't an obligation," you pointed out, watching him consider your words.

"You are something else, you know that?" Cillian murmured, his voice hushed and filled with emotion. "And I think that l am actually in love with you, Y/N."

You paused, studying him intently. His confession caught you off guard, his words painting a vivid image of his inner turmoil. "Cillian," you breathed, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. "I think I may be in love with you too," you confessed hesitantly, blushing profusely.

His breath hitched sharply, his gaze locked onto yours. "Really?" he gasped, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I have been for a while but things were just too difficult between us. You then met Amanda and dated her for a while and I figured that my feelings for you were unrequited so I tried to ignore them,” you confessed, blushing deeply. "I never expected that things would change," you added, squirming uncomfortably.

"Things have definitely changed," Cillian agreed, his gaze burning with intensity. "Or maybe they haven't, and I was just trying too hard to ignore how I felt as well," he sighed wistfully, reaching out to cup your cheek affectionately.

"So, what are we going to do now then?” you asked cautiously, your gaze fluttering across Cillian's face. 

"Well, we could work things out. We could be a proper family, move in together and give this relationship a shot," Cillian murmured, his words stirring a warm flush in your veins. "You, me, Mara and, occasionally, Max," he added, his gaze piercing into yours. 

"You know what? That sounds absolutely wonderful," you exhaled, smiling brightly. "I want that, Cillian," you confessed fervently, your voice trembling slightly just as Cillian finally leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

To be continued...

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[siancore]

Dear Readers,

Were you wondering about the final chapters to these fics?

War Stories

Ashes & Dreams

The Prince's Wife

Take Me

The Tribute

My laptop that I've written and saved these updates on has died and needs a replacement charger, but I can't get one just yet. It'll probably be another couple of weeks before I can. I'm so sorry for the wait.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Love,

Sian x

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - what makes us who we are

Part two:

You stuck to your word, you came back to school the following week, but you never went anywhere near his classes.

Instead you took yourself off to isolation and sat in there, sometimes doing homework, sometimes just scrolling through your phone.

“Are you really going to leave it like this? Huh?” Mrs Paracha asked.

He looked at her, slightly taken aback by her random appearance next to him and he turned his attention back to the window.

“I’ve tried, I’ve tried talking to them, meetings, I’ve even tried emailing over work, nothing works. I’ve got Sian on my back about getting them back into lesson and no game plan on how to do it.”

Mrs Paracha smiled.

“Leave it to me eh? I know them, I’ll talk to them.”

With that, she grinned and left, making her way to the reflection room where she knew you would be sat during this next lesson.

Sitting in your usual seat, she waited and you stopped when you saw her sat there.

“We need to talk.”

You shrugged a little, following her from the reflection room to her little office and she closed to the door.

“Why you not going to English? This is important you know.”

She sat down and looked at you.

“I’m not having anything to do with that judgmental moron.”

“That not nice. He trying his best, why not just talk to him? Huh?”

You shook your head and looked up, pulling your mask to just below your nose so you could breath a little easier and get some fresh air.

“He judged me miss, just because of how I look. Because I have no choice in what I wear.” You whispered.

“And he sorry, just talk to him. No one say you have to forgive him. Just talk, go back to lesson.”

You looked at her and sighed in defeat.

“I’ll think about it Mrs Paracha, okay?”

With that you grabbed your bag and left her office, wondering the hallways, trying to find some way to pass the time.

You could just leave early, but you still had science and you didn’t mind going to that, it was just English you refused to go to.

But you knew Mrs Paracha was right, you needed to go back to lesson at least, because you were going ti be risking your exams next year if you didn’t.

Standing at the door, you stared at the handle as you debated on what you were going to do, and that’s when you watched it open.

“(Y/N)…?” Mr Evershed asked softly.

You walked over and barged past him into the classroom and took your usual seat in the back, pulling your headphones out as you grabbed a text book and started to work.

It was progress at least, but he knew he had to try and reach out to you.

Mr Evershed left it a few weeks, letting you get settled back in but now he was actin head of Ackley bridge, he had no choice but to call a meeting with you about your grades.

He was unsure if you were even going to attend, but when you walked through his office door and dropped yourself into a chair he sighed in relief.

“Thanks for coming.”

He got up and closed the door, making his way back over and he sat down.

“We just need to talk about ways to improve your grades in English, we can set up extra classes, maybe some extra work for you to complete, just until you catch up.”

You simply said nothing, just sat there staring out the window behind him.

He sighed.

“We can set classes before school, or after school whichever works with you.”

You didn’t reply.

“Alright, still no talking to me. Alright, I get it. I wouldn’t talk to me either but this is about your education (Y/N), I need some sort of engagement from you, a response, even if it’s just a nod or shake of your head.”

You looked at him and narrowed your eyes a little bit.

“I couldn’t care less what you put in place, I really couldn’t.”

“Right well you should, it’s your education at stake here, I’m just trying to help.”

You leant back in your chair and crossed your arms.

“Come on, it’s been weeks. I’m just going to keep apologising.”

“Then I hope you you’ll be alive when I’m on my deathbed then sir, cause I’d love to stare you in the eyes and tell you how much I resent you just before I kick it.”

“Seriously?”

You just offered a half shrug and stood up, grabbing your bag.

“I don’t care what you put in place.”

You started to leave.

“I read your file.” He said.

You stopped.

“I’m sorry for what happened, and if you want to talk about to my doors always open, alright?”

You said nothing as you left, and you carried on holding a grudge against him.

Refusing to talk to him, not taking part in anything that had him there, ignoring him.

It went in for months.

Mr Evershed had nearly given up, he was at that point when he realised he couldn’t make everything right or help everyone.

As much as he thought he could help all his students he was ready to accept that not everyone wanted help, sometimes you just had to know when to give in.

He didn’t need for you to be a teachers pet, for you to talk to him every day, he just wanted to know you were okay and he was forgiven for acting to rash, jumping to conclusions.

Sitting in his office, he was doing some paperwork for the school when the message came over the radio.

You weren’t in class, and Mrs Carl found you wondering the hallways but you wouldn’t stop and you had just walked off.

Getting up, he grabbed the radio and began to join the search to find you and bring you back to the class you were supposed to be in.

They were searching everywhere, and as he walked past one of the doors he stopped and took a few steps back.

He raised his radio and spoke into it.

“I’ve found them, thanks everybody.”

Muting it, he put it into his pocket and walked out, down the steps and over to the table where you were staring at the hill behind the school.

“You’ve had everyone looking under every table and chair for you.”

You didn’t reply and he walked around, taking a seat on the table next to you, clasping his hands together as he looked at the hill as well.

“What’s going on? You’ve been doing alright with lessons recently, so what’s changed?” He asked.

You said nothing, and he sighed, turning his head to look at you.

Now he was looking at you, he saw the tears streaming down your face, and he turned to face you better.

“(Y/N)? Why’re you crying?” He whispered.

You shook your head, as looked at at the floor.

“(Y/N)? Talk to me.”

“I’m done. I’m done with everything.” You said lowly.

He got up and turned to face you, crouching down a little as he rested his hands on his knees.

“Done with what? What’s happened?”

“This school! These judgmental teachers! Everything!” You yelled.

You got up and started to pace back and forth, eyes glued to your feet as you walked.

“(Y/N) what happened?” He asked again.

You dug through your blazer pocket and tossed something at him and he picked it up.

A broken face mask, the string on the side was snapped off clear.

You pushed the hood of your jacket down, and he saw the dried blood on the side of your face, just under your ear.

“Who did this?” He said lowly.

“I’m so tired of people judging me!”

“Who did this?” He asked again.

You shook your head.

“I’ll be better off without school… I’ll get a job or whatever. I’m done.”

You grabbed your bag and he gently grabbed your arm.

“I need to know who did this, who tore that mask from your face?”

“Some stupid new trust teacher I… I don’t know…”

You pulled your arm free from him.

“If society wants to look at me like a freak, a monster, then I’ll get a job where people won’t have to look at me.”

“Don’t do that. Come on you’ve got so much to do, so much you can do.”

You shook your head.

“I’ll never amount to anything, people will look at me and they’ll always, always see a thug, someone scary, someone that’ll hurt me. They don’t care to know the reason, the don’t care about the story behind it. They’ll just jump straight to judge.”

“(Y/N) you’re not a thug, you’re not a freak or a monster, you are who you are, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not scarred for life, literally.”

You tossed your bag over your shoulder and pulling your mask up to cover your nose again.

“I don’t want to keep seeing people look at me like that… with that look…”

He looked at you with a small frown on his face.

“It’s always the same look… disgust… hate…”

You pulled your headphones and started to walk away, and he couldn’t stop you.

Mr Evershed found himself stuck in his place, a mixture of anger and sadness whirling around in side of him.

You just wanted someone to look at you for like you were just like everyone else, just a normal person who has feelings.

Just a human who’s been through something horrible, and he started to run through ideas in his head.

He wasn’t going to give up on you, even if you wanted him too he wouldn’t. Because he deserved at least one person who was going to have your back and show you that you are more than your marks

[mediaevalmusereads]

A Kingdom to Claim. By Sian Ann Bessey. Shadow Mountain Publishing, 2024.

Rating: 2.5/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction

Series: N/A

Summary: Aisley’s young life was changed forever when her father accompanied King Alfred into battle and lost his life in a deadly skirmish with the Vikings. Now, almost seven years later, the Vikings are once again rallying on Wessex’s borders, and Aisley fears that her older brother may have treacherous plans to betray the king by aligning himself with the invading Norsemen. But when Aisley encounters a handsome nobleman in the market, she feels the first stirrings of hope. Though they met only once when Aisley was little more than a child, she recognizes him immediately as one of King Alfred’s most trusted men.

It has been years since Brecc has seen Aisley, but when he spots her in the marketplace, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the copper-haired young lady with a gift for healing. Before his fledgling feelings for her can develop into something more, however, a Viking attack tears them apart. King Alfred is forced into hiding, and in a matter of days, the Saxon nation is brought to its knees. Unwilling to forsake their people, the king and his men embark on secret raids of Viking encampments. But when Aisley joins the fight, Brecc must reconcile his steadfast loyalty to King Alfred with his growing love for the king’s newest warrior.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: blood, violence

OVERVIEW: One of my good friends asked me to read this, so here we are. This book is set in 9th century England, which is exactly in my realm of expertise. Overall, I struggle to rate this book because I think it does a good job avoiding the worst tropes associated with historical fiction (especially fiction set in the European middle ages/viking era), but as a story, it didn't quite capture my attention. So my 2.5 rating has nothing to do with the history being inaccurate; rather, I think the craft of storytelling was not to my tastes and even lacked in some areas.

WRITING: Bessey's prose has some qualities that I think might appeal to some readers: it's fairly straight-forward and quick, so it does feel almost like the prose one would expect in a romance.

However, there were a lot of things that I didn't particularly enjoy. For one, characters speak in a manner that feels overly formal and wooden. I understand the desire to recreate "historically accurate" speech patterns, and I also understand the desire to show the difference in class by having the upper class sound more formal than the lower class. But personally, I'm not a stickler for this kind of accuracy and I find that wooden dialogue detracts from the story more than it enhances "realism."

For two, this book is, is my opinion, overwritten. Bessey focuses on details that don't really matter and explains everything down to why a basket in the kitchen is empty or why X character might not notice Y. These details, in my opinion, preclude the author from showing (rather than telling) and leaves little room for the reader to bring their own perspectives to the story. I think Bessey needed to hold back and think more about what was most important - even though research is admirable, the story should take precedent.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows two people: Aisley (a noble woman and healer) and Brecc (an ealdorman and thane of King Alfred the Great). The characters find themselves swept up in both an attraction that evolves into romance and in the conflict between Wessex and Viking invaders in the 9th century, and they must use their skills to ensure Alfred unites the kingdom and drives the threat from their homes.

I very much respected that Bessey created a world that didn't repeat some of the worst tropes of historical fiction. I was relieved that no one was shouting "witchcraft!" at Aisley for her knowledge of medicinal herbs (because seriously: medieval people - even Christians - used herbs!) and I appreciated that Christianity was neither ignored nor demonized. Bessey also did away with toxic masculinity and the constant threat of rape, so though there is always the risk of violence from the vikings, this book doesn't revel in the "grittiness" and violence against women that I absolutely hate in most media set during this time period.

All that being said, it was difficult to feel much enthusiasm for this story because it seemed like more focus was on the world and the history than on individual character motivations. Both Aisley and Brecc act out of loyalty to the king, which is all well and good, but they didn't seem to have personal arcs. Sure, things happen to them, but I didn't get a feeling for what either character wanted or what they were striving for.

On top of that, this book didn't seem to know what genre it wanted to be. The focus on the politics and history made me think it was historical fiction with a romantic subplot, but the marketing also had me thinking it might be historical romance. By the end, I didn't think. Aisley and Brecc's relationship was central enough to justify this book being romance, so readers shouldn't go in with those expectations.

Lastly, I couldn't help but feel like there was a giant missed opportunity. Aisley is a healer and her story takes place during King Alfred's reign. In real-life, Alfred famously suffered from chronic gastrointestinal issues (perhaps Crohn's Disease), but none of that makes it into the book. I normally wouldn't fault an author for picking amd choosing what to include/exclude, but since one character is a healer, it seems like there was such lost potential - having Aisley be some kind of help to Alfred would have given her and Brecc more opportunities to interact and thus strengthen their romantic plot.

CHARACTERS: While I do appreciate the way the medieval world is portrayed in this book, the individual characters were just not very interesting to me. It seemed like the characters were just there to describe the goings-on of Alfred and what it might have been like to live in the 9th century, which is fine, but not exactly a story.

Aisley, our heroine, is admirable for her compassion and knowledge of medicinal herbs. But her abilities and compassion has little bearing on the plot. She doesn't use her abilities to, say, make herself valuable to either the king or to the vikings, and her compassion, while nice, doesn't really signify because there isn't a time when she uses it to, say, spare someone who doesn't deserve it. On top of that, Bessey writes Aisley as having tears in her eyes a lot - I couldn't tell if Aisley was an easy crier or if the descriptions were merely repetitive. Still, there were some good things: Aisley does have agency and acts to protect people rather than feign helplessness. She also has a strong sense of loyalty and isn't afraid to challenge her family. I just wish more of these things were used to give her a unique character arc.

Brecc, our hero, is fairly bland in that he's a devoted follower of Alfred and acts honorably 100% of the time. Though I appreciate that Bessey didn't give him traits that I loathe in historical men, Brecc also didn't feel like he had much going on. His desire to protect Aisley and his duty to the king were not really in conflict enough to be a serious concern, and even his loyalty isn't personal enough - it's just a given. His romance with Aisley also feels very safe and uncomplicated, which is fine if you like fluffier romances but not so great for a novel-length story.

Side characters were fine. I liked Brecc's friendship with Rheged (another thane) because it felt more personal and the two were prone to teasing one another. Their rapport felt natural compared to most other interactions in the book. Aisley's family was ok; they're not super well-developed and their obvious annoyance with Aisley was kind of irritating, but the fact that they were disappointed with Alfred was a good way of instilling conflict. Alfred himself was also kind of bland; he acts the perfect king, which is fine but not necessarily interesting. Bessey hints at some inner conflict with him, but not much is done in the plot itself to truly explore questions of duty and loyalty.

TL;DR: While I greatly appreciated that the medieval world was written without some of the worst tropes and the author seemed to have a genuine love for history, there just wasn't enough to make the characters themselves interesting.

[afterlifeimagines]

Hi!!! I’ve just recently got the game and I was wondering if you could write Sian, Quincy and Mori hc/imagines where their SO nearly gets attacked by a spirit and they have to step in? Thank you so much!!!!! Have a great day!!

Mori: 

Mori hides his worry for you behind a more relaxed persona, asking why you had run ahead the way you did when you knew how powerful the spirit was. He tries not to rag on you too much as he’s not trying to let on how much he cares about you or how truly terrified he was when he’d seen you in such terrible condition but even he’s not an impenetrable fortress. He makes you promise not to do something so foolish again or he’d be really mad at you, maybe even considering giving you the silent treatment for making him that scared. 

Sian: 

Sian is a little frantic when he sees the vengeful spirit rearing up for a powerful attack that you’re about to take the brunt of, quick to pull you out of the way before retaliating. He carefully checked you over for any wounds before letting out a deep sigh, lightly scolding you as he wanted you to pay a little more attention to your surroundings while you were in a dangerous space. But there’s a lot of relief now that the spirit has been handled and Sian gives you a reassuring hug, stating the two of you should probably get going before more enemies appeared.

Quincy: 

Quincy can’t seem to keep his cool when you’re the one in danger, his face instantly switching from confident to fearful when he sees you’re directly in the line of fire. He’s thankful his skills manage to keep you safe for another day but his feelings of frustration bubble up as he scolds you, telling you to not act stupid while on the job and that something awful could’ve happened had he not been there to help. The emotions he feels as his adrenaline goes down is intense and he keeps to himself (while still keeping an eye on you) for the rest of the mission, hating that they’d gotten the better of him. 

[merakiui]

Hi! Don't know if requests are open, but if they are can you please do hcs or scenario on a tall (like 5'11/6") MC who likes Sian? But they're hesitant on confessing their feelings bc they feel like he would be intimidated or find it "ugly"? (Whaaaat? Me having this told to me constantly?? Noooo this isn't based on real life, aHA)

(Anon, this was really adorable. Imagine Sian standing on the tips of his toes (or on a box) to kiss you at your height. I hope you’ll like these hcs! And don’t let anyone say anything bad about your height. There’s no such thing as an ugly height! :D)

Tall!S/O HCs (Sian)

🎤 Sian 🎤

Sian is very particular and defensive when it comes to his height. He’s always insisting that the decimal matters, and anyone who forgets it will suffer his wrath.

Due to your height, Sian isn’t at eye level with you. And because of this he has to look up in order to properly hold a conversation with anyone who’s taller than him. It’s not much of a problem—that is, until one of the Reapers makes a joke about it.

Lately you’ve been acting strange around him. Sian wouldn’t have noticed it at first if Cyrille hadn’t pointed it out. You’re avoiding eye contact, your posture indicates you feel awkward, and you can’t seem to get your thoughts in order.

Now that he’s paying more attention to these small habits of yours, he begins to pick up on Cyrille’s observations. He’s not sure why you seem so distracted as of late. When he consults Cyrille, boy genius just says distraction is a common sign of procrastination. He explains that you’re just overwhelmed with work, so you’re trying not to think about it.

In actuality, you’ve been weighing the pros and cons of confessing your feelings for a while now. Your crush on Sian has only grown since you’ve gotten to know him.

The only downside to that is your height. At least, you assume it’s a downside. Sian would probably prefer someone shorter than him, wouldn’t he? There’s no way he’d like someone as tall as you.

While those are mere speculations, you don’t think you’d be able to summon the bravery to ask him any personal questions. You’ll probably have to get your information from Cyrille, Noah, and Kati, and even that is a bit embarrassing on your end. Though Noah might be the most understanding, and he’s less likely to give you a hard time.

Regardless, you’ve been sitting with these thoughts weighing on your mind for quite some time. It’s been affecting your performance at work. Even Nyang could tell something was up, to which you assured him you were fine.

You haven’t felt this self-conscious over your height in a while. All of those negative feelings continue to pile up, and it gets so bad that you have to take a break as soon as you come back from a mission one day.

What am I going to do? I’d like to confess, but I can’t because of my height. What if he thinks it’s ugly? Or what if he’d be too embarrassed to date someone like me because he’s shorter? A dozen self-deprecating thoughts race through your head. You almost wish you could’ve been born a little shorter so that you wouldn’t tower over your crush.

The Reapers are fretting over your behavior. They know their manager is hard-working, but you really shouldn’t stress yourself out. That’s never healthy.

So Sian visits you in your office once the tension has settled down in hopes of cheering you up. Though he appears flustered as he voices his concern, you know he cares deeply. But you still can’t tell him the source of your problem.

Instead you ask for his opinion on tall people.

He assumes you’re trying to poke fun at his height at first, but when he notices the sincerity in your gaze his mood simmers.

“I guess being tall is useful. You can reach high places. Cyrille told me about this study that proves that tall people are smarter, but I think it’s just nonsense.” He’s rambling now, saying whatever he can in order to put a smile on your face.

And it does. You laugh a little when he grumbles about how that shut-in Cyrille has nothing better to do with his time other than spout random facts.

“To be honest, I don’t care if you’re short or tall. Just don’t rub it in, okay?!”

Sian mumbles something about how your height reminds him of a sunflower, a plant that grows in such a happy manner. When you ask him to repeat himself, his face heats up and he begins to stutter out an excuse.

Hearing that really lifts your spirit, and you realize your initial assumptions were incorrect. It’s a relief knowing that Sian doesn’t have any preference when it comes to height.

It’s either now or never. You can’t hold these feelings in forever, and the talk you just had with Sian has boosted your confidence.

You open your mouth to confess. Your true feelings spill out like a refined waterfall, and Sian turns a darker shade of red.

For once, he’s truly speechless.

Of course he accepts your confession! The two of you will make a wonderful couple, and he’ll always be there to reassure you whenever you feel uncomfortable about your height.

[afterlife-butterflies]

Hello! Finally another afterl!fe imagines, I'm so happyyy ^^ May I request 80 with Noah, Licht and Sian please? Thankyou ^^

80: I wish you could see yourself through my eyes

I hope you’ll like this! Thanks for requesting ^^

“Careful,” Noah helps pick up some books from the pile in your arms, chuckling fondly. “Our manager is hard at work again, huh?”

You adopt a sheepish grin at that. The books were stacked so high you could barely see in front of you. “Well, I have to do my best with my duties.” Feeling lighter now, you reposition the items to a more comfortable position, starting to move toward the storage rooms. “Everyone is working hard to fulfill their wishes, so I feel like I have to keep up somehow.”

He frowns at the tired tone in your voice. “Have you been overworking again?”

“Um…” You’re not sure how to answer; should you spare him with a white lie?

Noah reads your expression, speaking gently. “You’re doing more than enough, you know that? We all admire you for looking after the entire department and tolerating us.” He settles into a soft smile. “If only you could see yourself through my eyes, dear manager.”

-

Uneasiness creeps in as you examine the flyer Licht handed you. You feel bad, but you have to tell him sooner rather than later.

He notices that you don’t seem as excited as he’d thought you’d be. “What’s wrong, darling? Is everything alright?”

“I…” You sigh, combing a hand through your hair. “I don’t think you should bring me as your date.”

Before he could misunderstand, you quickly continue. “It’s not because I don’t want to spend time with you! It’s just… I don’t look the best in yukata.” Heck, you weren’t even sure how to put it on or even style it. “And I’ve never been to japanese festivals like these before… I might just become a hindrance to you.”

Licht smiles kindly, taking your free hand. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Though there is one thing he has to clarify. “But just so you know, you’d never be a hindrance to me. In fact, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, then you’d understand how lovely you are.”

-

You and Sian were hanging out in the music room, where he’s let you look over a song he’s drafted. You’d been giving constructive criticism and cooing over his work, which he knows he should think on too much since you’re just a genuinely nice and sweet person, but god you just look so cute from his spot across you-

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” he all but mutters out, hidden behind his notebook but keeping his eyes on you thoughtfully.

Unfortunately for his health, you heard him. You jumped a little and stare at him in surprise, not expecting that compliment. Ah, is that your face burning? You hope it isn’t showing on your cheeks. “I- I’m sure you don’t mean that…” You try to wave it off, averting your eyes, suddenly feeling much more timid than before.

Sian’s own face is dusted with a bit of red, but he otherwise maintains his cool. Pouting slightly, he responds in the same quiet tone. “Well… I kind of did. But it doesn’t matter, anyone would agree that you’re a great person. Even that nerd Cyrille, though he’d say it in some dumb complicated way."

[dwaekkicidal]

Lessons

˚ʚfwb!Bang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Just a regular session of your best friend helping you learn Korean <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, nicknames; ‘honey and good girl,’ pvssy slaps, playful ass&thigh spanking, Chris calls himself Daddy once lol, rough sex, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: max and I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it was soo hot so I wanted to write something for it,,, but then I lost motivation for it for a while😭 anyways hope u enjoy <3

OH and thank you for 700 followers!! (im late so now so ~25 away from 800) :''') I have something planned for if/when I hit 1k hehe, Love u guys :>

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

After you had moved to Korea, you made it your sole goal to be completely fluent in Korean as soon as possible. You knew the basics and some vocabulary that got you through day-to-day encounters, but holding an actual conversation past introductions was rather difficult. So, this is how you found yourself in your current situation. Your best friend and fuck buddy of 2 years giving you weekly Korean lessons.

And this? This was a normal thing between you both. Sitting in his lap practicing while he sits there explaining things and kneading your thighs mindlessly. It was a normal occurrence! The only difference is you usually wore sweats or some sort of bottom that would cover your legs more. Today was one of the hotter days of the week, so you disregarded the extras and opted to only wear one of his shirts, nothing else.

His hands rubbed eagerly up and down your thighs, squeezing the flesh like he does with soft pillows. Again, it was normal, but today he seemed to be restless with his movements. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath when he mindlessly squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh rather roughly while he translated a word you couldn’t figure out. “What is up with you today? You’re more touchy-feely than usual.”

“Sorry haha. Had a long day so I’m fidgety.. And you know I can’t resist you in nothing but my shirt.” You only hummed in response. You believed what he said, but you also knew that he wasn’t stupid and that the apology was not for his roughness as much as it was for how riled up he knew you were getting. He was never actually sorry about being physically affectionate with you, but you both knew how you tended to get very horny when his hands were on you so desperately.

“Mmmm.. Let me play with you a little while you read, okay?” You shake your head and push your study items away, pulling a laugh from him when you mumbled out ‘Fuck that, I need you.’

“None of that hahaha. Focus on the reading, honey.” He said, placing a kiss on your cheek before leaning down and biting into your neck. You groaned and leaned back into him, grinding against him in an attempt to make him fold in your favor. He let the first few grinds pass as he left hickeys along your neck, but the second your hands cupped him through his shorts he grabbed your hips to still your movements.

“Hey.“ The commanding tone in his voice caught you off guard and had your hands immediately stop in their tracks. “Stop that. You’re going to finish reading this text and then I’ll fuck you nice and good.”

“It’s not that serious, Chris. It's just a few paragraphs, we can do it after or just skip out this week.. Plus it’s your fault I’m this horny anyways.” The attitude in your voice makes him narrow his eyes, and then he grabs your chin and angles you to look back at him.

“Watch your tone. And I’m not gonna tell you again,” His hand grabbed both of yours and placed them on the table before moving to spread your legs open for him. Then, he finishes his sentence and enunciates each word with a harsh smack to your bare cunt. “Finish. Reading. The. Article.” The last one comes off harder than the others and it pulls a squeal from you, making your hands shoot down and wrap around his wrist while your legs slam shut against his hand. He grabs from your inner knee and hooks your legs over his, keeping you spread for him, and he pulls your book closer again.

You can feel the teasing smile on his face after he places a kiss on your cheek and then speaks against it. “You only have one article left, honey. The quicker you read it, the quicker I can bend you over and fuck you into the table~” You can’t help but whine and nod. Once you look down at the material again, Chris’ hands that were previously rubbing your inner thigh move back to rub along your wet folds. 

Then for what feels like the next hour, but was really just 20 long minutes, you slur out the words in front of you as best as you can. Chris’ left hand swapped between drawing circles into your clit and pinching your nipple, while his right hand shoved fingers against your walls. And every couple of minutes he would swap between kissing your neck to sucking hickeys into your collarbone. However, you weren’t allowed to cum and any time you mispronounced something or took too long to read a word, a stern slap was sent against your clit. As long as you continued to read well, he would pump 3 of his fingers in and out of you.

By the time you’re halfway through the material, your mind is foggy and you’re almost drooling on yourself from the constant edging. By the time you’re on the last sentence, your legs are shaking and you're slumped against him letting out quiet moans. Your neck and collarbone were so red from his incessant suckling, and you were desperate to get this over with. And then, when you finally finished, he stopped all movements to place a soft, congratulatory slap on your thigh and massaged your hips.

“Good girl… Now was that so hard?” With that, he hurriedly clears the desk before helping you stand and then standing himself. The chair you both rested on was kicked backwards and your whole world spun as he suddenly pinned you to the desk. You whined as his hand held a tight grip in your hair and pushed your face into the table. His free hand playfully squeezed and slapped at your ass a few times before you heard his shorts and boxers hit the floor.

You sighed out his name as he teased his tip through your folds, silently pleading with him to hurry it up. “Shhhhhh… ‘Atta girl. You did so well, baby. Now let me take care of you, yeah?”

He finally sunk in and nothing but low, whiny moans left your lips as you clenched around him. His free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it in appreciation while he slowly sunk every inch he had to offer. Once he bottomed out he gave you only a little bit of time before his thrusts started, albeit slowly at first but quickly ramping up due to his own impatience. It doesn’t take long for him to change to an unforgiving and rougher pace, his hand still holding your head against the table.

“Fff-fuck.. Christopherrr-”

“Yeah yeah, baby. Daddy’s got you. ‘M nice and deep, just how you like it right?” You missed the way he smirked when you let out a desperate ‘Uh-huh’ in response, but you could feel the way it encouraged him when his hips slammed against yours with more eagerness. He keeps this pace up for a while until he feels you tighten around him, and then he changes to slow, deep thrusts that make your eyes roll into your skull. 

The hand in your hair slides on top of yours on the desk, intertwining your fingers, and he leans forward to place his forehead between your shoulder blades, “Mmmm keep squeezing me, Honey. Fffuck, juuust like that..”

When you’re tipping over the edge, he places a kiss on your sweaty skin and moans against it. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up just how you like it, okay?” You want to nod, but everything hits you at once so you can only cry out against your desk.

As your orgasm starts to fade into overstimulation, he fixes his posture and focuses on his hip movements. A squeaky moan falls from your lips as he suddenly bottoms out and the hold on your hip tightens. He threw his head back and bit his bottom lip as he came, attempting to muffle his whiney moans. He rides out his orgasm by sometimes pulling out and snapping his hips harshly against yours.

“Fuck… If that’s how we end the studying session from now on, I might consider this payment.” He jokes.

You let out a breathy laugh and he starts to pull out slowly, pushing you into the table as he did so. You take the moment to catch your breath when you realize he’s gone quiet and there’s the light feeling of breath on your thighs. Your head snaps back and you realize he was kneeling in order to watch his cum slide down your folds.

“Hey!” you whine and place a hand on his forehead, pushing his face away only for him to resist, so you use your feet to push him harder. He laughs at your embarrassment and stands up, pulling you to sit up as well and lifting the shirt off of you. He uses it to wipe you down before throwing it into your hamper and grabbing one of his spare shirts from your dresser. He steals a kiss before covering you in the shirt, then drags you to the living room to watch a tv show together.

You two spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching tv and relaxing in each other’s warmth. It’s no surprise when soft snores are heard and you look down to see his sleeping face squished into your chest. You huff out a laugh before you snuggle him closer. Then, your eyes get heavy until they inevitably close, and you fall asleep too.

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina

[artsy-jayy]

The Babysitter (Mycroft x Child!Reader)

You are a the daughter of a family with high importance in England. You are but 6 years old when your parents had to go and do some business trips. At first, they would bring you along but then it became too often and they didn’t want you missing out in school. So, they thought of having someone watch over you and, to be honest, they chose this particular someone because they thought of it as a joke first. However, your parents soon thought it was really a good idea to have him as your babysitter so they’d know if he was good with children and if he could have you around often. They thought it would be a good idea to test his social skills. 

“Ok... that’ll be it for today.” Your father smiled as he closed his notebook and smiled at the other businessmen. Most stood up, cleaned their area and left the meeting room. (Father’s Name) finished a few of his notes in the laptop as the only other person in the room tidied up as well. The man across him was tall, rather chubby, light brown haired, had a rather pointy nose and was dressed formally like the other higher class men. (Father’s Name) looked up at the only businessman that he could actually call ‘companion’. They were rather similar, from their way of thinking that is, and got along pretty well. He looked up, (e/c) meeting the man’s blue ones. 

“Mycroft.” He called out to the man. Said man, looked up from the messy papers he had scattered on his side of the long table. He raised his brows and straightened his posture, “Yes, Mr. (y/l/n)?” 

(Fa/N) gave a smirk, something that Mycroft couldn’t really deduce. “I have something important for you to do while I’m away, do you think you can manage?” he asked as he closed his laptop and placed it, along with some files, in his bag. Mycroft gave a small smile and nodded, putting his fullest attention to the higher classed man. “This is really important.”

“What is it?”

(Fa/N) gave a laugh, “I need you to watch over little (Y/n) while we’re away.” Mycroft froze from those words. It made (Fa/N) chuckle as he stood up and walked out of the room, “You’ll meet her in two days time.” 

Mycroft quickly went after him, afraid of being left with the higher classed man’s child. This man was Mycroft’s best business partner and disappointing him was something he didn’t want to do. He wasn’t good with people, let alone with children. “S-sir! I do not think it is wise to have me watch over your child.” He stated. The man chuckled and shook his head, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’ll be fine, Mycroft. She’s not as energetic as my brother’s sons.” (Fa/N) assured the man but it didn’t seem to work. 

“W-why me?”

All he did was shrug. “I just trust that you could watch over her for a few months... If you want I can tell them to give you a month or two of rest just to prioritize her...” It made the emotionless Mycroft shocked and nervous hearing those words. They really trust me to watch other a-a... child. Mycroft was out of words. He didn’t know what to say. “Though I do not think it is necessary... she’s a behave girl. See you in two days, Mycroft.” He chimed and walked out of the room. 

Two days flew by pretty fast. Even with all the work, Mycroft could’t take his mind off of his upcoming duties as a babysitter for the next few months. The dreaded day had came and all he could do was wait inside the car as the maiden called for her master. Soon, the (y/l/n)s came out with a butler, who held  two bags, and walked towards the vehicle. Mycroft got off of the limo and gave a smile.

“Really nice to see you, Mycroft.” Greeted (Mother’s name). He gave a smile then looked down on the little girl hiding behind her mother. She gave Mycroft a familiar look that only his dear sister would. Her (Y/e/c) stared at him, almost as if she could see his soul. “This is Little (y/n). She’ll have her regular classes from 6 in the morning to 10 then her her extra classes are at 3 to 5 noon. She has violin and piano classes during Saturdays from 10 am to 12 noon. Don’t worry about work since she has a tutor who will visit her everyday to watch over her. Thank you for doing this Mycroft.” 

Mycroft looked at the two bags that were being placed into the trunk of the limo. He turned to his business partner. “Oh! um... we were thinking that it would be better if she stayed in your place but if you aren’t ok with it then here.” (Fa/n) handed him the key to the house. “You can stay at our place instead... please, Mycroft, watch over her.”He smiled and they hopped into his own limo with his wife, quickly leaving the little girl with Mycroft. 

She just stared up at him as the maidens walked into the house and continued on with their work. He gave a forced smile at the child, “Hello... little one.” 

“(Y/n) (y/l/n, hi.” She smiled brightly. “You must be Mr. Mycroft Holmes.” She and Mycroft walked into the mansion. It was weird for Mycroft but lets just say it was going to be something he gets use to. 

For the past few days, Mycroft and the child had done some pretty normal things. Nothing really was exciting. Now, the two of them were just watching some movies in the (y/l/n) manor and it seemed that Mycroft was the only one enjoying it. The Little girl kept on walking around their living room, exploring it. When it was like the fifteenth time that young (Y/n) had passed him, he asked: “What on earth are you even doing?”

The girl looked at him plainly, “Nothing, I’m just bored... can we do something exciting?” Mycroft seemed rather confused an knitted his brows at her. She sat next to the man, “Let’s play ‘guess the language.” She gave him a bright smile, turned off the telly and got a box of index cards. She placed it in front of him and explained, “You pick out a card and read the text while one has to guess the answer... The answer is written at the bottom of the text.” Mycroft gave a heavy smiled and looked at the box rather bored. “Please? Daddy and I always play this game.” She gave a pouty face. 

Mycroft sighed and picked up a card, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try...sensenos laikos.” He said then looked at the girl for her guess. He guessed that this was going to be one of those games where one of them wasn’t going to be that good.

“Latvian.” She gave a smile and pulled out the card. Mycroft was rather surprised to know how easily she guessed, though she could of memorized each phrase. “Don’t worry Mr. Mycroft, Daddy always changes the cards so that I don’t end up memorizing each card... though I might have a small advantage.” 

Mycroft chuckled, “And what would that advantage be?” He looked at her  with great interest. “I think I would be the one with the advantage since I speak some languages.”

The young girl gave an amused smile. “You do?!” Mycroft nodded proudly. “Then I guess we’re even cause I do too!” She giggled at his rather shocked look. “zelan zaude?”

“Basque, means How are you?” he answered easily with a small smirk. 

This little game of their kept them up all day. Mycroft was intrigued when he found out that she was actually very good at this game. It made him wonder how she actually learned it. She seemed very smart and it made him think on where did she get that from. 

“That’s going to be the last card of the day then off to be ok?” he said as young (Y/n) nodded. She was about to read the card but stopped and looked at him. She gave a small smirk and placed the card down. 

“Tu es valde nice quod homo. Tu intelligentes et magis decorum. Tibi gratias ago tibi quia vigilabo super me, et ad me ludens. Ego puto te esse amicum a nice quod.” She smiled brightly and watched as Mycroft thought about it. Mycroft’s eyes widened and blushed. He cleared his throat, “Latin. Now off to bed.”

They walked up the stairs and into the little girl’s room, where he tucked her in and bid her goodnight. As he was about to close the door on her, he looked at her and smiled, “And thank you, young (y/n).” 

There was a loud gregarious boom from the storm, waking up little (Y/n). She got up and hugged her favorite stuffed toy. Tears rolled down her face as she walked towards the room that her babysitter slept in. With each thunder that struck, the harder she cried. She knocked on Mycroft’s door, crying his man. 

The door swung open to see the man in his sleepwear.He looked down on the crying girl and quickly kneeled down and asked, “What’s wrong (Y/N)?” She just hugged him as she cried. He hugged her back and carried her to his bed, where he tucked her in and assured her. She asked him to be there beside him, to protect her from the scary thunder. He, surprisingly, let that happen. He lay beside the young girl and watched over her. It was just then, when she was fast asleep, that he realized that being with her for the passed few weeks changed him. Something about him changed and he didn’t know it it was good. 

Four months has passed and the two had become good friends. Mycroft had noticed how good she was in observing. He taught her how to deduce, in which she learned quickly. (Y/n) was a nice young girl who was understanding and obedient. She was patient, even when she had to sit down quietly during Mycroft’s meetings.

Just as things were getting good with the two, bad news comes. It was said that her parents were assassinated. Mycroft didn’t know what and how to say it to the young girl. She was... sweet and sensitive. Too sensitive, in fact and he didn’t know what to do.

While the young girl had school, Mycroft visited his dear brother; Well John, mostly. He knocked on the door and was answered by John. He gave the man a small smile and walked in. Sherlock looked rather annoyed to see his brother. 

“What is it this time, Mycroft?” His brother asked bluntly, plucking the strings of his violin. “Another mission of ‘national importance’?” 

Mycroft shook his head and sighed, sitting on the chair for clients. The two men looked surprised to see him sit there. They both sat on their chairs and looked at him as he placed his hands on his head before sitting up straight. He sighed heavily, “I... have grown to care for someone.”

John raised his brows in amusement as his brother scoffed, “I would feel bad for the person.” Mycroft rolled his eyes at his brother’s joking insult. 

“I have just been informed her parents were assassinated.” He started. He could see the small smirk of Sherlock’s face. “I just want you to find out who the killer is while I...” He stopped, not knowing if they could really help him. 

“while you...” Sherlock said curiously, wanting to know what had happened to his emotionless brother. He watched as his older brother struggled to find the right words. “Jesus, Mycroft, who is this person and how did they make you so... out of character?” 

There was a long pause. Mycroft was just there having an inner battle whether to tell his brother or not. He didn’t want to feel weak, of course not. No. He wouldn’t want Sherlock to think that he had suddenly changed because of a child but... as much as he hated it, he needed help. He saw the big changed when Sherlock became flatmates with John and he thought that maybe Sherlock could... help but now that he was there he felt silly. 

This child is nothing but his business partner’s daughter. He had only spent four months with her. Was she really that important to him? She wasn’t some kind of family relative or anything. She wasn’t and never was that important and mostly, she wasn’t his to keep. He felt like he should just tell her straight ahead but something told him not to. something told him to ask for help, advice rather, on how to tell the poor child. 

“Mycroft-”

“I need to tell the child that her parents are dead and I don’t exactly know how to!” He exclaimed, glaring at his brother’s impatience. Sherlock snickered while John looked extremely surprised. 

“The person you care about is-”

“The child, yes.” Mycroft admitted defeatedly. He looked at John rather sad. “Since your more... human... among the three of us... I would like to ask. How would to tell the child?” He asked as John just sat there thinking. 

He looked at the two sociopaths. “I think it would be better if I told the child...” He said. Mycroft nodded at Sherlock scoffed loudly. “And you, Sherlock, will come and figure out who assassinated them.” John said sternly, making Sherlock roll his eyes like a teenaged girl. John, at least, could understand that this might be the most important mission for Mycroft

Soon enough, they were back in Mycroft’s mansion, where he and little (Y/n) stayed when Mycroft started to work again. They just stayed there, waiting for the little girl to arrive. 

“So... it all started as babysitting?” John asked as Mycroft nodded. 

“Yes and soon my dear brother became attached to the child.” Sherlock said as he looked at the photos in Mycroft’s desk. “No wonder you haven’t bothered me for months.” He picked up a picture of Mycroft and the child together, smiling happily. Sherlock could now see, fully understanding, that she was not just a child that needed to be dealt with carefully. No. She was almost like a daughter. Sherlock couldn’t understand why but there was something about her that made him warm inside. She was just so familiar. 

He caught Mycroft examining him from his seat. He knew that he knew what he was thinking. They could read each other and now that they knew what the other felt, they had finally agreed on something. 

“Mr. Mycroft! Mr. Mycroft!” The little girl called out, making said man stand up and look at his brother. Now Sherlock could see how much his brother cared about this child. Her calling sounded rather urgent, even Sherlock couldn’t deduce whether it was out of excitement or something else. The little girl ran into the office and up to the her temporary guardian. Mycroft bent down to hear what she had to say, since she hasn’t really reached up his waist. She had the biggest smile on her little round face. “I joined the art if you didn’t competition is our school and I won!” She cheered happily. She brought out the gold medal that had 1st engraved on it. 

She was so happy and proud, making it so hard for them to tell her. Mycroft wanted her to sit but, instead, she brought out her two artworks; Amazing and heartwarming. One was an excellent drawing of Mycroft himself. He took the paper and looked at it. It was drawn so well and he could see the passion drawn in both. He sighed and kneeled down in front of her then smiled. “Great job, you did an excellent job.” He said.

The little girl, now a deducing master, could see that there was something wrong with the three men inside the office. She looked at the three were somewhat frowning, eyes and brows showing sign of concern and the small body movement showing that they know something she didn’t; Something, which she guessed, was a negative information. She looked at him and into his sorrowful eyes, “What’s wrong, Mr. Mycroft? Is there something wrong.” 

John came close to the two and bent down as well. “Its... your parents.” John said softly. “They... they’re...” He couldn’t seem to say it, not in front of the girl with those innocent (y/e/c) eyes.

“They have been killed.” Her eyes widened and she backed up. She held the other drawing to her chest. The two men looked at Sherlock for suddenly saying it but they only saw a rather guilty and sad look. He must’ve taken the guts to open it up to them. She looked so torn, so sad. 

“Mummy and Daddy... are dead?” She asked, sadly as the men nodded sadly. She looked down on the drawing and hugged it. She looked up to Mycroft as tears ran down her face. She hugged Mycroft and all he did was just hug back. Sherlock could see the drawing in her hand. He hasn’t seen the parents yet and, Sherlock being Sherlock, he looked at it closely, only to quickly regret what he saw. 

“Those two who died... the ones that left.” Sherlock started, making them look at him. “They weren’t your parents.” 

“What?” they all asked. Mycroft got up and looked at him rather annoyed, “What is this all about?” He noticed that his little brother was looking at the photos of his business partners and  understood that he wanted to know how they looked like. Mycroft pointed out the couple and Sherlock looked at it more closely. He then looked at him and shook his head. 

Sherlock walked up to the little girl. He kneeled down and asked, “Did you draw your mummy and daddy?” She gave a small nod but it looked rather hesitant. “Are you sure? Cause the two in your drawing doesn’t look like these two.” He showed her the picture. 

“That is mummy and daddy.” She looked down and looked at her drawing. In that moment, everyone’s attention was on her. Everyone was looking at her for answers. John feeling rather clueless, Sherlock doing his usual approval and Mycroft was concerned about what was happening and the little girl. 

“But...” Sherlock said softly, understanding that the girl didn’t seem to be guilt of anything. She didn’t look like she was hiding anything nor was she lying. She was just an innocent child. 

“They always said that I had another mummy and daddy.” She brought out her drawing and it made everyone gasp and look at her. Mycroft felt hurt by it. He felt betrayed but like Sherlock, he quickly understood that she seemed clueless.   She looked down sadly. “And I always wanted to meet them. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” The two Holmes made their deductions and soon figured it out. Mycroft sighed and rubbed his temples. Why didn’t he see it from the start? The (y/l/n) never likes to mention their child; They never even called her their daughter. It also made sense why young (y/n) was such a smart child. 

Her parents were James Moriarty and Eurus Holmes.

[afterlifeimagines]

I found the tickle fight ask to be super cute so can I request the some idea but with Sian, Ethan, and Licht please?

Ethan: 

Ethan thinks you’re attacking him at first and wonders what he did wrong for you to strike out against him like this, staring at you with an unwavering stare as he asks you what’s wrong. When you tell him you’re trying to see if he’s ticklish it clicks and he seems thoughtful for a moment before he sweeps you off your feet, knocking you back onto the couch and beginning to target the same spots on you that you had on him. This was what you had wanted, right? Then he’ll be sure to exceed your expectations. 

Licht: 

Licht isn’t surprised you’d cling to him so suddenly, laughing as you poked and prodded at his side, unable to hold himself back. He asks playfully if his laughter lifts your spirits, pulling you back when you try to leave the situation and beginning his retaliation. Perhaps you couldn’t admit how much you loved his laughed but he loved the look of joy on your face as you giggled incessantly, swatting at his hands but not really pushing him away as he tickled you. He feels like it was a genuine bonding moment and that there’s no one cuter than you. 

Sian: 

Sian is immediately mesmerized but how cute your laugh is when he strikes back, annoyed at first that you were tickling him like a child but realizing it wasn’t so bad if he could see you like this. He’s merciless with his own attack since you’d struck at him seemingly out the blue and he leaves you breathless, face heated as you begged for him to stop. When he finally does he tells you not to mess with him again since he knew all your weak spots now but you only give him a mischievous grin in return, knowing now that he’s incredibly ticklish (and you just had to work on your tactics before trying again). 

[merakiui]

hey!! i was lucky enough to stumble across your blog, & i'm enjoying your writing!! could i request something for a first date w/ sian? maybe something more casual, like a cafe!

(I’m glad you like it! Hopefully this is what you had in mind with your request! I went for a “friends to lovers” vibe in a modern setting if that’s okay. Please enjoy and thank you for such a fun request!)

Courtesy Coffee (Sian)

You met under unpleasant circumstances. Sian was in a rush to get to his destination, and you were staring down at your phone with a cup of iced coffee in your other hand. Like that banal trope in shoujo manga, the two of you crashed into one another, and your drink spilled all over his outfit. As complete strangers, it was obvious that the one who was drenched would be incredibly frustrated. That was an exact observation, only Sian didn’t feel the need to use a filter that day.

“Are you kidding me? Watch where you’re going!” he had yelled, gripping his soaked shirt and glaring daggers at you. “How am I supposed to show up to work looking like this?!”

Anyone would feel frightened with his exasperated tone of voice and the intimidating aura that surrounded him, but you weren’t one to surrender immediately.

Straightening your shoulders, you met his heated stare. “I’m sorry. At least it wasn’t hot, right?” Hoping to dispel his anger, you smiled a little. “I can buy you a clean shirt if it’ll make you feel better.”

He puffed his cheeks out, suddenly bashful as he avoided your gaze. “It’s the least you could do! Seriously, this is the worst. I smell just like your stupid coffee.”

“Hey, don’t diss my iced coffee. It’s delicious and you know it.”

“If it’s so good, why is it all over me?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “This’ll stain, you know!”

“I offered to get you another shirt.”

“It’s not just on my shirt, you moron! I can’t face my colleagues like this. You have no idea what they’ll say.”

“Suck it up then!”

“No!”

You sighed heavily, gripping your empty coffee cup. “There’s no need to be difficult. Just let me get you a clean polo and slacks. Unless you’d rather parade around in wet, coffee-smelling attire. You’re making a scene with all of your yelling.”

“You were just yelling, too. Fine, whatever. I guess you can do that.”

Even as you spied his blush, you couldn’t ignore your thoughts. Is he seriously embarrassed by the fact that I’m getting him clothes? Anyone would do this to repay the damage. 

“That’s all I needed to hear. Oh, and for the record you’re the one who should watch where you’re going.”

He didn’t take those words too well. Regardless, that was how you met the guy with a loud mouth and an even louder personality. You ran into him twice after that incident, and each time he seemed to stumble over himself. He tried to thank you for the clothes, but all he could manage was a huff and an angry comment about how the fabric was uncomfortable. Weeks later, that same boy just so happened to feel bad about starting a few shouting matches with you during those three times you interacted. He saw you in a café by chance and secretly covered your drink fee, making the barista promise not to reveal his identity. It was a sweet gesture, despite being anonymous and a bit of a shock on your end. You’d never experienced the magic that was receiving your drink for free, but it was great nonetheless.

You enter work that morning with a cheery disposition, passing by coworkers and even engaging in kind banter with those who aren’t the friendliest. You clock in and make your way towards the elevator while scrolling through an online article. Hearing a familiar ping, you glance up, urging whoever’s inside to hold the door. There are four other people crammed within the area, all of whom are silently waiting for the elevator to rise. You push the button for your floor and relax. Momentarily, you glance around the enclosed space to see if you can recognize anyone from your department. Your eyes sweep from one person to the next, and you spot polite Nine at the very back.

You’re compelled to greet him, but someone stands in your way. Someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to the guy who was showered in iced coffee two weeks ago. You gasp and turn away, hoping he won’t notice you.

No way! We work for the same company? What’re the odds? This must be a bad omen! I don’t want to start another fight with him, you think, having done your best to erase those memories.

The elevator pings, and you’re completely distracted. Though you don’t miss the hand that taps your shoulder. Your gaze follows his arm. It’s that guy again.

“Hey. This is your floor, isn’t it?”

The number doesn’t lie, but Sian’s memory might as he struggles to recall your familiar features. It clicks just as you bolt out of the elevator, the doors slipping shut and obscuring your backside for good. Sian blinks rapidly as his face heats up. That was...

Coffee idiot! he thinks. There’s no mistaking that stupid look on their face. He’s thrown into a bad mood at once, internally grumbling as he remembers that day. Even if he changed into new clothes, he still smelled of coffee. It was embarrassing, and his bothersome colleagues wouldn’t leave him alone. And now we work in the same building. Maybe I should just quit so I don’t have to face them.

"Can you believe it, Youssef?” you ask your deskmate, having ranted to him while typing up the progress of this week’s publication. At least that’s a monetary positive for the company. You can’t say the same for your mentality, though. “I do something nice in return and he yells at me. And then we meet again—twice—and he’s still rude.”

Youssef tilts his head, a childish gesture for someone his age. “Are you sure you’re not incorrectly reading his actions?”

“I’m positive. When have I ever been wrong?” You frown as your fingers slow their pace on the keyboard. “I just found out today that we work in the same building. This is totally unfair. Why do I have to bear the burden of knowing this information?”

“I’m sure he means well. What does he look like? I might know him.” You describe him to your helpful colleague, who nods and taps his chin in thought. His expression lights up with recognition. “If I remember correctly, his name is Sian, and he’s in the marketing department. We’ve only talked briefly, but I can assure you he’s quite diligent with his work.”

“Well, everyone’s got their own personality outside of their jobs.”

“I suppose, but it’s not polite to label someone based off of such little knowledge,” he advises lightly, turning his attention back to his computer screen. “Rather than using all of your energy painting a bad image of him, you should spend that time getting to know him. It’ll fix any negative impressions you may have.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t like that...”

Since then, you haven’t run into Sian once. At first you made it your mission to keep an eye out for him, but now that you’ve been busy with this new project you can’t be bothered to let his image clutter your mind. So you brush him aside like a cobweb, certain you won’t bump into him again. Your floors are far enough apart, so it’s unlikely that that’ll happen. But you’re not always the luckiest, and fate tends to tease those who aren’t on good terms with one another.

You’re close to running late on a rainy day, having missed the train, so now you’re doing everything you can to catch a taxi. Cars speed by on the road, and you fail to flag down a vehicle. Dejected and soaked to the bone, you drag your feet along the slick sidewalk, wishing for your next paycheck so that you can put it towards a used car. Speaking of cars, one slides past you as it makes an effort to park along the walkway. In doing so, the tires kick up a huge puddle, effectively soaking your lower half. As if the day couldn’t have gotten any worse. The car almost moves out of the spot before it halts, and the window steadily rolls down to reveal the face of your greatest enemy.

Well, he’s not technically your greatest enemy, but it really feels like it in that moment.

“Do you need a ride?” As if correcting himself, he quickly adds, “I’m not doing this because it’s you! I’m just sympathizing.”

Does it matter? you wonder, bitter and cold and wet. Karma is so brutal.

“You’re Sian, right?” You approach his car, peering in at the flustered man. “From marketing.”

“Y-Yeah. So what?”

“I’m in publishing.” Awkwardly, you look up at the cloudy sky. “It’s really coming down. The forecast didn’t call for this much rain.”

“Are you getting in or not?”

“But you’re a stranger,” you jest, fixing him with a pout. “I don’t want scary Sian to kidnap me.”

He glowers at your joke. “I’m leaving now. I don’t have time for this.”

You hold back a chuckle, tearing open the door before he can drive off. “Wait! Sorry, I’ll get in. I can’t stand another minute in this rain.”

The window slides up, and he sets the car in motion after you’ve buckled up, easing back into the flow of traffic smoothly. Now that you’re sitting there with the AC blowing cool air at your face, you shudder. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be in clothes that are warm and untouched by the rain. In his peripheral, Sian catches your shivering form, and he switches the AC from cold air to hot. You might not dry as quick as one would hope, but at least it’s something.

The silence is utterly tense. You almost expect him to bicker with you like he did in the past. Instead, he’s focused on the winding road ahead. Though you don’t miss the pink hue that tints his cheeks and gradually rises to his ears.

“So,” you say, if only to get a conversation going. “How’s work?”

“Fine, I guess. How did you know who I was?”

“My friend Youssef.”

“Oh.”

“You probably don’t know me. I’m (Name).”

“I already know.”

“Really? Stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker!” he exclaims, glaring hard at the windshield. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re always so loud at our company parties. How can anyone ignore that?” Sian then proceeds to bless your ears with a story from this year’s holiday party. A few departments got together and went out for drinks and karaoke. Naturally, you had a drinking contest with your colleagues, which led to a tipsy night of bad singing and stumbling from one bar to the next. You were surprised Sian remembered that, mainly because you couldn’t recall seeing him there. And it’s been months since that rowdy night. “Do you see my point?”

“Don’t remind me. That hangover hurt my soul.”

He quirks a smile at that. “It’s not flattering when you sing high notes in the wrong key.”

“Like you could do any better.”

“I can because I was sober.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, gazing out at the scenery that passes by in a blur of dull colors. Without meaning to, you eye Sian’s reflection in the window, taking note of his side profile. He’s actually quite handsome when he’s calm and not acting so stubborn. “I guess we’re even now.”

“Even?”

“I spilled coffee on you, and you splashed me when your tires hit that puddle.”

“Am I supposed to buy you clothes now?”

“If you’re offering...”

“I wasn’t offering!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a spare uniform in my locker.”

I wasn’t worried to begin with, you coffee idiot, Sian thinks, gripping the steering wheel. He keeps track of your occasional trembling, and he can’t help but feel troubled. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry off soon. Suddenly, he regrets pulling up beside you and accidentally sending water flying in your direction. This time it was definitely his fault, wasn’t it? Sian wants to make it up to you, but it’s impossible. He’ll die of embarrassment before he succeeds in performing a good deed in front of you.

Truthfully, he’s always noticed you. The very first instance was last year at the company’s drinking party. You were glued to Youssef’s side, engaging in idle chatter with him and another guy he wasn’t too familiar with. At the time, Sian thought your behavior was obnoxious. No one wants their younger coworker clinging to them. It just made you look like an attention-seeking puppy. Although you were definitely upbeat at that party. He had watched you chug an entire pint of beer like it was nothing and then join in on a pointless game of Ten Fingers with enough energy to put a child to shame.

He thought you were annoying at first, and yet there was something captivating about your personality. He’d never had the guts to approach you outright, so when he ran into you that day all of his frustrations just spilled over. He was angry at himself for not having the courage to talk to you at every company party, and now that he had a chance he couldn’t think of what to say. He hadn’t mentally prepared anything! So he said the first thing that came to his mind, which passed through his unfiltered lips in a very abrupt manner.

But you didn’t show any fear. You hardly flinched. Instead you met his words with a few of your own, and that’s what ruffled Sian’s feathers. You were so good at communication, and he was very much unskilled, usually relying on phrases he prepared in his head. It’s not like he couldn’t talk. He could when he was interested in a certain subject or whenever he was reading from a page, but in front of someone he admired... Sian knew he’d make a fool of himself.

Now that you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, he has every opportunity to say what he wants. Yet the words scramble in his brain, and he can’t calm his racing heart. Before he can think of anything witty, the building comes into view, and the parking garage has never seemed so dismal. Sian’s kicking himself as he parks, disappointed with how he handled that situation.

“Thanks for this. I’ll go on ahead.” You unbuckle, holding your briefcase and squeezing water from your blazer. “I’m sorry if I got your seat wet.”

“It’s...fine.”

You’re going to walk away and then he’ll become the coffee idiot. He opens his mouth to say something that’ll stop you, but you turn around at the right moment.

“Let’s get coffee sometime in the future. You deserve it after all the trouble I gave you,” you propose, smiling earnestly. And I feel guilty for my initial judgement. Youssef was right.

Sian’s eyes widen, and he struggles to remain stoic. “Oh, uh...”

“That’s okay with you, right?”

“I guess. Whatever works for you.” He shrugs.

“Great!” You retrieve a pen from your case and close the distance between the two of you. Humming, you snatch his hand, spreading his fingers so that his palm is wide open. And then you scribble something on it, grinning in satisfaction. Sian stares at you the entire time, his face blank and head filled with static. “Text me the days you’re available. See you later!” You tuck the pen away, hastily dashing in the direction of the elevator.

Sian stands there for a moment, slack-jawed. He forces himself to look down at his hand. Your number is written on his skin in smudged ink. His face erupts in a flurry of red. That coffee idiot...

------

“It’s not a date,” Sian mutters as he walks to the café. “It’s not. Stop thinking that way.”

But maybe it is a date, the voice in the back of his mind whispers, goading him into believing so. He dressed as casually as possible, but he still hopes it’ll impress you. There are plenty of fears that flood his head, and he almost turns around as soon as he gets to the entrance. But he’s come this far, and he’d regret it forever if he left now. This might be his only chance; he can’t afford to pass it up. So he pushes open the door in search of you. It doesn’t take long to locate your form amongst the few who are inside. Sian’s pulse rushes into overdrive, and he clenches his jaw.

It’s not a date. Act natural.

You look up from your phone just as he slides into the seat across from you. A warm smile blossoms across your face, and you tuck your mobile away. “Sian, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“It’d be rude if I didn’t show up after you made all those plans.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Well, thank you. Now I won’t have to feel bad about Monday morning.”

You had felt bad? Sian’s cheeks must be burning intensely bright now, but there’s nothing he can do. “It’s your fault for being an idiot.”

You chuckle. “That makes two of us. One idiot ignored the forecast, and the other wasn’t watching where he was going.”

“Whatever. Just so we’re clear, I’m not as stupid as you.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “And you don’t have any taste. I mean, iced coffee? Really?”

“It’s good!” you insist. “You’re missing out. Everyone knows iced coffee is better than hot coffee.”

“Is it now? I don’t agree with that statistic.”

“You’re allowed to have your own opinion, Mr. Sian,” you tease. “Give me your drink order. I’ll go get it.”

“What? No way. I’ll pay.”

“As if! I’m treating you.”

“You already bought me clothes.”

“And now I’m going to buy you coffee. It’s to say thanks for picking me up during that storm.”

“I would’ve left you on that sidewalk if I knew you were going to make it a hassle now!”

“Just accept my kindness!”

Sian shuts his mouth, giving into your demand. He grumbles his order, and you’re very happy as you make your way towards the register to get the two of you drinks and pastries. He watches as you pay, releasing a soft sigh. It’s hard to say no to someone you’ve admired for so long. Sian’s not sure when he started to like you, but he’s certain these recent interactions have only added fuel to the burning fire residing in his heart. It’s embarrassing to think he’s even on a romantic outing with you, but it’s not like the two of you are close friends. So then what does that make this?

When you return to the window table, setting down the drinks and a plate with two strawberry bread puddings, he’s shaken from his daydreams. This is actually happening. It’s not just another fantasy he’s imagined while witnessing you drink your sanity away at parties.

“I’m not sure if you like strawberries, but I—“

“I guess it’s okay,” he interrupts, trying to hide the fact that he actually likes it very much.

“Good!” You ease into your chair. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his latte. “Huh.”

“You seemed really upset when I spilled my coffee on you. But anyone would be, so it’s completely understandable. I thought you hated me because of that. When we saw each other again, you were pretty sensitive.”

“I’m not sensitive!” he snaps, proving your point. “That was a white shirt you ruined.”

“Will you feel better if you dump coffee on me?”

“What? Why would I do that? I’m not going to do something as petty as that!”

“Aw, so you do care.”

“I don’t. Get lost.”

You break out into a laughing fit, genuinely amused at his coldness. Even if he doesn’t want to show it, he’s quite nice, and you’re relieved that he didn’t turn out to be a bully seeking revenge. Then again, it’s been weeks since that incident. 

“It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just so expressive. It’s hard not to laugh.”

A furious red darkens his face, and he decides to fumble with his fork in order to give his hands something to do. The bread pudding is surprisingly delicious. He fumes in his embarrassment while he eats.

Eventually, the two of you converse about work and that project your department took on. Sian listens to your rambling as you go on and on about how irksome it is when last-minute changes are made to a finalized draft. He enjoys every story you tell him, and by the time the plate is empty he feels as if he’s grown closer with you. Could this be the beginning of a friendship? He’s hit with a sudden wave of inspiration for lyrics that will never be sung. At least they can fester on a page in his notebook, where he’ll return on countless occasions to proofread and debate over the meaning of each line. Oh, how he’d love to share his music with you. It’ll take a while before he does something as bold as that, though.

“I just got an idea! There’s this awesome bar thirty minutes from work. I usually go with my friends because they’ve got a bunch of games you can play. Board games, card games—you name it. We should go one of these days.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah! You seem like a fun guy to hang out with. Card games might sound boring, but they’re actually really fun when you’re playing for money. And when you’ve got a few drinks in your system.”

Sian struggles to hide the giddy smile that threatens to split his lips. “No... It sounds perfect. I’m actually really good at Slapjack, so be prepared to lose miserably!”

“Is that a challenge? What should we wager?”

"How about a meal? Loser has to pay for the winner’s lunch.”

“All right. It’s a deal. I’ll keep you updated on my schedule so that we can choose a weekend to meet up.”

“Sure!” Sian’s face won’t stop heating up and he can’t slow his erratic heartbeat. “I mean, I’ll only do it so I can get a free lunch. It’s not like I’m agreeing for your sake.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever floats your boat.”

His chest feels airy and light, almost as if he’s in a dream. Your words weigh on his conflicted heart. How can anyone make plans so easily? If the roles were reversed, he’d be an absolute mess. It’d be so embarrassing; Sian would probably want to curl up and disappear if he ever tried to ask you out on his own volition. You probably don’t even feel the same way. After all, this is merely two coworkers having a normal conversation. But he can’t get stuck in the friend zone. That’d be the worst outcome to all of this. So in the meantime he’ll do his best to act cordial. He can hide his shy demeanor and fluffy feelings behind a blunt attitude.

“All of this planning makes it seem like we’re a couple,” you muse with flirtatious intent. Leaning back in your chair, you gauge Sian’s reaction. Just as you figured, he’s turning crimson. It’s honestly endearing to see him get so flustered. “What do you think, Sian?”

“I... I don’t know. Don’t say stupid things! It’s really annoying.”

No matter how sharp his words are, you know he doesn’t mean it. After all, his expression clearly refutes those claims.

“Sian and (Name), sitting in a tree—“

“Shut up!”

If this isn’t a date, then what’s with all the flirting?

Sian’s going to have to take a cold shower when he gets home to lower his body temperature. And to scrub away the embarrassment that’s washed over him like rain.

It’s not a date. It’s just coffee with an acquaintance. Yeah. Just courtesy coffee.

He couldn’t be any further from the truth.

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

“You know, she doesn’t love you. She’s incapable of loving anyone, let alone you,” the man told you pointedly. “It’s not real.”

For a moment you let your smile fall and your eyes widen to broadcast misery across your features, just to give him the satisfaction, but you couldn’t keep it together for long. Just as the smugness spread from his eyes to his smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from collapsing into a fit of giggles. You laughed until you couldn’t breathe.

You composed yourself quickly enough, sitting down to enjoy how his smugness had vanished.

“I know she can’t love me, my dear, dear Mycroft, she practically reeks of psychosis and antisocial personality disorder,” you tell him, on the brink of laughing again, “but it doesn’t matter to me.” He frowned as you spoke and his confusion made it all the better. You shrug as you relax, leaning back.

“Her hands are soft and when she’s with me my stomach feels all fuzzy. I like her and she makes me feel nice, so who gives a damn whether it’s real or not? Certainly not me,” you explain, and the British Government doesn’t say another word as he leaves you to yourself in your cell.

[afterlife-butterflies]

A second part to a previous request, where I wrote Quincy's variation to the prompt "hug me and maybe I'll change my mind" - this time with Sian!

"You should probably take a break, you know." Sian's brow narrows slightly. "It's even harder to focus on work when you just marathon through it."

While your mind was starting to feel a little fuzzy from the last two hours, a stubborn part of you refused to relent. Sure, the weather outside was great, and your mug was drained empty already, but these was the last sets of documents you had to work through!

"I'll do that in a minute," you half-focusedly reply. "Just a bit more and I'm done…"

Sian steps directly in front of your desk, drawing your attention up to meet his crossed arms and knowing gaze. "You're tired."

You are, but it's not like you're just about to agree to that. "It's fine, I'll be fine."

"Nope." Was he always this determined? "There's no way that this is good for you. Let's take a break and come back later; Nine made cookies, and they'll be finished soon if we don't hurry."

Maybe it's the blurriness from staring at papers too long, but you give him a slighted smile. "Hug me and maybe I'll change my mind."

Sian's eyes widen as he blinks at you, a blush already creeping onto his cheeks. "W-Wait, what?!"

His embarrassed expression was always one that you found cute, though you do your best to hide your laugh. "Sorry, sorry - I was kidding." You rise from your seat, stretching your legs and starting to wake up more. "A snack sounds great! And thanks for looking out for me, Sian. It means a lot."

The warm look you're giving him makes Sian turn his gaze to the side. He mutters his reply, slowly making his way to hold the door open for you. "...It's only natural, seeing as you take care of us as well."

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: 'Intense Desire' ༄࿔ L.F.

⤷ Sex Pills | Overstimulation | Squirting

♱ word count: 2.9k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, sex pills usage (felix accidentally taking them), mention of a handjob in a car, he gets “mean” for like a split second, unprotected p in v, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampies, squirting, if u quint theres 1 sentence of angst at the end, i might be forgetting something

♱ notes: sorry this was delayed! I made it a little longer than the others in hopes that it would make up for the tardiness <3 also 1 the beginning might feel rushed (it was) and 2 sex pills dont completely work like this?? But its fiction so.. pls bare with me im so stressed out LMFAO

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The pounding in Felix’s head was just enough to distract him from the colorful clothes around the two of you. The initially exciting shopping trip to the mall with your boyfriend had quickly slowed down thanks to the headache he developed out of the blue. Your comforting words and warm hands on his face only helped so much, and he felt horrible for his body refusing to let him enjoy your date.

It wasn’t until you reminded him of the medicines he had packed away in his bag that he let up on his pouting Then, with the familiar feeling of the plastic of a pill bottle on his fingers and a gentle reminder from you that this should be fun for the both of you, Felix finds himself leading you to the food court. He quickly buys a bottle of water and chugs down 3 pills. It’s over the dosage of 2 he normally would take, but he’s desperate to have a good time with you.

Not long after, he’s back to his normal self and the thumping pain in his head is long gone. Wide smiles and crescent eyes watch you pick out interesting clothes, some even meant to match with him. Everything is back to normal!

That is until 30 minutes after the fact when he’s patiently sitting outside of your changing room waiting for you to try on the next outfit. He starts to feel a new, less painful ache. One between his legs that he’s all too familiar with.

Literal lines of sweat are dripping down his forehead and his neck when you open the curtain to present the outfit you picked out. He forces a smile and has to tear his eyes away from the tight pants to give his opinion. A curt, breathy, “Beautiful.”

The sweat immediately catches your attention and obviously raises concerns from the way your eyebrows furrow. He notices right away and tries not to let it worry you, shooing you away and encouraging you to try on the last pieces of fabric that await you in the changing room.

The second the curtains close behind you he racks his brain for possible reasons as to why a sudden, strong feeling of horniness took over his body. It’s even to the point where his whole body tingles from the ceiling fans above him. The slow gusts of wind make his cock ache in his jeans and goosebumps litter his arms.

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten this horny in his life. Even the time when you managed to rile him up to the point where he almost came in his jeans when you brushed past him he had never felt this way. He swore he could feel his veins burning as he looked through his bag for his phone, praying that Google would explain everything.

But he doesn’t get far enough to grab his phone, because the realization hits him like a tsunami wave. The pills. He realizes too late that he never checked which medicine he took. And sure enough, when he checked his bag, the tiny plastic bottle he had a hold on earlier wasn’t his Ibuprofen.

Instead, it was a blue pill bottle that he kept for special medicines that he would occasionally get prescribed. This time around, it was the brand new, not prescribed pills he had put to the side for… intimacy reasons.

It was embarrassing at first for him. A young, attractive man in his 20s struggling with his sex life. All thanks to the wear and tear from work stress: the unforgiving cycle of working too much and being overwhelmed, then taking a break and working too little just to fall behind.

You understood! It’s understandable to not be able to get hard when there’s a never ending dread that has made home in the back of your mind. And it was clearly obvious that he is attracted to you, every other time the two of you were intimate is enough evidence for that.

So you offered him an idea that might help! That idea being “horny” pills. It took some convincing and consistent reassurance for him to cave and agree. Which led to that little blue bottle of little red pills that made his not-so-little friend crave your attention.

“Lixie?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydreaming and his head snaps up to see your head poking out of the curtain. Your giggle goes straight to his dick and he has to force a smile to get through the ache. “I need your help with this dress. I can’t get the zipper up.”

You don’t need to ask twice, especially when the promise of getting to see your bare skin is on the table. He’s joining you in the blink of an eye, using his clammy, shaky hands to zip up the dress the rest of the way. Your body flushes at the way he licks his lips as he looks you up and down multiple times.

“Do you like it?” His eyes snap up to yours in the mirror and he nods. It’s pretty obvious to you what’s going on in his head at this point, minus the reason for it, so you rip the dress off and rush to the cashier as fast as you can.

Felix is on your tail the whole time. A hand on your hip and his chest pressed to your back as he shoves his credit card into the card reader. Then again when the two of you get to the car, this time both of his hands on your hips and his face shoved into your neck.

“Need you so fucking bad.” His hard-on is even more obvious now as he grinds it against your thigh, groaning and whining into your neck about how good it feels. You struggle to get the car keys out of his pocket when his hands are all over you, making you feel good when they aren’t even doing much.

“Felix… Not here.” The two of you drabbled in public sex before so it wasn’t a new experience for either of you. But it had been a while since the two of you were intimate so you really didn’t want it to be in the dirty car garage of a mall. In the middle of the day, mind you.

“I need something. Baby, please. I-I can’t do this.” The desperation in his voice is enough to make your neck whip around, almost knocking into his as you look back at him with confusion. He knows you all too well and the answer to your unspoken question is already on the tip of his tongue.

“I accidentally took those sex pills instead of pain meds.” He doesn’t bother explaining further; he doesn’t care anymore. The only thing that’s on his mind is getting you into the car so he can get some sort of stimulation on his poor, achy cock.

You're lucky to even have gotten his hands off of you after that, let alone getting him in the passenger seat and buckled in without him launching at you. However you’re even less lucky as you drive him home, one hand on the wheel and the other- well, on his dick.

You could hear the wetness of him jerking himself off before you saw it. He was keen to get your help though. His eyes were teary and his voice came out a distressed whine as he pleaded for you to help, complaining that his hand wasn’t comparable to how good your hand would feel.

The windows on your shared car are as tinted as legally possible, so you quickly cave and slide your hand toward him. Now 5 minutes away from the house, you quicken your hands in hopes that he’ll cum this soon. But luck isn’t on either of your sides today and the car’s already in park before he’s even close to cumming.

You don’t make it past the entryway before Felix is shoving you forward, pinning you to the wall, and pulling your bottoms to your knees. The sight of your panties all messy and your pussy lips equally as messy from your excitement is enough to make him feral.

“You’re so good to me, Honey. Always so obedient and keeping my pussy ready for me when I most need it. I’m going to give you the world and more.” He doesn’t wait for you to make a comment before he’s pushing your underwear to join your bottoms.

One hand rests on the wall by your face and the other pushes against your lower back, arching your back at the same time that he pushes his cock in. Your walls are warm and wet as they take every last inch of him in, almost as if two puzzle pieces were finally placed together.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and he sucks on your neck, whispering incoherent mumbles until he’s bottomed out. He only stops then to take deep breaths and calm his own body down. Now that he’s finally inside of you, the effects of the pills feel a million times stronger.

He genuinely feels like a dog in heat, hips still rutting into yours even as his mind tells his body to relax. It doesn’t listen in the slightest and after a short pause his hips are finding a rigorous rhythm. 

Felix is a man possessed behind you; nails digging into your skin leaving bruises to come and hips moving with more force than you thought he could give. It’s hard to think he’s not possessed with his filthy mouth, something he’s always been good at but it hits differently when he’s rock hard inside of you and eager to feel every inch of your body all at once.

You start to feel like the pills are affecting you. Your own body reacts to his fervent movements with warm clenches and moans that spur him on. You feel so sensitive and your orgasm sneaks up on you, causing you to wiggle in his hold. The shuffle of your limbs makes him lose his angle and you both whine.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. Stop. You gotta stay arched, baby. Yeah, just like that. Ffuck…” The hand on your back pushes you forward, completely squishing you against the wall as he tries to arch you back to how you previously were. He knows that he did it right when you start to flutter around him again and your moans ascend a few pitches.

With the other hand using all of his fingers to rub your clit back and forth, he pushes you over the edge. You clench around him as you moan into the wall, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up against it. He growls against your ear and bites down on it as he continues fucking you through your high.

He doesn’t stop after you’re done. If anything it only encourages him, the ache in his veins telling him that he needs to keep going and make you feel even better. And so he does, with one hand still furiously rubbing your clit back and forth while the other now moves to your waist and holds up your slouching form.

It just squeezes you appreciatively, almost even possessively as he holds you in place when you start to flail. It doesn’t become mean until in the midst of your thrashing, you move yourself just slightly to the point where he loses his angle again. He pushes his hand roughly against you and arches your back himself again, this time with a disgruntled snap. 

“Stop fucking doing that.” He’s huffing into your ear as his hips pick up pace, going even faster than he was before. “Be good or else I’ll bend you over with nothing to lean on.” But it’s hard to control your body when painful pleasure is swimming through your body. Even more so when you feel another orgasm lurking.

“B-Baby, fuck! Give me a sec, you’re-” You cut yourself off with a shriek as the hand on your waist moves to tangle itself in your hair. It uses the grip to pull you back up to rest your back flat against his chest. His other hand finally falters at this point, instead of rubbing your clit it sinks into your thigh.

“I’m what, Honey. Tearing up your guts?” He laughs out a sound of agreement that turns into a guttural groan as his blinding thrusts finally let up. A few sharp thrusts and a series of moans fall from his lips as he empties himself out inside of you. It feels like gallons of his seed are filling your stomach, and the feeling of it leaking out onto your inner thighs is enough to make you believe that’s the case.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands there with his forehead against your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your torso, mind reeling as he comes down from such an intense high.

“Baby. You didn’t cum with me at the end, did you?” He’s more upset that he faltered that badly, but the twitch of his cock lets you both know that he’s not close to being done regardless. The question is a real testament to your faith. Lie to him and maybe bribe him to let you take a break, or tell the truth and deal with the consequences. Though, it doesn’t seem like he was asking.

He pulls out and moves his hand to the small of your back. Neither of you even spared a glance at your bottoms as you’re dragged to the living room and shoved into the couch. It knocks the breath from your lungs momentarily, and it’s all the time he needs to bend you to his will. Your shoulders sink into the bottom cushions and your legs are hovering just above you as he shoves his cock inside of you again. 

The breath is almost knocked from you again as he finds a new, rougher pace to follow. This one isn’t nearly as fast but the new angle, thanks to your ankles being by his ears, sends him right where he wants to be. His previous load froths along his length as he fucks into you like your lives are on the line. 

Your hands find home on his biceps and your nails leave deep crescent shapes along his skin as you desperately try to find something to ground yourself with. The new vigor he fucks you with makes it so that your next orgasm builds up within a minute or two. The feral stare from his lidded eyes only makes your stomach squeeze as you realize that he really has no plans to stop, even if he really wants to. 

“Felix, baby, s-slow down. It feels w-weird.” You push against his stomach in hopes that it will slow him down, but it doesn’t. He stays quiet and only responds by grabbing your wrist and shoving it into the cushion by your head; a wordless command for ‘Hands off.’ You look up just in time to see his gaze grow more intense.

He even leans forward, both of his hands moving to your thighs to fold them into your chest. His hips pick up speed once he has you folded to his liking and you find that strange feeling growing stronger. You get a glimpse of him licking his pink lips that then perk up into a menacing smile and then the feeling grows too strong, forcing your eyes closed and your legs to combat his hold.

Your body can only shake as you gush around him and he curses under his breath at the sight. Your cunt spams around him and you squirt through his merciless fucking. The wet, squelching noises combat the volume of your cries to the point where he periodically goes out of his way to thrust into you even rougher just to hear it more.

“You hear her talking to me? Fucking shit- She really liked that, huh baby?” He laughs in disbelief and slams into you repeatedly, chasing his own sudden orgasm from watching you cum so intensely.

“That was so fucking hot, Baby.” The whine in his voice doesn’t match the cocky look on his face, but you can’t be bothered to comment about it as he finishes inside of you all of a sudden. Your sensitive walls constrict around him yet again and he cums deep inside, riding his own orgasm out to the sound of your overwhelmed sobs.

His chest heaves as he catches his breath and he takes the moment to glance at a clock on the wall. It’s been a few hours since he took the pills so they should be going down soon. He can already feel his brain going back to normal, and his thoughts are clearing up as the two of you sit there unmoving.

“You… Are you ok, Honey?” Your sniffles are enough to make his heart drop into his ass, but when you look up at him the anxiety leaves his body. You smile at him through the tears and laugh as best as you can while still breathless.

“Holy shit, Felix.” He matches your chuckle and leans forward, slotting your legs on either side of his waist as he repeatedly pushes his lips against your cheek. “I’m… great. But you owe me for fucking me within an inch of my life like that with no warning.”

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