#snakes-and-coffee-stains

[killerchickadee]

You know why the snake is often my favorite pet? Because unlike some people (Oscar and Ollie) she doesn't scream at me for no reason. But more importantly unlike some people (OSCAR) she doesn't randomly decide to tip nearly full cans of sticky, sticky energy drink all over my goddamn bed and computer and carpet and legs.

[nataliesplatalie]

David Stein, Garden Snake, c. 2018

ink and coffee, watercolour paper

Antler Gallery, Portland OR

[okaylikeschaewon]

Chapter 8: Changes

Male reader, ~5k words, too lazy to proofread this one

“Oh!” Kazuha gasped, her arms flying to her chest as if she had a heart attack. “I’m so sorry!”

“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered under your breath. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Here!” Kazuha ran over to the sink and grabbed a handful of paper towels, dabbing at your chest.

“Thanks, I got it,” you said, taking the paper towels from her hands.

Without missing a beat, she grabbed more and wet them at the sink before dabbing at the coffee on your shirt again.

“I said I got it.”

“It’ll stain if you’re not quick,” she ignored you, frantically dabbing away.

“Zuha!” you raised your voice just slightly while grabbing her wrists. “I got it, relax.”

“Sorry, I was just trying to help,” she responded with a tinge of worry, or perhaps fear in her voice - it was difficult to interpret.

Her reaction hurt to see, you didn’t intend to frighten her. After letting out a small sigh, your shoulders drooped.

“You alright?” you asked gently, tossing the paper towels onto the counter and placing an arm around her waist. You stared directly into her eyes, and she returned the softest of gazes back at you, essentially melting your heart right there on the spot. “I feel like this is the first time you’ve made eye contact with me in three days.”

“Well…” she froze.

“Hey, don’t stress it,” you reassured her, giving her a little squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to the floor.

It was a complete spur of the moment decision, it just felt right - you leaned forward and kissed her softly on her forehead. She jolted slightly, eyes shooting back up to yours, mouth slightly agape. The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Her dark, dewy eyes locked onto yours, that unrelenting gaze.

“Kazuha-” you started before pausing at the sound of her heavy sigh.

“Can we talk?” she asked quietly.

“Of course.”

—

“Did you do it?”

“I did.”

“Oh my God!” Chaewon squealed, grabbing your arm and sitting you onto her bed. “How was it? How was she?”

Before answering her, you grabbed her arm back and pulled her onto you, letting your back hit the mattress. You grabbed the back of Chaewon’s head and forcefully pushed your mouth against hers, kissing her as if your life depended on it.

“I love you.”

“That was unexpected,” Chaewon giggled in front of your face. “I love you, too.”

As soon as the words escaped her lips you had already started kissing her again. Your hands snaked around the back of her neck and her back, holding her body as close to yours as you could while you made out with her soft lips.

“As much as I want to do this all day, I do actually want to hear about last night,” Chaewon chuckled, lifting herself up slightly.

This time you pulled her into a hug, gently stroking her soft hair as her head rested her cheek against your chest.

“What do you want to know?” you asked softly.

“How was her first time?”

“It was as perfect as I could have asked for,” you answered her before wrapping both arms around her body and hugging her tightly. “Just like you, as perfect as I could ever want.”

“Babe, if I knew you’d get this sentimental I would have had this happen way earlier,” Chaewon chuckled, hugging you back tightly.

“I just want you to know how much I love you, and that I’ll never let you go.”

“Hopefully you’re not being literal, because at some point I’ll need you to let go so I can live my life,” Chaewon giggled again before giving you a kiss on the cheek and sitting up. “Did you cum in her?”

“You sure you want details?” you sat up so that you were sitting facing Chaewon on the bed.

“You’re right, that’s between you and her.”

“Sweetheart, I promise I’m not trying to hide anything from you.”

“No no, some stuff should stay between the two of you,” Chaewon smiled warmly. “Thank you for doing this.”

“There’s no way you’re the one thanking me,” you laughed as you slid into the bedsheets. “I should be the one spending the next hour between your legs thanking you.”

“Is that an offer?” Chaewon smirked as she slid into the sheets next to you.

“I’d live the rest of my days between your legs if that’s what you wanted,” you replied while placing your arm around her, resting your hand on her ass.

“Tempting,” she giggled before giving you a short kiss on your mouth. “Well, I’m glad it went well.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Silly question, you already know the answer,” she smiled back at you.

“I get that you wanted this for her,” you continued. “But honestly, what do you get out of this… arrangement?”

Chaewon considered the question for a moment. Her expression hardly gave you any clue as to what she was thinking, so it was impossible to guess; Usually her face came with subtitles, but this time you picked up on nothing.

“I guess… the way she looks at you… I just wanted to make her happy,” Chaewon eventually answered. “I didn’t think it would bother me since I really do really love both of you.”

“Did it?” you asked directly.

“Did it what?”

“Chaewon.”

“It…” her lip began to quiver.

“Sweetheart,” you pulled her closer and rubbed her back. “What happened? You can tell me honestly.”

“Okay, well, truthfully there are times where I kinda feel like…” she trailed off before finishing her sentence.

“Babe, you feel like what?” you encouraged her to continue.

It took her a second and another heavy sigh before continuing.

“No, it’s stupid, I’m being stupid,” she continued.

“Whatever’s on your mind, you can tell me,” you reassured her. “I can tell something’s bothering you, please.”

“You’re also going to think it’s stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“It’s just, at times, maybe…” she paused again.

“Maybe?” you urged her to continue, trying your best to remain patient.

“Like maybe… I’m not enough for you…”

The thumping of your heart could be felt in your throat after that line. The immediate dejection that took over as you saw her lip quiver again was overwhelming, you felt like your heart was about to explode.

“Not enough for me?”

“Yeah.”

“What makes you feel this way?”

“I don’t know!” she snapped as tears began flowing down her face. “Sorry, I just don’t understand why it’s bothering me.”

“You don’t need to apologize for how you feel,” you said softly while rubbing her back gently. “Ever.”

“I don’t…” she tilted her head backwards, looking straight up at the roof, and laughed while wiping her eyes. “I swear I was fine with it, really I meant it when I said it’s fine and that I’m okay with you fooling around with her, that’s why I’m just so confused as to why it’s bothering me now.”

“Sweetheart,” you began gently. Her face turned to yours again, she stared at you with her reddened eyes, waiting for you to speak. “You’re allowed to change your mind, maybe you were fine with it before, but now you’re not.”

Chaewon nodded her head, still on the verge of tears, still waiting for you to continue.

“But I never want you to feel like you’re not enough for me,” you whispered, pressing down into her body with your hand.

“Then why are you so flirty with Zuha?” she asked quietly.

“Chaewon-”

“No, stop,” Chaewon began sobbing. “Now I feel like an asshole for pushing so hard for this to happen just to get upset about it.”

“You’re not-”

“I don’t know what got into me,” she sniffled, cutting you off again. “I promise I meant it when I said it was fine, I don’t know why I’m so emotional all of a sudden.”

It was difficult to figure out exactly what to say, and before you could even try thinking, Chaewon leaned forward and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

“I’m sorry for that, I’m good,” she stated unconvincingly as she turned back to you again, still clearly choked up. “I think I just felt bad for feeling this way, and when you were being so lovey-dovey it made me feel so stupid for ever doubting how much you love me.”

“Of course I love you, more than anything,” you sat up next to her, pulling her gently so she was sitting right next to you against the headrest. “But that doesn’t make these feelings stupid or invalid. Maybe you thought you’d be okay with it, but now that it happened you realized you’re not okay with it, and that’s completely fine.”

She nodded slightly.

“If anything, it’s stupid of me to have even considered it.”

“Don’t,” she replied firmly. “I was very adamant that you did it, you’re not allowed to blame yourself.”

“Okay fair,” you chuckled lightly, making sure to gauge her reaction. “Regardless, it’s an unorthodox situation, I don’t think placing blame is important.”

“I’m not trying to blame you.”

“And I’m saying there’s no reason to even think about blame right now, which means you can’t blame yourself either.”

“Okay,” she replied quietly as she leaned her head on your shoulder.

There was a very short pause before you continued.

“The flirting is just meaningless fun, but I never realized it bothered you.”

“It really doesn’t,” Chaewon replied quietly. “I was just trying to make sense of how I was feeling, I could never actually get upset at Zuha, I love that girl far too much.”

“It’s not an easy situation,” you replied before pressing your lips down on the top of Chaewon’s head, holding them there for a second before kissing her. “So, I guess the question is, what happens now?”

“I guess the first thing is that I should stop being over sensitive,” she said with a meek laugh.

“You’re not being over sensitive,” you argued. “If anything, I find it reassuring in a way.”

“It’s really not the physical part that ever bothered me,” Chaewon continued slowly. “Genuinely, you sleeping with Zuha doesn’t bother me at all, even now.”

“It’s okay if it does.”

“No, seriously,” Chaewon repeated firmly. “It was the dumb idea that you’d leave me that got to me.”

“I’m not going to leave you.”

“I know, I trust you,” she smiled. “If it really went as well as you said it did, I want you to sleep with her again.”

“What?” you coughed, not believing your ears. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to be okay with this.”

“And that’s exactly why I want you to do it,” she replied casually. “I can tell you don’t believe me when I say I’m fine with it.”

“I do believe you-”

“No you don’t,” Chaewon chuckled. “Especially not after this whole reaction.”

“Okay maybe a tiny part of me is a bit hesitant,” you admitted.

I get that,” she continued. “I don’t know how else to convince you, though.”

“Why do you need to convince me?” you asked.

“Because, you big dummy, I’m the one who told you to sleep with her,” Chaewon snuggled up next to you again. “Until I’m convinced you believe me when I say it’s okay, you have to keep sleeping with her. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I put you in this situation otherwise.”

“I don’t know about this,” you hesitated.

“I’m going to tell her you didn’t have a good time, then,” Chaewon threatened, looking at you.

“You wouldn’t dare do that to her,” you playfully gasped, knowing she’d never even consider jokingly hurting Kazuha like that.

“Sure you wanna test that?” Chaewon replied dramatically. “Would you really risk it?”

“Sweetheart,” you started, shifting your tone to a much more serious one. “What if I don’t want to sleep with her?”

“Are you honestly telling me you don’t want to sleep with Kazuha?”

“If there’s any chance it would hurt you, yeah that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

She paused for a second, contemplating your words deeply.

“I’m telling you it won’t hurt me, now do you still refuse to sleep with her? Do you not find her attractive?”

“I mean… I…”

“Do you love her?” Chaewon asked suddenly.

“Not like that,” you answered immediately. “You’re the only person I love like that.”

“Then just do it,” she added quietly. “For me.”

“What a fucking deal,” you mumbled, your mind suddenly thinking about Kazuha again. “I love you so much.”

“To be clear, this doesn’t mean you stop sleeping with me, I’m still your girlfriend,” Chaewon replied sternly. “And I love you, too.”

“Even better,” you laughed. “But wait, what if Kazuha doesn’t want to-”

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry.”

“Why not? She was pretty quiet during the drive back this morning, maybe she didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought she did.”

“She did.”

“How can you…” you started before it hit you. “She already told you how it went.”

“I got a text that same night,” Chaewon giggled. “I just wanted to hear your side of it.”

“What did she say?”

“Ask her yourself,” Chaewon teased before turning her back.

Your mind began imagining all the possibilities those texts could say as you snuggled up behind Chaewon. You gave her a playful slap on her ass before wrapping her up in your arms.

“Fine, I’ll ask her later, I’m going back to bed.”

“Lazy bum, I gotta go soon, are you not coming with?” Chaewon asked as she playfully pressed her backside into your crotch.

“I barely slept at all last night.”

“Too busy staring at Kazuha?”

“I’d say it was worth it,” you yawned, feeling the blood starting to rush to your crotch as Chaewon’s ass pushed against you. “When you say soon, how soon are we talking?”

“Too soon to do what you’re thinking.”

“You sure about that?” you whispered into her ear as you wrapped an arm around her body and slipped your hand between her legs. “It could be quick.”

“Certain,” Chaewon giggled, squeezing her legs together to trap your hand.

“I’m getting mixed signals here.”

“Figure it out.”

“Let go of my hand and I’ll convince you to show up late to whatever you have going on.”

Chaewon spread her legs enough for you to regain control of your hand, but before you could react she had already jumped out of the bed.

“Sorry, you’re not convincing enough,” she teased, running over to her closet to get changed. “Try again next time.”

“Come on,” you whined. “You can’t just get me all excited just to leave.”

“I can,” Chaewon replied without evening looking back at you as she took her outfit out of the closet.  “You can jerk off while I change,” she teased, bending over extra deep as she took her shorts off, tossing them at your face before putting her sweatpants on.

“That’s not fun.”

“Make it fun,” Chaewon took off her oversized shirt, putting on a fitted crop top. “There’s a plug in the top drawer, shove it up your ass.”

“Since when do you have a plug?” you chuckled, calling out her bluff.

“It vibrates,” she replied, winking at you before walking to the door. “I’ll be back in like two hours, love you!”

“Love you, too,” you replied back as she closed the door behind her.

—

When you woke up, Chaewon was still gone. There was an obnoxiously adorable pink sticky note decorated with hand-drawn hearts on the side table with your name written on the top. Next to it, a glass of water and a small piece of chocolate.

Had to go back to the office, come visit when you wake up sleepyhead.

So it seemed Chaewon came back and left already. It didn’t even occur to you how tired your body must have been for you to sleep through that; Hopefully Kazuha was doing better than you today. You got out of Chaewon’s bed feeling refreshed and walked over to her bathroom. Here, you found more confirmation that Chaewon stopped by as there was a very distinct outline of her lips drawn in lipstick on your cheek.

“Silly girl,” you mumbled to yourself before wiping it off.

The drive over to the office was relatively uneventful. You had stopped by a bakery to pick up a little treat for Chaewon, returning the small gesture she left you earlier. Once you arrived, you barely had three minutes to speak with your girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea when we’ll be done tonight,” Chaewon sighed, giving you a quick hug after the rest of the members left the two of you alone.

“Don’t worry, I know how this works,” you reassured her, handing her the little paper bag. “You’re all sweaty.”

“That’s not what I wanna hear,” she complained as she looked into the bag. “It’s because I’m working hard.”

“I bet you are,” you leaned forward and gave her a little peck on the cheek. “What’s your plan tomorrow?”

“More of this,” Chaewon sighed. “Idol work never really ends, I think we have a variety shooting tomorrow.”

“Which means I won’t see you all day.”

“I’m sorry babe,” Chaewon placed her arms on your shoulders. “I’ll text you during every break.”

“No, it’s fine, I can go one day without talking to you,” you jokingly sniffled, pretending to wipe a tear from your eye.

“Don’t do that,” she whined, pouting at you. “I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m just kidding,” you smiled at her, giving her a little pat on her butt. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.”

“By the way, was Kazuha acting a little odd just now?”

“I didn’t really notice anything, why?”

“Hmm, it’s probably nothing,” you shook your head slightly. “Alright, get back to your hard work before you get in trouble.”

“I’m blaming you if I do,” Chaewon gave you one last kiss before scurrying away to catch up with the rest of the girls.

—

Just as you predicted, there was no opportunity to meet up with Chaewon the next day. Luckily you had a small buildup of work that kept you occupied throughout the day. You did end up texting her as much as you could, but you knew she was busy so you tried to be as supportive as you could. Overall, the day went by smoothly, and before you knew it you were getting ready to sleep. Then, just as you were about to get ready to get into bed, your phone rang.

“Hello cutie,” you answered the Facetime call.

“Hey, just got home,” Chaewon replied, smiling at you. “Why are you topless?”

“I was about to sleep,” you answered. “Why aren’t you topless.”

There was a collective ‘eww’ that rang through the phone immediately.

“I didn’t realize you weren’t alone,” you laughed as Chaewon shook her head with a smile. “Hey girls.”

A slurry of greetings came through the phone as Chaewon turned the camera around to show the rest of the group waving at you.

“Why aren’t you here!” Yunjin shouted from the back. “What kind of boyfriend are you!”

“She told me not to come!”

“Way to throw me under the bus,” Chaewon glared at you as the girls started teasing her.

“It’s true though.”

“Don’t make me hangup,” she threatened as she walked up the stairs to her room. “And to think, I was actually going to take my shirt off.”

“Wait no-”

“I guess I’ll just go to sleep,” Chaewon exaggerated a sigh. “I am pretty tired after all, long day.”

“Chaewon, stop teasing.”

“What, you still want me to take my shirt off?” she asked innocently as she jumped into her bed. “Say please.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” you chuckled. “How was your day?”

“Exhausting,” Chaewon sighed for real, putting the phone down next to her on the bed. “You free tomorrow? I still have to go to the office, but I’ll have way more time to chill.”

“I could probably stop by after lunch.”

“That works,” Chaewon picked the phone back up, her bare shoulders in frame now. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you replied. “Want me to come spend the night?”

“No, I need to actually sleep.”

“Well yeah, that would be the plan.”

“We both know it wouldn’t work like that,” Chaewon giggled. “Not that I’d mind.”

“If that’s the case, maybe I actually will come over.”

“Just move in already.”

“Excuse me, aren’t you the one stopping that from happening?” you called her out.

“I changed my mind, I want you to fuck me every night,” Chaewon moaned into the phone.

“Don’t fucking do this to me,” you groaned. “Not when I’m here and you’re there.”

“I’m sorry babe, I’m just so…” she closed her eyes, mouth slightly agape. “So fucking wet.”

“Oh my God, stop teasing.”

Chaewon burst out giggling, loving the control she had over you.

“Come in!” Chaewon shouted, looking up from the phone.

“Hey, are my earbuds still in your bag?” a distant Kazuha’s voice came through.

“Oh yeah I forgot, they should be,” Chaewon answered. “On the chair, under my jacket.”

“Hey Kazuha!” you shouted through the phone.

Chaewon held the phone up for her.

“Oh! Hello!” Kazuha stuttered awkwardly. “I didn’t realize you were still on a call, I’ll leave you two alone!”

“Goodnight Zuha,” Chaewon called out, pointing the phone back to her face as Kazuha closed the door behind her.

“Did that seem weird to you?”

“What?”

“That interaction, she just seemed kinda… different?”

“I think you might be overthinking it,” Chaewon yawned.

“She seemed a bit off yesterday when I stopped by, too.”

“She’s probably just tired.”

“Maybe…” you began thinking.

“You think it has something to do with the other night?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t really talked to her about it,” you answered. “Has she said anything to you?”

“Nope, but we’ve also been incredibly busy these last couple days.”

“RIght, whatever I’ll figure it out later. You should probably get some sleep.”

“So you’re going to make me take off my clothes for you and then just leave me?” Chaewon puffed out her cheeks, letting the phone drop just enough so you could see a bit of her bare chest.

“I’ll drive over right now.”

“Goodnight, love you,” Chaewon giggled while hanging up the phone.

—

Just as you promised, you showed up to the office the next day after finishing your work. Since you ended up running late and missing lunch, you decided to indulge yourself in the HYBE cafeteria. The food was phenomenal, a convenient perk of having Chaewon’s guest pass, and since it was a late lunch there was no one around to bother you.

After finishing your meal, you went and found where the girls were. Today was a light day, they were just practicing the choreo for some of the b-sides of their album, keeping it light as a sort of rest day. You quietly snuck into the dance studio, taking a seat on the couch in the back of the room. The girls, professional as can be, didn’t even miss a beat when you walked in and finished the routine.

As the final note of the song played, they finally dropped their ending poses and let out sighs of relief. A couple of them dropped straight to the floor, sitting or laying down, while the rest walked over to you.

“The days just get longer and longer,” Yunjin sighed, falling onto the couch before looking at you. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad, yourself?” you answered.

“Tired.”

“It’s just for a bit more,” Sakura chimed in from the other couch. “And come on, today was pretty fun.”

“A nap would be pretty fun,” Yunjin joked.

“Oh great idea, let’s all nap!” Chaewon agreed excitedly as she sat down next to you.

“Come on, where is the energy!” Sakura laughed. “This is the first easy day we’ve had in so long, go drink some coffee or something!”

“Coffee too far,” Chaewon whined, leaning on you. “Nap instead.”

“Yeah, nap instead,” Yunjin agreed.

“It’s literally down the hall, look, those two are going,” Sakura shook her head in disbelief before staring at herself in the mirror and repeating a few of the motions.

“I love that part,” you commented as you watched her dance. “You always nail the expressions so damn perfectly, even when you’re practicing you always stay consistent.”

“Oh, thank you,” Sakura paused to look at you before immediately turning away to hide the subtle blush on her cheeks.

“Why don’t you compliment me like that,” Chaewon poked you in your side.

“Someones in trouble,” Yunjin sang while scrolling through her phone.

“I do compliment you like that, like, all the time,” you replied, wrapping your arm around her.

“Not enough,” Chaewon grumbled. “And you didn’t get me coffee.”

“Do you want me to get you coffee?”

“No, it’s fine,” she exhaled with a superfluous ‘hmph’. “Clearly you don’t want to, and I only want it if you want to get me coffee.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” you chuckled, giving Chaewon a playful pat on her hip. “I’ll get the coffee, be back in a minute.”

—

“Does this work?” Kazuha asked, opening the door to a conference room. “I don’t think anyone will bother us here.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you answered, walking into the room and taking a seat at the table.

Kazuha walked around the table, sitting on the chair next to you. She waited a beat before deciding to stand back up and move the chair closer to you.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

That was a lot more upfront than you expected.

“It’s okay,” you replied gently, placing a hand on her thigh. “I figured you just needed time, and that’s totally okay.”

“I did,” Kazuha agreed with a nod, staring at your hand. “Ever since that night, I’ve felt… differently towards you.”

“Understandable, it’s not a small thing to do,” you replied, encouraging her to continue.

Kazuha looked up from her lap into your eyes.

“I think I’m starting to have feelings for you.”

The silence was palpable. It almost felt like you could feel your heart in your throat. You were at a loss for words; This playful, silly girl who would constantly tease you, constantly mess with you, it was already so rare to see her soft side, but hearing this completely threw you for a loop.

“Zuha,” you started cautiously. “Please don’t take this as me dismissing your feelings, but I’m just saying sometimes these things can be complicated. We did just go through a big event together.”

“It’s not just the sex,” she replied quietly, her eyes starting to shine. “I’ve been feeling something towards you for a while.”

“I understand, but I’m in a committed relation-”

“I know,” Kazuha interjected. “And I would never try to ruin that for either of you.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“It’s just how… I feel…” she continued, pausing before adding more in a whisper. “I can’t help it.”

“Zuha, I do have a lot of love for you, but not in that way.”

“That doesn’t-” she stopped, getting choked up for a moment.

“Come here,” you whispered, standing up and pulling her into a hug. “It’ll be alright.”

Both of you held the embrace for probably a minute in silence. Kazuha let out a single sniffle before letting go of you, standing there in front of you. She looked so vulnerable, so delicate in this moment, it was difficult to come up with the next words.

“Zuha-”

The world barely escaped your lips before suddenly Kazuha leaned forward and kissed you. At first, you were in shock - but you didn’t pull back. The tenderness of her lips felt perfect in this moment, the softness of her kiss, the gentle way her hands grabbed your body. It went on for a few seconds before she pulled back, staring at you in anticipation for what would happen next.

What did end up happening next was something you really couldn’t explain. You wrapped your arms around her and started kissing her again. This time it was still just as tender and loving as before, but also significantly more passionate. Your noses brushed against each other’s faces, hands exploring each other’s bodies. Your lips remained glued together.

With your leg, you kicked the chair behind Kazuha away, still with your lips attached to hers. Slowly, you pressed forward harder until Kazuha was bending backwards; You pushed forward until she was laying on the massive conference table. Carefully, you leaned over her, kissing her soft lips repeatedly, squishing against her tenderness.

She began clawing at your back, feeling your body while your hands explored the sides of hers. Even through her thin shirt her perfectly sculpted body that she worked so hard for could be felt, and it felt amazing. The kiss kept going, her legs sort of wrapped around your hips and her hands moved up, cupping your face.

After what felt like an eternity, you leaned back, letting her fingers gently stroke your cheeks as you stood up in front of her. She looked up at you for a second, her hair spread on the table, before lifting herself up so that she was sitting on the table in front of you with her legs still spread around your body. You took a step back, giving her space to hop off the table.

She stared at you with an expressionless face. There was yet another pause, neither of you knew what to say. The two of you simply inhaled and exhaled, almost in unison. You could hear your heart beating in your chest, and in a way you almost felt like you could hear hers beating, too. It was Kazuha who decided to break the silence with a whisper.

“I’m going to go.”

Those were the last words spoken in the room before she scurried away. Nothing made sense right now. You simply stood there in the empty conference room, staring at the door that Kazuha had just exited through, not understanding fully what just happened.

---

A/N:

Did I just write a chapter WITHOUT A SEX SCENE? Wow, look at that, it's like the title of this one is partially about the story and partially about me. So yeah, I'm kinda more interested in writing some more stuff like this and pulling back a tiny bit on the sex. I've written plenty of raw smut scenes throughout my works, if anyone is really craving that they can just go reread or something. This does NOT mean that I'm never writing a sex scene in this story by the way.

Let me know what you guys think! The story is going to probably get much more spicy in the immediate future as I play with this love triangle (or is it a square?) dynamic. Who knows what I'll do (I do). If anyone is invested enough into this story to hit me with some predictions, do it up, I adore reading theories! Or any comments to be honest, I always welcome them.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

analyzing some images (for fun)

so i found this pair of promotion images for good omens season 1 on the good omens reference library server and it’s hooked me so so bad im having feelings about it. we’re analyzing them now. not really for meta purposes just fun to see the parallels and differences :)

everything under the cut !

unique traits

aziraphale:

1) his plank background. its older, its crisp, it smells like wood from the screen. mmmm

2) the pencil shavings at the bottom. he does a lot of writing honestly, so i like this. also adds a messy and cozy vibe he always seems to have in that shop…. i like that blessed shop fr

3) his SUSHI. little soy sauce drops near it too—just the right amount of deliberate mess. our first formal introduction to aziraphale in the present day and beginning the Tomfoolery just happens to have sushi... i watch that scene and i go “yeah, that sums up aziraphale i suppose” very nicely. (they dont have sushi Up There) (im literally never gonna forget that)

4) the ray of light shining on the scene. tiny thing, but a bit of the heaven is peeking through..it also sort of blurs the whole image but i think thats just me.

5) and we’ve saved the best for last: the big whopper. the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter, witch. I LOVE THAT BOOK!!!!!!! i cant remember if that ring stain was there but if it isnt in the show on the actual book i’d assume thats to add that ‘thy cocoa doth grow cold’ thing. ALSO. you know what’s being used as a bookmark in the pages?? a check for the ritz. he bookmarked their one chance for living . with a ritz check . MMMMMM. my GOD. that means so much to me even if i cant convey it in words. he KEEPS THE CHECKS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

crowley:

1) let me get my favorite out of the way. crowley’s glasses have fire in their reflection. we’ll talk about the glasses themselves later but the REFLECTION IN THEM. fucking FIRE, BOOKSHOP fire, PAIN, SRIVING THROUGH THE M-25, HELL, I DONT KNOWIM HAVING FEELINGS!!! i do believe this is a bookshop fire reference though, the flames feel too Familiar. the lengths people will go to to attack others 🤧

2) the leather seat background!!!!!!! probably meant to look similar to the bentley’s seats but i cant recall their texture, exactly. maybe just meant to convey modernness—unsure. still, its there <3

3) the tiny little crisp plant </3 its trying his damned best to stay perfect. it might a specific plant that means something, but i cant tell at thsi angle, so i’ll assume its a mini version of the ficus he keeps in the flat. its so SMALL and sitting in ANOTHER POT i CANT

4) the snake slithering!! black and red (in this image it looks orange lol) bellied scales!!!! slithering there, chilling, being crowley, showing hints. love it

5) QUEEN RECORD!!!!! TRYING TO OVERRIDE IT WITH TCHAIKOVSKY!!!!!! the tape over it does a reminisence to crowley’s handwriting, but in a clean ‘this made made to be a font’ way. not exactly just yet. ive become a fan of tchaikovsky recently. amazing darling wonderful crowley, trying to push the rock up the hill for eternity 😞

6) HIS LITTLE DEMON KEY THING. HOLDING A TINY LITTLE BENTLEY CAR KEY OHHH. thats how he doesnt lose the tiny key despite probably not needing one of those. and he CHOSE that intentionally probably. little wings and red circle….URGHHHHHHH

similarities

mmmmm now here’s the good shit. similarities! i’ll bullet point most of them but ohhhhh. ohhhh these. i’ll go from top to bottom as best i can….

1) one of their shoes, obviously. crowley has them iconic snakeskin shoes while aziraphale has his old loafers like the old loafer he is /pos

2) chateauneuf de pape wine bottle labels! (crowley’s is under his glasses, aziraphale’s is next to his shoe). oh my fucking god theyre MATCHING. the labels are old, battered, of course labeling the drink’s age, but mmmmm its these tiny details that get me going….

3) their respective drinks in their mugs—crowley’s a black mug coffee (or what looks to be coffee) and aziraphale’s angel mug tea (or what looks to be tea). i think about that mug sometimes. where did he get that from?? mystery for the ages….

4) their glasses, of course. crowley’s iconic sunglasses and aziraphale’s reading spectacles. i cant really tell the reflections in this pair, but if its supposed to be fucking fire, im done with this. im giving up forever

5) their own watches! aziraphale’s is visibily older while crowley’s is visibly modern, but they function just the same. also, crowley’s is set to 2:56:59 (presumably PM), which is around the time we see when crowley starts checking his watch at warlock’s birthday party. its almost time for disaster to strike!! 😃

6) and finally….their ties!! they have their own ties!!! or more accurately, neck accessories, but i digress. i mesn i assume its crowley’s neck tie, because the fabric looks… different. either way, crowley’s neck thingie is very whispy and aziraphale has his funky little bowtie i love so much,,,

okay thats it. there’s no canonical implications, any fantheories, none of the sort. just saw a pair of images and my mind went GOD DAMN!!!!!! theyre very important to me. i need to look at more promo material 😔

[sorrowfulrosebud]

The soft grass underneath you and Katsuki provided comfort as the two of you laid close together, hands encompassed tightly as your shoulders touch.

Both pairs of eyes focused on the stars above you, yet your peripherals were trained on the other. You had managed to sneak away from the dorms in an unplanned rendezvous after curfew, knowing that Aizawa was gonna ground your asses. But, that was future you’s problem.

“Katsuki?” You asked softly, rubbing your thumb on his hand. Katsuki looked at you and let out a small “hm?”.

“Do you think… do you think we’re together in every universe?” You turn to look at him, your cheeks warm and gaze soft as you peek a gaze at your docile boyfriend.

His eyes widened a second before he pushes your cheeks close to his lips, pressing a feather light kiss before nosing your jawbone. His arm snakes under your neck as his large hands caress your shoulder, the other reaching your waist.

“Either way, I’d cross every damn universe there is and join us together. We’re the perfect couple in every dimension, universe and plane. I’d be stupid not to chase you,” he promises, squeezing you tighter to star gaze with you.

The heavy metal of Katsuki’s armour proved too heavy for him to relax in, so it was left in a heap in the corner. The head knight had personally assigned him to be your royal guard, and the mutual (but forbidden) affections bloomed.

Carmine eyes were soft for once as his hair was gently pushed out of his face. His weary head rested in your lap as you held his calloused hand, pressing the occasional kiss. Your crown had been ditched, not caring for the silly trinket as you soaked up your lover’s attention in your chambers.

“Your majesty?” Katsuki coughed, cheeks growing slightly pink. You hummed in acknowledgment, slowing your movements as a silent means to continue.

“Do you think that, I mean… I’m not exactly of royal stature. If we were lovers in another universe, or if I were royalty and you were my bodyguard, would we still have this bond?” Katsuki asked, voice hushed as you petted him.

You gave his hand a kiss, before bending down and pressing your lips to his.

“Katsuki, even if we were two lowly peddlers in the street, or if you were a royal and I was your servant, then I would still pine after you until my dying breath,” you affirmed, softly petting his cheek.

“I knew you would say that, princess. It just hurts that somewhere, there’s a bastard me who gets to live our dream life without secrets.”

Katsuki trudged through the door, toeing off his boots as he enters the carnage of the house. You looked so tired as you had managed to wrangle the quadruplets into their afternoon nap.

Despite the baby food in your hair, bodily fluids and coffee stains on his your ratty old T-Shirt, you had never looked more beautiful. You were at home, taking care of the babies YOU gave him, taking care of the home YOU wanted to provide for your family.

He owed his very existence and life to you, so he can feel his heart breaking as he sees you quickly wipe your exhausted tears. You smile wanly at him as you go to give him a hug, but grimace at the idea of hugging him in your current state.

“Oh I’m sorry baby, I look a mess right now. I’ll go clean up for you so I don’t look so gross,” you say, ready to go upstairs.

As you pull away, Katsuki pulls you tighter and kisses you firmly. Your resolve begins to crack as he feels you tremble in his arms.

“Katsuki, no. I’m filthy at the moment, you deserve better-,” you start as he shushes you.

“Baby, you could wear a bin bag and look better than any model in the entire world. You’re doing amazing to take care of our babies and do everything else,” he murmurs into your ear, fearing that if you tried pulling away then you would completely crumble.

“You’re working so hard though, you’re saving people’s lives and I’m here crying over a few toys on the floor, baby food in my hair and snot on my shirt,” you whimper, burying your face into his beefy chest.

“(Y/N), you just pushed 4 babies out of you. You quit your job so that our babies wouldn’t be left with strangers. You still manage to get the house tidy, but you know I only give a damn if you and the babies are alright. On top of that, you manage running any of MY errands that I didn’t manage to do. You’re a fucking superhero baby,” he murmurs, squeezing you tighter.

“But you deserve so much better! You deserve someone who has time to put makeup on and do their hair and, and-,” you were interrupted by Katsuki shushing you.

“Baby. I would choose this life over and over again, no matter what I was offered. I will always choose you, I will always find you, I will always want you. I’m taking time off work to prove that and we’re taking a holiday together,” he said firmly, wiping your tears as you hiccup.

“I’m always going to choose you too.”

Katsuki and you sat comfortably on your porch bench, occasionally swinging as you nestled into each other. Today marked your 50 year anniversary, and the two of you chose a quiet celebration.

You had lost a lot of friends over the years; some were lost in villain raids, and some succumbed to their injuries years later. It wasn’t until Kirishima passed from a heart attack in the field did Katsuki retire, choosing to live the rest of his natural life with you. No more hero work. No more pain. No more villains or heroes. Just you two in your little country home with your chickens, cats and dog.

“Would you ever do it again?” Katsuki asked, his mouth lines trembling a little.

“Do what, sweetpea?” You ask, rubbing the soft loose skin on his hands. Katsuki sighed and looked away.

“Would you ever consider a different person? I’ve only ever caused you harm. My work, my personality, my overall being,” he asks, looking away as his mouth twitches. You let out a small “oh”.

“Never in a billion million years, my love. I chose you for a reason. I chose you because I love you, despite your flaws. We have had such a wonderful adventure together, some good moments and some bad. You’ve gained and lost a lot too, Katsuki. You’ve lost friends, mentors, family…” you reason with him, heart breaking at his shiny eyes.

“When it’s my time, I want to know that I made you utterly happy. I don’t want to leave you knowing that if you could have, you would have never had met me, never spoken to me and not have to deal with my baggage. I want to proudly say I lived my life fully and without regrets. YOU’RE my life baby,” he sobs softly, years of self-loathing catching up to his old and creaky body.

You wove your bodies tightly together, holding each other as the two of you shed loving tears together in bliss.

“Katsuki? You okay, pup?” Katsuki’s sandy ears perked up as he sat upright in bed. You knuckled your eyes out of sleep as you looked at your mate. He was often plagued by nightmares, even after falling deeply in love with you, after being abandoned by his pack.

You, ever the kindly human, took him in. Fed him, sheltered him, cleaned his wounds. 2 years later and you were his mate, sole confidant and lover.

Katsuki panted a little, before snapping his head to you. His hackles were raised, teeth bared self-consciously as he tries to calm down. You held up your hands, showing you mean no ill will. Slowly, your hand extending to your mate’s ears, rubbing the soft spot between them as he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

“Hmmm, thank you,” he muttered lowly. He rearranged himself on the pillow so he could face you. You smiled at him and kissed his nose, giggling when he goes cross-eyed.

“Do you want to tell me what you dreamed?” You asked quietly, petting his cheek as his tail whomped against the mattress. He huffed.

“Jus’ a stupid nightmare, nothing special,” he muttered, grabbing your hand and kissing your palm.

“I’m here if you need me, pup,” you told him, getting yourself comfortable again, trusting he would tell you.

“… my old pack got you. In my dream. We had a stupid argument, and I hurt you. You were killed,” he said quietly. Almost full of resentment. Your eyes widened, prompting him to continue.

“Are you happy with me? I mean, for fucks sake, I’m a fucking wolf-man creature and you’re a human. Our relationship is as unnatural as nature can allow, but we still play house,” he ranted lowly, fists clutching the sheets.

Your hand found its way to his, interlocking your digits and being mindful of his claws. Sandy ears pricked your way as you stroked his chest.

“I don’t care that you’re half man, half wolf. I love you for who you are, not what you are. I was aware of everything that you’ve faced, and I still chose to take you in. And I would do it a million times over,” you said firmly.

Katsuki let out a shaky sigh, before nuzzling into you.

“I hope in every universe we’re together.”

[luveline]

if your still taking requests I would like to request reader scraping their knees and tasm!peter patching her up and it’s a lot of lovely tension:))) maybe r not being used to people touching them without bad intentions.

I hope you are having a lovely time right now and are taking care of yourself<3

thank you lovely! ♡ fem, 1k

Peter's droopy eyed when you knock, less so when he gets a good look at you. Blood leading like twin snakes from the grazed ache of your knees and staining your socks, tears lining your eyes and shiny in the sun, you're embarrassingly sad. He doesn't give you shit for it, the opposite. 

"Fuck," he says, his eyes widening with a familiar concern. "Shit, what did you do?" 

"Uhm," you say, though you know, but you bit your tongue on the way down and everything hurts, "I fell. Someone bumped into me coming out of the subway." 

Peter holds his hands out, thinks better of it and steps down over the door jam to take your hands and pull you forward for a hug. He smells like apple jack cereal and his hair is still wet from an early morning shower, a walking poster boy for brown-haired, brown-eyed sweethearts everywhere, but you still seize at his tight hold. 

He murmurs a sorry and leans back, assessing your gaze, so close that you can see the trifecta of his pinprick beauty marks, one in the shadow of his brow, one under his eye, and one closer to his nose. 

"Come on. We'll clean you up." 

Peter ushers you inside, his fingertips brushing the small of your back. You walk into the kitchen, every surface clean, the wooden dining table decorated by one empty coffee cup and one half full. His cereal bowl has been washed and left to dry on the rack, next to what must've been his Aunt May's plate. 

"May's in work already?" you ask him.

He hums, turned away from you, a slip of his long, shapely back exposed as he reaches for the first aid kit sitting on top of one of the cabinets. "She said to tell you thank you for the flowers last week." 

You panicked so much beforehand. What do you bring for your not quite new friend's mom when you meet her for the first time? You've known Peter for a few months but never had the good fortune to meet May until she demanded it, your bouquet a weak offering. You'd wanted her to like you, because despite your fight or flight whenever he gives you a quick shoulder rub, any ounce of affection, you really like Peter. 

Said flowers draw your attention as Peter helps you up onto the counter. You turn away from him, trembling hands forced under your thighs, and count the petals of a wilting carnation one by one as he washes his hands quickly in the sink beside you before laying out the sterile bandages atop their plastic coverings. "I'm gonna wipe the blood off," he says. 

You're past saying no, I can do it myself. You already let him help you up. The time to protest is passed. 

"Okay." 

He takes your wobbly voice for nervousness, and you are nervous, but not the way he thinks. "I'll be careful," he says. "You don't have anything to worry about." 

Strange but not unheard of for Peter to be so serious. You nod jerkily, waiting for his touch. It doesn't come for a while, and you brave meeting his gaze to find out why. 

His eyebrows are sewn together in concern. His hands land on your thighs, and, to your surprise, you aren't apprehensive. You relax as deft hands draw mirrored lines up and down the outer sides of your legs, leaving a generous distance from the beginnings of your shorts. "Maybe you can take some advil first, if you're worried." He eases your legs apart as he steps into the space between them, his eyes unfailing where they meet yours. "It'll hurt less. I bet I could get some topical numbing cream–" 

"It's not–" You peek down at his chest. "I'm not worried about my knees." 

"Oh. Good," he says, hand coming up to your elbow. He holds it so tenderly you wonder how you ever thought he might have a propensity for anything but tenderness. "You look really nice, under all the blood. Is that weird? That's probably why you fell, you couldn't just walk around looking that nice. Throws off the balance of the universe." 

You laugh softly. "These are my best socks." 

"I can see that!" He squeezes down from your elbow to your hand. You've never been touched like that, half massage, half reassurance, just squeezing you to squeeze you. Laughter livens his tone, "I'll get you new socks." 

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to." 

You struggle to breathe as he cleans your knees. Between his murmuring, It's okay and Almost done, you've no time to feel worried. 

You've time for other things, like this. He turns between your legs and slides a hand under the other, fingertips pressing into the soft underside of your knee as he works a thin layer of disinfecting ointment into your scratches. He continues his murmuring, apologies and lamentation alike. "Sorry. Don't want you catching rabies from the pristine streets of Queens. I mean, fuck, sweetheart, you made a real mess. How hard did you fall?" 

You swallow a lump that feels fit to choke you, worse when he tilts his head ever so slightly your way, face an inch from yours, less. 

"Hard," you say weakly. 

He misses the implication (your first stroke of luck all day), smoothing a large square of gauze over your knee and securing it with medical tape. "It's nothing a day on the couch can't fix. I'll make you breakfast too, free of charge." 

"Thanks, Peter." 

He rubs the skin above your knee. "You're welcome. One horrendous injury down, one to go." 

His touch feels even softer the second time around. 

[recluselecter]

Jealousy

Leto Atreides x Ex-Wife! Reader

pairings: Leto Atreides x Ex-wife! Reader summery: When y/n spends the night of Leto's inauguration party with another man, he can't help dragging her away. warnings: uses she:her pronouns, mother! reader, jealous Leto, possessive Leto, Non-canon compliant, choking, breeding, cunnilingus mention, voyeuristic if you squint REAL hard. Words: 1.7k

Y/n’s hips were guided grotesquely against a stranger's crotch, drunken babbling tumbling from his lips. The wine in her glass had been spilt and emptied long ago, the red liquid having stained her dress. She didn’t care. She kept her eyes on the new Emperor, hair perfectly styled, beard immaculately trimmed, suit crisp and void of Arrakkis’ sand. She hadn’t seen him since they lived there. After Paul gained the title of Emperor for his father, Leto disappeared, taking Paul and their daughter. This was six months ago. As his coffee eyes burned into her skin, she thought of how he’d avoided seeing her as much as possible, passing their child to her through servants. Now though, he couldn’t avoid her. And it was killing him. She looked perfect, the stain on her dress adding to the gorgeous mess that was Y/n.

Leto Atreides hated her for it.

He stormed up to her, snatching her arm and pulling her away from the stranger.

“What the fuck, Leto!” She yelled over the hustle and bustle of the inauguration party. Leto dragged her through the halls of his new palace, opened a door, and shoved her in. When Y/n observed the room around her, she realized it was a very fancy bathroom.

Y/n glared at Leto. The wine on her dress was her fourth glass, and, gauging by the way she was swaying, she was wasted. Leto looked down at her as rage rose in both of their chests.

“You need to go home,” he stated.

“Why do you care what I do?” She snapped.

“I care that my ex-wife is fucked up in a ballroom of a house that isn’t hers.” The Duke took a dangerous step toward her, his own drink spurring him on. “I care that the bitch I’m forced to call the mother of my child is grinding on random men.”

“Oh my god!” She laughed. “I only call you when it’s late, Duke Atreides. You think I give two shits about your jealousy?” Her words struck a nerve in him as she slurred them out. “I only care about you when you’re fucking my brains out.”

He snapped. Leto’s hands slammed against the counter, his body shoving hers against the extravagant sink. She gasped, legs automatically falling open around him. He loomed over her, rage seething through him. His knuckles were white from his grip on the sink, barely holding himself together. He thought the expensive porcelain would crack under his palms as he leaned closer to his ex-wife. With inches between them, he knew she’d try to kiss him. His plan was dependent on it. Like clockwork, she angled her head up, her lips grazing his before his hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her back. She huffed as he scowled at her, but it was turned into a yelp when he forced her to turn around, bending her over the sink by her neck. He tilted his head at her in the mirror where she glared at him. He didn’t break eye contact as he hiked up her skirt, baring her panties to him. The red fabric matched her dress and her now blushing cheeks.

Leto’s hands snaked around her hips, pulling her back against his clothed erection. She hummed lightly as her hips rolled against him, pulling a small groan from his throat. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear as he tore her panties. “You’re a little slut, you know that?” He leaned back again, nearly salivating at the sight of her bare before him. “No better than a cheap whore.” Her cunt was glistening and had Leto resisting the urge to kneel before her and devour her. His mouth watered for the taste of her, having laid between her legs until the hot Arrakkis sun rose in the sky many times. That was long ago, before he was Emperor. Before he divorced her. For a man who prided himself on his independence as Emperor, he knelt quite often for the woman who vexed him. 

She writhed against the sink as he let his fingertips trail lightly around her thighs, avoiding the place she actually wanted him. He pinned her legs to the porcelain, stopping all movement while he teased her. He leaned forward once more, growling in her ear. “You want this?” He let his middle finger enter her just a little, making her cry out in her desperate haze. Y/n nodded vigorously, and for once, Leto complied. He shoved one finger inside her to the knuckle, groaning at how tightly she gripped him. A curse slipped from his tongue, already weak at the knees. Leto Atreides was–and had been for years–wrapped around her finger. Should she ask him to kneel, he would kneel. He desperately hid it from her, but he knew deep inside just how far his devotion went. If she told him to take a knife to the throat, he would enthusiastically if it meant pleasing her.

Leto moved quickly, adding another right before he knew she’d be ready. After decades of bedding her, he knew her body like his own, and her squeak made him twitch in his trousers. He pumped his fingers into her pussy at a cruel pace, too fast to ignore the pleasure, but too slow to get off. She whimpered and cried under him like a pathetic little kitten, palming at his forearms to get him to stop. He bit her neck as he used his free hand to unbuckle his belt. He ripped it from his trousers and unbuttoned the damned pants. Y/n started to protest when his fingers slipped from her wet cunt, but went silent quickly when she looked in the mirror to find him indulging himself, his fingers in his mouth. As he tasted her, he slid his boxers down his hips. She watched hungrily as more of his body was revealed to her. His cock sprung free proudly, and she found herself staring. He grabbed himself, moaning when he slid his hand from the tip to the base, the way she did when she used to pleasure him. His wrist twisted just once before he slid back down to the base, teeth grit as he watched his ex-wife in the mirror. For a moment both were mesmerized by the other. The Emperor found himself admiring her skin and her eyes before he snapped out of it, anger coming back. 

She seemed to have the same epiphany as he lined himself up with her. He slid into her easily, and she tightened around him as he entered. He fell forward, holding himself up over her shaking body. He cussed as he pulled out nearly all the way before slamming himself back in. Y/n cried out under him as he set a brutal pace, one hand slipping to her hip.

“Fuck-!” She whined, pressing her face to the counter to cool it.

“Hands on the mirror, baby.” he gritted out. She obeyed, hands slamming against the mirror and providing more stability to the pair.

A knock hit the door, making Y/n jump. She began to stand up, but Leto shoved her back down by the back of her neck, boot slamming against the door to stop it from opening. “GO THE FUCK AWAY!” He snarled. His hips didn’t stop thrusting relentlessly into her as the intruder spoke through the door.

“Emperor Atreides, you must give your speech!”

Leto ignored him, speeding up. Y/n shrieked, legs shaking as he fucked her. His hand slipped to her thigh, forcing it up on the counter and allowing him deeper. He braced himself over her, moaning into her shoulder.

“Show me how much you missed me, baby.” He grunted. She whined under him, brain not working properly. “Do I need to tell you what you already know?” he demanded breathlessly. Y/n gasped as Leto’s hand buried in her hair, yanking her up against his body with his arm around her throat. The mirror loomed in front of her. Leto studied her tear-stained face, her mascara running as he refused to stop moving. She watched his cock disappear into her weeping pussy, her face bright red. “Look how good you take it.” He groaned, watching as his cock reappeared each time, shining with her arousal. Lewd noises filled the bathroom as he ravaged her, as he claimed her.“You’re mine, remember?” he spoke, his voice low and rough in her ear. “This body is mine. This cunt is mine.” Y/n nodded, hands clinging to his arm. “Other men don’t get the privilege of what is mine.” She gasped as his arm tightened around her throat, just barely choking her. 

“Yours.” She moaned out. Leto fought the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. He groaned as his stomach tensed, his orgasm coming fast. Y/n clung to him as she came, crying out his name.

“That’s it, darling. Come on, let it out.” He grunted, arm moving from her throat to her waist to hold her up when her legs gave out. Her eyes rolled back, brain numb from the wine and his cock. Seeing her stupid made him snap, moaning as he came deep inside her. She whimpered in his arms, shaking. He rode out his high, groaning into her neck until he came down. He let her down slowly, letting her brace herself on the sink before pulling himself out of her.

He didn’t bother tucking himself away, not until he watched his cum seep from her pussy. As it did, he ran his fingers through it, scooping it back into her and shoving his fingers as deep as they’d go. She cried out, oversensitive. Leto hushed her, running his hand over her back and kissing her cheek.

“I know, my love,” He hummed, still fingering his cum back inside her. “But you know the rules.” Y/n nodded, gaining some feeling back in her legs as he slid his fingers from her. He licked each one individually, savoring the taste of the pair mixed together. His tongue slid over his own skin meticulously as he used his other hand to tuck himself away, refastening his belt.

Leto looked for Y/n’s panties, but only found the scrap of what he’d ruined. Shit. They were going to have to do a raincheck on the inauguration speech. Especially with her current state. Leto gently lifted her into his arms after pulling her dress over her. His past lover automatically snuggled into his neck, arms around him. Emperor Atreides smiled as he planned their escape.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Summary: A trip to the thrift store becomes overwhelming for Harris, and you and Eddie have to work as a team. But the real test of your relationship's strength is the crisis that unfolds days later.

Warnings: financial insecurity, school lock-in, missing child, police presence, mention of kidnapping, mention of drug addiction, blood (no gore)

WC: 8.5k

Chapter 19/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie has already been awake for two hours when the phone rings. One part of parenthood that he hadn’t anticipated is that children do not understand the concept of weekends. Harris had flung himself out of his racecar bed promptly at 6:30 in the morning, crawling under Eddie’s sheets and poking his nose until he woke up.

“Har, go back to sleep,” Eddie had grumbled, the last word extended in a whine. One cheek was smushed against his pillow, muffling his complaint. “It’s Saturday; you don’t have school.”

In response, Harris pursed his lips into a perfect pout and used his thumb to peel Eddie’s eyelid open, getting as close to his face as possible. His morning breath was tinged with the scent of chocolate; Eddie groggily made a mental note to better supervise his nighttime teeth brushing routine. 

“‘M hungry.”

That’s how Eddie finds himself pouring his third cup of coffee while his son keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen, watching Doug stutter and stammer in front of Patti. Eddie smiles, a blush creeping into his cheeks when he realizes that that’s probably what he looks like around you.

“‘Lo?” He cradles the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, wincing as he clumsily clinks the carafe into place. There isn’t enough coffee left to slosh over the side, a small miracle in and of itself, although he’ll have to brew some more if the caffeine doesn’t kick in soon.

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is sleepy yet sweet, smoothing all the creases of the morning. “Did I wake you up?”

Eddie laughs and takes a sip from his favorite mug, the one that proudly declares #1 Dad. It’s stained and chipped, but he’ll never throw it out. Wayne had bought it for him on his very first Father’s Day; ironically, Eddie had bought him a #1 Grandpa mug that year, probably from the same kiosk at the mall.

“Not even close,” he says, tongue flicking to the corner of his lip to catch the drip of coffee that’s pooled in the crevice. “Someone was up bright and early this morning.” His gaze flits over to the bowl of Cheerios snug between Harris’s criss-crossed legs, mostly uneaten despite his earlier protests that would make an outsider believe he was starving. “How was your sleep?” he asks, swinging back to your conversation.

You switch the phone from one ear to the other. “It was good. Would’ve been better if you were next to me, though,” you add, twirling the cord around your forefinger. If you could, you would capture the safety of his embrace and bottle it, releasing a bit each time you craved his gentle touch. “I might’ve even let you be the little spoon.”

He balks at this with a playful scoff, nearly spilling his coffee with the sudden movement. “Yeah, right,” he chuckles, licking the side of the mug before the bitter liquid can slide off and hit the ground. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Admittedly, his skepticism is rooted in truth; whenever you do get the chance to cuddle in bed, he’s always the one wrapping his arm around your waist, often taking the opportunity to snake a hand up your shirt and let the pads of his fingers brush over your breasts. It isn’t always a display of sexuality or desire–though you can’t say you mind that–but a connection, a way of ensuring that you stay close. 

“Just a few more weeks until we get to find out for ourselves,” you tease, though he needs no reminding. Only sixteen days remain until you officially move in together, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s counting down. “Speaking of which,” you continue, glancing at the clock, “I was wondering if you and Harris wanted to do some furniture shopping for his new room.” You knew that he would be keeping his racecar bed; it’s unlikely he’ll part with it until he’s outgrown it completely. “Y’know, a new dresser or nightstand or something.”

There’s an extended pause on Eddie’s side of the line. You think the call dropped and are about to hang up and redial when you hear him say,  “I, um…I don’t get paid until next week…” He nervously scratches the countertop with one fingernail. 

“Oh.” You grapple with a response, trying to strike a balance of empathy without condescension. “Well, I was going to surprise you, but I sold some of Grandma’s old—”

“No way,” Eddie interjects, firmly but not harshly. “I’m not having you spend your money on me. We can just wait until payday.”

“I want to buy this for Harris. I…I probably should have cleared out Grandma’s room months ago, but I couldn’t. I mean, I could, but it felt wrong because I had nothing to put in its place.” You don’t care that you’re babbling on, forging ahead with your impromptu monologue. “It would’ve been too empty, but with you and Harris here, it won’t be empty anymore.”

Eddie tucks his thumbnail between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he prods, not wanting to sound ungrateful. 

“Positive.” You’re much more assured in your reply. “If she knew Harris before she got sick, she would’ve spoiled the hell out of him, anyway.” The moment she saw him happily digging into the Oreos, she would have ensured that the cupboard remained stocked with Double Stuf. “In a way, s’like she gets to spoil him now.”

You can sense Eddie’s resistance tempering with an audible exhale. “He’s an easy kid to love, that’s for sure,” he muses, buying time to process the influx of emotions flooding his body. There’s the obvious gratitude that you’re so eager to take care of his son, but it’s cut with the insecurity of him not being able to do so. If you’re going to buy Harris furniture, it should be because you want to, not because he can’t. What if you hold this against him? What if, in the future, there’s an argument and you fire back with a retort about his shortcomings as a father?

Except…you have never done that. Ever. Not that night in the emergency room, or when you’d found out about the CPS report filed that evening. Not even when Eddie had made it his personal mission to tear you down, pulling insults from the depths and hurling them at you with reckless abandon. 

You hadn’t brought up the way he’d helplessly panicked when confronted with the possibility of Harris’s learning disability, or how he’d let anxiety overtake him when he officially received a classification. With everything the two of you had endured, you’d never once echoed his anxieties about his parenting abilities; it was quite the opposite. With you by his side, he feels as though he can take on whatever challenge life chucks at him. 

“Eds? Is everything okay?” Your tone is thick with concern; Eddie realizes that you probably think you’ve upset him. “We don’t have to go—we can do something else, or—”

“Sweet girl,” he says in one exhale, both to reassure you and to remind himself that you’re his, and he’s yours. Love surges through the phone lines when he speaks. “We can pick you up in an hour, if that works? I should be able to wrangle Harris by then.”

“Y’sure?” And, Christ, how his heart sinks when you shrink inward, reflexively making yourself smaller when you’re worried that you’ve offended someone.

Eddie doesn’t answer you directly, instead, calls out his son’s name. “Hey, Harris?” He frowns when Harris completely ignores him in favor of watching the cartoon. Using his free hand, he cups his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, amplifying his voice. “Harris Wayne Munson!”

The sudden sound jolts him out of his TV-induced stupor. “Huh?” 

“Go get dressed and brush your teeth; we’re gonna go shopping with Ms. Sweetheart!” Eddie grins as Harris turns to him with a wide smile of his own. “C’mon, let’s go!” 

Harris jumps up without further hesitation, inadvertently tossing his bowl from the makeshift table of his legs. Milk splatters, instantly soaking into the carpet, and the Cheerios topple out and land in a soggy pile. “Nooo, my bref-ist!” His big eyes well up with tears. “Daddy, you made me drop my bref-ist!”

“You, uh, wanna deal with that?” You can’t hide your amusement at the usual Munson chaos. 

“Probably should, huh?” Eddie jokes back, stretching the phone cord as far as he can and reaching for the paper towel roll. “I love you, babe. See you in a bit.”

“I love you, Eds,” you tell him. “And Harris, too, of course.”

Some more static and shuffling; then, an energetic voice greets you. “Hi Ms. Sweetheart! Daddy made me drop my bref-ist,” the little boy reports. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Har.” You’ve perfected the art of mustering up sympathy for children’s not-soearth-shattering issues, a skill that every preschool teacher must possess. “Why don’t you help him clean up? That way, I can see you even faster.”

Harris pauses, mulling over his options. “Yeah, okay! Gotta go! Bye!”

You hear the clunk of him struggling to replace the phone on the hook, followed by Eddie saying, “Let me say good-bye before you hang—” click. 

Pulling your own receiver from your ear, you stare at it with mild amusement. Never a dull moment with my boys. 

Your boys drive up to your building just over an hour later. You stand up from the bench outside the entrance and smooth down your shorts where they’ve creased. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Eddie lets the pet name roll off of his tongue. He wants to kiss you as you slide into the passenger seat, but he withholds his affection for Harris’s sake. It seems silly, considering you’ll all be living together, but he doesn’t know how his son will react to the romance aspect of it. Will he be happy? Excited? Disgusted by any display of affection?

You give his hand a subtle squeeze, turning around to greet Harris. “Ready to shop till we drop?”

“Till we drop?” Harris wrinkles his nose, glancing between you and his dad. “Why would we drop?”

“It’s just an expression,” you explain, catching a glimpse of the smile tugging at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. “Just means that we’re going to shop until we’re too tired to shop anymore.”

“I never get tired,” Harris declares, sticking his legs straight out so his flexed feet push up against the back of the driver’s seat, nudging Eddie slightly forward. “Grampa Wayne calls me an ‘Energizer Bunny.’” He bounces up and down in his booster seat to prove his point.

Eddie reaches his right arm around, keeping his left firmly gripping the wheel, as he moves Harris’s feet from where they’re planted into his lower back. “So, Har,” he starts, easing his weight onto the brake as he approaches a red light, “we’re gonna look for a new dresser for you, and maybe a nightstand.” He takes a deep breath as he delivers the news: “That means we’re not making any pit stops for toys. Got it?”

You want to interject, to let Eddie know that you don’t mind splurging on a small treat for Harris, but you bite it back. Whether or not you have the spare funds is irrelevant: this is the boundary he’s set for his son, and you have to respect it, regardless of your desire to spoil him.

Harris, however, does not accept the announcement as readily. “Not even, like, a little one?” he presses, holding his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “Even if I’m really, really good?” He gives a hopeful smile, eyes blinking expectantly.

Eddie looks at you, serving as your cue to provide your input. You nod your approval, trying to hide your delight in being asked to make a parenting decision, regardless of how menial it may seem. He peers up through the rearview mirror at his son’s waiting face. “If you’re really, really good,” he acquiesces, features pinching into a grimace when Harris’s exuberant squeal echoes through the sedan. “You have to use your inside voice and stay next to us the whole time. Deal?”

“Deal,” Harris confirms. “Deal, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Deal.” Laughter bubbles up inside you and you let it spill out uninhibited. You know that telling a child he can get a toy is an easy part of parenthood, but you silently swear to never take for granted being included in that choice. Harris joins you, though he’s not quite sure why he’s laughing, but your joy is contagious. 

You lean your head against the car window, listening to the buzz of the radio filling the silence. Harris hums along, more on-key than the average five-year-old, which you can safely attribute to him having a musician for a dad.

“I’m not getting a new bed, right?” Harris says with sudden urgency. “Because I wanna keep my racecar bed.”

“Mhm,” you affirm, smiling when Harris relaxes back against the headrest. “Your racecar bed will be in your new room, don’t you worry.”

“Okay.” That response satisfies him until he thinks up another question. “An’ you’re bringing your bed, Daddy?”

Eddie chuckles as he pulls into the Goodwill parking lot. He picks a spot close to the store, right next to a green Ford with a faded “Clinton ‘96” bumper sticker. “Um, no. I’m not bringing my bed.” 

“So are you getting a new bed?” His eyes dart from side to side as he assesses the size of the car. “Where’s it gonna fit?”

“I’m, uh, not buying a new bed, either.” Eddie kills the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, swiveling to face Harris, who is more confused than ever. “Ms. Sweetheart and I are going to share her bed.”

Harris kicks his feet, processing this new information. “But you didn’t get married yet,” he points out, “so how can you share a bed?”

You rest your palm on Eddie’s forearm in quiet reassurance. “Some people share a bed before they get married,” you explain simply, knowing that less is often more when talking to young children.

“When are you gonna get married?” he asks, more curious than meddling. “Because it’s taking forever. My friends’ mommies and daddies are already married.”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Harris essentially referred to you as his mommy; instead, he slowly exhales. “I’d like to marry Ms. Sweetheart someday, and I think she’d like to marry me, too.” He looks over at you with a sheepish grin, and you give his hand an agreeing squeeze. “But, for now, we’re just going to try out living together. How does that sound?”

“I guess that’s okay.” Harris isn’t completely thrilled with his dad’s response, but he relents anyway.

“While, we’re, uh, on the subject,” Eddie continues, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he carefully considers his words. He chews on the inside of his lower lip. Is he really doing this? Is he opening his son up to this relationship? “You know that Ms. Sweetheart and I love each other very much, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Sometimes,” Eddie continues with only some trepidation, “sometimes, when grown-ups love each other a lot, they hold hands o-or kiss. Would that be weird for you? If Ms. Sweetheart and I held hands, or kissed?”

You avert your gaze, partly from bashfulness but mostly so Harris doesn’t feel any pressure from either of you. 

The little boy looks at the car’s ceiling, centering his focus on the overhead lighting. Finally, with utmost certainty, he declares, “just no tongue-kissing.”

You snort out a laugh while Eddie goes bright red and sputters, “where did you learn about that?”

“Young and Restless,” Harris reports nonchalantly. 

Eddie rubs his eyes, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his lids until his vision blurs. “Remind me to tell Wayne to stop letting him watch the soaps,” he grumbles to you, turning back to his son. “Yeah, no tongue-kissing.”

You easily lace your fingers with Eddie’s as you walk through the front doors of the Goodwill. Harris starts making a beeline for the toys, but Eddie uses his free hand to pivot him in the direction of the furniture department. Harris huffs but complies, trudging alongside you. 

There’s a bright blue nightstand on display that immediately catches his eye. “Look!” he points, smiling so wide that all of his baby teeth are on display, “can I get it? Please?”

Eddie smiles warily, flipping over the white tag hanging from one silver drawer handle. He breathes a small sigh of relief when he sees the price is within the range of what he’d like to spend; rather, what he’d be comfortable asking you to spend. 

“Looks like we’ve got a winner,” he says, posture straightening with the announcement. He runs his fingertips over the surface, checking for any chipping paint or splintering wood, but the finish appears to be intact. “I’ll go tell someone to set it aside for us.”

He sets off in search of an employee, leaving you alone with Harris. You swallow the nervousness building in your throat. You spend nearly every day taking care of children, but you’re suddenly inundated with the memory of losing him at the flea market. Those few minutes when you couldn’t locate him were some of the scariest of your life. 

And yet, it hadn’t prevented Eddie from giving you another chance.

“Are you excited to move in with me, Har?” you ask, reaching out to ruffle his curls.

He nods, then looks straight up at you so that you’re staring at his nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart?” The position of his neck changes his voice’s pitch so it’s froggy. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Can you marry my daddy?” His eyes shine with potential. “And then you can be my mommy for real?”

You crouch down to his height, heart melting at his request. “Harris, I love your daddy very, very much. And I love you very, very much, too.” You poke his nose gently, and he giggles. “Being married is a big responsibility—”

“‘Sponsibility?”

“Mhm. Responsibility. It means a really important job.” You slide your heart pendant across the chain on your neck anxiously. “And your daddy and I want to make sure that we’re ready for that kind of responsibility before we do anything, okay?”

Harris nods, but you can tell from his crinkled nose and furrowed brows that he doesn’t fully understand. You can’t blame him; it’s an abstract concept, one that even you often have trouble comprehending. “But I can tell you one thing: whenever your daddy wants to propose, I’ll say ‘yes.’” You smile at the thought of Eddie asking you to be his wife. 

“Is that where he gets down on one knee and asks ‘Will you marry me?’” You’re about to respond when he adds, “and then someone runs in and yells about being their long-lost ‘dentical twin?”

Yeah, no more soap operas for Harris. 

Finding a dresser proves to be a much more difficult task than picking out the nightstand. Everything that Harris likes is out of budget, and everything within budget is too worn down or small. There’s one that’s in good condition and isn’t too pricey, but it’s covered in hand-painted unicorns. 

“That’s for girls!” Harris groans, stomping his feet. The last word is stretched in a whine. “I can’t have girl stuff!”

“We can paint over it. Whatever color you want,” you quickly jump in, trying to avoid a meltdown, but your efforts are fruitless. Fat tears stream down his cheeks; he’s already determined that the dresser is tainted. 

“No! No, no, no!” he howls, throwing himself on the floor. He smacks down on his tailbone, fanning his tantrum’s flames. He quiets for a moment, too shocked to cry, but then he’s screaming louder than before. 

It’s as though he’s lost control of his body, arms and legs knocking into the lower shelves without care. You can’t block him in time before he knocks over a lamp—a Nickelodeon-themed one that would have been perfect in his new room, ironically—and it shatters on the ground. Ceramic splinters, scattering across the linoleum like roaches in the light. 

People start to stare, some with sympathetic looks, and some glare angrily at the child daring to interrupt their shopping. Eddie’s face blazes, vision swimming as he wracks his brain for a solution. 

You’re faster, slapping a few bills into Eddie’s palm and jolting him from his thoughts. He watches you scoop Harris off of the floor, trying to avoid his flailing limbs. 

“Go get the nightstand and pay for the lamp,” you tell him, straightforward and precise. “I’ll get him to the car and calm him down. Keys?”

Eddie blinks, the information swirling around him but not quite penetrating the surface. It’s when you hoist Harris onto one hip and balance his weight in one hand, using the other to make a ‘gimme’ motion that it registers. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” Eddie fumbles for the car keys and tosses them to you, the two of you working in tandem. A well-oiled machine. You nod gratefully, wincing as Harris’s foot makes contact with your thigh. “I’ll be right out.”

You’re able to bring him to the car, struggling to unlock it and hold on to Harris. After a few failed attempts, you manage to open the passenger door and sit him on the seat. 

“Harris, hey, Harris?” you start, keeping your voice soft and even while trying to pull his attention. His sobs are slowing down but he’s definitely breathing too rapidly for your comfort. “Hey, bud. You’re okay, all right?” You extend your hand and he tentatively places his own palm on top of it. “You wanna give my hand a squeeze?”

He does it, the motion grounding him enough that he can focus on your body in front of him. You don’t want to touch him, knowing that his senses are already overstimulated from the tantrum. Instead, you relax as his squeezing grows stronger and his breaths gradually even out. 

“There ya go, Har. Just like that.” You smile warmly. “That was a really big feeling, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” His voice shakes and hiccups. He swipes at the tears on his cheeks, smudging them into his skin. 

You reach into the center console and grab a tissue, wiping the mucus from his nose and lips. “Good as new.” With no trashcan nearby, you shove the used Kleenex into your pants pocket. “Can you tell me what made you so mad in there?”

“D-Don’t want girl…girl st-stuff,” he stutters through ragged breaths. 

There’s a time and place to discuss the optics of categorizing interests into ‘boy’ and ‘girl,’ but you know better than to have that conversation now. “Oof, that’s why you were angry! That’s a lot to handle.” You gingerly tuck a curl behind his ear. “But, Harris, did you see what happened when you started hitting and kicking?” He shakes his head. “Well, you knocked over a lamp and it broke. You could have gotten hurt, or someone else could have gotten hurt.” 

Harris’s face falls as you speak, absorbing what you’re explaining. “I-I didn’t mean to,” he sniffles. “‘M sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you sigh, “sometimes, when we have big feelings like getting angry, we do things we shouldn’t without even realizing.” You pause for a moment, biting your lip as you consider your words. “Do you want to hear what helps me when I have really big feelings and I can’t scream and cry?”

“Mhm.” He nods again, little tongue peeking out to swipe up the tears above his mouth. 

“I take a deep breath and close my eyes,” you start, demonstrating both actions. Inhale for three, exhale for three, and repeat. “And then I picture myself being in my favorite place in the world.” You smile at him, blinking back the sadness that comes with memories of holidays at Grandma’s. “Wanna try it together?”

Harris responds by closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. “Good job, Har,” you softly praise him. “Now breathe out; make sure you’re thinking of your favorite place, okay?”

“Thinkin’ about the zoo,” he whispers, voice raspy from shrieking for so long. “Daddy taked me there and we saw so much animals.”

“Zoos are a lot of fun,” you agree with a laugh. “I’ve never been to the one in Hawkins. Maybe we can go over the summer?”

“Yeah! I wanna show you the flamingos!” His grin stretches across his cheeks “Do you like flamingos?”

Like most people, you don’t have a strong opinion on flamingos, but you respond with an enthusiastic, “I love them!”

“Love who?” Eddie’s voice breaks into the conversation. He’s rolling out the nightstand in a cart, keeping one hand on top of it to hold it steady. “Me?”

You laugh, opening up the back door so he can wedge the furniture next to Harris’s booster seat. “Yes, Eddie. I love you very much, don’t worry,” you tease, seizing the opportunity to inconspicuously check him out. His biceps flex as he maneuvers the nightstand, and you have to tear your gaze from his denim-clad ass when he stands up and triumphantly wipes his hands on his pants. 

“C’mere.” He pulls you in, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout and planting a smacking kiss on you. 

While you giggle, Harris is not as amused. He claps his hands over his eyes and groans. 

“No tongue-kissing!”

You’re wrapping up storytime, your students fidgeting with their shoelaces—some fidgeting with their friend’s shoelaces—eager to move onto the corresponding art activity Will has planned. 

“Okay, we’re going to use our walking—” Your announcement is cut short by Principal Sinclair’s voice coming over the loudspeaker. Her tone is typically warm and excited, but the way she speaks so sternly sends chills through your entire body. 

“This is a lock-in. All staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified. I repeat, all staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified.”

You breathe out, though you’re still concerned about the cause of the lock-in. It’s usually some kind of medical issue that requires emergency services to have unblocked access through the halls. You hope that whatever it is isn’t life-threatening. 

Will locks the door wordlessly, and you repeat your directions to the class. The kids walk to their seats, asking non-stop about what a lock-in means. 

“We just have to stay in the classroom,” you find yourself repeating, losing patience with each iteration. You’re thankful for small miracles; your class has already gone out for recess, which means you don’t have to break that news to them. 

Will is helping the kids glue multicolored strands of crepe paper in the shape of a rainbow, complete with cotton ball clouds. You’re unclogging a bottle of Elmer’s when the classroom phone rings, startling you. You place the glue bottle on the table, promising Joshua that you’ll be right back, and answer it. 

“Hello?”

“We need you to come to the office immediately,” the secretary’s clipped voice informs you. “Bring your personal items. We’ll send someone to assist Will.”

Stupidly, you nod before remembering she can’t see you. “Y-Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” You hang up, tell Will the plan, and bolt out the door. 

What the hell is going on? Why are they having me break the lock-in to go to the office? You hike your purse higher up your shoulder, trying to ignore the dread pooling in your stomach and creeping up your throat. 

Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong. 

Your feet can’t carry you fast enough. You nearly stop breathing when you see Eddie pacing in the lobby, Marion and Paula standing off to the side and speaking with Chief Hopper. The two teachers wear matching worried expressions. 

As soon as Eddie spots you, he’s charging over. “Oh, thank God,” he murmurs, throwing his arms around you and hugging you tight. You can feel the tears falling from his eyes, wetting the crook of your neck. His hands squeeze against your back and your shoulder blades as his body is wracked with sobs. 

You weave your fingers through his hair, holding him as close as you can. You’re desperate to know what’s going on, but you doubt he could explain if he tried. Instead, you continue comforting him while Principal Sinclair walks over. 

Her strides are long and purposeful, and she meets your own terrified gaze with her own. “Harris went missing during recess,” she says quietly, “and Mr. Munson let us know that you might be an asset in locating him.”

Harris went missing. Bile inches up your esophagus and you swallow it, wincing at its burn. “Why would he—” You stop mid-sentence; his motive is not important right now. All of your focus needs to be on finding him. 

Chief Hopper approaches you and Eddie, tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder with two fingers. Eddie looks up, wipes his face with the heel of his palm, and clears his throat, but a fresh batch of tears threatens to spill over anyway. 

“We’ve just collected statements from his teachers,” Hopper reports, looking down at his notepad. “They said that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, that Harris was just playing with his friends one moment and then gone the next.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, something had to have happened.” Harris had wandered off plenty of times, like at the flea market. The difference was that he was easily found. “If you haven’t found him, then he’s either hiding, or someone…” The thought is too painful to finish. 

Hopper looks over at the principal. “You’re certain that the playground is secure?” He asks her, not accusing, but waiting for confirmation. 

“Yes, absolutely secure,” she affirms, nodding her head. “The gate can only be opened from the inside, so no one can access it off of the street.”

You know this, of course, but it doesn't bring you closer to finding Harris. 

“We’ve taped off the playground,” Hopper continues, “and we’ve got a search squad going now. Considering that Harris has been diagnosed with a disability, we’re beginning this investigation right away.”

“Mr. Munson,” a second officer chimes in, “is there anyone who would be inclined to take your son? Perhaps a non-custodial parent or an estranged relative?”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “His mom, um, isn’t in the picture. Never has been.”

Hopper cocks one brow. “Never?” he asks disbelievingly. “How soon after he was born did she relinquish her rights?”

“She, um,” Eddie swallows, rubbing his nose in embarrassment, “she never did. Never relinquished her rights, I mean. She just kinda split.”

“So there was no formal agreement that she could no longer be involved in Harris’s life?”

“N-No,” he stammers, shame seeping from every pore. He’d always meant to start the legal proceedings, but that takes time and money…and maybe a small part of him had always hoped she’d come around and do the right thing. 

He looks over at you now, the way you’ve stepped into a mothering role like a puzzle piece. Like any parent, you’d made some mistakes, but you’re also the most compassionate person Eddie has ever known. 

He thinks of the times he’d tried to make his ex get clean, to want to get clean, and to be there for Harris. The weight of disappointment caused his chest to ache every time she’d mumble, “I’m gonna, but not right now” or “I don’t need help.”

Perhaps it’s unfair to compare the two of you; after all, you hadn’t struggled with addiction. But Eddie can’t help himself. You’d loved Harris before you’d even loved him, he realizes. And he’d never had to ask you to. 

“Do you have any contact information for her?” Hopper taps his pen against his notepad. “Nine out of ten times in these situations, the child is with someone they know.”

What about the ‘one’ time? What happens then? Heat pulses in Eddie’s cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t need Hopper to answer the question; he already knows what that means. 

“It’s from five years ago, so I don’t know if it’s still accurate.” He stumbles over his words, thinking about the last time he’d called her; it was the invitation to Harris’s birthday. “I don’t know it by heart, but I have it in my address book at home.”

Hopper gives a brusque nod to his colleague and to your boss. “We’ll give you a lift. And, uh, it’ll be good to set up your place as a home base.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Eddie mumbles, simply going through the motions without processing them. He’s on autopilot, a robotic version of himself. If he was able to fully absorb his surroundings, he would note the irony of him sitting in the back of the cop car because they’re helping him instead of escorting him to the county jail. 

You don’t let go of his hand the entire ride there, your thumb rubbing the soft hairs on his knuckles. “We’re gonna find him,” you whisper reassuringly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

But Eddie is too embroiled in his own thoughts, imagining every possible tragedy that could have befallen his son. As soon as Hopper pulls up to the apartment complex, Eddie is flying up the stairs, two at a time, unlocking the door as fast as he can. You run in behind him, watching as he flings loose papers and pens from a kitchen drawer. He’s kicked over the boxes he’s already packed; clothes and some of Harris’s toys are scattered across the floor like a poorly-designed booby-trap. 

He holds up the tattered black book, flipping through it until he lands on the right page. “Here. Right here.” He frantically points to an entry at the top, fingertip jabbing into it over and over. 

Hopper takes the book from him, careful not to rip the already weathered materials. He dials the digits and frowns when he’s greeted by the automated we’re sorry, this number is no longer in service, far too chipper for the circumstances. He tries once more in case he dialed incorrectly, but he gets the same message. 

“Disconnected,” he says gruffly, hanging the receiver with a clank. “Is there anyone else?”

Eddie can only shake his head somberly. If Wayne got Harris from school early, he would have told him. He wasn’t even sure how much of Harris’s maternal family knew of his existence, let alone his location. If someone took his son, it was more than likely a complete stranger. 

Hopper’s walkie crackles with static; you and Eddie stiffen with anticipation. “Hey, Chief?” comes from the garbled voice on the other end. 

“I’m here.”

“We’ve got a kid here at the school who says he spoke with Harris Munson right before he went missing today.”

Eddie stands up, walking closer to Hopper. Part of you expects him to grab the walkie and try talking straight to the other officer, but he doesn’t. 

Hopper presses the small black button and speaks. “Copy. Does he know where we might locate him?”

There’s a deafening silence for a few moments; no more than ten seconds pass, but it feels like a lifetime. Finally, there’s some information: “No known location; just says that Harris told him he was having ‘big feelings’ and needed to go to his favorite place.’”

“The zoo,” you murmur aloud, drawing confused looks from both men in the room. “When he got upset on Saturday—at Goodwill—I taught him to do some deep breathing and picture being in his favorite place, and he told me it was the zoo. But I…” you swallow, furrowing your brows, “I told him to picture it, not actually go there.”

“Zoo’s too far for him to walk, and no bus driver is going to let a kid that young ride by himself,” the chief points out. 

You nod, biting your lower lip. “He might not be at the zoo, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to get there.”

Hopper thanks the other officer and turns to you and Eddie. My guys are deploying the search party as we speak.” He takes a deep breath and makes direct eye contact with you and Eddie. “We’ll do everything we can to bring your son back safely.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands, collapsing back against the living room wall and sliding down to the floor. 

You look over at the police chief. “Can we help? Join the search…or something?” Anything besides sitting around and waiting for answers. 

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an officer stationed here in case Harris comes home.” 

You nudge your foot against Eddie’s. “C’mon, babe.” You try to keep strength behind your words, to be what Eddie needs right now, but it gets harder with each passing second. “We’re gonna go look for him.” He looks up and notices that you’ve extended your hand, and he takes it, pulling himself up. 

He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you and Hopper out the door. He’s gnawing on his lips so violently that some skin peels off between his teeth; flecks of blood dotting his usually perfect mouth. 

“We’ve got some time before sunset, so that’s on our side,” Hopper says as he drives back the way he came. “We’ll start in the woods near the school, and we’ll move from there.” He peers back at the two of you through the rearview mirror with a determined gaze.

“My uncle,” Eddie says suddenly, no certain expression on his face. He’s practically catatonic when he talks. “I want Wayne to wait at the apartment. I need to tell him…” If Harris does return home first and sees police officers surrounding the place, he might get scared and run off again.

Hopper scratches at his beard. “We’ll let him know, all right? Don’t worry about that.” He radios the instructions to a colleague, who confirms them and signs off, before pulling into a grassy area and killing the engine. “Let’s go. If Harris is going to come out for anyone, it’ll be you two.” He slams his door and then helps you and Eddie out of the backseat. 

Before you can even begin, you hear a group of people shouting Eddie’s name. You look over to see Jeff, Jess, and Robin waving and walking towards you. 

“We came as soon as we heard,” Robin says, giving you and Eddie a hug. “We’re gonna help you, and we’re not leaving until we find him.”

Jeff offers a tight smile, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’re here for you man,” he promises, sincerity in its purest form. “Viv is gonna stop by later and I’ll take care of Ettie.”

It’s a kind gesture, but Eddie’s stomach sours at the thought of still searching later. He needs to know that his son is safe now. 

Harris’s name is echoed over and over, bouncing off of trees and shaking the leaves as you and your friends call out for him. 

“Harris!” you cry out, throat raw from your constant shouting. “Harris, it’s Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Harris!” Eddie’s voice is even louder than yours; the power behind it is palpable. “Harris, it’s Daddy! Please come out! You’re not in trouble!” he adds, cognizant of the little boy’s fear of making people mad. 

Every squirrel that darts across the forest floor has you whipping your head around, heart leaping at the prospect of Harris emerging from where he’s hiding. 

He has to be hiding; your mind won’t let you imagine what could happen if the wrong person saw him walking by himself, determined to get to the zoo…

“Harris, Aunt Robin and I will buy you any toy you want!” Jess yells. “And all the ice cream you can eat!”

The five of you take turns making promises to nobody; they’re secrets shared with the wind. Each unanswered call leaves you feeling more defeated, especially with the sun hanging lower in the sky. It will be dark soon, leaving Harris even more vulnerable than he already is.

Will joins the group a few moments later, bringing granola bars, water, and flashlights. You can only stomach about a quarter of your snack, having completely lost your appetite. Eddie doesn’t even bother to eat, fueled by adrenaline rather than food.

“Principal Sinclair is also looking,” Will tells you and Eddie. “She’s with Lucas and Erica over at Merrill Wright’s farm. It’s closer than the zoo, but he’s got some animals, so they wanted to check there.” He pauses, casting his eyes down for a second before looking at Eddie. “Everyone’s helping out with this. They all want to find Harris.”

Tears well up along Eddie’s lash line; he blinks them away to keep his vision clear. “Thanks, man.” He coughs to clear his throat, emotions forcing their way through. “That means a lot.” For a moment, he sees Will as he was when they first met: an overwhelmed little freshman, unsure of his place in high school, let alone in the world.

What if Harris never gets the chance to find himself? What if he doesn’t get to grow up and learn new things, make his own mistakes, figure out who he is?

You put an arm around Eddie, unknowingly pulling him from his intrusive thoughts. “Can you try to drink some water? Please?” You know better than to nag him about eating right now, but the last thing he needs is to get dehydrated.

He cracks open the bottle and takes a few sips, not realizing how thirsty he was until the liquid covers his tongue. He downs it all without taking a breath, the plastic crinkling as he siphons out every last drop of water.

“Take mine,” you tell him, offering it with the best smile you can possibly muster, but he shakes his head.

“You need it, too.” He’s not wrong, but you have no issue letting him drink from your bottle if he’s still thirsty.

You take a sip and pass it to him. “We’ll share.”

Another hour passes, the pink and orange hues becoming deeper purples and reds as the sky darkens with night. Some people start to call it quits, returning home to their own children, breathing secret sighs of relief that they have children to return home to. Your group remains intact; no one is even considering leaving until they physically cannot move any longer.

With just overworked flashlight bulbs illuminating your path, you continue trudging through the woods. Hopper’s shift was over hours ago, but he’s steadfast in his pursuit to find Harris.

Eddie’s exhausted physically and emotionally, feeling like every part of him has been drained and can never be replenished. His son is missing; he might have been kidnapped, and he doesn’t know if or when he’ll see him again. All he wants is to hold him again, to hear his little laugh as he tells a cheesy joke he learned at school, to watch him sound out new words or draw a picture or just fall asleep in his own bed.

Hopper’s walkie crackles; he clutches it tight and holds it so he can hear it clearly.

“Chief, we may have a sighting.”

A light flickers behind Eddie’s eyes; he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he can’t help himself. He listens intently as the other officer relays the information.

“Doris Driscoll just went outside to let her cats in for the night, and when they didn’t go inside, she went looking. Found them behind a bush, eating crackers out of a little boy’s hands. He told her his name is Harris. Matches the descriptions the father provided.”

Eddie grabs your hand, gripping it with whatever strength he has left. You feel a surge course through your veins as Hopper motions for you to follow him to his car. He turns on his siren and guns it down the road, swerving in and out of traffic to get to the old woman’s house as fast as he can.

Please, please let him be here, you silently pray, subconsciously screwing your eyes shut and holding your breath. The only thing worse than not knowing where he is might just be a false alarm that he’s been found. 

Hopper slams on the brakes behind an ambulance parked in front of the Driscoll residence, their open doors allowing the fluorescent lights to stream through. Eddie watches, wide-eyed, as an EMT wheels a stretcher over to it. 

A stretcher carrying Harris. 

“Harris!” Eddie cries in simultaneous relief, exuberance, and fear. He instinctively reaches for a door handle, quickly remembering that he’s in a cop car and had to wait for Hopper to let him out from the outside. 

You’re already crying; everything you’d been holding back to maintain a solid resolve for Eddie is crumbling as soon as you’d seen his son. You scramble out of the car, right behind him, and run to where the emergency technicians are treating Harris. 

He’s awake and alert, and he spots the two of you right away. “Daddy! Ms. Sweetheart!” He tries sitting up, but a technician gently guides him to lay down again. “No, that’s my daddy and my almost-mommy!” he protests. “I gotta see them!”

You and Eddie reach him at the same time. He’s covered in dirt; it’s smudge along his cheeks, his arms, and his legs. He’s even managed to get some on the tip of his nose. Some blood is smeared on his right knee where he’s seemed to have scraped it, and the EMTs spray some antiseptic on it and apply a bandage before he can even feel the sting.

“Oh, thank God.” The words rush out of Eddie’s mouth, and he puts his palms on his son’s cheeks and presses kisses all over his face. “You’re okay, you’re okay…” He turns to the technicians, worry pinching his brows together. “He’s okay, right? There’s nothing wrong?” He pushes some of Harris’s damp curls from his forehead. There aren’t any visible bumps or bruises on his face, which eases a bit of his nerves.

One technician nods. “Right now, it seems like he’s just got some minor lacerations, but we’ll run the gamut of tests to rule out more severe injuries.” She looks over at the police chief, who stands a few yards behind you. “We’ll take it from here.”

Hopper gives a small, sad smile; it’s then that you remember that his own child had passed away nearly twenty years ago. She was only a little older than Harris is now. 

Eddie follows your gaze with red-rimmed eyes, the realization setting in for him, too. “Thanks, Chief,” he says, just loud enough so Hopper can hear him. Hopper nods, placing his hat atop his head before walking away.

The EMTs check for any broken or sprained bones, shine lights into Harris’s pupils, and ask him a few simple questions to assess for a concussion. “We’ll have to take him to the hospital, just to be sure,” they say to you and Eddie, “but barring any extenuating circumstances, you should be able to bring him back home tonight.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie breathes, crouching down a bit so he’s eye-level with his son. “Har, can you tell us why you ran away from school? You’re not in trouble; I promise.”

Harris looks down at the blanket draped across his lap. “I had really big feelings, and I tried thinking about the zoo like you told me,” he glances at you, “but then the feelings didn’t go away, so I decided to go there.”

You take his small hand in yours. “What were the big feelings?” you ask gently, free of judgment and filled with concern.

He thinks for a second, then states matter-of-factly, “Mad and sad.”

“Mad and sad?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with his free hand. “‘Cause of Ms. Marion and Ms. Paula.”

You freeze, trying to regain your composure before Harris can pick up on your uncertainty. “What happened with your teachers, Har?”

“They were saying mean things about you and Daddy, and it made me mad and sad.”

At the sound of his title, Eddie speaks up. “Mean things about us?”

“Yeah, like, that Ms. Sweetheart is probably teaching you how to read, too,” Harris explains, “and I said that they’re lying, that you’re really smart and read to me all the time. And that Ms. Sweetheart isn’t your teacher; she’s my almost-mommy.”

Eddie clenches his fists, veins prominent as his body goes stiff. His anger isn’t at the insult, but at the way they could speak so brazenly about a child’s family, disregarding the hurt it causes. He doesn’t care what those women think of him, but he’s furious that they upset Harris.

“They keeped laughing and telled me to go play,” Harris continues, getting choked up at the memory. “I tried to do my breathing and my favorite place remembering with Charlie, but it didn’t work. And I got lost going to the zoo–the real zoo, not the one in my imagination–so I hided with the cats until the nice lady found me.”

You and Eddie share heartbroken looks, pushing aside your respective emotions as you tend to the little boy laying in front of you. “Get some rest, Har Bear,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head. “You had a long day.”

He falls asleep after a few minutes, constantly checking to make sure that the two of you are still by his side. As soon as his breathing steadies and his eyes remain closed, Eddie turns to you, exhausted and running on fumes. Wet brown doe eyes pleadingly gaze at you, lids heavy with sleep. You wrap your arms around him, unable to get close enough. He moves slowly, every action a delayed reaction, but he gradually embraces you, too.

“Stay. Please.” The words are muffled by the way his mouth is mashed into your scalp, but you hear them perfectly fine. “And if we get to go home tonight, come back with us. I need you both close to me.”

“Of course.” Your own lips press against his perspiration-soaked shirt collar. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” You pull back ever-so-slightly, brushing tears from his cheeks. “He’s safe. He’s safe, and he’s here, and we get to keep spoiling and loving him.”

Eddie absorbs this as best as he can, mind still spinning as the adrenaline crash hits. There’s so much he wants to say, but for right now, he just carves out space in his body for yours. Your light whisper keeps him grounded, pulling hi away from the spiraling that usually overtakes him in times of crisis.

“I’ve got you.”

--

[avocado-writing]

Idk if you know Mortal Kombat, especially mileena (she's my favorite) but may I please get a Wolverine and/or Deadpool with a gf who has a mutation like Mileena.

She thinks she's ugly when she uses it but the boys think otherwise 🎀

(I'M LITERALLY IN HEAT EVERYTIME I THINK ABOUT THEM)

This is (my wife) Mileena

When Wade fights with you at his side, your carnage is always prefaced with a quiet request. 

“Please don’t look.”

And, because he is fundamentally a good dude, he doesn’t.

Fuck. He really wants to, though.

The noises that you make when he turns his back to focus on a different opponent are… interesting. It sounds like a bunch of really wet celery being snapped in half to a symphony of screams. When he’s done slicing people into teeny tiny chunks he turns around and sees you standing there in a pool of blood, trying to get the stain of it off your jacket.

He’s never been so curious about something in his entire life.

You’re so lovely. Loveliest thing he’s ever met. How the fuck he managed to convince you to give him a chance he’ll never know. God, the stars, and luck must have all been on his side that day, when after you’d finished taking down a cartel he’d asked you to grab a coffee and you’d said yes. Ever since then it’s been great. He loves spending days on window-shopping dates with you, fingers intertwined as he leaves you breathless with laughter; lazing on his sofa with some stupid rom-com playing with a bucket of popcorn between you both; snuggled in his usual corner booth at his favourite pizza place playing footsie beneath the table.

Perfect. You are perfect in every way.

So if all it takes is looking away when you ask him to then it’s a pretty easy compromise.

Unfortunately what you don’t take into account is that he is an idiot.

Wade catches the sight of you in the reflection of his katana the next time you’re out on a job. He’s just liberated some dude’s head from the rest of his body and is cleaning his blade when he spots you. 

And he cannot turn away.

Your mouth is open so wide it could rival a snake’s. Rows of jagged teeth which help you dismember the man who has been caught in the vine of your tongue, struggling to get away as he screams for help. When your jaws snap shut the man is silenced. You spit out the remains of his face onto the ground beside you like discarded gum.

“Holy shit!” says Wade. You squeak when you realise he’s caught the reflection of you, covering your mouth with both hands as it returns to its normal soft, kissable line.

“Oh no!” you whisper. Wade dispatches the last guy who’s running for him with a well-aimed bullet before coming to gather you in his arms.

“Baby, hey, it’s okay!” he says quickly when it’s obvious that you’re about to cry. You look up at him with glistening eyes.

“But Wade, I look so ugly,” you manage, “I thought… if you saw… you might not want to…”

Be with me any more, are the words which hang unspoken in the air. Wade guffaws.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Babe, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Your eyebrows crease together in confusion. He wants to use his thumb to smooth it out, but instead chooses to wipe a tear off your face.

“Yeah?”

“Of course! Shit, you’ve got that fuckin’ Venom thing going on? Like Mileena from Mortal Kombat but sexier? Come on, I’d be a fool if I wasn't rocking a semi right now!”

This makes you laugh properly, from your stomach, and all your worry is forgotten.

“I shouldn’t have worried…” you sigh when you get your wits back.

“Nah, of course not. You’ll always be my boo, okay?”

You grin up at him, before an idea very clearly crosses your mind.

“Oh! That means now I can show you what my tongue can do.”

He isn’t proud of it, but that promise almost makes him cum in the suit.

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[running-with-kn1ves]

Need you to write more WLW 😫😫😫😫

It’s the only thing keeping me sane!!!!!

A/N: I wrote this based on a random ass scene I saw in The Boys and now...here lies this creation. (Female fitness trainer is nearing completion)

CW: blackmail, manipulation, toxic relationship type beat, controlling behavior, threats, cigarettes

Synopsis: you attempt to break up with your girlfriend-- she's too much. But she was going to keep you, one way or another.

You knew the rough crowd around town was... intense. But this chick was on another level. Kali liked to scare you; with how little you knew about her friends, leering on their motorcycles as she watched from behind a cigarette, your mind swam with scenarios of being abandoned on bloody asphalt behind a dumpster.

The music she blares in her shitty, one-eyed car and the smoke trail she left in bathrooms-- she liked being revered as nothing but trouble. You were doing your best to stay away from any kind of danger, focused on fixing the pieces of your tarnished education as your grades had not been kind to you. But Kali got to you first, ripping away any thoughts of work and reparations to your tuition debt.

So, despite the foggy kisses, lipstick stains on your jaw, and unexpected clinginess she showed to the idea of moving you in with her, you're making an attempt to break up with her.

"You... want to ditch me?"

"What? No! I'm just, I'm extremely worried about this next semester." You put a hand on her square-cut, polished fingers. "If I fail even one class again, my scholarships will drop me. I'm already on probation with the university."

You hope she can see how worried you are in your eyes, squeezing her hand to ease the news. She was going rigid, stiff as a tree with the strength of a waiting titan.

"School, huh."

Kali watched you beneath wispy bangs, looking straight through you. As if you weren't there, heart-pounding and palm-sweating in front of her.

You were glad she balled her hands in fists before you grabbed them, having one too many instances of your fingers crushed in her grip.

"B-but... we can still see each other.. maybe, sometimes on the weekends. I just can't afford any distractions, I've already spent a fortune getting to where I am."

"Is this because I want you to move in with me?" She blurted, straight faced and tight lipped.

Dark, midnight eyes bore into you for the truth.

Her ears perked at the sound of your jaggy sigh, knowing this would come up. "... No, but I have to say that it is still pretty early in, well, "us", to be considering... that."

"Really?" She asked earnestly, cold fingers finding their way around your forearm. "Because I still feel pretty confident about the idea, baby."

You hated how she could call you "baby" so easily, how every "sweetheart" was patronizing or forceful, or could be the most saccharine thing you heard when you first woke up.

her boot tips pressed against the side of your shoes, trapping you in like a snake wrapped around a rat. One hand held yours in a death grip, the other raking shivery nails against your knee from under the coffee table.

"I've got a perfect place for your stuff, work's only ten minutes away; why would there be any little reason to stay at your dusty old apartment?"

"I, I don't think you're hearing me--"

"No, no baby, I think you forgot who's choice this was to make." Your skin was a deep color under her fingers, her strength far outmatched as your clammy, fragile hand was brought to her cheek. She tutted under her breath, tsk'ing in condescention. "What would you do without me? How are you going to survive alone, no car to get to your classes, or the grocery store, unprotected around your peers... I can't imagine it, especially since your landlord never got his money to re-lease your apartment next month..."

From under the table her swift fingers brought a bulging envelope to the table, previously stuffed in your landlord's mailbox.

It wasn't even opened, the cash and tenant forms sealed without a mark.

Your jaw went slack, coffee cup cold in your hands.

"How did you--"

"Try it again, and I'll find it. You'll keep losing money, keep draining chances to come to me lovingly."

Kali sweetly tiptoed her black nails up to your shirt collar, sending shivers down your neck with each gentle, uncharacteristically slow touch.

Without warning, the woman snatched your shirt in her fist and jerked you forward, pulling you tightly against the coffee table. The seething anger she bore hardly made a sound, leaving the fellow cafe attendants nearby unbothered.

Your wince left her apathetic, bear-like eyes relishing in how unnerved and frantic you were becoming.

"I so rarely give out second chances. You, my love, are very lucky to be the exception. Don't make me regret it," your girlfriend was only inches apart, painted lips plump and teasing only breaths away. "I don't like to play dirty, but I will if you run from me. Is that clear, baby?"

You swallowed thickly, letting your gaze run away from hers as she bore into you with intense malice.

"Say yes," She whispered, on edge of twisting your wrist. "So I don't have to show everyone in here who you belong to."

Your cheeks lit up, terrified of the baristas and groups of students who'd look your way if she carried out that threat. Kali was unpredictable, something you found so endearing when you first met. She was always moving, doing something you couldn't expect. Now, it was scaring you.

You nod your head, regretting the idea of trying to break up with her in public. She wasn't afraid to make a scene, unlike you.

"Of course, Kals. There won't... be any need for that."

You hoped the sweetly familiar nickname with a hint of an anxious smile would make you sound casual, as if you weren't sweating behind your jacket and avoiding her blinkless stare like the plague.

"That's right." She whispered, letting go of your collar to pull at your jaw, this time only with the intent of dragging you closer. She was always so rough with her grip, capable or causing pain with its force, or merely leaving you breathless.

The punk's hand from beneath the table took mercy on your thigh with its painful rakes, moving instead to your cheek. Cold rings nicked your skin, her knuckles brushing against your face in a gentle, longing caress. You were hunched over the table now, uncomfortably risen as she sat like a queen in her cushioned chair, your face in her hands and your breath stolen by her.

Her pierced tongue came to graze the inside of your mouth, all-consuming and grinning through her teeth.

She tasted of stale cigarettes and mint gum, her current oral fixation besides the longterm smoking vice she's had since middle school.

You reluctantly kissed back, feeling wrongness in your gut. This isn't how it was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to be sharing hot breaths or hearing her satisfactory groans for capturing you once again. You were supposed to be leaving teary eyed and frightened of what she'd do now that you were no longer on her good side. But this, was far worse. You were walking on ice that was already breaking, the freezing water below beginning to flood the only surface of land you had left.

Kali pulled away, not without a few last kisses to the corner of your mouth and cheek, leaving wet lipstick stains. Your lips were probably about as red as hers were now. Dark lashes heightened by her thick mascara clouded your view, your girlfriend looking up at you through them with a gentle hardness.

She wasn't so scary when you were falling to her whims, like putty in her fingers and teeth.

"Kal..." you mumble, upsettingly conflicted between your failure to carry out what you came for, and your fear of what her threats would do. Her history of breaking into your bedroom window and making herself at home wherever she tracked you left you without a doubt of her potential. It made you all the more anxious of what she would be like if you didn't follow through with what she wanted.

"My friend is out of town for the weekend, said I could use his condo by the beach... a getaway, just for us baby." Her cold thumb smoothed over your bruised lips, an inkling of a smile coming to curl her mouth upward. "You'll be there, tonight. Dressed in that cute little number you wore on our first date. Is that right?"

It wasn't a question, it was a challenge. 'Are you going to let go of this once in a lifetime second chance I'm giving you? ' is what she was asking.

You didn't want to say yes. You didn't want to show up, to spend another agonizing second with her knowing that your failing at everything you hold dear. But her hold on your face brings you to fall back into your comfort zone.

"Yeah, Kals. I'll... I'll be there. But--"

She laid a firm hand on your shoulder,  leaning against your ear with wrathful delight.

"Promise you won't bail on me, sweetheart. I don't wanna come looking for you," She let go of your sweet lips to play with a strand of your hair, curling it around her finger. "I really don't enjoy forcing you to obey.."

That was such a lie. She loved it, relished in your mild disobedience at times. But this was a different level of rebellion, one she detested.

You swallowed your protest, frustration bubbling in your stomach in distress and fear.

"I promise, Kal."

[ameliaenya707]

Wait wait, maybe of its not to much trouble~

You could do period sex with keigo? 😏

I love you annon ♥

Lemme bust this out rq

I had so much fun writting this actually

☆ Messy ☆

You found yourself laying on the couch, stuck in the fetal postion wincing it pain with ever sharp shoot of agony in your abdomen. Keigo had gone to work already, so you were all alone whimpering in pain as the news played in the background. Although you'd never admit it to yourself - much less him - you found yourself missing him, the warmth of his body and his touch. And in times like these when your damn uterus was tearing itself up you missed him the most. You could only see him on the news, him hanging around at the end result of a villain attack, holding some girl to his chest to comfort her. A slight tinge of jealousy filled your mind. Why did he kidnap you and go through all this shit if he was going to let dumb fangirls be all up on him?!

It all hit you too fast and a sharp ache spread down to your thighs. Tears brimming your eyes and you hopelessly clung onto the plush pillow, nails digging into the fabric as you squeezed your eyes shut in pain. Suddenly you felt something tickling the exposed skin of your neck, then your cheek. You reluctently opened your eyes to be met with the crimsion of Keigo's feather tickiling you. You almost entirely forgot about the necklace he made for you with his feather, adorning your neck. He could hear you through them, track your heart rate ect ect. He must have picked up on your agony.

You couldn't help but let out a giggle at how the feather zipped around, rubbing against your cheek. You take it gently in your hand, tracing your finger down its spine.

You glanced back at the TV, the news had changed to some disaster in Kamino ward but to your relief Keigo was no where to be seen on the sight. But your breath hitched when you heard the familiar jingle of keys. Something that used to be horrifying. The sound of the front door creaking open and the sight of Keigo when you peeked over the couch cushion.

"Dove, you should have told me and I would have stayed home with you," you frown when you hear him sigh, watching silently as he takes off his coat and discards his visor onto the coffee table. Now standing in front of you. Pretty amber eyes staring down at you, a twing of concern clouding them.

"M' sorry...it didn't hurt bad this morning...and I didn't wanna take you away from your work..." you mumble, averting your gaze from his.

Please no punishment.

Please no punishment.

Please no punishment.

You aren't sure you're in the mental space for the cage right now.

"I'm not mad baby, just worried. C'mon baby," he coos, sitting down next to you on the couch and patting his knee. Inviting you to sit on his lap. You hesitant before shifting to sit on his lap, your back against his chest.

You stiffle a giggle when his blonde hair tickles your neck as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You gasp when you feel his fingers hooking under the band of your panties.

"No! It's gross, I'm all bloody and it's gonna stain th-" you stop abruptly when his hand slaps over your mouth, silencing any further protests. You whine as his hand snakes down further, jolting when he gives a small pinch to your clit.

"Just lemme make you feel better baby, promise it'll be fast dove." He mumbles, honeyed words seeping through your weak mental. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear. The pads of his fingers parting your folds and his thick finger sliding into you. Eyes squeezing shut the only way you could deal with the intrusion, your cunt clenching down on his finger as tears brimmed your eyes. He let you adjust to it, your breath calmed, the feeling still foreign but now distracting you from any previous cramps.

"One more, yeah? Think you can handle it baby? I know you can, you always do, such a good girl..." Keigo chuckles lowly, shoving another finger inside of you, pumping them in and out at a resonable pace. His thumb moving to rub against your clit. The feeling of his fingers numbing everything, the feeling of blood gushing out starting to feel hazy, your head lolling to the side and resting back against his shoulder as your eyes rolled back.

"K-kei please! Gonna cum please lemme cum!" You plead, knowing better now than to cum without his permission. Maybe today he'd take mercy on you and let you the first time you ask.

"Go ahead pretty girl, go and cum on my fingers." He nips at the flesh of your neck. The feeling of blood trickling down your skin and spilling out of your cunt drowning every throught out as your cunt clenches down on his fingers, the cord in your abdomen snapping and the waves of your orgasm washing over you.

You thought maybe he'd be nice but he pulls his fingers out of you, holding them infront of your face. Scarlet red mixed with slick dripping down his digits. He chuckles as your face burns with shame.

"Look what a mess you made baby,"

[k-hotchoisan]

hii just wanted to say i love your writing and youre sooo good at describing stuff 😭😭

could u do a yunho oneshot based on or inspired by the song under the influence by chris brown? 🫠🫠🫠

Of course princess! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO SWEET iM BLUSHING \(//∇//)\ + requesting this lil prompt hohoho 😮‍💨🌶️❤️

Also that’s a rEALLY good song for Yunho 😏😏

Enjoy ✨

Synopsis: where Yunho realises he doesn’t need tussin to get high when he can get high off fucking you.

Word count: 2.1K

Genre/Warnings: fuck buddies but feelings are there just in denial, Drabble, one shot, smut, pwp, sexual brain rot, !mentioned drug use for medical purposes (please DO NOT take cough syrups unnecessarily + keeping his dose AS MINIMAL as possible), riding, praise kink, yunho’s big fucking cock, multiple orgasms, cream pies, squirting, you and Yunho are so fucking whipped for each other actually.

The world around Yunho spins as he feels pretty fucked and heavy from the tussin. He intended to take molly after that to prepare for the party, but the codeine fucking hits him, and it was only slight dose above the usual 10ml he takes for his coughs, not that he wanted to, so he decides to forgo the other drugs for another party or something. He felt pretty fucking high, but at least his irritating burning throat is suppressed.

He doesn’t want to let it override his consciousness—not yet, especially not when he sees your silhouette walking over to him, and when you come into view, you were just in his oversized tank, your legs bare, fresh out of his shower.

Yunho’s breaths grow heavier, as the only thing swimming through his mind was wanting to fuck you into whatever the nearest furniture was. His cock twitches underneath his sweats just thinking about it.

His heart races, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the syrup or because you’re just there—just drying your hair with one of his towels he lent you—he watches as drops of water falls from the tips of your fringe right onto your collarbone, as it slides down right into the dip of your cleavage. This just kills whatever Yunho was trying to rationale in his head as he swallows hard. He knows he’s fucking whipped for you, he just doesn’t want to fucking admit it.

You plop beside him as you leave the towel on a back of a chair. You move forward to pick up the remote control to flip through the channels, but Yunho stops you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but once your eyes meet his, his eyes looks pretty glazed.

“Yunho, are you crying?” You ask, still confused at first until your gaze glances at the coffee table, noticing the bottle of tussin on the coffee table.

There we go.

By the time you realigned your focus on him, Yunho is just staring right at your cleavage, like the fucking pervert he is.

“Your cough acting up again?” You ask again, since he doesn’t reply, but this time he responds, nodding slowly with his eyes shut.

“Do you need lozenges?” You offer, ready to dig through his apartment cabinets because you know he has them there, somewhere.

“I need to fuck you”, he replies, his eyes just tunnelling to you. You blink at him in disbelief before a smile cracks your face.

“Do you?” You tease.

He nods frantically. Your eyes lower to his crotch, and shit, it was stained, and there was definitely his cock just pressing so painfully against the fabric. And it doesn’t make your case any better.

His hands travel to your waist as he pulls you over to straddle his lap. You don’t want to let him know your panties were starting to soak through but the moment you attempted to avoid sitting anywhere his crotch, he already knows, because he pulls you in, and makes sure his clothed dick is sitting right below your cunt.

His hands snake to the back of your head as he pulls you in for a sloppy, deep kiss. You taste the sickeningly sweet favour of the cough syrup but the way he’s groaning in your mouth, desperate for your taste, only excites you even more. It‘s the only thing he craves.

Fuck buddies, yeah right. It was definitely developing more than that. At first it was just all fun and games, and as the both of begin to meet more often, it became a unanimous and unspoken decision to be exclusive fuck buddies, because it seemed that no one else was as compatible as the both of you were for each other.

His fingers find your nipples under the loose tank top and it almost sends him in a frenzy. He loves how your nipples are hardening instantaneously under his touch and your soft moans are just melody to his ears.

He can’t wait because it’s getting too painful for him, especially when he’s under the influence. He pushes you aside for a moment to pull off his sweats, and as you cock your eyebrow in surprise when you realise he wasn’t wearing underwear. The hem of his sweats brush against his hard and leaking cock, and a whimper leaves his lips, as more precum oozes out from his tip. Holy shit, he’s really sensitive.

Your panties are swiftly removed by him when his attention turns to you. He doesn’t want to be rough with you, and he usually isn’t, but as he’s fighting against the high, it’s taking all of his strength not to be feral with you.

And you’re back straddling his lap, just wanting to tease him a little more, since you love seeing him in this state—he almost begging to fuck you, especially since both your bare sex are just brushing against each other.

“Y/n, please. Fuck. Let me fuck you, please”, he whimpers, stroking his cock with his long and pretty fingers against your leaking cunt.

You don’t reply, but your hands are flat on each sides his shoulder; as you lower yourself down onto his thick ass cock. You sigh as he buries himself into you, and your thighs tremble from how much his thick cock is stretching you out. Yunho, on the other hand, is barely keeping it together, because the moment his tip goes in, his sigh develops into a full blown, long drawn moan as more him penetrates into you.

“Ffffuckkkkk”, his octaves go up pitch, face nuzzling against your neck, nipping at your neck and shoulders. “Why the fuck do you always feel so fucking good, y/n?”

Your only response to him is another lift from your hips before slamming down—sending your mind into a spiral of pleasure as your eyes roll back. You catch your breath to peak at Yunho’s reaction, and boy, is he already fucked out of his mind at the second stroke, evident by the blush on his cheeks and the way he’s panting so hard, mixed with his whines and whimpers.

His hands are gripping onto your hips hard enough to leave light red imprints, that’s for sure. Everything for Yunho is enhanced, no thanks to mixture, so the pleasure he feels is probably up by ten notches at least.

You start rocking your hips, as Yunho’s dickgrinds against your tight walls, sending a fuckton of pleasing signals across your body, absolutely fucking euphoric, considering how much his cockhead is pressing so disgustingly good deep inside you, and how his cock is bulging a little from how big he is. Not only was he erect, he was high and erect, and it’s the first time you feel so fucking full of his cock, right up to the brim—that was how aroused this fucker was.

Yunho’s head falls back onto the back of couch, one of his hands gripping the back of your neck, and the other tightening against the sheer fabric of your top. He can’t help himself from doing it—bucking his hips up to meet yours, making you full on bounce on his cock, causing your whines to turn into screams within seconds.

“That’s it, keep doing that. Fuck. So fucking good”, he doesn’t realise that he’s doing it himself, which amuses you but your sanity is slowly being ripped away at every thrust he pushes into you.

“God, imagine if we filmed this, that would be the best fucking sex tape. I would cum, over, and over again just remembering how much your pussy is squeezing me out like this”, he suddenly says, and that goes directly to your pussy, which causes Yunho to moan at the unintentional action.

As much as he was so fucked over, it didn’t seem like he was going to cum any time soon. Was it the influence, the exhaustion? You aren’t very sure but that is the last thing that shifts to your mind, especially when Yunho is fucking you from below so desperately.

The knot in your stomach tugs as your orgasm builds at every time Yunho’s cockhead pushes against your g-spot. His eyes are now locked onto yours, and he knows you’re close just from the way you’re twitching around his length, like he always does. He licks a stripe up his thumb and trails it down to your clit as you adjust yourself on him, and he never breaks eye contact. If anything, there’s probably a hint of pride that flashes in his eyes—he knows every part of your body, as if it’s his, and sometimes that fucking scares you because the both of you were only but just fuck buddies, and that’s what you constantly reminded yourself.

He presses his thumb on your clit as he gently pushes you back, exposing the pornographic scene before him—his cock just sinking in and out of your sopping cunt. He rubs against your clit as his free hand snakes up to your hips to push you, and his breathing shallows every time he sees his cock emerge from your abused hole, before he pulls you back in and your cunt just swallowing his cock whole.

Don’t even get him started with the noise the sex was making.

And the more he stimulates your nub, the more you realised you were gonna do more than just cum, because the sensations were getting too much.

“Yunho”, you cry out, your arm clawing against his chest, as you attempt to stop him, lifting your hips. His glazed eyes stare at yours, and his hand is on your shoulders, forcing you to stay seated on his cock like a good girl. Tears are pooling at the corner of your eyes. Fuck. It’s building too rapidly. “Yunho, I-“

“I know. I know. Let it out baby”, he whispers into your ears as he raises his hips once more, fucking so deep into you, and ensuring you feel it all in your clit as well.

“Three.”

Your body begins to go slightly limp as the orgasm is about to hit a fever pitch.

“Two.”

And it fucking burns so fucking good throughout out your body.

“One.”

Your lower abdomen convulses as your orgasm takes you out, you are barely able lift your hips because he’s holding it down as you fucking squirt all over his lower abdomen, as your cunt convulses around his cock as well, and Yunho is fighting with every nerve in his body to keep his eyes open to watch you unwind right in front him— crying about how good it all feels. And that was the moment he realised he just really wants you all for himself.

You slowly come down from your high, the aftershocks of your orgasm still tingling in your cunt. Fuck. Did he really just count you down to your orgasm while he was high? You’ve never felt like this before, in any of the fuck sessions you had with him.

He still isn’t done, because he hasn’t cummed. But this time, he seems really close, especially after watching you squirt so like that, and that, yeah, he was fucking aroused from that, because his cock only stretches you out further.

“Did that feel good?” He asks, his hands cupping your cheek, wiping away the tear stains.

“Fuck. Since when did you learn to do this like that?” You ask back, finding the energy to still continue bouncing on his dick. Every stroke on top of him, you could see the scrunch in his eyebrows accompanied by a groan.

“I know your body like the back of my hand, so why wouldn’t I?” He responds, his hands now on your hips, pressing you down hard on his cock. “Fuck. I don’t think I can-“

Before he finishes his sentence, ropes of thick cum spill into your abused hole, and his voice ups a pitch as moans spill out of his mouth.

“So good. Feels so fucking good”, he cries out, twitching in you, his fingers turning white from how hard he’s gripping your thighs.

And it’s a fuckload of cum, for some reason, that it starts oozing out of your hole while he’s still in you. His whines fill the room as he bottoms out in you. You can’t help but brush his hair back, to get a better look at his face, as he comes down from his orgasmic high. He still looks pretty glazed out, but his gaze never leaves yours as he pants heavily.

And the next words that leave his mouth take you aback.

“Y/n. I like you. Fuck.”

[queenshelby]

The Babysitter (Part 3)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Babysitter/School Student (18)

The following morning, when you woke up, you felt a humiliating but somewhat satisfying soreness between your legs. Cillian had fucked you once more during the night, claiming that he was simply unable to sleep knowing that you were literally and figuratively at his disposal.

Somewhat ashamed by the intimate act that took place just hours ago, you quickly freshened up and Danielle handed you a cup of coffee.

"Slept well?" she asked, still seemingly unaware of the indiscretion she had welcomed into her home the night prior. 

I merely nodded in response, the weight of deception heavy upon your shoulders. It was a miracle that Danielle remained none the wiser, and every second spent in her presence was a battle to suppress the bubbling shame staining your insides.

"I am glad," she told you. "Cillian will drive you to school soon but first, let me make you some breakfast," she then said, and the same whirlpool of emotions stirred up inside as you accepted Danielle's offer, the wafting scent of freshly cooked food and brewed coffee accompanied by warm chatter in the background.

Eventually, following breakfast, Cillian made an appearance too and asked you whether you were ready to go to school.

"Yes, I am ready," you replied, a sudden knot forming in the pit of your stomach as you wondered whether Cillian would try to push his luck further after you stepped into his car.

You put your bag into the back and watched cautiously as Cillian did the same, glancing at you furtively, with a concealed hunger that spelled nothing but trouble.

As you settled into the passenger seat of his sleek vehicle, Cillian revved up the engine and asked if you had enjoyed your stay.

"I-I did," you stammered, the words struggling to leave your mouth as Cillian turned on to the highway. 

"I am glad," he smirked, betraying a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. His hand snaked over to your trembling thigh, brushing beneath your skirt. "You should babysit and stay over more often," he murmured before using one of his fingers to push aside the fabric of your panties in order to make contact with your slit which was still leaking his seed from last night.

You gasped, your entire body jerking in surprise as you twisted in your seat to try and distance yourself from him but it was useless - his hand moved with a mind of its own, slithering over your moist core as if it had every right to revel in its wetness. And perhaps it did. Perhaps the salacious initiation that transpired between the two of you the night before had indeed conferred to him some sort of primal ownership of your body.

"So swollen, and still leaking my cum," Cillian murmured, delving his fingers deep within your slippery core, and dragging them back out to rub the slick wetness against your clit.

A strangled sound left your lips, and you shuddered, attempting to squirm away from his searing touch. 

"Cillian, please," you begged, "Not here," you said before Cillian changed lanes and pulled over into an empty parking lot.

"There is no one here Y/N, no one has to know," Cillian murmured, removing his hand from your dripping wet core. With one swift movement, Cillian had unzipped his pants and taken out his rigid cock, a small bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.

"Open your mouth," he instructed and you hesitantly obeyed, the anticipation and shame igniting a depth within you that made you crave and recoil at the same time.

Cillian's hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, guiding it towards your open mouth. The taste of salt and soap washed over your tongue, alien and enthralling, molding your apprehension into undiluted pleasure. 

"Fuck, that's so good, Y/N," Cillian groaned, thrusting gently between your lips, filling your senses with his intoxicating musk. Your hands clutched the edges of the leather seats, knuckles turning white, as he slid further into your mouth. You felt yourself choking, eyes watering from the sheer force of him hitting the back of your throat. But instead of ceasing, he persisted, holding onto the back of your head, forcing you further down onto his manhood.

"Just a little longer, sweetheart," he coaxed, and you could hear the strain of his voice, his breathing heavy and erratic. "Take it all in."

You tried your best to accommodate him, breathing through your nose as he slammed into your throat, the gag reflex subsiding with every throb of his cock.

As your eyes teared up, Cillian slowly released his hold on your head and pulled out of your mouth with a pop. You took the time to catch your breath and regain composure, patting the corners of your eyes to absorb the stray tears.

Cillian's cock bobbed expectantly in front of your dazed sight. It shone under the parking lot's dim light, slick with your saliva. He gripped it firmly at the base, and used his other hand to usher you closer to him by the nape of your neck.

"Do you think we should fill you up with some more cum before school?" he asked, smirking at the sheer filth of his words, causing your chin to drop. 

You couldn't believe what was happening. Here you were, an adult high school student, about to let a man twice your age fill your pussy with his semen over and over again. Yet, the dirty thrill of it all sent a shiver down your spine.

Cillian's grip tightened around his manhood, forcing a few drops of precum to fall from the tip of his cock as you watched on and nodded.

"That's a good girl," he praised, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment as he rubbed his thumb over your lips. The console of the car dug into your side, and the leather of the seat underneath you felt cold and unforgiving as you climbed on top of him.

Cillian leaned back, creating some space between you two, and used his grip to guide his cock to your entrance. He rubbed the head over your slippery folds, collecting your wetness and spreading it around.

"Now sit down on my cock slowly and try to take me all in at once," he whispered, the heat of his breath on your neck as you slowly obeyed his command, moaning softly as you sank down on him.

Cillian groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as you fully enveloped his length, the feeling of being stretched by him making your mind reel.

"Holy fuck, you're so tight," he said through gritted teeth as you started to move, grinding your hips in a circular motion as your pussy adjusted to his size.

"Tell me what you will do at school when you feel my cum leaking out of you," he said, his voice thick with desire as his hands roamed up your body, cupping your breasts through the thin material of your bra.

"I-I'll just excuse myself to the bathroom and clean up," you replied breathlessly, your movements becoming more frantic as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

"The thought of my cum staining your pretty little panties makes me so fucking hard," Cillian groaned, thrusting upward in a desperate attempt to chase his release.

You tightened your muscles, squeezing him as you leaned back, grasping for the handle above the car door. Your hips rolled in a slow circle, your slick heat rubbing against his swollen head.

"I want you to leak my fucking cum all over your chair in class while you sit there, swollen and sore, from having been fucked," Cillian continued, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with urgency. "Imagine all the dirty looks you'll get from your classmates, not knowing that the reason for your discomfort is that you were just thoroughly fucked by a man more than twice your age."

Your heart raced with a wicked thrill at the thought of that, your breaths coming in hot, shallow gasps as you rode him with wild abandon, your pussy clenching around him with each cruel, filthy word he uttered.

"Imagine that, my cum seeping out of you with every movement, staining your school uniform, marking you as mine," he groaned, his hips bucking wildly as he struggled to hold back his release, his breaths hot and ragged against your ear.

You felt the first wave of pleasure ripple through you, and you knew you were about to cum, your insides clenching desperately around him as you rocked your hips in a frantic plea for release.

"That's right, Y/N. Cum for me!" Cillian's command burned hot in your ears, the weight of his words a sinister anchor that dragged you further and further into the murky depths of depravity.

With a hoarse cry, you succumbed to the rising tide of ecstasy, your climax tearing through you like a hurricane as you convulsed in his arms.

Cillian grunted, slamming his hips up into you with brutal force as he reached his own peak.

His release jetted out in hot streams, flooding your womb as he groaned with satisfaction. Spent and satisfied, he leaned his head back against the seat, his lust-hazed eyes never leaving yours.

You tried to catch your breath as you sat on top of him, your legs trembling from the force of your climax. You felt raw and exposed, your inner muscles still clenching around him as he softened inside of you.

Neither of you spoke as you disentangled yourself from him, straightening your clothes as best you could.

Cillian adjusted his own clothing before starting the car again, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"Remember, not a word to Danielle," he warned, his voice low but gentle. 

You nodded, still too shocked to speak. The gravity of what had just happened was starting to sink in, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and shame.

Cillian drove you the rest of the way to school in silence, his hand occasionally resting on your thigh in a way that made your heart race.

You couldn't believe what had just happened between the two of you, how you had allowed yourself to be used in such a way by this older man. And yet, even as you felt a twinge of shame, you couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through your veins. It was as if you had tapped into a part of yourself that you didn't even know existed, a part that craved the taboo and the forbidden.

When you arrived at school, you hurried out of the car, eager to escape the intense emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Wait," he then said just as you grabbed your bag from the back seats and you indeed waited for what he had to say. Reaching for his wallet, he retrieved two money bills and handed them to you.

"For this morning," he said, a playful smirk lingering on his lips and you hesitated, staring at the money in your hands.

"You earned it," he then winked and you stuffed the cash in your pocket and mumbled a thanks, before hurrying off towards the school building, your mind a whirlwind of questions and confusion.

Throughout the school day, you couldn't shake off the events that transpired earlier.

Every time you shifted in your seat or crossed your legs, you could feel the lingering ache between your thighs, a delicious reminder of Cillian's skilled touch. You blushed, imagining your classmates knew exactly what had transpired that morning. The thought of them whispering about you, of their judging stares, sent a thrill down your spine.

During lunch, you found yourself sneaking away to the bathroom, anxious to check if you were still leaking Cillian's cum. You locked yourself in a stall and tugged down your panties, biting your lip as you looked down at the small wet spot on the crotch of your underwear.

You traced your fingers over the damp fabric, relishing in the secret knowledge of what had caused it.

Cillian had filled you with his seed, and now it stained your underwear - a silent testament to the forbidden acts you had let him subject you to.

Sitting on the toilet seat, you couldn't help but recall every moment from earlier that day. Your thoughts wandered back to the feel of Cillian's hands on your body, to the taste of his cock on your tongue, and to the moans that escaped your throat as he thrust into you.

You touched yourself then, your fingers slipping beneath your underwear and into your slick folds.

The bathroom stall felt confining, yet exhilarating. This was dirty, wrong - but the thrill of it only made you want more. You imagined it was Cillian's fingers circling your clit, his thumb pressing into your aching opening. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as your fingers moved faster, the sensations building within you.

You came quickly, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave and, just as you did, your phone buzzed with a message.

You glanced down at the screen, seeing a message from an unknown number. It read, "I've been thinking about that tight little pussy of yours all day. Can't wait to feel it around my cock again."

You gasped, your heart racing in your chest as your mind immediately went to Cillian. He had texted you and, before you could even type up a response, you received yet another message from him.

"Meet me at the Hilton tomorrow after school. I will text you my room number," the second message read.

Your heart raced with a mix of shock, fear, and excitement. Was it wrong to be thrilled at Cillian's proposition? After all, he was a married man, and you were his babysitter - a high school student.

But despite the guilt gnawing at your conscience, you couldn't deny the growing pool of wetness between your thighs. You had to meet him. You had to let him use you. 

Knowing full well who he was, this was the ultimate turn on for you.  A forbidden desire that surrounded the forbidden fruit. How much further could you possibly take this?

To be continued...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

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[alecvolturiswifeforever]

adorably emotional 𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫ demetri volturi x reader

warnings: lots and lots of floof and softness

a/n: a few prompts from @novelbear have been used :)

tag list: @your-next-daydream @agirllovespancakes @icefrozendeadlyqueen

You soft hands fiddled with the frayed ends of the blanket draped over your legs, completely zoned out and just vaguely aware of the soft sounds of the television echoing around the room. It had been an emotional rollercoaster of a week, and what with your upcoming turning date, you couldn’t help but stress yourself out - much to Demetri’s dismay.

Still completely out of touch and lost in your own mind you remained unaware of said vampire lurking behind you, stalking up to place his hands on your shoulders, thumb brushing across your pulse point gently.

Unable to stop the loud squeal of surprise from leaving you, you practically launched out of your seat. A thud resounded as you bumped your ankle on the coffee table in front of you and you completely folded your body into the sofa at the pulsing feeling, pain coursing through your leg momentarily. The vampire let out a cheeky laugh, unaware of the way your eyes watered, and the way your lip began to quiver as your face buried deeper into a couch cushion.

“Are you alright, my love?”

The soft tone of his voice, followed by the comforting touch as his hand now brushed across your waist, down to your hip drew a high pitched noise from your throat. He frowned suddenly.

“Y/N?”

His body was suddenly in front of you, resting on his haunches as he attempted to sit you up. Your hands immediately covered your face in a mediocre attempt to hide the tears once more, though he quickly pulled them away, frown deepening even more so as the salty teardrops dripped across your cheeks and down your chin.

“Did I scare you? Oh, sweetheart-“ The guilty look placed upon his face struck your heart, the look of self-reproach in his eyes causing you to let out a sob, falling into his chest. Strong arms promptly lifted you, him now taking the place you occupied previously and you now cradled on his lap.

Demetri stroked your back, pressing a sweet and gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“Darling, I am truly sorry.” His voice was a faint whine in your ear. His hands snaked up to your tear stained cheeks, cupping your face in his hands softly, carefully, almost as if he was afraid of hurting you, meanwhile he brushed his thumb back and fourth across the apple of your cheek. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sweetheart. I thought I was loud enough for you to know I was approaching.”

You sniffled, looking up at him, eyes catching the roaring flame of the fireplace and reflecting a beautiful glisten. You heard him croak out another quiet apology, self doubt clearly getting the better of him. You let go of the collar of his shirt to tilt his chin down with your thumb and index finger. His eyes soften as they meet your own, admiring the way you shake your head with a mumbled breath. “It’s not your fault… jus’ been feeling emotional.”

You stroked his jaw for a moment before placing your thumb on his chin, adding the smallest amount of pressure in order for him to part his lips and break the pout that had formed. Demetri tilted his head to press a sweet kiss to your thumb, taking your hand in his own to press more kisses to the rest of your fingertips.

“Did you hurt yourself, sweet girl?” You shook your head in response, the pulsing in your ankle completely gone.

“Oh, my poor little umana” His lips caressed your fingers softly as he spoke, a soft smile forming on your lips at the ticklish feeling it brought with it. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Jus’ wanna to be with you…” you mumble softly. A warm smile breaks onto his face, the soft contours of his cheeks deepening just a tad, crimson eyes practically glowing in adoration.

“You are awfully adorable when you’re emotional, sweet thing.” He teases lightheartedly, switching the position so he was now laying on the couch, you atop of him with your head just below his chin. His fingers skilfully weave in and out of your soft tresses, delicately tugging and untangling any of the knots he manages to stumble across. You sigh softly in relief, curling up a little more, inhaling his scent and allowing your mind to completely calm, pushing you into a blissful slumber.

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 3: ANDROID AUTOPSY (OR IS IT NECROPSY?)

synopsis: you start to work on the autopsy of the ortiz android. connor tries to establish a friendly rapport with both you and gavin. but gavin is, as always, a fucking cunt.

word count: 2.4k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: connor looks so fucking funny while he's falling in the break room scene 😭😭 like i hate that he's getting hurt but his face is EMOTIONLESS LOLOLOL

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

When you walked into work ten minutes ago, you expected something to be wrong. That’s just how it goes these days, with deviants running rampant in the streets and all. 

But not this. Not the deviant from last night, deactivated in his holding cell. Apparently, he rammed his own forehead into the wall and didn’t stop until he died. Thirium stains the wall, the floor, and his already-bloody uniform.

You sigh, holding a hand to your forehead. “Блять…”

“I recognize that one,” Chris mumbles as he unlocks the cell. 

You slip on your bib apron and tie it in the back. “Yeah, most Americans do.”

You walk into the cell and gently put your hand on the android’s shoulder. He doesn’t move. He really is dead.

“I fucking hate this job.” You grunt as you pick him up in a bridal carry. Thirium stains your apron as he slumps into your front. “Goddamnit. I’ll slap whoever triggered the deactivation so hard they’ll remember it ‘til the first of next month.”

“Sure you will.” Chris locks the door as soon as you exit. 

You huff out a light laugh. “Accompany me to the autopsy room?”

He smiles. “Anything to get out of being in Gavin’s company.”

You and Chris mostly walk in silence to the autopsy room. There’s early morning chatter and the scent of coffee floating through the air. People give you a wide berth when they see the limp android in your arms.

But the walk is short. The door before you reads ANDROID AUTOPSY ROOM. You adjust the body in your arms and press your right hand to the biometric scanner. It beeps once and the door opens.

“And this is where I get off,” Chris says.

You smile and bend at the knee, mimicking a curtsey. “Thank you for accompanying me. And if Gavin burns his tongue on hot coffee again, please! Feel free to get me right away.”

Chris laughs. “Yes, Officer!”

You laugh in kind and enter the autopsy room. The door shuts automatically behind you. Inside is a long steel table and lots of electronics – screens, wires, outlets, cords. You set the body on the table and get to work. 

You flick on the power switch and the computers come alive, one by one. The screens come on and quiet music starts playing – a string piece accompanied by softly-sung Russian. 

Once everything has come on, you move over the android and press just behind his ear. With a soft click, the plastic flicks open and a small port is revealed. When you open your left hand, the wires of your polymer glove snake out and plug themselves in. 

The screens light up with reports on the biocomponents – percentages, damage reports, the like. Your eyes flit over the numbers, trying to decipher what was abnormal. 

You unplug and the wires slither back into your glove. You sigh and start filtering through the data, finding what was important and worth noting down. You work that way for a while – looking over numbers and biocomponent data and listening to music.

After a while, you feel a buzz in your pocket. You pull out your phone, read the text that just came through, and send a quick one back.

Chris: Connor just came thru. Said it was looking for you and Hank. Sent it your way You: you sent an ANDROID to an ANDROID autopsy room?? Chris: Humans are in human autopsy rooms all the time dumbass You: true. just hope connor doesn’t freak. hank here yet? Chris: What do you think? You: axaxa you’re right ))

You look up from your phone as there’s a knock at the door. You get up and unlock it, revealing who’s behind it – and, of course, it's Connor.

“It’s nice to see you again, Officer.” He smiles. “May I come in?”

“Nice to see you, too. And, uh…” You move to the side, gesturing inside. “Yeah, sure. I know a deactivated deviant isn’t the most welcoming sight, but…”

“It’s okay.” Connor moves inside, rubbing his hands together as he observes the room. “I’ve seen plenty of them.”

“Ah.” You move back over to the computers. “I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned.”

“Impressed, Officer.” Connor stills in place, his eyes flitting over the computers and the numbers on them. “I’m the one who deactivated most of them.”

“Oh. Okay.” You glance over your shoulder at him – you’re not used to having someone else in your workspace. You gesture to a chair that’s tucked into a corner. “Uh, you can sit. If you want.”

Connor nods. “Thank you.”

He moves over to the chair and sits, folding his hands in his lap politely. His eyes are still on the computers, quietly watching as his LED flickers yellow and processes the data. The only sound is the soft music and your footsteps as you move between screens, noting down abnormalities.

Connor cuts the semi-silence. “Where are you from, Officer?” 

You glance over at him, then back to the computers. “Chelomey, Russia. Why?”

“I want to establish a friendly rapport. It’ll be easier to work together if we know each other better,” Connor says. “I’ve heard Chelomey described as ‘the first city of the skies.’ It’s on the first successful flying platform – the Icarus, correct?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “That’s right.”

“How was that?” Connor asks. “Living there, I mean. What was it like growing up?”

“Eh.” You shrug. “Got a nice Makarov Pistol when I was ten. Never had a snow day in school – we were just above the clouds. Was surrounded by children of astrophysicists and bioengineers.”

“You say that like they’re a separate group of people,” Connor says. “What are your parent’s career paths? If it’s not too intrusive to ask.”

You turn, leaning back against the autopsy table and facing him. “Sounds unrelated, but – do you know how the Icarus Platform works?”

Connor furrows his eyebrows, his eyes flitting to the floor as his LED turns yellow and flickers. After a moment, he looks back up at you. “The engines operate on the principle of the Archimedes Screw. The propellers don’t interact with air currents, but directly with Earth’s magnetic field instead.”

You bring a hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Did you just look that up?”

“No.” Connor’s gaze immediately falls to the ground. “Yes.”

You cough to hide your laughter and turn away. “Okay, okay. Don’t worry – I won’t tell anyone. I didn’t expect you to know anyway.”

Connor clears his throat. “Please, let’s return to the topic at hand.”

“Yeah, okay.” You scratch the side of your nose and smile. “The engines take up a ridiculous amount of energy, yes? So there are nuclear reactors on the platform to supply a continuous energy flow. My parents worked in the northern reactor together.”

You shrug. “Not much more to them. Named Olga and Yegor. Nice people. Doubt you’ll ever meet them.”

“True,” Connor says. “I doubt they would let an American-made android into the USSR. I also doubt that the travel ban to and from the USSR will be lifted anytime soon.”

Your head dips in a nod. “Maybe if you were manufactured back in my home. But there’s a chance that, if you were, you’d be dancing ballet in the Maya Plisetskaya Theater.”

“I feel like that’s a metaphor.” Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “But I don’t understand it.”

“It’s not.” You laugh, hiding your smile behind a hand. “There are specialized robots that dance ballet in the theater – I went once, not my style. Just a chance that, with how nimble they made you, you could’ve been a ballet bot.”

“There are robots made specifically for ballet?” Connor asks. 

“Well… they’re…” You cringe a little. “Multifunctional?”

Connor shifts so that he’s sitting on the edge of his seat, his elbows on his knees and his hands together. He seems intrigued. “Multifunctional how?”

You look away and cover your mouth with a hand. You can feel your face start to warm. You really don’t want to talk to Connor about this. He obviously knows about sex and prostitution, because it might be involved in the cases he’s handling. But you don’t want to talk to him about either of them!

You bite down on the inside of your lip, hard, to dismiss wandering thoughts. (Because, honestly, you shouldn’t be wondering what his model is capable of doing! Not when he’s right there in front of you!) You swallow thickly and try to talk.

“Господи, khm…” You groan quietly. “It was also a, uh, brothel? Kinda? The clients were human, but the whores were… not.”

“Oh.” Connor looks down at his hands. He rubs them together, almost like a nervous tic. (But androids don’t have nervous tics. Do they?)

“Yeah.” You scratch your cheek, trying to ignore how warm it is. “I’m, uh… I need a coffee. And I can’t leave anyone alone in the autopsy room if they’re not authorized to be.”

“I understand.” Connor stands. “I’ve been meaning to explore the office. May I accompany you to the break room?”

You nod. You really hope he’ll continue to act like the past half minute didn’t happen. 

As soon as you have all the computers in standby mode, the music paused, and your Thirium-stained apron hung up, you lead Connor out of the android autopsy room. The walk to the break room is short, and he adjusts his pace to match yours as you walk. 

Internally, you really hope that Gavin isn’t there. Maybe he got hit by a car coming back from O’Mansley Donuts.

But, of course, hopes are meant to be dashed. And that dream is crushed when you hear Gavin scoff as soon as you enter the break room. 

“Fuck, look at that…” he says. You tense as soon as you hear his voice. “Our friends, the plastic detective and the werewolf, are back in town!”

“Please, not today, Gavin.” You spare a glance at the poor officer that Gavin has trapped in conversation. Then, you move over to the counter to find a spare paper cup and the coffee pot. 

“What? I just wanted to congratulate it on its good work last night!” 

“Thank you, Detective Reed.” Connor nods politely. 

You scoff under your breath and internally curse him for being programmed to be so nice. As you pour yourself some coffee, you wonder: would it really kill him to tell Gavin to fuck off?

When you turn around, hot coffee in hand, Gavin is standing a few feet away from Connor. You lean back against the counter and decide to let this play out.

“Never seen an android like you before.” Gavin looks Connor up-and-down. “What model are you?”

Connor stands, unfazed. He doesn’t even blink. “RK800. I’m a prototype.”

“A prototype!” Gavin parrots. He turns to the other officer, gesturing at Connor vaguely. “Android detective!”

He looks back to Connor – looks up at Connor. It would be funny if you weren’t so on edge.

“So machines and commies are gonna replace us all.” His eyebrows raise. “Is that it?”

Connor stays silent, just looking at Gavin.

“Hey.” Gavin clicks his tongue. “Bring me a coffee, dipshit.”

“Gavin,” you cut in, a warning unspoken in your tone. Connor blinks once and tilts his head slightly to the side. 

“Get a move on!” Gavin snaps.

You set your coffee on the counter and hurry over. You put a hand out towards Gavin – again, a silent, unspoken warning.

“I’m sorry,” Connor says. “But I’m not permitted to take orders from you.”

“Oh! Oh.” Gavin cracks a wicked, sarcastic smile before driving his fist straight into Connor’s solar plexus, quick and unpredicted.

“Вот чёрт!” You immediately move to catch Connor as he almost collapses, wrapping an arm around his front and steadying him with your other. He recovers after a few moments and blinks hard before pulling himself away from you. He adjusts his tie (which, honestly, didn’t need readjusting) and sighs sharply.

“Are you okay?” You ask. You’re tempted to hold a hand out just in case he collapses again.

“Is it okay?” Gavin laughs sarcastically. He jabs a finger at Connor. “If Hank hadn’t gotten in the way yesterday, I would’ve fucked you up for disobeying a human.”

He steps backwards. “Stay outta my way. ‘Cause next time, you won’t get off so easy.” Gavin’s eyes turn from Connor to you. “Same goes for you, werewolf. If you stay in my way, I won’t fucking hesitate to trample you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Last I remember, wolves eat pigs.”

Gavin just scoffs and turns to the other officer. He exchanges a glance with her, and they both walk out together. He gives Connor a way-too-forceful shoulder-check on the way out.

You turn to retrieve your coffee from the counter, then lean back against it. “What an asshole.”

“Is Detective Reed usually like that?” Connor asks. “That… aggressive?”

“Yes.” You blow the steam off your coffee and take a sip. Way too bitter, but you don’t have any other choice regarding caffeine.

Connor moves beside you, facing the entrance of the break room. “And what did he mean when he called you werewolf?”

“There was a Russian serial killer called The Werewolf.” You look down into your coffee. “He was a cop. It spread, and now corrupt cops are just called werewolves. Gavin thinks he’s smart, calling me that, even though I’m not technically a cop.”

Connor hums. When you glance over, his LED is flickering yellow. You choose not to comment on it.

“Are you okay?” You ask. “Like, actually. Gavin punched you pretty hard.”

“Androids don’t feel pain,” Connor says. “The impact disrupted my Thirium pump for a second, but it quickly regulated itself.”

“Good.” You take a sip of coffee.

Connor turns to look at you. “Why are you concerned, Officer?”

You glance at him, then look down into your drink. “I don’t know. Just don’t need Gavin putting sticks in our wheels, that’s all. And putting you out of commission would be a major problem.”

You can see Connor still looking at you out of the corner of your eye. His eyebrows draw together a fraction of an inch, then he looks away.

You turn the other way and choke down another sip of bitter coffee. 

[bunnyboyjuice]

Workplace distractions

Hiromi x black reader, Office Sex, nicknames( Doll and Pretty girl)

Hiromi being obsessed he couldn’t dream of it in love pfft he’s never had time for that. But something about you god, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you. You were the cute new secretary of the office specifically to help with Hirguruma’s wing off the office. He had to get used to you dashing all around the place to help others but your presence was comforting. Always checking in on Hiromi before you went on lunch break to make sure he needs anything or wants anything while you go out for lunch, When your peeked your pretty head through the door of his office to tell him his 9’o clock appointment was here, the way you had a candy bowl on your desk letting people stop by and chat with you about the mundane tasks of work.

Hiromi thought it was ridiculous that you were on his mind so much. You practically had his mind in your clutches his heart fluttering thinking about the way you helped him organize his files, until he bumped into you spilling coffee all over the front of your shirt. “I’m sorry so let me go to the kitchen and go get some paper towels.” He said before jogging over the kitchen he felt like a fool but he had to tear his eyes off of that transparent stain on your shirt exposing your lace bra to him making his ears flush red. “What did the rest of the set like do you have any other set you like to wear?

Those thoughts were racing through Hiromi’s mind as he handed you paper towels to clean yourself up with. “Again I’m truly sorry I should’ve been paying more attention.” His tired voice hit your ears and you felt your knees buckle. “Yea it’s no problem at all Mr. Higuruma.” You say with that sweet smile Hiromi loves. You had no idea the way you were affecting him and vice versa for Hiromi.

That why he had to have you bent over his desk.

Plap! plap! plap!

The sound of skin smacking against skin filled the room as your plump ass smacked against his pelvis. Your plush thighs tremble under the weight of Hiromi’s eager thrust. His dick hitting that spot that made you light headed and see stars. “FuckFuckFuck..Mr. Higuruma!” You whined feeling his cock stir up your insides. “Mmmmgh t-to much!” You manage to garble out feeling Hiromi’s dick sink deeper into your cunt feeling it squeeze around him like a vice. “C’mon pretty girl you can do it you’re already taking this much now.” He chuckles slapping your ass watching your pussy drool all over his dick before slamming right back into you making you moan.

“That’s it Doll keep making all that noise for me.” Hiromi grunts his hips rutting in a sloppy pace as your whines and moans fill the room, rolling your hips back against him greedily “You’ve never felt this good huh princess,doesn’t it feel good?” His voice slurred drunken from lust. “What a nasty fuckin girl you are getting all messy from my cock huh.” He groans loving every second of this. Your pretty manicured nails clawing at the desk trying to get a hold of yourself. You feel a bubbling sensation growing warm in your stomach the heat running rampant over your body.

“Hnngh..I’m close Higuruma!” You squeak your glassy eyes rolling to the back of your head feeling Hiromi snake his fingers between your thighs rubbing them on your clit. “C’mon doll you can do it come f’ me.” He huffs feeling his orgasm on the rise as well. You nod feeling your body growing warmer feeling that warm gush already leaking before you climax. You feel that coil in your stomach growing tighter and tighter the pressure bubbling up inside you, your vision going fuzzy as you squirt soiling the floor beneath you both. You can feel he wasn’t to far behind as he fucked you through your orgasm making you hiccup and whimper while he continued pounding into you feeling your juices soak into his slacks his eyes fluttering feeling you squeezing around him. “That’s it’s Doll..such a messy..hnng..girl!” He groans feeling his impending climax coming as he rolls his hips lazily feeling those spurts of seed filling you up.

You mind feels hazy as you feel him sit you on his desk to clean you up with tissues his had in his drawer. “Sorry Doll I got carried away.” He say wiping at your thighs. “What about dinner on me?” He says fixing your blouse buttoning it back up. “That would be nice but I thought it was the other way around dinner first and you fuck after.” You say with a slight giggle. “I mean I could’ve did that but it wouldn’t have been interesting.” Hiromi muses as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

A/N: Guys I’m so sorry this took so long I’ve been working hard in school but I’ll be back with new fics I promise and my inbox is open so send stuff in