#so then I turn down the new job and go work for my old manager

[msfaeriearts]

..

Vent in the tags

I’ll delete later

[disengaged]

i wanna live on my own again …. i’m so ready to put my books on a shelf and my clothes in a closet

[teastyun]

༻ pound town

arcane sevika x female reader (nsfw)

a/n: i'm going to war (exam phase is about to start), therefore i must make haste (my hiatus starts again). also, i got a new job so i'm not sure when my hiatus will end :(

pt. 1 ; masterlist

grabbing the broom from the back of your mechanics shop, you start you usual closing routine as the streets of Zaun more active as the day ends. growing up in Zaun, you appreciate the livelihood of the people, but grew wary of the criminality rising abruptly at the end of each day. enforcers started to patrol the quiet streets of Zaun and hang up missing posters of Jinx, who you've been visited by for several occasions over the last few months for tech equipment she required. you grew fond of the girl and would occasionally even slip a few extra pieces, and she would thank you proudly by telling you about her latest new technological improvements.

one time, she told you about a prosthesis as her newest invention. Sevika immediately came to your mind and the way she held your cheek the last and first time you saw her. or the way her bionic arm held your hips so strongly as you rode her strap. shit, you really are down bad for this woman who doesn't even know your name.

as several months gone by since then, you managed to gather your savings and invest it into your shop for new techs and products to sell. you were finally able to call your shop your full time job and scrap your shifts at the brothel completely. Sevika didn't only save your shop, but she saved you from drowning in exhaustion as the only thing you ever did was work day and night.

you hoped to see her again, but your hope was slowly scarped as each month passed by.

after sweeping the last corner of your shop, you only had to rearrange your products before you could finally leave to go home. as you tidied the screws collection, the door to your shop opened audibly by your crystals dangling from the person entering.

"we're closed-" you start, but stop as you see the person at the entrance.

there she was, standing in her usual cloak and a hood that hid her face, but you recognised her nonetheless. she took her hood off with a smile as she looked at you. "good to see you again."

suddenly, you felt naked again. although she knew your identity (prolly even the whole time), the mask would hide your facial expressions and reactions. now, you are standing there with a shocked impression written on your face, unsure of how to react to the person that is the reason for your shop to still be alive.

"i see you created something out of this shop since the last time I've seen you," she speaks with a soft smile on her lips as she takes a look around in your shop. "thank you. you were actually a huge help last time we've seen each other," you respond, your hands linked together behind your back as you turn to look around your shop.

honestly, your shop is quite shady from outside with its half-broken broken neon sign spelling the name mechs n' treasures. but once you enter, you quickly realise that it's a one man's business by it's intricate appearance. it has so much personality now that you have as much time as you'd like to spent in it, decorating it with your favourite things you've collected over the years that weren't too precious to be displayed in your small flat above your shop. a few colourful crystals dangle around your entrance and the door to your flat, reflecting the neon lights from the streets of Zaun onto the mechanic pieces you sell. tidiness is your top priority, since it's hard to keep such an old shop neat and clean. you love your old and shady, but precious personal shop and wouldn't wish it to be any different. business seemed to be booming recently, too. you had no idea why, but Zaun is a quick and fast learning city with its advantages and disadvantages, resulting in people visiting your shop to buy the pieces they require for their newest project.

now, Sevika is standing in the centre of your shop, taking one of the mechanical pieces into her hands and looking at it in detail.

"can i help you with something?" you ask, looking at her with curiosity. after she puts the mechanic piece back into its tray, she says "I was hoping you could me out with this."

she reveals her bionic arm, where you see the its shimmer capsules completely shattered. surprised, you walk towards her and take her bionic arm into her hand to have a closer look. you inhale her smoky scent and suddenly were confronted with a vivid memory of the first night you guys met at the brothel, as you sat in her lap writhing under her touch. focus. you twisted a few pieces to inspect the reachability of the broken capsules. "I assume you won't be able to take it off?" you ask her, your eyes still fixed on an odd piece you've found.

she shakes her head, "it would be a hazard trying to put it on afterwards. do you think you'll still manage to repair, though?"

after twisting the last few pieces for inspection, you leave her arm. "shouldn't be no issue," you take a look at your wristwatch and notice how late it already is. a few extra minutes won't hurt, you decide.

you nod towards the counter, "take a seat, i'll be right with you."

entering the back of your shop and take a big breath. fuck, this intimidating woman still effects you after several months. at this point, you were sure you even forgot about her.

you grab your toolbox and head to Sevika, who is waiting for you behind your counter on a chair. her cloak is thrown over your register's desk, revealing a similar outfit you saw at the brothel. only now you realise how muscular this woman actually is. her arm is almost fully exposed by her sleeveless top and a choker around her neck makes you shake off your dirty thoughts.

you place the toolbox on the counter before you take a seat next to it. Sevika watches every move of yours, making you even more nervous than you already are.

grabbing your first tool, you lay her arm in you lap and start unscrewing the plates that cover the isolation of the shimmer capsules. her arm felt heavy, but oddly warm in your lap for the fact that it's broken. you remember how the same arm pinned you down on her strap a few months ago.

your brain is almost about to malfunction if Sevika wouldn't have interrupted your thoughts, "so, how is your shop going?" she asks as she leans the side of her upper body on the counter. when you look down at her, she's only mere centimetres away from your face. her grey eyes digging into yours. your pussy clenches as your breathing stops at the sight of her. you quickly look away and focus on her arm again. "it's going well," you start and grab for another tool to remove the shattered pipes. "sometimes it's exhausting to handle a shop alone, but you get used to it, you know."

her eyes follow your movements on her arm while she hums as an indication for you to continue. "once, a dude i recognised from the brothel came to pick up a few things and i couldn't help but wonder what his day job is. he was a sex worker as well, so he probably even recognised me," you tell her. it's unusual for you to share thoughts and memories of your old job. you weren't ashamed of it, but you much happier spending your time in your own shop and not thinking back to your old routine.

she shifts in her seat to look up at you, "i'm glad you were able to escape that shit hole, beautiful," she says quietly, careful of the words she chooses, "do you still remember that night?"

your movements halt immediately at her questions and you felt her eyes laying heavily on you, watching every single movement. the way you took a deep breath, trying not to appear nervous around her. the mere thought of that night made you feel butterflies in your stomach and wetness in your core.

"i do," you confess. without meeting her eyes, you continue your maintenance on her bionic arm in your lap, trying to suppress the urge of jumping into her lap and kissing her senseless. "do you?" you ask in almost a whisper, unsure if you even wanted to know the answer.

when she didn't, your eyes travelled to hers in question. she seemed to be in deep thoughts as well before she asked "how couldn't i?"

her eyes finally meet yours and you recognise such sincerity and trust in them, you couldn't help the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips.

"you were the only thing on my mind in this cruel world," she continues, making you feel several things at once. "and i don't even know your name."

you chuckled and referred your eyes back to your almost finished work, concentrating on exchanging the pipes.

"so, you're not even going to tell me?" she asks amused.

"what, my name?" you act oblivious, knowing exactly what she wanted. now it was her turn to chuckle at your teasing. "you can be a pain in the ass, you know that?"

you shake your head in disbelief with a smile on your lips as you screw on the last iron plate on her arm.

"move it," you command and she obliges. she moves her joints, making the shimmer that was left in her tank fuel her new pipe, while moving it a few more times in several directions. you've never seen machinery working with shimmer so closely. you wonder how the metal felt like against your skin.

ripping you out of your trance, she stands up. right in front you, almost between your legs, which you desperately wanted to close at the sight as you felt your pussy clench.

"thank you," she looks at you, her eyes wandering from your neck down to the rest of your body. it's like she can't help herself, checking you out as you sit on her cloak next to your work instruments.

"you even look beautiful in your casual attire," she whispers as her eyes meet yours again.

"so," you wrap your index finger through her choker, "how about taking it off and see what's hidden underneath?" you cock your head before you pull her closer. your legs are opened by her thighs between them as she looks down at you, clearly surprised by your boldness. "i don't fuck nameless girls," she says in an equal tone to her low chuckle.

you take a quick look at her lips, wondering what they would feel like on yours. "didn't seem so last time we've seen each other."

your finger is still wrapped around her chocker as you grin. she didn't answer. she knows you're messing with her.

she places her arms on each of your sides, the sounds of her bionic arm moving leaving a shudder throughout your body. she's dangerously close.

"if i remember correctly, last time you've fucked yourself, princess."

shocked by her comment, your grin fades as you suddenly remember how you rode her in that brothel, eagerly chasing your orgasm as she guided you through it.

you let go of her choker and rest your hand at the back of her neck instead, caressing the soft strands of brunette hair as you try to maintain yourself.

"y/n," you whisper. Sevika's eyes widen at first, but a slight grin sets on her lips at the sound of your name.

"beautiful name, princess," she whispers back and you feel her breath on your lips with each sound she speaks.

you close your eyes as you feel her full lips grazing yours. "y/n," she whispers repeatedly. her lips finally touch yours, first cautiously but confident after a few seconds of lingering. you copy her motions and gasp when her tongue grazes your lower lip.

pressing her more firmly against yourself, you part your lips for her tongue to enter. she faintly tastes like cigarettes, but more of a harsh liquor you can't really pinpoint. your arms cling desperately around her neck, feeling her torso pressed around yours in your heated kiss. you lock her against your core with your legs around her hips, moaning as she leaves your lips to leave kisses on your neck. "you have no idea how often i thought of kissing you," she whispers before she trails down kisses to your exposed shoulder and collarbone, licking the line of it and pressing soft bites against your sweet spots.

instead of responding, you pull her up again and lock your lips together. you press your lower body against her in search of the friction you desperately seek, but with no success. her lips form into a smirk against your lips as she realises what you're seeking.

frustrated, you separate yourself from her and motion for her to step aside, so you could jump of the counter. "i have a bed upstairs," you tell her. Sevika stands there confused, but god does she look hot. her lips are glazed from your spit and her hair looks slightly tousled from your hand that clung to it.

she doesn't let you move, though. instead, her hands are pressed firmly on your side as she still stand between your legs. "i thought that might be more comfortable..." you say, unsure of the current situation. she shifts in her stance to let you stand up.

"fuck, yes. i mean, yes, let's go upstairs," she chuckles after stumbling over her own words and her bionic arm moves to gesture you to lead the way. you laugh at her sudden awkwardness but go ahead to lock up your shop.

walking up the stairs, you fumble for your home's keys. Sevika followed you closely behind, touching your waist and kissing your neck as you try to unlock the door, a sigh escapes your lips as you try to unlock your door.

as the door closes behind you, she pins you against it. her hand holds your wrist against the door as she kisses you feverishly. her bionic arm slips beneath your ass to lift you up, so you could wrap your legs around her hips. you press your breasts against her, trying to seek for any further touches. "the bed, Sev," you say between kisses, too occupied to actually resist her touch.

she ignores your words and losses her grip on your wrists instead to wander to the buttons of your shirt, never breaking the kiss. "patience, beautiful," she whispers as her lips leave yours to press a kiss on your cheek. "we have all night, right?"

your arms find their way back around her neck, playing with her loose hair. "please," you respond, your eyes making contact with hers. you peck her lips before you say, "i want to touch you, too."

her head falls onto your shoulder as she groans, "you make me loose my composure so easily," before looking back into your eyes with need and desperation "do you realise that?"

you grin at her confession and kiss her hot and wet, moaning into the kiss as she continues to unbutton your shirt until your bra is exposed to her hand. she grazes the outlines with her fingertips, making a shudder run through your body as you gasp. you press your chest into her touch and she gladly responds with cupping your breast while biting your lower lip.

her index finger grazes your puffy nipple through your bra and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

she pecks you one last time with a smile, before looking around your small flat, seemingly inspecting your small setup where your bedroom and living room are combined to your cozy grove.

her hand moves to your back, stabilising you in her arms before she finally heads to your bed to lay you down on it, watching you as you lay there with your undone shirt and the few strands that escaped your hairstyle completely wordless.

similar to her, you exhale at the sight in front of you. Sevika is still fully clothed, so you pull her down by her collar to kiss her hard, wrapping your legs around her waist to pull her body on top of you. "take this off," she whispers against your lips, her bionic hand gripping your shirt as her hand sneaks behind your neck to tilt your head for her to suck.

she kisses and bites your sweet spot, disrupting your motion of pulling your shirt off and making your eyes roll back in pleasure. you moan her name in frustration before she finally let's go.

"this too," she tells you as she eyes every little detail on your torso. when you take your bra off, her bionic hand cups your breast. the sharp and cold details of her metallic hand exposed on one of your most sensitive parts of your body leave you breathing hard, moaning as her pointy fingers pinch and twist your nipple. "you have no idea how often i thought of touching them since that night," her eyes are not leaving your chest as she confesses.

"you could've touched them that night," you respond, your hand finding the back of her head as you play with her small ponytail. after hearing your words she looks at you, almost with a shocked expression on her face. "there's no way i would have touched you without your consent," she tells you. surprised by this sudden turn, you move up to rest your weight on your elbows, looking at her in disbelief. "but you payed for that night with me," you state, still confused by what she just said.

she's just as surprised as you, cupping your cheek softly as she spoke, "y/n, i would never do anything to you without your consent. do you know that?" she asks you, her eyes never leaving yours as she spoke. you've never experienced any sex partner expressing their respect to you verbally. and fuck, this is probably the moment you realise you have feelings for this woman in front of you. you nod in response, still overwhelmed from your thoughts and feelings. she smiles at you as she says, "good girl."

your soaking pussy almost purred at that nickname. kissing her quick but softly, you grind your clothed hips against hers as you kiss a trail down her neck to her exposed collarbone.

she exhales heavily at your motions before saying, "tell me what you want, beautiful."

"i want you to fuck me," you respond after hesitating, still nibbling at her collarbone as a soft moan escapes her.

"with this," you continue as you grind stronger onto her clothed cunt than before.

her bionic arm holds herself on the bed as her fingers trace your curves. "with my fingers?" she teases as she opens your trousers with her other hand slowly.

your lips move up to her ear, licking and biting her soft skin. "no," you whisper, "with this."

you press the seam of her jeans with your fingers against her clit, making her grip your hips hard from your sudden touch. "fuck," she mutters in response, clearly trying to compose herself before she continues to fully undress you.

"under one condition," she starts as she takes in your naked body with hungry eyes, "i'll have a taste before i fuck you," she unbuttons her shirt, revealing a dark bandeau bra beneath. she's in a hurry, so she won't bother to take off her unbuttoned shirt, but moves on by removing her jeans as well as underwear in one go.

you try to take a peek at her body, but she immediately kneels between your legs to kiss the soft skin of your thighs, dragging her motions slowly to your soaking pussy as her hands hold you firm beneath her touch. feeling her breath on your clit, you whine from sensitivity, gripping the sheets beneath you as she finally tastes you for the first time.

both of you moan from the touch, your hips stutter beneath her strong hands. she eats you out like a starving woman, humming at the sounds you're making. your clit is circled by her tongue as she softly bites and sucks before your legs start shaking from the pleasure that builds up in your lower belly.

she moves her arm from your thigh to press softly against it, realising how close you are. "come on my tongue," she tells you, intensifying her motions as you come hard. the way you moan her name sounds similar to a scream, your thighs pressing against her head as you throw your head back in pleasure.

she gently guides you through it by licking in decreasing motions, careful of your sensitivity. as your calming down, she kisses your clit one last time before she straightens herself to watch you after your first high.

her lips and chin are glistening from her pussy and strands that were originally framing her face now hang loosely. "you did so well, beautiful," she whispers, climbing on top of you to press kisses into your face. "fuck, you really sent me to another dimension," you confess, laughing a litte at the absurdity. she chuckles at your words, grinning as she examines your face.

"are you still down for another round?" she asks carefully, giving you the space you might need, but you nod as you smile at her. she kisses you before she straightens again to manhandle your legs, placing one on her shoulder as she moves her own over your other to align with your pussy, not starting just yet. she caresses the long on her shoulder as she presses kisses along with it.

she looks absolutely breathtaking while doing it. you feel her pussy kissing yours, and fuck, she's driving you crazy. the unbuttoned shirt exposes the abs you eyed earlier through the tightness of her shirt. her v-line is deeply defined, even more when she starts to slowly grind against you. her pointy bionic fingers suddenly press into your thigh as she gasps from the pleasure she suddenly receives. her grey eyes watch you heavily, making sure you're alright with her pace as she slowly picks it up.

"you feel so good," you whimper as you meet her motions by copying hers, crying from the sensitivity from your earlier orgasm. "fuck- i'm close again."

she grins at your confession, pushing herself harder on your clit as you cry out from the friction. she's mostly quiet, but a gasp escapes her lips anytime you improve your speed.

"come with me, y/n" she leans down, kissing you with so much passion as her eyebrows furrow in pleasure. you moan into the kiss, your breasts moving with each thrust as your nipples graze against the cotton of her bandeau. you felt your orgasm creeping, but you weren't ready for the intensity it comes with. you cry out against her lips, holding her against you as you feel her groaning from her own orgasm. both your hips stutter in your motions before you stop to look at her.

her head rests in the nape of your neck and the only thing you feel is her hot breath against your skin. as you untangle your legs, you kiss on the side of her head. "are you alright?" you ask after several seconds of silence.

she vaguely nods, still maintaining her breath before she answers "you have no idea what you're doing to me."

you smile as you caress her hair through your fingers. "i'd love to figure it out in the future," you continue, making space between your faces so you could look at her as you speak. "this idea you've just mentioned," you clarify as she looks at you speechless.

she kisses you passionately after a few seconds, smiling as she realises what you were suggesting.

"let me take you to dinner after your shift tomorrow?" she asks as her thumb trails your cheekbone. you nod, kissing her on the cheeks before you answer "gladly."

you both fall asleep, and sooner or later date nights with Sevika become your favourite traditions as you two engage in a passionate, but intimate relationship with each other.

tags: @sevsbaby @womenathleteshaveme @macaroni676

masterlist

[bloatedandalone04]

Mr. CEO

➪the one where rafe is obsessed with you, his perfect wife who is always there for him when he comes home from work.

Warnings: rafe is a ceo of a made up company, smut, dirty talk, pussy whipped rafe, he eats you out from behind, oh yeah, swearing, unprotected sex, spanking, over-stimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), size difference, age gap (not mentioned, but rafe is 27 and reader is 22), back door touching (that is all), multiple orgasms from both rafe and reader, biting, breeding kink (lowkey), i think that is it.

Word Count: 3.9k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 5.5K FOLLOWERS

Rafe has the perfect life. 

The dream job, dream house, and a dream wife. 

At just twenty seven years old, Rafe had more money than he’ll ever need in his life. A week’s worth of work earned him what most people would make in a couple years, which was kind of insane to him.

He never planned on joining the CEO lifestyle, but after his father got seriously sick and had to take an early retirement, thus having his son take over for him, Rafe was thrown head first into suits and briefcases and weekly meetings. While it was hard to adjust to his new title at Cameron Capital at first, he managed to gain control over everything and become one of the best damn CEOS in the city. 

At just twenty two, he had more money to his name than he ever thought he would, and a few years later he was making steady and much needed developments and deals, and then when he turned twenty six, he met you. 

You, of course are his dream wife, his love of his life, and his entire fucking world all wrapped up into one person. 

Rafe had been so busy for most of his twenties, he was sure he wouldn’t find someone to settle down with until maybe his mid-thirties, but then he met you, and he was head over heels. 

So much so, after knowing you for less than a year, he got down on one knee and proposed to you with the big, fat diamond ring you’ve been wearing on your finger ever since. A few months after that, you and he were married, and Rafe felt like his life was complete. 

He had his never-ending income, an amazing support system, and his forever girl. What else could he possibly need?

-

Rafe’s day started out really good.

He woke up to his perfect wife in his arms, your body still naked from the hour long fuck session you and he indulged in last night. And before he left for work, he fucked you for another half an hour and left you in the mess of sheets in pillows with a pretty, fucked out smile on your face. 

When he got to Cameron Capital, he was greeted by the overly flirtatious girl at the front desk who seemed to be oblivious to the big, golden wedding band Rafe hadn’t taken off since you slid it on his finger. But she made no move on him, and he was off to his office.

Then he was bombarded with paperwork and phone calls, and by the time it was noon, he wanted to call it a day and go back home to you. But he stuck it out, and eventually it became six in the evening, and he got to go home.

When he entered the house, he dropped his bag by the front door and loosened his tie, his eyes trailing over the bottom floor of the massive house he bought with you in mind. He found you in the living room, your body perched on the couch as you read through some files he asked you to go over that was for an upcoming development. You were so much smarter than him, Rafe trusted you with anything that involved paperwork. 

“There you are,” he hummed, a lazy grin forming on his face as he walked into the room, and he was greeted with the sight of you looking up at him with nothing but love and adoration in your eyes. 

Rafe dropped his tie onto the end table as you smiled at him, and he felt his heart tighten in his chest. You were so beautiful, so sweet, he still couldn’t believe you were all his. 

“Mmm, my gorgeous girl,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss you deeply before pulling away to return your pretty smile. “Fuck, I missed you today, baby.”

Your smile grew as you kissed him again, your focus quickly slipping from the papers scattered on the coffee table in front of you. “Yeah?” you grin, bumping his nose with yours as you lean back on the couch. “I missed you too.”

You reached out and took Rafe’s big hand in your small one, pulling him down onto the couch with you. As soon as he was next to you, your hands found his shoulders as you began to knead out the small knots you felt under his skin. 

“Hard day?” you asked, kneeling next to him as you worked on his shoulders and kissed his cheek. 

Rafe groaned, his eyes closing for a few seconds as your fingers pressed into his skin. “Mm, you have no idea,” he answered, turning his head to press another deep, lingering kiss to your lips. One of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek bone when he pulls away. “God, I don’t know what I’d do without you, sweet girl. You keep me grounded…keep me sane.”

You laugh quietly when his other hand finds your waist and pulls you until your body is on top of his. “That’s good,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his as your arms drape around his shoulders. “I like you sane.” 

Your fingers run over his prickly head, his recent decision to buzz off all his hair turning out to be a fucking amazing one since you were obsessed with it. Rafe had never seen you become that turned on so quickly than you did when he first walked into the bedroom after he got it done, and less than five minutes later, you were riding his cock with his face buried between your breasts and your hands running over his rough hair. 

“I’m sorry you had a hard day, baby,” you whisper, leaning down to press soft kisses to his jaw. “My poor husband…such a hard worker. But you’re a sexy hard worker, I’ll give you that.” 

Rafe grins, his hands coming up to squeeze your hips as he tilts his head back to look up at you. “You’re a tease, you know that?” he mumbled, running his nose along your jawline. “Touching me like this when all I’ve been thinking about today is burying myself in my sweet wife’s pussy.”

You let out a needy whine, giving a slow and subtle roll of your hips as you nip at his ear. “Really? Because all I’ve been thinking about is picking up where we left off this morning, but this time you fuck me even harder,” 

Letting out a deep grunt, Rafe’s hands move down to give your ass a firm squeeze before he stands up from the couch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he carries you towards the stairs. “You want it hard tonight, baby?” he huskily asks, his hands gripping you tighter as he ascends the staircase and heads straight for the bedroom. 

Your laugh of excitement had his slacks tightening as he pushed the door open and entered the room he shares with you. “Yes,” you answered, your lips brushing against his ear as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt as best as they could in your current position. “I wanna feel you everywhere…God, I’m already so wet for you. You’ve ruined me.”

Rafe grunted again before he tossed you onto the king-sized bed, shrugging off his shirt as he looked down at you with dark eyes. “I know I have,” he muttered, crawling on top of you and caging you in with his forearms braced by either side of your head. “I’m gonna fuck this tight little pussy, fill you up so fucking deep and ruin you for anyone else.”

You moan at both his words and the way his hand pushed up your shirt before sliding behind the waistline of your shorts to feel the wet patch on your panties. “Feel that, baby?” you purr, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you rubbed yourself against his hand. When he pulled his hand away and shoved your shorts down your legs, you whimpered and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I need you…need my husband.” 

You scratch your nails down his scalp before pulling back to lift your shirt over your head and toss it aside, leaving your top half covered only by your pretty lacy bra. “Fuck,” Rafe groaned, pulling down your bra to free your equally pretty tits. “You’re all mine, baby. These,” he grunted, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he palms your breasts. “Are all mine.”

He leans in and kisses you deeply, his hands sliding under you to unclasp your bra so it’s completely removed from your body. You bucked your hips against his, trying to create friction as his hands returned to your chest, and when he tugged at your bottom lip, you let out a needy moan.

“Such a desperate little thing for me,” he coos against your mouth before he pulls back and flips you onto your stomach, his big hand meeting your ass in a firm smack. “I’m gonna take my time with you tonight, baby…wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make for me.” he promised, hooking his fingers into your panties and dragging them down your thighs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off. 

“Yeah?” you rasp, now completely naked as you wiggled yourself back against him, eagerly awaiting his next move. “What are you gonna do? Are you gonna put your mouth on me? Eat me out from behind?”

Rafe grins, running his hand along your reddened cheek before he delivers another sharp spank to it. “Is that what you want?” he asked, soothing your stinging skin with his palm before he lowered his head to take in the sight of your dripping center. “You want my mouth on this pretty pussy, sweet girl?”

You whined and nodded, subtly trying to push yourself back against him. “Yes…please,” you begged, looking over your shoulder at him. “Please.”

A second later, Rafe was burying his face between your thighs, licking a long stripe up your entire slit before he reached the cleft of your ass. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, licking along your folds as he brings his left hand up to tease your clit. “So wet for me.” he praised, easily sliding two of his fingers knuckle-deep inside you and pumping them slowly. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” you gasped, shamelessly grinding back against his face and tongue as your head falls forwards. One of your hands fists the sheets as you wiggled back against him, your core desperately accepting each thrust of his fingers. “Fuck, your mouth is so good, baby.” you moaned, your other hand reaching back to grab hold of his head. 

Rafe hummed, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster as his tongue pokes out and circles your clit. “That’s it, baby, let me hear those sweet, sexy sounds you make for me,” he cooed, scissoring his fingers gently to stretch you out a bit more. His other hand reached around your body to palm one of your breasts, his thumb and index finger pinching and pulling at your nipple. “You’re taking my fingers so well, sweet girl…such a good girl for me.”

His words made your head spin, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you bit down on your lip. “Oh, my God,” you whined, your hand pushing his head back towards your aching core with little force since he was already making his way back to your clit. “Wanna cum, Rae…please, make me cum.” 

Your arm was shaking a bit as you struggled to hold yourself up, and the waver in your voice had Rafe smirking as he kissed your clit. “Cum for me then, baby,” he encouraged, licking your clit again as his fingers sped up their pace. His thumb pressed against your untouched rosebud, not breaching it but applying a delicious pressure that had you shaking. “There you go, baby, let go for me. Cum all over my face.” he urged, feeling your inner walls tighten around his fingers. 

Your whole body begins to shake and tremble, your eyes rolling back as you pull your hand away from his head to assist your other one in holding you up. “Fuck…fuck, yes, Rafe,” you moaned, your body tensing up as you cum for him. 

Rafe groaned, his fingers becoming more slick with your release as he continued to fuck them in and out of your sopping core. “Mm, that’s my good girl,” he praised breathlessly, placing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh before he pulled his fingers out of you slowly. He brings them up to his mouth to clean your sweet taste from his skin, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers as he uses his free hand to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. 

He rises up behind you, one of his hands gripping your hip while his other reaches around to cradle your stomach possessively. His dick was rock-hard as he grinds it against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel just how badly he needs you. 

“I need to fuck you, baby,” he muttered, letting you reach around and guide his cock through your folds, coating it in a thin layer of your arousal. “Need to feel this tight, sweet pussy wrapped around me.”

You were still shaking a little as you looked over your shoulder at him, grinding your sensitive core along his cock. “I need you too,” you whispered, jolting a bit when his tip brushed against your clit. Your hands went back to the sheets, and you fisted them as you held his intense gaze. “Fuck me, Rae. I need you so bad.”

Rafe hummed, his cock nudging against your entrance as he ran his palm along your belly. Without wasting another second, he thrust himself inside you, your wetness and previous orgasm allowing him to bury himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. “Fuck yeah, you’re so tight for me,” he grunted, setting a deep, hard pace as he drives his cock in and out of your soaked pussy, his lips brushing against your ear. “So fucking wet, baby…fuck.”

His hand tightens around your hip and holds you in place as his other one slides up your body, teasing your tits before it finds your throat. He wraps his fingers around your neck, applying a faint pressure as he pounds into you from behind. “Fuck yes,” you moaned, your body jolting forward with each deep thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, only adding to the intimate and steamy atmosphere as you fist the sheets tighter and let out gasps and whines. “Harder…harder, Rae.”

Letting out a harsh grunt, Rafe tightened his hold on you and began fucking into you harder. His hips meet your ass over and over again with every brutal thrust, his cock reaching impossibly deeper in you every time. “You’re my sweet girl, aren’t you? My sweet girl who needs to be fucked hard by her husband, huh?” he mocked, but his voice wasn’t condescending, just full of lust for the perfect woman he got to call his wife. 

His hand tightens a little more around your throat, feeling your pulse jump under his palm as his thumb pressed against your jaw. Rafe leaned down and pressed his mouth to your shoulder, his teeth gently sinking into your skin to mark you as his in another way, and it only made you moan louder. 

“You’re mine, all mine,” he breathed out next to your ear, his hand sliding from your hip to grope your tits, tugging and pinching your nipples as he leaned over you. His body covered yours completely, encasing you in his embrace and filling your senses with nothing but the deep, intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne you love so much. 

“God, yes,” you cry out, squeezing around him tightly as the bed softly creaks under your joined weight. “All yours, baby…God, you feel so fucking good.”

Your soft cries were music to Rafe’s ears as he felt you pulse around him, his thrusts increasing even more. “That’s it, baby, squeeze me just like that,” he murmurs, placing both his hands on your hips as he pulls you back against him to meet his thrusts halfway. “Cum for me, sweet girl. Cum all over my dick like a good girl.”

His words send shivers all throughout your body, and a few seconds later you felt the knot that had been steadily forming in your stomach begin to tighten. “Oh, God,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut as your head fell forward. A long, loud, moan left your lips as you let go and came for him for the second time, coating his pulsing cock in your sweet, slick release. 

Rafe groaned deeply as he felt you spasm and clench around him, your high washing over you and coating his throbbing dick. “Fuck, that’s it,” he said breathlessly, burying himself deep inside you one more time before he came too. He stills, filling you up as harsh pants leave his mouth and a thin layer of sweat settles on both yours and his skin. He leaned over you, his chest meeting your back as he peppers your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, slowly and gently rocking into you. “God, I love you so much.”

You whimper softly, leaning your head back on his shoulder as he fucks his cum deeper inside of you with gentle thrusts. “I love you too,” you sigh, your eyes still shut as you try to catch your breath. “I love when you keep fucking me even after you’ve cum…so fucking hot, Rae.” 

One thing about your relationship was that neither of you ever sugar coated things, and both of you had really dirty mouths. It was like that from the very beginning, and it only added fuel to the fire that was forever burning between you and him. 

Rafe hummed contentedly, his hips continuing to slowly rock into you as he reveled in the feeling of your slick walls enveloping him. “I’d keep fucking this perfect pussy forever if I could,” he mumbled against your skin, grinding lazily against you. “Never knew anything could feel this good.” he added, his hand returning to your belly, where he couldn’t wait to feel his baby grow one day in the future. 

“You feel better than anything,” you whisper, biting down on your lip when you feel him rub against your sensitive walls. Looking over at him with a fucked out expression on your face, you asked, “Can you keep going? I don’t want this to end yet…feels too good.”

Even though you’ve already cum twice, and Rafe had cum once, it was obvious that neither of you could ever get enough of one another. Which was perfect, because he never wanted to be without you - and that was one of the reasons he put that ring on your finger. 

Rafe grinned, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a deep, satisfied grunt. “You want more, huh, baby?” he muttered, starting to move again with deep, long strokes. “This greedy pussy isn’t satisfied until I’ve fucked it raw, hm?”

Bracing one hand on the bed next to yours, he leans down and kisses you deeply as he picks up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder. His other hand stays on your hip, guiding your body back to meet his increasingly rough fucks of his hips. 

As his lips brush over yours, Rafe could feel his cock swell inside you, already hard again even though he just came. But that was the you effect, the one that got him effortlessly hard within seconds. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against your mouth, his forehead pressing against yours as he slid in and out of your full pussy. “I love you so much.”

You moan, kissing him again as he presses you harder onto the mattress. “I love you,” you said back, your nose bumping against his. “So much.”

Rafe would never get tired of hearing you say that, he knew that much as his fingers dug into the skin of your hip. “Take it, baby,” he rasped, fucking you deeply as his eyes shut. He wasn’t going as fast or hard as he did the first time, but it felt just as amazing, because everything felt amazing with you. Everything always would. 

You bury your face in the sheets as loud cries of his name left your lips, and Rafe’s eyes flickered to your left hand, your pretty rings on display as you held onto the sheets with a death grip. 

He reached out and wrapped his hand around your wrist, coaxing you to let go of the bedding, and when you did, he let you squeeze his hand just as tightly. “Cum for me again, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing kiss after kiss to your rings and knuckles as he felt himself get close again. “Let go and give it to me.”

And a few seconds later, you came again for him for the third time. You were shaking uncontrollably as he came inside you once more, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he whispered praises into your ear. 

“You did so well,” he mumbled, kissing your cheek as he held you up against his chest. “Took me so well…my sweet fucking girl.”

You were whimpering and trembling, your eyes squeezed shut as your whole body tensed up from over-stimulation. “Rae,” you whispered, unable to say anything else but his name at the moment. 

Rafe slowly pulls out of you, his softened cock slipping free from your inviting core, and he watches as a stream of white leaves your folds. He carefully turned you on your back as he settled beside you, his hand resting on your hip as he gazed down at you with dark eyes. “How are you doing, baby?” he asked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Was that enough for you?”

You nodded quickly, “More than enough,” you answered, reaching up to stroke his face. “I think I’ll be feeling you drip out of me well into next week.”

Rafe laughed quietly, glancing down at your still shaking thighs as his cum leaked from you and dripped onto the bed. “Good,” he grunted, reaching up to cradle your jaw in his hand. He kissed you again, much softer than most of the kisses you and he shared tonight. “I love you so much, baby. You’re my entire world, my everything…my sweet, sexy girl.”

You smiled, tangling your legs with his when he moved to lay down on his back, pulling you with him so you were resting on his chest. “You’re everything to me,” you said back, laying your head on his shoulder. “Everything you do for me, for us…fuck, it makes me fall in love with you all over again. I never want to be without you, Rafe. I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“I want that too,” Rafe said quietly, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “I promise, baby, we’ll have all the time in the world together. I’ll do anything for you, protect you, adore you, and whenever you need me to, I’ll fuck you senseless and fill you with my cum.”

You hummed, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. “Sounds absolutely perfect,” you sighed, “You’re perfect. And I love you.” 

“Mm, yeah, you’re perfect too, baby,” he said back, holding you against his chest as he feels your racing heart beat against his own. “I love you too. More than anything.”

After placing one last final kiss to your forehead, you fell asleep in his arms, covered in sweat and his cum, and Rafe wanted every single day to end exactly like this.

[luveline]

Craving a postprison!Spencer x stripper!reader fic, please ma’am.

Maybe she gets a daytime job at a coffee shop or a bookstore - to “supplement her income”/ not have to dance as often (not that she’s ashamed!!) and Spencer is just so proud of her for trying and can’t quit kissing her and praising her because I know in other fics you’ve mentioned she didn’t think anyone would hire her because of her profession/self esteem, plus after prison she didn’t want to dance because she wanted to be with Spencer. 🥺

Or really just anything with a proud Spencer x stripper!reader doing anything.

Your work is fantastic and I’m in love with everything you do!! 💕 thank you and it’s totally okay if you think this request is lame or don’t wanna write it!

thank you angel! —you find a new job while making decisions about your old one after Spencer returns from prison, and Spencer would praise you for breathing, so he’s extremely proud. fem, 1.8k

Statistics differ, but estimates suggest that there are around twenty thousand strippers in Las Vegas. With a population of seven hundred thousand people (estimated up), that means that one in thirty five people living in Las Vegas dances for a living. 

It’s more than you’d think. Spencer knew of plenty of women who worked as strippers, exotic dancers, or private entertainers when he was still living at home. And while the numbers are much smaller in Washington DC where he lives now, it’s far from zero. More surprising for the average person to be one, perhaps, but not for Spencer. 

It used to make him blush like a steam train, sure, but it never did any of the things you were scared of. He’s never looked down on you for it, never been jealous (well, never acted like a jerk because of it), never positioned it as anything other than work. His only complaints are in your concern. You don’t like the club, most of the time. You feel unsafe often. The risk of femicide is yards higher for you as a sex worker than it would be otherwise, but who is Spencer to talk about danger? He still has stitches in his leg. 

Your job used to feel more urgent, a red flashing light above your head, because you’d come around with bruises or cut knees, tear stained cheeks, and you couldn’t make ends meet for all your efforts, but things have changed. You’re reluctant to depend on him, but you’ll accept the help when you need it. Nothing keeps you there if you don’t want to be there, and when you do you’re a marvel. You are beautiful, in Spencer’s eyes. Your dancing when you’re having a good night is one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen —more than pretty, sometimes. A hot coal in his stomach. 

But the fact of the matter is that Spencer’s home, and you don’t want to dance. You haven’t been to the club for weeks as far as he’s aware, and he’d consider himself well informed. You spent all your savings and started spending his instead and he couldn’t care less, what’s his is yours, whatever keeps you aloft while you make whatever decision it is you’re working toward. Not that it presented itself that way. 

I’ll have to go back.

Spencer on his back, you sitting with your head turned from the TV and toward him, your hand on his hip, just resting. Where?

To work. I have enough money for the next two weeks, and then I’m all out. 

Spencer wouldn’t do something as unkind as rolling his eyes, but the point of you moving in was to cement that he’d look after you no matter what. He’d turned his head to you on his pillow and reached for your elbow. You’re still resting. 

You’ve been home for two months, Spencer. I’ve rested enough. I… I only managed this long because you haven’t asked me for anything and that’s not fair, we both live here. 

I earn more than you, so I pay more, he’d said, confused. It’s not as though it hurt him to continue paying for an apartment he’s been living in for years. 

I won’t be your leech. 

You’re not my leech, don’t say that.

I can’t just not have money. 

Well… he’d said. He’d never discussed it with you so openly before, always stopped at the first suggestion, but there’s a first time for everything. You know you can have whatever you want from me. Anything you want, you don’t have to ask. 

Spencer… you’re my boyfriend. 

Exactly. 

No, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to keep me. I don’t want that. 

He understood the ‘want’ most heavily. What do you want, angel? he’d asked, dragging your hand up his naked chest to rest over his diaphragm, your arm moving up and down in time with his breathing. 

You’d seemed stricken, but not upset. Like the question surprised you in having no answer. Not sure… you’d said eventually. Mostly you. 

A week passed, two. A third and you’d asked him to borrow money, just for a little while, and with the vehement promise you’d pay him back. 

He’s not expecting it. So soon, either. But here you are standing in front of him with a beaming smile and little book in your hands, unzipping one of the book's inner pockets to count out the money you’d ’borrowed’. “Here you go, my angel, there’s everything.” 

Spencer just looks at it. “What is it?” 

“The money I owe you.” 

He presses his hands to his stomach to stop you from forcing the notes into them. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“No, seriously, please take it.” 

He shakes his head. “Seriously. I don’t want anything from you, I love you. That money was for you to do what you wanted, or needed. It was yours as soon as I gave it to you.” 

You try regardless to put it in his hands. Your hair was done freshly a week ago, your nails manicured but unpainted, your face adorned with some new makeup he’d seen on his (your) vanity a few days ago. It honestly hadn’t crossed his mind why you’d suddenly given yourself a refresh, and he had no suspicions. You would’ve told him if you went to the club, even just via text, because it’s important he knows you’ve had access to your phone or that you’re coming home. (Plus, he’d notice you leaving at night. You’ve spent the last few evenings laying across his lap.)

“Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling softly, wondering if he’s come to the right conclusion. 

You drop the money on his thigh and take a couple of steps back. 

“I,” you say, holding your little book to your stomach, “got a job as a barista. They gave me my first paycheck today, a direct deposit. So I took out what I owe you and the rest of it is in here.” 

“You what?” he asks. 

“I’m working at the coffeehouse by the library,” you say, nodding, parts proud of yourself and parts shy. 

“For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You bite your lip. “Just this week. And honestly, I didn’t want you to know if I couldn’t do it.” 

Spencer stands up but doesn’t cross the room to you. He could reach out and catch your hand. “How could you work somewhere new all week without me noticing?” 

“You weren’t here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, and they gave me Thursday off, so I just told you a very small lie this morning about going to the store. I knew you’d get distracted by your Persian poetry again.” 

He did get distracted, very much so. You’ve been and worked a whole shift without his worrying, which is a bit awful in itself (he really does love you, and he’d like to know where you are), but is also, frankly, a great thing. You should be able to work without worry. You should do anything you want to do. 

Still, a whole week at a brand new job without any support, and to stand there with your paycheck as unmistakable waves of satisfaction melt off of you unkissed is insanity. Spencer’s laughing as he ushers you into his arms, as he hugs your shoulders tightly, “Oh my god!” he says, “Wow, congratulations!” He pulls back just a touch to see your face. “Please don’t lie to me about where you’re going, that’s so dangerous. I love you!” 

He takes your face into both hands with your arms hanging loosely behind his back and begins a reckoning of kisses. The slope of your cheek, the skin between your nose and lips, Spencer couldn’t care less where the kisses land, he just wants them all over you. You laugh softly as he goes, almost stickily, a sound that comes deep from your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pressing a quick, mildly rougher kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“I might still strip,” you say. 

“Whatever you want,” he says, squeezing your face between his palms. “What’s it like? Do you like it? Is it hard?” He kisses you again. “I wish you’d told me,” he says against your lips. 

You’re quieter than he expected, and warm. He pulls away more sternly to see what’s gone wrong. He could’ve asked the wrong questions. Maybe he’s embarrassed you. 

“I just wanted to make sure I could do it. I didn’t want to fail and… and have you know. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, I get it.” God knows he’s failed a hundred times for you to see it. He wishes he would have hidden a lot of that from you, spared you some heartache, but he also knows how lucky he is to have you near. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? We should be together when stuff goes wrong.” He beams. “But it didn’t go wrong.” 

“I think I’m pretty good at it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You hold his wrist. “And I get tips, did you know that? Not as many as before,” —you laugh to yourself loudly— “but still. It’s really cool. They pay me even if nobody wants coffee, and when people want coffee I get extra.” 

Spencer kisses the corner of your eye. He kisses up to your eyebrow and down again, all over your cheek before turning your face to the other side to kiss circles into the other. “I,” —kiss— “can’t,” —kiss— “believe it.” Kiss. “Actually, I can, but I still can’t.” 

“It’s just a part time job.” 

“That you didn’t think you could do,” he says. “But you can do anything, I knew you could. I’m amazed by you.” 

He grins and throws his arms over your shoulders. 

You squeeze him right back, the two of you swaying, almost falling over. He can feel how proud you are of yourself. You deserve to feel this way no matter what. 

“I like dancing,” you say, “I do, I just wish I could do it in a different… world? Is that stupid?” 

“No. You’re never stupid.” He smiles as your hand weaves into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp, his curls caught between your fingers. 

“Do you think you could come on Monday? I can make you a cup of coffee. It’s not as hard as it looks.” 

“Please, I’d love for you to make me a cup of coffee.” His smile presses to your shoulder, where he breathes you in briefly, before remembering something very important. “Hey, do you wear an apron?” 

“Of course I do.”

Oh my god, he thinks. There are more than half a million baristas in the United States, and Spencer will bet his monthly paycheck that you’re the cutest one to ever exist. You look cute right now in your jeans and your button up shirt, but put an apron on top of that? To see you standing behind a bar mixing drinks and pouring latte art? Monday can’t come quick enough. 

[loafysainz]

hey gorgeous! how are you? can i request a story where carlos is just a normal guy with an average paying 9-5 and y/n is secretly a millionaire that’s a ceo with a massive company but hides it and lives in his small house and his average lifestyle but he somehow finds out and is complete shock? if not no problems ❤️

MY RICH GF | CS 55

carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: no warn

hope you like it sender!! 🤍

There’s a saying—if you’ve ever read Fortune, the magazine that actually knows where the world’s richest hide their money:

"Not every millionaire is easy to pin down. Don’t trust any rich list you see—it barely scratches the surface." And that’s exactly how people describe The YLN Family.

Carlos had no clue. Not a single one.

Because as far as he knew, you were just a normal, stable employee at Finance Corporate—some mid-level corporate job that paid well enough but wasn’t flashy. You had a nice apartment, dressed well, never seemed to stress about money. But nothing about you screamed insane generational wealth. He never questioned it. Why would he? Not everyone in his life had to be ridiculously rich.

What he didn’t know was that your family owned the biggest car manufacturing empire in the world. That your father had spent millions making sure his family name was nowhere near any public records, that your assets were buried under layers of shell companies, trusts, and offshore accounts.

The only article that had ever mentioned your parents was some old feature in Legacy & Wealth, calling them “the ghost millionaires of the auto industry.” But that was it. No photos, no real details. Just speculation.

And Carlos? He was so far from putting the pieces together. He still thought youre just regular employee, but maybe you just saved up. He still thought it was a little weird that you never mentioned money struggles, but maybe you were just really good at managing finances.

The thought that you could buy and sell half the grid without breaking a sweat? Never even crossed his mind.

*****

Carlos had planned the night perfectly.

His company had been invited to the grand launch of your own company—some huge new venture that, apparently, was a big deal in the industry. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about going, but when he realized it was a black-tie event with free-flowing champagne, he figured he might as well make the most of it.

And since he didn’t want to go alone, he’d asked you to come with him.

"I can’t," you’d said over coffee that morning. "I have to work late."

He hadn’t pushed. You were always responsible like that—always staying late, never complaining. He even felt a little bad for you, missing out on a fancy event just to sit in an office under fluorescent lights.

Except now, standing in the middle of the ballroom, Carlos wasn’t sure whether to laugh or just be pissed.

Because there you were.

Not in an office. Not in work clothes. Not stuck behind a desk.

You were standing at the front of the room, shaking hands with executives, your name being announced like royalty. And as the words left the speaker’s lips—"Tonight, we celebrate the launch of (Company Name), a vision brought to life by none other than YFN"—Carlos finally realized.

You hadn’t been "working late."

You were hosting this.

Carlos downed the rest of his drink and walked up to you just as you stepped away from a conversation.

"You know," he said, voice laced with something sharp, "I didn’t realize 'working late' meant champagne and a whole damn ballroom."

You turned, eyes widening slightly in surprise before settling into something softer. "Carlos—"

"Guess I should’ve asked what kind of company you work for, huh?" His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Would’ve been nice to know my girlfriend isn’t just 'doing fine' but actually—what do they call you? millionaire heir?"

There was a pause. You exhaled, pressing your lips together before tilting your head slightly.

"Are you mad?"

Carlos blinked.

He wanted to say yes. Wanted to tell you how stupid he felt for never realizing. But the truth was, he wasn’t angry. He was just—stunned.

"I don’t know," he admitted. "Should I be?"

You sighed, shifting closer. "I didn’t hide it to lie to you. I just… I wanted to be normal. With you."

Carlos let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "And what, you thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it?"

You shook your head. "I thought you wouldn’t look at me the same."

Silence stretched between you. Then, finally, Carlos let out a dry chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

"You know, I should’ve guessed something was off when you never complained about rent."

You laughed, warm and genuine, and Carlos felt the last bit of his frustration melt away. Because at the end of the day, you were still you—the person he’d fallen for. The same way he was still him. And this? This was just another thing to understand about each other.

"So," he said, smirking slightly. "Since you’re secretly rich, does this mean you’re paying for dinner next time?"

You grinned, leaning in just enough for your perfume to cloud his thoughts.

"If you’re nice to me."

Carlos exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

And just like that, everything was right again.

[missqhughes]

JERSEY GIRL | L. HUGHES43

-> luke hughes x fem!reader

-> includes: fluff, use of y/n, lowercase intended

-> IN WHICH: the same guy, the same time, the same block. weirdly coincidental; a part of her excited for the small portion of the day they get to cross paths. little does she know, her new job is for the very team he plays for.

-> everyone’s favorite lukey pookie 😗 i feel like he’s such a sucker for a crush like this. also got some help from @sweetestdesire ! my girl, thank you! as always, love it as much as i do! 💋 part 1

*fic is not proofread

i’m late, i’m late, i’m SO late. y/n thought to herself, cursing her alarm for not going off at the right time.

the morning was rough enough, unopened boxes still scattered around her new apartment, living in a brand new city across the country from her old one.

she tripped over her packages items in a scramble to get ready, rummaging through them to find any semblance of a professional outfit, one that would be okay to wear for her first day.

if being late wasn’t enough, her new job was with the new jersey devils, and she didn’t know shit about hockey. y/n never cared to watch it, didn’t even know how it was played and god knew she couldn’t pick any of the players on the devils out of a crowd; even if she tried.

to say she was shocked about getting a position with them, that was an understatement.

and here she was, speed walking to get to the prudential center on time; fast enough to where she could have maybe a minute to spare if she was lucky, and slow enough to where she didn’t look like a complete lunatic.

turning a corner with her head down, she comes in full contact with a body in front of her, both stepping back and coming in with quick apologies,

“sorry,”

“shit, sorry”

the guy she had ran into looked about her age, tall with a head full of brown curls and in a neat maroon suit.

the interaction happened so fast that when she turned to look back at him, he was far along in his own path.

guessing he’s also in a rush. maybe he works in the finance part of the city.

she pried him out of her mind as soon as she ran through the doors of the prudential center, finding her way to the devil’s office, thankfully, just in time.

she was greeted with handshakes and smiles, talking to a couple of the team managers,

“welcome to the devils, y/n happy to have you here.” she shook hands with the man, controlling her breath and keeping it down that she almost got on all fours to make it there on time.

“happy to be here, thank you,” she smiled,

“for now you’ll just be doing some of the boring stuff. paper work, legal, social, all that kind. you’ll have your own space but feel free to visit around the arena when you’d like. season starts right around the corner, so we want to make sure we’re on our game.”

she nodded her head, nervous about the expectations set on her. y/n wanted to make a good impression on everyone, and set her best foot forward. thankfully no one had asked her anything about hockey yet.

“absolutely, thank you again,”

y/n was lead to her office space, a desk designated with her name plate and a small devils logo next to it. she sat down and adjusted herself, immediately diving into her work, but in the back of her mind the curly haired guy from around the corner was there.

——————————————————————————

today was a little more sane.

y/n still woke up late, but nonetheless now knew what box she put her nice clothes in, slipping on boots and leaving out the door in a nick of time.

she was now able to take in her new city, actually enjoying her walk to work and the bustle around it. in her awe of her surroundings, she bumped into a stranger for a second time.

god, again?

she looked up, apology ready at the mouth, in a slight disbelief at the person in front of her when he spoke,

“sorry about that… again,”

it was the same guy from yesterday, this time sporting a plain black shirt and pants, much more casual than yesterday. he looked really good, just as good as he did in his suit. y/n was able to actually take in his features; plump lips, she could tell he had a nice smile, and lush green eyes that dived into hers.

out of her trance, she felt her cheeks grow hot realizing that she was staring for far too long,

“it’s okay, um, bye.” she stuttered, moving past him, keeping her head down until the embarrassment she felt had died down inside her.

the curly haired boy turned, watching her disappear out of his sight. she was pretty. really pretty. he almost wish he had said something, anything after knocking into her for a second time.

no chance is happens again.

——————————————————————————

god, how does this keep happening?

y/n was running late. again. more late than yesterday and the day before.

the pile of nice clothing was scattered over her room, a result of her sifting and dismissing outfits even though she knew she didn’t have the time to spare.

with almost tripping out the door, she said fuck it, running and almost getting hit by a not so kind mouthed new jersey driver in an intersection.

in her hot pursuit for work, she slowed down at the corner she saw the same guy in. maybe it was a coincidence, but she didn’t want to make it to a third time running into his chest.

her gut feeling correct; his steps seemingly synchronized to hers, stopping a few feet in front of her.

he was sporting a different suit, a crisp navy blue matched with a perfectly patterned tie. today, with the addition of a backpack and headphones.

“good thing i slowed down,” y/n said in a short breath, his lips curling up into a barely noticeable smile,

“glad you did too,” he said, his voice gentle and sweet.

y/n looked down at her watch, groaning lightly when she was reminded of the time,

“shit i have to go, m’sorry,” she mumbled, picking up her pace once she knew he couldn’t see her anymore. she had already been cutting it close the past two days, not wanting to make today she was officially late.

y/n just kept moving, not stopping her pace until she reached the arena, only slowing down once she knew she could, hurling herself into her small corner desk.

it was unfortunate; the past three consecutive days y/n had run into this cute guy, the first one she’s met in the city and she had to run away from him every time, quite literally.

——————————————————————————

it had been 2 days since she had seen the handsome stranger, and it honestly made y/n a bit disappointed.

she’d put on a cuter, spent a little longer to curl her hair, even setting her alarm extra early to leave on time in hopes of seeing him for just that slim moment; maybe this time she’d actually stop talk to him, maybe even ask to get a coffee with her, if she was feeling bold enough.

maybe he started taking the bus, she thought to herself.

y/n sat at her desk, leg bouncing up and down as she stared blankly at the seemingly endless paperwork in front of her. y/n didn’t even feel like she had a job in pro sports, it all felt like the same office job she had before. all but with a nicer apartment and some eye candy she ran in to.

the day felt extra long, her feet ached when she had to drag herself off her desk and to her walk back to her apartment.

once y/n reached her front door, she sighed in relief in slipping off her heels, tossing them aimlessly into her hallway. her shoulders sinking down once she had dropped her things, eagerly walking over to rest on her new white couch.

she had done a good job unpacking over the couple days, only two partially emptied boxes occupying her living room. she felt satisfied, but not completely settled in.

maybe it’s time to make some friends?

——————————————————————————

she didn’t see him the day after either.

she sighed, head in her hand, trying to squeeze the headache out of her temples, eyes tired from staring at the computer for god knows how long.

y/n’s posture fixed when she heard 3 knocks on the wall, she swiveled her chair, met with the smiling face of the head coach; appropriately wearing a devils jacket and hat to pair.

“y/n, right?”

“hi, yes, that’s me. how are you?” she smiled, standing up to give him a firm handshake.

“doing well, thank you. jus to let you know, the players are doing some media work right now, tom wanted you to introduce yourself to them. get familiar with the team before the first couple games.”

y/n cheered internally, finally something to do other than feel her eyes melt watching a screen all day.

“sounds good, i’ll be down there soon.”

he shook her hand again with a smile before leaving the room. y/n closed up the last bit of work she was doing, and made her way down to the ice.

the players were in their red practice jerseys, some making videos with the media team and others skating around the ice casually, talking amongst each other.

the atmosphere was nice to her, a couple of the players saying hi and introducing themselves. but everything seemed to stop when y/n made eye contact with a familiar face.

no way.

it couldn’t be.

he seemed to have the exact same expression on his face as her, equally in shock and now oblivious to the conversation happening in front of him.

y/n felt like she was dreaming, that she was going to be shaken back into reality, that her brain was just convincing herself that he was there when he actually wasn’t.

but no, no matter how much she blinked, or dug her nails into her palms, there he was.

she felt awkward again, realizing she had been staring at him for the nth time since they’ve crossed paths, spinning to find someone else to converse with instead of peering into his soul.

behind her back, he was still in awe, unable to tear his gaze away from her.

“yeah, and then i was like… luke, dude, are you even listening?”

“what jack? oh, yeah i’m listening,” he said, an obvious lie, not paying any amount of attention to him.

jack looked around to see what could possibly cause luke to be so occupied, and then he saw y/n; sneaking little side glances and lightly eyeing him up and down.

he chuckled, “lukey’s got a crush on the new girl huh? why don’t you go say something instead of staring like a creep.”

“shut up, i was not staring,” luke said, hitting him on the shoulder with a tint of pink brushing on his cheeks with his denial. “it’s just… i saw her at the same time and place like 3 days in a row. it was weird, and she was always in a rush. didn’t know in a rush to come here though.” he kept his voice low, scared she could somehow overhear them.

“then just call it fate and say something, please, i cant keep watching this.”

“no way i’m doing that.”

“okay fine, then i will,”

luke’s eyes went wide for a moment, jack calling out over to where she was heads turning but he was waving y/n over.

she felt her ears ringing, almost feeling embarrassed about the whole thing, like it was some secret they had and now she was exposed to everyone.

y/n stopped in front of them, hands in her pockets to control the shaking, facing the two; one with the biggest smile on his face and the other ready to pass out.

“i’m jack, this is my brother luke,” the smiley one said, his blue eyes shining as he used his thumb to point to luke, the name to the handsome stranger.

jack held out his hand to shake hers, nudging luke slightly to do the same, y/n’s hand lingering on luke’s a little longer, feeling an electricity in her body as soon as their hands touched.

“nice to meet you, i’m y/n.”

luke probably repeated her name about 100 times in his head, everything happening in front of him causing a buzzing in his stomach. he smiled formed lightly, taking all of her in.

“so, two brothers in the nhl, your parents must be really proud,”

“actually our-”

“our older brother plays for as well, so, yeah, there’s three of us, yeah” luke spat out nervously, his sentencing jumbling so fast that the words barely got out.

jack internally face palmed, embarrassed at his brother’s lack of game. he was shocked it was working, y/n keeping the conversation going with him with a grin on her face.

“oh look, curtis is calling me over, don’t wait up you two,” jack pat his brother on the back, giving her a wink before jogging away.

with him gone, they both stood there for a second, swallowed in silence.

“i cant believe you play for the devils,” y/n said breathlessly, before she was able to swallow her shock, but seeing him now wasn’t just a coincidence; it couldn’t be.

“i cant believe you work for us,” luke said, a dopey smile still stuck on his face,

“i didn’t think i’d see you again, i thought those few couple times were just coincidence.”

“i didn’t think so either, but hey look at those odds,”

y/n’s heart kept skipping beat after beat; no one having this kind of effect on her in a long time, but she wasn’t mad about it.

“so, y/n… areyoudoinganythingafterwork?” he mumbled, face turning bright red after his incoherent words.

her brows slightly furrowed in confusion, “am i what?”

he inhaled deeply, green eyes bouncing between her gaze, “are you doing anything… after work? if not it’s totally fine i was just curious,”

y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his rambling, how nervous she didn’t realize she made him and was absolutely loving every second of it.

“i’m not doing anything after work, luke,” y/n smiled, her heart beating at a better rhythm than it had since she’s been in jersey.

“cool, yeah we should definitely do something,”

“show me around the city?”

“you just moved here?” luke was surprised, not expecting someone who just moved to the area to be working for the nhl.

“yes,” y/n scratched the back of her head, “it’s been hectic, still a few boxes left at my apartment to unpack,”

“well then, i’ll show you around the city. can i get your number? how’s 6:00 sound?” luke fidgeted with his fingers, studying her face with his phone in her hand, lighting up when he saw her name saved in his contacts.

“6:00, i’ll text you my address. don’t be late,” she chirped,

“wouldn’t dream of it,” luke smiled, waving her off while shuffling away, his brown curls slightly bouncing with every step, the back of his jersey reading “hughes” with the number 43.

luke hughes. hm. definitely looking him up later.

——————————————————————————

© missqhughes

xoxo, kaia

[luvyeni]

❛MR. VAMPIRE❜ ( p. sunghoon )

p. vampireceo!sunghoon x fem!reader w. 1.5k

warnings? oral ( f. receiving ), uprotected sex, biting, mentions of blood

— 𖦹 ( finding out you're your boss is a vampire ) !

authors note. i listened to mr. vampire by itzy and i was inspired✨

“Did you hear the rumors about Mr. park?”

You perk your ears up, listening to your coworkers gossip. “which ones?” it had only been your first week at your new job, and you haven’t had the chance to meet your boss yet — but you’ve heard many things about the man.

“that’s he was a vampire.” Your other coworker laughed, standing around the table of the table in the break room. “a vampire? Come on I’ve heard everything but that’s first.” They laughed as sipped on your water. “Y/n what do you think of Mr. park?” one of them asked. “You think he’s a vampire?”

“we-well I-i don’t believe in vampires so I don’t think he's one.” You fiddled with your lanyard around your neck. “But I did hear he’s is kind of mysterious, maybe he just likes to live a quiet life — b-but I don’t know him so.” You quickly said. “I’m sure he’s great.”

“Yeah?” you heard a voice from behind you — your coworkers gasping before you turned around; the tall man stood in front of you, his skin pale — you can see where the rumor came from; even the pointy teeth; his alluring eyes — you didn’t even notice you were staring until he let out a cough. “your friends left.” You quickly grabbed your trash, throwing it away ready to leave, but he stopped you. “you’re the new employee aren’t you?” he asked. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“m-me? Y-You’ve heard a lot about me?” you pushed your glasses on your face; he smiled, eyeing your figure up and down, making you feel small. “Yeah.” You didn’t notice him getting him getting close. “Not often we get someone as sweet as you.” You were now looking up at him. “I-I’m not sure what you mean sir?”

“don’t worry, many people just said you’re hard working.” He said. “keep up the good work, okay?” you nodded, the walls feeling like they were closing in; you could barely speak, his scent was so intoxicating. “o-okay.” You managed to get out. “I’ll get back to work sir.” He nodded, you squeezed past — you swore his skin was cold to the touch when you accidentally came in touch with his hand. “have a good day sir.” You bowed walking quickly back to your seat able to breathe.

Sunghoon watched you scrambled back to your seat, your friends whispering — “what was that?” “you both looked like you needed a moment alone.” He smiled hearing your shaky voice. “I don’t know; and I must be going crazy because his hand was cold.” You said. “you don’t believe that stupid rumor?” your coworkers laughed. “of course not, it was probably all in my head, vampires aren’t real.” You said, he shook his head, walking back to his office — you could not have been more wrong.

“Hey, you going home?” you saw your coworker putting her coat on. “I have a few more things do.” You pouted. “well good night, don’t try and get home soon.” You hummed, going back to tapping at your computer.

About an hour later, you stretched letting all the tension away, checking the time — you should get home now. You grab all your things ready to; but you see that Mr. parks light is still on. Why was he still here? Most of your old bosses left early. You walked over to his door, ready to knock but the door was slightly open and he was inside, his chair turned — was he talking to someone. “sir?”

He didn’t answer you, but he wasn’t talking on the phone— so maybe he was sleep. “M-mr. park?” you open the door, walking into the room. “Are you okay?” He stood to his feet making you jump a little. “I’m fine.” He turned around — your heart dropping; his eyes red, lips red. “M-mr. park.” You stepped back ready to leave out the door in fear, but he was quicker than you. “why are you so scared?” he heard your heart beating. “yo-you’re a v-vamp” you could barely say anything. “a vampire.” He finished your sentence. “go a head, say it.”

His hand was above your head, your back pressed against the now closed door. “you’re a vampire.” You said. “I wont hurt a pretty thing like you.” He finally got a good whiff of your scent. “a special girl like you.” His hand coming down to your cup your face. “my precious mate.”

“m-mate?” you stuttered, his hand coming down, traveling from to your cheek to your neck, his nail scratching where your neck and shoulder meet. “So sweet I knew it the moment I stepped into the break room this morning.” He whispered. “S-sir, t-this is too much.” You said breathless, your legs feeling weak, his voice and the look he was giving you made a shiver run your spine, down to your core. “you feel it don’t you.” He took a deep inhale. “I can smell you darling.”

He took it upon himself to close the inch gap you placed by your hand — grabbing your wrist, kissing your lips, the metallic taste of blood on your tongue, you moaned into the kiss, he let your hand go, picking you up by your thighs, carrying over to his desk — the blood bag on his desk. “I got some much sweeter baby.” He pushed your skirt up to your waist. “so sweet baby.” He sunk down to his knees, smelling your sweet scent. “fuck baby you’re soaked.” His teeth scrapped your thighs. “s-sir.” You whined.

“sunghoon.” He kissed your clothed cunt. “say my name sweetheart.” You moaned out. “Su-sunghoon.” He smiled. “good girl.” He pulled your panties to the side. “fu-fuck you taste so good.” He dove into your cunt, licking and slurping at your folds, his tongue moving in and out of your sopping hole. “su-sunghoon, m’gonna cum.” You throw your head back. “fu-fuck!” you yelped, praying that office was empty, sunghoon couldn’t care less about that as long as he could feel you cumming on his tongue.

He pulled himself away from you, his urges taking over fully — the need to feed again creeping up on him once again — the need to mate you even stronger. “that’s okay.” You unbuttoned your shirt, revealing your pale pink bra, and you’re waiting neck — you had no idea if it would hurt or not, you were completely sure on what he even meant when he said you were his mate, but right now you wanted him in everyway — you want him to bite you.

“you don’t have to.” He said. “this must be all new to you.” you bared your neck to him, he could see your veins — the sound of your blood being pumped through your body. “I want to.”

He couldn’t fight it anymore; and he didn’t want to, you were his mate and wanted to claim it as such, he knew about the other vampires lurking around in the office and he didn’t want them to even think they had a chance. “please bite me.” Your voice sounding so sweet and so desperate — it made his cock twitch in his suit pants.

“since you’re begging for it.” He was sitting in between your legs, unbuckling his pants, letting them fall to his ankles. “but we’re gonna do it my way.” He pulled your panties down, freeing his cock from his underwear. “gonna fuck you first.” He rubbed his cock along your folds, pushing himself inside of you. “oh fuck!” you screamed as he bullied his thick cock into your tiny hole. “fuck you’re so small down there.” He cursed. “so fucking tiny.”

He began to move his hips, fucking into you.fucking into you. “you’re pussy is magic.” He groaned. “g-getting -fuck- getting addicted already. You were a moaning mess. “made for me — made for me to fuck.” He groan. “for me to breed.”

That made you made you clench around his cock. “is that what you want -shit- for me to breed you?”

You nodded. “pl-please.” You moaned. “gonna do what I wanted to do since you walked in here.” He finally bared his pointy fangs, you felt your heart speeding up. “calm down.” He slowly grinded his hips, bringing his teeth to your neck. “not gonna hurt you.” He whispered, biting down.

“sh-shit.”

You gasped feeling the blood leaving your body — his hips now moving at a brutal pace as he drained your body. “su-sunghoon.” You slurred. “g-gonna — oh fuck!” you screamed unable to speak as your mouth hung open, cumming harshly around his cock; your head feeling dizzy due to blood loss.

He finally pulled away, licking up the rest of your blood. “sh-shit m’not gonna last.” He groaned. “fuck” his hips stilled, you felt his load shooting into you. “s-so full.” You sighed, as he finished licking at your neck, two puncture wounds adorning your neck. “pretty baby.”

He pulled out of you — you whined at the sudden lost. “so greedy already.” He watched his cum leak out of you. “don’t worry princess we got forever.” He pulled your panties up. “keep it inside for me.” He kissed your lips. “you’re mine now.”

“mines forever.”

©️LUVYENI

[scoutofmymind]

can u please write something about how like reader felt while luigi was missing for 6 months. like would he reach out, would she go with him etc. also i love ur stories 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Run — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: sfw, angst, friends to lovers, slight situationship vibe, reader is an artist, kissing, heartbreak, explores ideas of guilty Luigi.

Wc: 2,345

Notes; Luigi vanishes - no warning, no footprints, just the sudden hollow where your life used to fit against his, opening to six months of silence before his letter appears under your door, bearing coordinates to a payphone five blocks away.

You didn't know where you'd be six months later when Luigi drove you down to the lake in his old Bronco, your spot shotgun worn from all those midnight trips for ice cream, the two of you off-roading through patches of corn fields out in the boonies — afterward he'd drop you off at home in the city, then drive himself back to the suburbs, unless he fell asleep in your room despite insisting he couldn't stay because of morning classes.

He always found it hard to leave you.

June warmed the brown leather beneath you, the window cracked to let in the summer air sweetened with hay as Luigi sped down the winding back roads of the countryside, rambling about his sister's new donkey they'd keep at the farm — the Mangione's second, more humble mansion with its livestock and respectable Christmas tree operation.

"You know you're my best friend, don't you?" He'd turned to look at you, the old truck thrown into park at the Dairy Queen after you'd convinced him the donkey could wait.

"Yeah." You nodded, cheeks full of ice cream, brows furrowed. You didn't notice then how his face had flushed red, embarrassed at blurting something so obvious it had never needed questioning. "Who else would you have time for?"

School, tech clubs, part-time job, and you.

Those were the pillars Luigi had built his life around, and for years, it had worked.

You and Luigi could fill a room with laughter —obnoxious howls and high-pitched giggle fits that echoed off walls — or sink into comfortable silence, Luigi drifting toward sleep while you lost yourself in whatever new book he'd brought for you to borrow from the university library.

Your own schedule mirrored his in its fullness, though school took a backseat to your collection of side hustles, your primary source of income selling art pieces at local markets where you'd drag Luigi along to showcase your most treasured works.

"That's a good point." He shot you a grin, spoon dangling upside down from his mouth as he finally broke his gaze from yours to stare out at the tall grass swaying beyond the windshield. "I just hope you know that."

You shift to pull your knees up in the passenger seat, turning to face him with your back against the door. "Feeling sappy again, are you?" Your foot stretches to nudge his knee, the leather creaking beneath you. "S'alright. I like when you get all soft."

Just the week before, Luigi's heart had been sitting too close to the surface, everything managing to touch a nerve — the way his mother spoke about his future over Sunday dinner, how his professor had dismissed his latest project idea, and even the changing spring weather that threatened the saplings he planted last fall.

Eventually, he recalibrated, but that raw tenderness still surfaced in waves.

"Yeah, maybe." Luigi shrugged, leaning over to dig his spoon into your ice cream, stealing a taste. "I just think it's worth saying. A reminder never hurts."

You'd never wanted to invalidate Luigi's feelings — and while you loved to tease him, you'd never dismiss what he shared. He was a natural at expressing himself when he chose to, and you knew if he voiced something, it meant those feelings ran deep.

"You're right, Lu." You say softly, letting your knees drop as you lean toward him, patting his thigh. "Thank you for telling me." He turns to you, his lips curling into that familiar grin. "You're my best friend too. Obviously."

"I know it's obvious," he groans, stealing yet another spoonful of your ice cream, your reflexes failing you when you jerk the cup away. "Let me just fuckin' say it." The late afternoon sun catches in his dark curls, the sun setting over the field.

You wave your hands in surrender, "Alright, alright." A laugh spills from your lips as you lean forward, spoon stretching toward his cup, missing entirely when he pulls it just out of reach. The melting ice cream drips onto the weathered console between you. "C'mon, lemme try."

He shoves a heaping spoonful into his mouth, eyebrows lifting in that familiar challenge, dimples deepening as a muffled "Come get it" drifts across the console, and the invitation draws you across the seat into his lap, the old leather protesting beneath your shifting weight while his free hand automatically found its place at your waist to steady you.

It wasn't the first time you'd tasted ice cream from his mouth, sweet and cold and mingled with laughter — but it would be the last.

And by some cruel twist of fate, that sun-drenched afternoon in his car, with melting ice cream and shared breaths, would be the final time you'd see Luigi's face in person.

After that day, he'd only exist in grainy security footage and missing person flyers.

It's a specific kind of agony, one that lives beneath your ribs.

You searched every corner of his life — the obvious hiding spots and the secret ones only you knew about. The Bronco yielded nothing but old receipts and a forgotten hoodie that still smelled like him.

You harassed mutual friends until they stopped answering, reached out to people who barely knew him, desperate for any trace.

"If Luigi doesn't want to be found, he won't be," Andrew told you, defeated after failing to track any of his devices that had sat abandoned in his room, right there on his desk to be found. Wiped clean. Stranger-cold.

Even your face was gone from his lock screen, erased like everything else.

Sometimes you wondered if you imagined him entirely.

It would be easier than accepting how methodically he vanished, how carefully he erased himself from your world. But then you'll find evidence — a movie ticket stub, a photo booth strip tucked into an old book. The careful progression from strangers to friends to best friends to that unnamed thing you became.

The way you'd end up tangled in his sheets, his hand gentle at your throat, or how you'd hang up on him three seconds into a call because he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

It couldn't have been real — how could someone who claimed to love every scattered piece of you leave without taking any of them with him?

Therapy wasn't optional anymore.

Your friends watched you spiral into something darker than even middle school heartbreak, something that wrapped around your organs and threaded itself through your bones.

This wasn't the kind of pain that faded; it evolved, grew thorns, made itself at home in your marrow.

But talking helped.

Six months without Luigi became possible, then probable, then real — not because you wanted it, but because the alternative was letting yourself disappear, too.

The letter arrives alone on a Tuesday, no bills or wedding invitations to keep it company, just your name in that familiar scrawl that makes your stomach drop. "What do you think?" you whisper to Mario, who's wagging his tail like he knows something you don't, nudging the envelope across the hardwood with his nose.

Luigi named Mario when you got him as a puppy six years ago; Mario, because he thought they’d become more of a duo than the two of you had been.

And that, they did.

"Mar, quit it," you mutter, wrestling the envelope from under his paw where he's planted himself like a furry anchor. The paper is damp from his nose, and it takes four tries to open it without destroying whatever's inside. Your hands won't stop shaking. "The fuck is this."

Eight words stare back at you.

December 3rd, 8:15PM. Pay phone outside of Murphy's on 12th.

Mario presses his cold nose against the back of the paper as you stare down at it, inhaling deeply like he's trying to memorize something. His tail wags so hard his whole body sways, but then a whine escapes him — low and confused.

You know that sound; It's the same one he makes when he finds one of Luigi's old shirts in the back of your closet, when he can smell what he's looking for but can't find it.

The paper crumples in your fist as Mario leans against your legs, still whining softly. Six months of therapy, of learning to breathe around the hollow space Luigi left behind, of convincing yourself that moving forward meant letting go — and here he is, eight words dropping into your life like a lit match.

Still, you march yourself there.

Mario decided somewhere in these six months that he needed to be more than just a wagging tail and sloppy kisses. He took Luigi's place as protector, navigator, watchful eyes scanning every shadow as you cut through familiar alleyways to Murphy's corner.

Your phone reads

8:20

"Shit." You glance down at Mario, who's pressed against your leg, his head tilted back to study your face with those knowing brown eyes. "Fuck this." The words taste like surrender as you pocket your phone, but Mario plants himself like a furry statue, refusing to let you move.

"Mar, c'mon." Your voice cracks, but he stays rooted until that first metallic ring cuts through the night air. The payphone looks ancient, probably witness to a thousand desperate conversations, a thousand promises made and broken against its scratched plastic shell, and whatever the fuck this is going to be.

Mario's ears prick forward at the second ring.

His tail, which hasn't stopped moving since you left the apartment, goes suddenly still.

The third ring echoes off brick walls, and you realize your hand is already reaching for the receiver, and before you can even press the phone to your ear, his name escapes like a prayer: "Lu — Luigi?" Your voice wavers between accusation and hope, sharp but fragile at the edges.

Through the static, you hear breathing — that familiar rhythm you could still map in your sleep.

"You know you're my best friend, don't you?"

The words hit like a physical force.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tilting your head back against tears that threaten to spill. "Where are you, Lu?" The receiver trembles in your white-knuckled grip like it might hold some piece of him. "I'm sorry I showed up late."

"I knew you would." His voice is soft, almost lost beneath a symphony of distant horns and city life —sounds too big, too foreign for the quiet streets you both grew up in. "8:15 is an odd time, hm? Figured more like 8:30 would be when you actually showed. Surprised you answered this one."

"How are you?" You keep your question careful, safe — one that won't send him running back into silence, into six more months of nothing; and now this strange urban backdrop paints him somewhere far beyond your reach.

“I miss you.” Luigi says softly, words he’d said plenty before, but they had never carried this sort of weight. “That’s how I am, I guess.”

Why did you leave me, then?

Please tell me where you are.

Whatever it is, Lu, we can fix it.

“I miss you too.” Is what you say instead, the line keeping him here with you feeling much like a fading spirit, destined to disappear any moment if you didn’t watch your step. “Mario is lost without you.”

“Ah, he’s a big boy.” Luigi sniffles softly, and you can tell he’s trying to hide it. “Been taking care of you, hasn’t he?”

Your head bobs in a nod he'll never see, and suddenly grief hits like a physical blow, doubling you over in the cracked vinyl booth. A sob tears through you, raw and feral, ripping up those poisoned vines of betrayal that have wound themselves through every hollow space he left behind.

"Please come back, Lu. I can't—" The words strangle in your throat as you curl deeper into the booth's shadow, pressing your forehead against the phone hook.

You're trying to fold yourself smaller, to disappear from the fluorescent exposure of Murphy's front windows, from the pitying glances of late-night sidewalk wanderers who pretend not to notice the spectacle of your breakdown.

"I can't, baby." Luigi's whisper barely exists, a breath caught between static and silence, but you strain toward it like a dying plant toward light. "It can't work that way — there's nothing either of us can do about it."

Questions bloom like bruises under your skin.

Is he sleeping in a real bed?

Has he shaved?

Who's making sure he remembers to eat?

You bite down on your lip until you taste copper, trying to dam the flood of 'why's' threatening to spill out. Each suppressed question burns like bile in your throat. He's already thrust the blade in deep — watching him twist it with such gentle hands makes it somehow worse.

"I just needed you to know I was safe." His voice shifts, crystallizing into something harder, something that sounds less like your Luigi and more like whoever he's becoming. "And that I love you. I needed you to know that."

"I love you." The words fall into a sudden void as the city sounds cut out on the other line, replaced by a sharp fizz of static, and then nothing.

You press the receiver harder against your ear, as if you could force his voice back through sheer desperation, and the tone eventually starts its monotonous song, but you can't make yourself hang up.

You wait in that phone booth for an hour, then two.

The neon signs paint wet streaks of color across the glass, and your legs go numb from standing, but you wait for a call back.

It never comes.

Monday morning's headlines make everything brutally clear.

His name in bold print.

The investigation.

The evidence trail leading nowhere and everywhere at once.

And suddenly you understand why he couldn't stay, why he had to hear your voice one last time, and you wish to God you didn't.

Because now you know he wasn't running from something.

He was running toward it.

[vacz]

I present to you my idea of a alternative bad ending for Wirt...

THE HUNTER

Instead of Beast!Wirt is Woodsman!wirt

After accepting the deal with the Beast, Wirt became the new lantern barer in hopes to keep Greg alive. He took the job to cut down the ellewoods and make them oil to feed the lantern so Greg's soul would never turn off, exactly what the woodsman used to do with his daughter. But as different from the woodsman, Wirt does know where the ellewoods truly came from, so the Beast has decided to take advantage of it and included him a little bit more into his chase for new victims. Now having Wirt helping the Beast to guide lost souls to the wrong path, it has become so much easier for the Beast to trap new souls

Wirt's role was this for a time: Becoming the new woodsman and finding lost kids to give them wrong directions or ideas. Despise how much he refused in the beginning, soon the Beast made him understand that this was the price for his mistakes, unless he wanted to Greg pay the price instead...

Until one night, Wirt had to confront a travel soul. A boy like him, wanting to save his little brother from the cruel breaches of the tree growing on his helpless body, and finally leave the woods with him, like Wirt himself once did. However, the Beast pressured and demanded him to take action himself, but unlike the old woodsman, Wirt did cut the boy down.

And since that incident, Wirt now has a new task to commit every time a new soul enters into the unknown.

He could barely sleep at night before, now he can't sleep at all. Wirt has stopped taking care of himself, at least he washes his hair and clothes once in a time but time itself seems so uselessly long for him until the point that things don't seem to matter anymore, nothing matters for Wirt, not even himself and his feelings... except keeping the lantern lit

The Beast knows better than anyone that Wirt's mind has become so weak until the point that he can't even survive by himself. He had succeeded in destroying this boy whole identity, only leaving a white paper to work on, so now he tries mold Wirt according his own twisted needs. Ironically, thanks to the Beast's influence, Wirt remembers the reason why he has to keep going with this but also he slowly starts to see people in a similar way that the beast's twisted perception does; trees to feed the lantern, not ready to burn yet but they must be prepared.

It's not surprising how much he has given up to the Beast. But unlike him, Wirt doesn't like to "play" or manipulate their victims, because he doesn't want to know them at all. Wirt already knows how these people will end, and he doesn't want to feel worse than he feels now, so he mostly tries to make his interactions shorter or cut them down directly, the quicker the easier it is for him to adopt this 'human dissociation' mentally

Of course, when he chooses violence, people tend to run rather than do what he plead, so he has to chase after them. Running after someone is exhausting for Wirt because he isn't that athletic in that aspect, and it's frustrating when he can't reach them. There are times when they manage to escape and some others that they don't

Wirt hates running after them, because it makes the situation more torturous and he gets exhausted. But if they don't start running, he is the one who tells them to do so. He doesn't understand very well why he does this but he likes to think that is a way to give them a chance to escape so he doesn't have to be the one to end with them, after all Wirt wants to believe that he is not evil

And yet, at the same time Wirt finds some kind of satisfaction on it... He is scared of what he is becoming.

Of course, he has this little duality inside his brain. The Beast has done a good job to keep Wirt in his role but still that doesn't make Wirt's guilt disappear at all

At least, his guilt has been manifested into a voice, represented by the rock fact. Even if the rock fact was meant for Greg to make silly but un-true facts, Wirt's interpretation of his own rock facts are the cruelest truths he refuses to believe. The rock fact represents that honest and logical part of him that is still there, under the tone of the self hate Wirt has grown on himself.

Of course, when he is around people for a longer period than he feels he should, Wirt stops trying to act normal and let himself to act a little... dramatic, in hopes to scare them or "prepare" himself mentally to go and chase them down with the axe

For this, he likes to use the rock fact. He always keeps it in his hair and uses it to try to re-create a rock fact like the ones Greg used to make, but instead of charming or adorable he looks insane, and he already knows that. Of course, he tries to re-create them seriously when he is alone but still fails miserably

Wirt does this in a poor intent to feel in touch with Greg, even tho they usually talk a lot with each other

Jason Funderberker has been gone for a long time by now, so the Beast is the only company Wirt has left, but most of the time he is alone.

He doesn't devout that his brother is there anymore, after all, Now Wirt can hear Greg's voice coming out of the lantern so what would be a better proof than that?. Greg is the only person left who seems to not hate him or is scared of him, the little ray of sunshine in his poor cruel life. If you tell him otherwise, Wirt won't want to believe you, even if deep down somehow, someway no matter how delusional he may be... He knows is true

Of course, I wouldn't recommend saying this because after having a nervous breakdown he will absolutely go after you with all pure rage.

Now here are some questions and its explanations:

Where does this idea come from?

Where does the name "The Hunter' come from?

What's Wirt and The Beast's relationship?

Wirt, The Woodsman, The Hunter and The Beast

Where does this idea come from?

It's no surprise that it comes from the idea of a bad ending for Wirt, one that is more fitting with the logic of the series. Because let's be real;

If he accepted the deal he wouldn't turn into the new beast because The Beast's motivation was to survive, he doesn't seem to want a replacement or transpass the role to anyone. In that case he would have already done it with The Woodsman.

The unknown was completely fine with the Beast gone so is not that he is THAT important for the forest to need a replacement.

Also, remember this little scene? it's from chapter 1: The Old Grist Mill. When Wirt and Greg just entered the unknown and suddenly heard the Woodsman cutting wood, before talking to him, Wirt said:

"Do you think it's some kind of deranged lunatic with an axe waiting out there in the darkness for innocent victims?"

So I thought; What if in the bad ending... He became that deranged lunatic?

Where does the name "The Hunter" come from"?

In the concept:

Since there are times when Wirt's victims escape, those who survived spread the word of a maniac who is wandering around the woods, looking for new victims, and once he finds them he will chase them until he can cut them down to the bone with his axe

They named him "The Hunter"

Wirt knows about his new reputation, since the travelers call him that once he reveals his real intentions, but he isn't really aware of all the rumors and stories people of the unknown had made about him, he knows that he will not like them but at the same time he is very curious about it. Some of them are true and others are just exaggerating. But at this point, Wirt Hunter had accepted that now he is one of the particular characters of the unknown.

In technical explanation:

In Over The Garden Wall we saw that most of the characters are named by "the what" for example: The Beast and The woodsman, they had no name by their own outside of their archetype. So I thought that in Wirt's case he would have a name like that, losing his own as a representation of how he has lost his own original identity. Wirt is no longer "the worthy one" anymore because he is more lost than the woodsman ever was, and there is no chance to bring him back, so he became "The Hunter" for the unique faction that makes himself distinguish from The Woodsman: The killing

The woodsman is just a man who lives in the woods and cuts trees, it just happens that the Beast used one to keep the lantern on. However.... The Hunter is someone that hunts, the whole point of a hunter is that he chases living beings and strap them, mostly for need. That is something The Beast himself does in his own way, which makes Wirt and The Beast more similar and unionite than the previous dynamic with The Woodsman, or even I dare say they are just alike; The Creature and The Man who hunts for surviving

Also, more into Bad End Friend's territory; Every evil alternate version has their own unique name, for example the icon trio, Bipper and Ice Finn (Also officially named "The Snowman") but then we have just "Beast Wirt" and until now NOBODY has come up with an actual name that fits him. I remember that someone already suggested the name "The Hunter" for Beast Wirt but it didn't make much sense (At least to me). However, in a woodsman context I think it could work better.

What's Wirt and Beast's relationship?

In Wirt's perspective

Basically a case of Stockholm Syndrome: At first he felt more like a prisoner, The Beast was a figure who he should follow if he wants to keep Greg alive, he is more than Wirt and his power overcomes his young self. However as the time passed, Wirt realized that the Beast can also be very merciful and at the same time rightfully ruthless as his monstrous nature allows him, as he has 'shown' him acts of trust. For Wirt, The Beast is a dark but fair being, not as evil as everyone told. The Beast acts similarly like a father would do towards Wirt, but without that human openly caring love. He is strict and cold, but is for Wirt and Greg's own good

In Beast's perspective:

Wirt is nothing but an interesting experiment. The Beast has been manipulating every little detail of Wirt's surroundings, so he decides to obey him by own choice, which worked out way better than expected. He has seen Wirt changing to fit into his needs, becoming more useful and useful than last time. Anytime the Beast has thought he reached the limit, Wirt proves him wrong and finds a way to pass it and go on anyway. His determination is so fascinating to the Beast that he continues to see how far he could go

Their dynamic:

Naive teen being manipulated by his father figure to be useful for his plans or desires (but even more mess up)

Examples of this kind of dynamic are Rapunzel and Mother Gothel from Tangled (2010) or Hunter and Belos from The Owl House (2020)

Wirt has been alone for so long to the point that he holds tightly to anything that could give him a minimum sign of love, and The Beast knows that more than anyone

He has taken advantage of this, so by convincing Wirt to isolate himself and showing barely love, Hunter would listen and obey him without any doubt. It doesn't matter if The Beast is the main responsible for his situation, things have been twisted so much to that point that Wirt fully believes that this is all his fault. He must do the right thing at any cost, after all, he would do anything for the ones he loves right Gregory?

Wirt, The Woodsman, The Hunter and The Beast

These are the four identities Wirt adopts in the time on the unknown, like states of his sanity slowly decaying

Wirt

The anxious teen we all know and love, the guy he has been during his journey until the point where he faced the Beast face to face

The Woodsman

Wirt post-deal

At first:

He doubts that Greg may be in the lantern, and now he regrets his decision. However he doesn't know what to do now because the guilt for Greg will not leave him in peace, and so Wirt feels like he doesn't deserve to go home, he can't go back, no without Greg. So he still lives in the forest, feeding the lantern and hearing the Beast's words, however The Beast insists that Greg is indeed in the lantern, but Wirt isn't sure whether to believe him or not

Even if Wirt knows he needs the ellewood, like the woodsman, he tries to help and warns about the Beast to those who came into the unknown

The Beast warned him about helping people, but he didn't listen to him until one night. There was an incident where he almost lost Greg's light forever for the lack of ellewood. Since then, Wirt finally cooperates with the Beast

At last:

Wirt knows what he must do. He misguides those who pass through the way in forms to get enough ellewood for Greg, always making sure to keep himself distance and not get too close with them. However there are times where he can't NOT sympathize with the travelers and so he offers his genuine help

The Beast wasn't comfortable knowing that Wirt still kept helping people.

The Hunter

Wirt post-murder

At first:

After his first kill, Wirt felt so guilty that he stopped taking care of his health (He stopped eating, bathing, and stuff) and encaged himself inside the house with all the bottles of oil, fearing that he would hurt someone again

At this time Wirt started to hear the voices of Greg, the rock and the crying of the lost souls, and talk to them until he ran out of oil

When he finally went outside, his body was too weak to even walk and he fell on the grass unconsciously. At that moment the Beast thought Wirt died and so he was about to take off the lantern, but the boy's hands wouldn't stop grabbing it with all the fury. The Beast kept trying until suddenly Wirt woke up and said to him that as long as his brother needs him he would be still here. For his stupid unbreakable determination, the beast didn't see any other option but to take care of the kid

As he recovered, The Beast started to convince him of the idea of taking people as nothing but ellewoods he needs. Wirt didn't like it at first, but the Beast's kind act and the poor health state he put himself into finally made him accept the new task.

At last (actual state):

Most of the time he is alone, searching around the forest for more ellewood to feed Greg with, day and night. He doesn't fully sleep, he takes naps in the afternoon so he can be wake up all night as he wants. To eat he hunts animals, fish, rabbits and some other birds or frogs, whatever living being he finds. To entertain himself he recites poetry and sings songs that the Beast has taught him, all loud like someone would listen to him. At home he writes his poems and composes his own music, mostly for clarinet.

At times the voices are louder and other times they are quiet. If it's Greg then it would be a nice time, if it's the rock fact it's a guarantee he would be at least pissed off, and if it is the distant crying of the lost souls then paranoid it is.

When someone crosses his way, it depends on how things are going to see how things will end. When he just indicates the direction you'll better leave as soon as you can, because the longer you stay and talk to him Wirt will act weirder in hopes for you to leave him alone, otherwise, if you cross the line with your words, he probably will run out of patience and starts to prepare the axe

But it also depends on how likeable he finds you. He could not care and warned you before he attacks you as usual, he could hate you so much to the point that he attacks you with no warning, he could like you and give you five seconds of advantage, and if he likes you a little bit more he would become obsessed with you and will maintain you inside his house so the Beast will not know about your existence as long you don't go outside

The Beast

The Beast (According to the Woodsman's words) is the death of all hope. How low would you have to go so you lost your whole humanity to become the living embodiment of one of the darkness concepts in human kind?

If Wirt ever became the Beast, he should have been falling in grace until the lowest point a person could go. So in my idea of The Hunter, I like to imagine that the differences between The Beast and Wirt would slowly fade away until they are one in the same

Inside The Hunter, Wirt has not only become lost in life but he has also lost his identity, his spirit, his desires and his home. The one thing left to lose is his humanity... His soul

The only thing that separates him from The Beast, is him holding on to the last piece of humanity he has left; Greg

Day after day his sanity is drifting away, but it's because of Greg's existence that he is connected with his humanity, because his actions are meant for Greg's surviving, not his

If Wirt descends to absolute madness and forgets completely about Greg but also openly enjoys his cruelest actions, to the Unknown's eyes, he would no longer be worthy of humanity, and as a punishment he would be cursed to be the successor of the Beast

And becoming worse.

Like I have been having this idea in my mind for a while now and I wanted to share it. I hope you liked my idea and the drawings I made because it really took me a lot of time trying to finish this post because you know... Christmas and happy new year (ah yes, what a happy post to show in these lovely times, yeah!)

SO WHAT YOU THINK?

[kbstanny]

Treatment (Zayne/Reader)

✿ Fandom: Love and Deepspace

✿ Pairing: M/F

✿ Tag: NSFW

✿ Mentions: smut, mild injury mentions

✿ Word count: 5,051

✿ Summary: She had no choice but to see Dr. Zayne for treatment after a Wanderer left her injured, but his cure for her anguish wasn't quite what she had in mind.

✿ A/N: Hey! This my first fic on this website, and it's on a game I only started playing a week ago 😭

Because I'm a new player, I don't really know the world or the story very well, so if there are inaccuracies then you know why. However, I've also avoided specific plot details for this very reason.

I hope you enjoy!

Damned Knave.

She tightly gripped the gash on her thigh, limping her way down the dark deserted path. She'd received reports of disturbances down at the old munitions factory and had gone to investigate. Wanderers had been sighted after hours, so she'd gone late into the evening, and solo, as her ever-elusive partner had been unavailable. She'd handled herself fine, but a rather tricky Knave had managed to cut right through the top of her thigh.

Once she eventually hobbled her way to a street lamp, she could investigate her injuries properly. Shakily, she removed her blood-stained hands from the wound, then hummed — It didn't look too severe. The gash was long, but not so deep, stretching from her inner thigh up toward her hip. The blood made things a lot nastier than they needed to be, and the pain was bearable, at least for now. She'd hail a taxi and treat the damage at home, and if it didn't feel much better by morning, she'd consult her physician. But Dr. Zayne was a last resort.

Once morning came, she did not feel better.

The pain woke her up before her alarm did. It stung intensely, and the surrounding skin was hot and numb. Clearly rubbing alcohol, a cocktail of painkillers and gauze wasn't going to cut it. Carefully, she unwrapped the bandage to take a look at her injury — it still didn't seem too bad. Inflamed, a little gnarly, but far from incapacitating. Just painful. But she'd faced foes much fiercer than some stupid Herte Knave, and obtained injuries far more gruesome. For now, she'd suck it up. She had a job to do.

—

"Oh my god!" Tara gasped. "When did that happen?" Her friend asked her, leaning in to the picture on her phone. She'd snapped the pic before getting ready for work this morning, thinking it would be a funny story to tell to Tara at the office. But her friend's reaction was a little more alarmed than she'd anticipated.

"Last night, at the factory. There were some serious beasts down there, but you wanna know caused that? A Knave of all things." She chuckled, shaking her head. Tara didn't look so amused.

"Aren't you hurt? Have you been to the doctor?"

"It's just a scratch, Tara, I'll be fine."

"That is not just a scratch! That needs stitches!—"

"What needs stitches?"

Captain Jenna approached the two, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She had a scrutinising look in her eye, one that said 'Why are you chatting and not working?' It reminded her of her old teachers.

The hunters were silent, looking between each other. She shot Tara a warning look, but Tara ignored it, turning the phone to face Jenna. "This does."

Jenna leaned in, her eyebrows raising, breaking her steely expression. "Why yes, it does... Is this you?" She looked to her, and she sighed softly, a little embarrassed.

"Yes, but I feel fine. I promise. If I didn't, I'd take the day off."

"Have you had it treated?" Jenna cut to the chase.

"...No." She admitted, and Jenna sighed.

"Well go. At once. That could easily get infected." The captain straightened up, her tone commanding. There was no room for negotiation. "Honestly, I thought you'd have more sense than to leave an injury like that unattended." With that, Jenna walked away. She waited until her captain was out of sight before standing and addressing Tara.

"Did you really have to snitch on me?" Though she already knew she would — anything to impress Jenna. Tara gave a sheepish look.

"Well I had to do something! I'm only looking out for you." But she pat Tara's shoulder, shaking her head and smiling.

"I know, I know, you're right... as usual. I really shouldn't ignore it. Thanks Tara." Tara gave a knowing smile.

"I am usually right! Now go and see Zayne. He might be a little scary but he knows what he's doing." They both chuckled at that.

Tara knew what her friend was hesitant to admit: It wasn't that she was ignorant of the risks of open wounds, nor was she a particularly nervous patient. She just didn't want to see Zayne.

Not because the doctor was in any way cruel or unpleasant, he wasn't even scary as such. But the doctor was so cold, and the icy chill of his eyes permeated her core with a mere glance her way. Zayne had been an old forgotten friend, a dear one, but now he was a figurehead for her ailments. All that time they'd spent together as children seemed meaningless now. They couldn't have drifted further apart. Zayne was a bad omen, and a sign her past had been well and truly shattered.

But that was only half of the reason. The other reason, the more embarrassing one, was that she found Zayne stupidly attractive. Not only because he had the face of an angel and a body carved from marble, but for his work ethic, his dedication, his intelligence. And of course, she couldn't help but feel sentimental toward him over the time they'd spent together as kids. She yearned to reconnect with him. He had a potent effect on her. When she was near him, his mere presence was enough to suck the words out of her mouth, to reduce her to a shrinking violet with no resolve. Like a silly teenager with a crush. And that wasn't like her at all. She hated not having control.

She wasn't certain whether the feeling was mutual. There was something about the way that he looked at her, on occasion, that made her heart flare up. Sometimes she thought he had a tenderness to his tone that he just couldn't have used with everyone, but maybe that was wishful thinking? His concern for her health and wellbeing seemed obsessive, too. Never had her previous physicians been so zealous, but Zayne was a renowned surgeon. Perhaps it was just a sign he was good at his job, and nothing more? She didn't know, and she didn't like thinking about it.

With a deep breath, she rapped on the door to his office. With any luck, he'd be busy, and she'd be forced to return to HQ and schedule an appointment the long way.

"Come in." He answered — Damn.

She walked inside, standing by the door with her hands behind her back. Zayne was busy typing away at his computer, and he hadn't even spared her a glance. She hadn't realised she'd been quiet until Zayne spoke up again.

"Can I help you?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Yes, if you're not too busy. I injured myself while dealing with a Wanderer. I was hoping you could take a look."

It was upon hearing her voice that Zayne decided his patient was more interesting than his computer, and he turned to face her, scrutinising her slightly crooked form, and the way she carried her weight. He thought for a moment or two.

"Your left thigh." How did he know that? She looked down, but her injury was completely concealed, and no blood had seeped through her clothes.

"Yes, how did you—"

"What happened exactly? Take a seat." She nodded, heading to sit down on the chair opposite the doctor, but he shook his head.

"Not there. On the examination table."

"Right."

As she sat down, Zayne quickly punched one final sentence into the keyboard, before turning to face her, waiting for her answer.

"It happened yesterday. A Wanderer, as I said." She clarified, and Zayne hummed.

"So the Wanderer attacked you directly? You didn't sustain this injury through any other means during the battle?" She shook her head. Zayne made a note of this on his computer.

"And do you have any other injuries?" She told him no again.

"Alright. I need to examine you, if that's okay."

She nodded, looking down to where her legs were outstretched on the table, before coming to an awkward realisation: She was wearing pants. She couldn't just pull her skirt up, she'd have to strip the item off entirely.

"Yes, of course." She began to fiddle with the button to her pants, before Zayne stiffened, taking the curtain that surrounded the table.

"Tell me when you're ready." With that, he shut the curtain around her. She released a sigh of relief, grateful for the privacy, though she felt a little stupid for not closing it herself. She wasn't sure how she'd compose herself having to undress in front of him.

Once her pants were off, she came to a second mortifying realisation: Her underwear. The item was black and lacy, made from sheer mesh, hardly concealing her delicate areas. The type you'd wear for a lover, and not at all the sort of thing you'd wear to work. But she'd washed all of her more practical undies yesterday, and thanks to one pesky Knave, hadn't found the time to dry them before morning. If she'd known she'd be stripping down in Zayne's office for an examination, she would have stopped off at the shops on her way to work to buy something cheap and appropriate. Hell, she probably would have bought boxer shorts.

"Shit." She hissed under her breath.

What would Zayne think of her? Surely he'd think it was deliberate. She'd approached him for treatment, and she just so happened to be wearing semi-transparent lingerie? There was no way he'd find that coincidental. He'd think she was some sort of pervert. Was it too late to get out of here?

"Are you alright? Or are you struggling to get changed?" Zayne asked from the other side of the curtain. Her chest felt tight — how long had she been sat there worrying?

"No, I'm fine. I'm ready now." She panicked, blurting out the words despite herself, cursing internally as Zayne pulled back the curtain. The doctor said nothing as his eyes drank in the sight of her, nor did his expression give anything away — Not that she'd know, she avoided his gaze like the plague, staring intently at the floor. But despite his composure, Zayne certainly noticed her indelicate attire. And despite his healing instincts, and the rather prominent gash on her thigh, her panties were the very first thing that held his attention.

Zayne sat beside the bed, on the side of her injured leg, leaning in close to the cut. He took a long look at it, reticent as ever, before finally meeting her gaze.

"What time did this happen yesterday?"

"In the evening."

"And you didn't think to call me when it did?" Zayne pressed. Her words were trapped in her throat for a moment, before she finally pushed them out.

"Well... no. It was late, and it didn't seem so bad at the time."

"It's never too late to check yourself in to a hospital." Zayne stated the obvious. "Whether I was available or not, you should have had this seen to immediately." His tone was stern, his stare unwavering. She said nothing. "When something like this happens, you need to call me, no matter how late it is. I'm your primary care physician, it's what I'm here for. And if I can't see to you personally, I can find someone who can."

"I understand. I will do, next time."

"You really ought to take your health more seriously. You have a duty, as a hunter, to protect people. Lives depend on you. And you can't protect anybody if you can't take adequate care of yourself. Being anything less than thorough with your wellbeing is selfish, and neglectful of your duties." His words made her brows furrow, a mixture of annoyance and shame, but she still didn't respond.

"Injuries sustained through Wanderer attacks are more susceptible to infections. Some are serious, and fast-acting, as you should well know. I cannot stress enough the importance of getting wounds like these seen to as soon as possible—"

"I know, Doctor." She interrupted, a little snappy. "I told you already. I will next time, and I'm here now, aren't I?" But did she have any right to be annoyed with his tone? Deep down she knew she didn't, that she was only being stubborn, but she couldn't help herself.

"Please don't be so reckless next time." Zayne asked her, his tone softer, his eyes so tender she couldn't stand to look at them anymore. She couldn't take it when he scolded her.

The doctor sighed softly through his nose.

"This will need sutures, but I'll need to clean the wound and check for signs of infection first, which requires a physical examination. Is that alright?" His words nearly made her melt.

"That's fine." She composed herself well enough for an answer.

Zayne brought a gloved hand to her thigh, and although the gesture was purely clinical, she couldn't help the heat that rushed to the spot between her legs. His hands were cool, and his touch gentle, so gentle that if she closed her eyes and pictured a different context, it could've been a loving caress. Zayne pressed his fingers firmly against her thigh.

"Does that hurt?"

"No." She answered honestly. Zayne repeated the motion to the space surrounding her injury, his fingers travelling in a small circle, starting from the bottom of the cut, until they creeped inwards. Zayne gently pulled at her thigh, widening her legs as he continued his examination. She was trying her best not to react.

She cast her gaze downwards, to the fingers between her legs, and her heart dropped. From this angle, under the stark white lights, she was clearly exposed. Nothing was left to the imagination. She was so embarrassed she nearly screamed, looking to Zayne to try and gauge his reaction — but she couldn't. He was too focused on the task at hand.

Her breath became shaky as she observed the way he prodded at her, how his fingers crept ever-closer to her arousal. Just one budge in the opposite direction and those tough, broad hands would be swept over her cunt. Imagining how his fingertips would tickle the mesh of her panties was enough to make her wet.

She heard her name in the recesses of her mind, and then again. Only the second time did she realise it was coming from Zayne's lips.

She snapped back to reality, looking back at him with eyes wider than intended. He stared back at her with a cutting gaze.

"I asked you whether it hurt, where I was touching you." He repeated. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a few moments before she could cough the words out.

"No— no, sorry. I was a million miles away." She chuckled sheepishly.

Zayne looked back at her, giving nothing away. How exciting, he thought, that he could tell exactly what was going through her mind, yet she didn't have a clue what he was thinking? Zayne was extraordinarily good at hiding his emotions, but his patient? Not so much.

She was embarrassed, that much was clear. Whether the lingerie was a wardrobe malfunction or a bold decision she quickly came to regret, he wasn't sure.

What was also clear was that she liked it — what he declined to express was that he did too.

How could he not? If it were anybody else, he wouldn't give such scandalous attire a second thought. As a doctor, he was indiscriminate; a body was just a body. He'd seen the hidden corners of countless beautiful women and it never swayed his commitment to his work or hindered his professionalism — not once. But she was different. Surely, despite how reserved he was, she could tell that she was different? That this tension between them was all but ordinary?

"I don't believe you have an infection, but I'd like to see you in a week for observation. If anything changes, let me know immediately." He told her, his tone as stoic as ever. Yet his hand lingered at her inner thigh, so close to her cunt she was sure he could feel the heat through his gloves. Eventually, he did move his hand. Despite his feelings, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

Zayne then proceeded with the usual cleaning and dressing procedures, and she suppressed a hiss as he swabbed the wound with antiseptic. During this entire exchange, she'd been uncharacteristically quiet, whereas Zayne was as quiet as usual. The silence was unbearable, she wasn't sure she could ever recall a time where she'd felt so awkward that it hurt. Her body was so tense, and her lust swelled so needily that she couldn't suppress the words that left her mouth next.

"I'm sorry about the underwear." She blurted, her apology cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. But it didn't take long for the searing metal to scorch her skin — she regretted the words almost the moment she'd said them.

Zayne paused, placing down the suture needle he was prepping before staring straight back at her. There was a hint of mirth behind his eyes, that came into fruition through a small, teasing smile.

"Don't apologise." His tone was gentle and neutral.

Did he say that so things wouldn't be uncomfortable, or because he liked the look of them?

"I didn't wear these because I knew you'd see them, all my other pairs hadn't dried. And I wasn't even going to see you in the first place, I only did because Jenna told me to!" She couldn't help but explain herself, a grimace on her face, but Zayne remained quiet as he brought the needle to the cut.

The anaesthetic numbed the pain. She felt uncomfortable again, with Zayne's sudden silence. She wondered whether he'd respond at all, whether she'd made things too awkward, but Zayne was simply mulling over the best thing to say.

"You don't usually wear lingerie to work, then?" He enquired, meeting her gaze once he'd pulled the stitch through. She chuckled bashfully, dipping her head.

"No. Never. They've been irritating me all day." Zayne hummed at this, continuing with his sutures. "Why, would you prefer it if I did?"

She wasn't sure where such boldness had come from. Likely it was that her lips below were talking for the ones above, despite how twisted up she felt inside. Yet again, she quickly regretted her pitiful attempt at flirting, until Zayne seemed to bite.

He met her eyes again, his smile wider now. He loved seeing her so playful. "I'm not sure I can come up with an answer that's both professional and true."

Her desire burned at his words, so brightly that she swore she could feel a hole forming in her chest. She clenched, unwittingly, never had she been so eager to feel him. A Cheshire-cat smile stretched across her face, the type of smile that she was sure made her look silly, yet Zayne found it endearing.

She began to laugh, though at first it was deep in the pit of her stomach, and Zayne continued with his work. But she couldn't help her laughter, the swell of emotions overtaking her. Embarrassed, yet immensely satisfied. How unexpected that things were beginning to work out for her?

Zayne finished the sutures, gathering fresh gauze as he began to dress the wound, amused by her reaction. "Do you truly find me that funny?" He asked in a level tone, and her laughter died down so that she could respond.

"Zayne, you are the furthest thing from funny." Though she didn't elaborate, as there was no need. Her belly full of butterflies was clear without words. The doctor hummed and finished dressing the wound.

She watched him as quiet settled over them again, but this time it wasn't an awkward silence. Instead, it was charged with sexual tension. Zayne stopped looking at her thigh in favour of the warmth between her legs. He stared, unabashedly, and the look on his face struck a bolt of fresh arousal through her heart.

He took his gloves off, then slowly, he reached over, tracing his fingertip over the lacy edge of her underwear. "Why do you have underwear like this anyway? Do you have a partner?" He asked her. She thought he sounded almost a little possessive, but it was clear another man in the picture wouldn't stop him anyways. His eyes flitted up to hers.

Her face felt hot at the question. Goosebumps prickled up across her skin in an instant, her cunt twitching from the subtle contact. "No."

"No?" He tested, taking his finger directly over her heat, stroking it up and down over the thin mesh of her panties. He could feel her wetness soaking through, and the way she twitched under his touch. "Then I'm right to assume that these are only for me?" There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one that she mirrored.

"That's right."

Her answer pleased him. She spread her legs a little wider, resisting the urge to moan despite the fact he'd hardly touched her. Zayne slipped his fingers beneath her underwear, finally feeling her properly. The sensation made her gasp.

He merely trailed his touch along the length of her cunt, between her folds, sticky with her slick. He was teasing her, taking his precious time as he lapped up the look on her face.

"You're already so wet."

His voice was collected. He was completely in control, while the woman at the end of his fingers was quickly unravelling by the second. She said nothing, releasing a shaky breath. Zayne stood, sitting opposite her on the table.

He took his fingers from the lips below to the ones above, tracing them gently, before taking hold of her jaw. He pulled her forward, and their lips collided in a greedy kiss. She poured her desire into him, clasping him tightly, pulling him closer, her eyes clenched shut as he expelled the tension from her form.

Yet Zayne, as always, appeared composed. He parried her hungry affections effortlessly, his grip on her jaw becoming firm. Zayne led the charge, as he guided her lips against his, eventually setting their pace. She slowed down to appreciate him, but before long the kiss was broken. Zayne pulled away with a soft smile, his lips a little puffy as he pressed them chastely to her cheek.

He brought his fingers to her lips again. "Suck them for me." His command was gentle without losing its timbre, and she obeyed, sucking on the digits without question, briefly, until he pulled them out of her mouth. Zayne brought his wetted fingers back to her cunt, pulling her underwear to one side and sticking his fingers firmly against her.

She huffed at the sensation. His fingers were still a little cold, warmer now thanks to her mouth. She clenched, feeling empty, needing him inside of her.

Zayne rolled his fingers over her clit, and not too slowly, which took her by surprise. She moaned already, widening her legs for him. He wore a focused expression, lust sparking beneath his pointed gaze.

He sat more comfortably between her legs, taking her thigh, before inserting a finger into her cunt. She whined, though she was wet enough to offer no resistance. He pushed it deep inside of her in one, smooth motion.

She clenched tightly with her core, as if to hold on to him, wanting to keep him inside of her, sighing as he pulled his finger out, only for him to add a second.

This was a tighter fit. She moaned, trying to keep her voice down, angling her hips up to feel him better. Zayne slowly began to pump both his fingers, up deep inside of her then down to the tips. The friction of her walls against him was marvellous.

"You feel wonderful." He told her, his eyes locked on hers, fixed on every micromovement. Everything about her, from the sound of her voice, the small parting in her lips, the sight of her so uninhibited before him — it was poetry in motion. This woman, as capable and stubborn as she was, was helpless at his touch.

I do feel wonderful, she thought, scoffing at Zayne's compliment. She felt blissful, like a ball of a thousand knots had at once been untied, releasing a deep strain she'd been harbouring in her stomach. Ever since she'd reunited with Dr. Zayne, those ties had knotted. Every time she'd seen him, the palpable tension between them had grown and grown. Until now.

Zayne sat up straight, then hoisted her up, taking his fingers out briefly to pull her panties off entirely, carelessly discarding the item on the floor. It was only a momentary distraction — soon Zayne's fingers slipped past her walls yet again, though this time he was positioned beside her, his other arm hooked around her waist, holding her close.

He pumped his fingers faster, his motions mechanical, his rhythm never wavering, and she struggled to contain the sound of her mewls.

"Shh. You need to be quieter." He hushed her, gently. "As much as I love hearing you, the walls here aren't so thick." He managed a chuckle, dipping his head to her neck, pressing a short trail of kisses down its length. This made her shiver

"That's— that's the wrong way to get me to be quiet." She scolded, playfully, matching his smile. Her words were breathy and choppy from her efforts to conceal her pleasure.

"Noted." Zayne turned her head toward his, then caught her lips in another kiss, one more frenzied than the first. Zayne used his lips to muffle the noises coming out of hers, eating every moan and whine she poured into him. He pushed his fingers as deep as they could reach inside of her, stroking her walls with a beckoning motion. Meanwhile, he played with her clit with his thumb, breaking their kiss to observe her reactions.

She looked divine. Her lips were wet and inflamed, dripping with saliva, her hair tousled, her expression languid. And he could see how she tried so hard to keep quiet for him, how her whimpers bubbled in her mouth, how hard she breathed through her nose. She felt she must have looked silly, but Zayne didn't think so at all.

"So you can do what you're told?" He teased, sounding more playful than she'd ever heard him. She huffed at this, far too wound up to retort.

He suddenly began to pump his fingers again, faster than before, which took her time to adjust to. She gasped, but caught most of the sound in her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut.

She could feel her climax swelling. It couldn't be far away. Her body felt tight and hot, her face clenched with the torment of having to keep quiet. She held his hand, leaning into him, her movements becoming fidgety as she tried to channel her stimulation. Again, she clenched at Zayne's fingers, bucking her hips to take more of them. Seeing her so desperate for him was so exciting.

"You're doing so well." He didn't tease her anymore, cooing into her ear. His husky tone was enough to make her moan again, that one slipping right past her defences, ringing loud and clear. Oops.

She bit her lips, flashing Zayne an apologetic look, though he didn't seem to mind, nor did he slow down. Another pang of pleasure rippled through her, and at that she knew it was time.

"Zayne— I'm close—" She just about choked the words out, her hand coming to clamp her mouth shut. Somehow, in the heat of things, she'd forgotten she had that option.

He sped up a final time, his fingers flashing in and out of her with a series of thick squelches. Zayne fingered her like a machine, one clever in its design — to be so quick and accurate without being brutal. She felt her whole body tense, a flush of great heat washing over her, choking out her gasps as she buried her head in Zayne's shoulder. Then, at once, she reached her release.

Her body quickly went lax, the heat and strain fizzing out of her, skin tingling. It took her a few good gasps to regain her composure, eyes slowly opening. When she looked down, the light sheet on the table had been soaked through with her release, her legs glistening with sweat. Slowly, Zayne pulled his fingers out of her, earning a whine from the weary woman. He brought those fingers to his lips, sucking away her juices.

He sent her a smile, pulling her against his chest. "Did you like that?" Surely the answer was obvious, and she sent him a look that spoke a thousand words. His smile deepened. "I'm glad."

"I hope I wasn't too loud..." She mused, looking to Zayne, who leaned in to press a soft kiss to her temple. A delicate gesture that made her heart stir.

"You were. But don't worry about it." She scoffed at that, too tired to do anything but listen to him. Before she could return the favour and get Zayne off, she needed a few minutes to gather herself.

But Zayne didn't seem the least bit concerned about his own satisfaction — seeing her hit ecstasy was all he needed. He rubbed at her inner thigh, the one that wasn't injured, giving her a slightly regretful look.

"I have an appointment in twenty minutes, so unfortunately you're going to have to leave soon." The words weighed heavy on her chest, even though she knew that was stupid, nodding at Zayne with a cheeky smile.

"That's not a problem, I can make it quick." She reached over to the tent in Zayne's crotch, but he took her hand, moving it away.

"I can sort myself out." He assured her. She couldn't help but feel a little rejected. Sensing this, he stroked her cheek.

"You can make it up to me another time." They both smiled at that, staring at each other for what felt like hours.

"I'll never avoid making an appointment again."

They probably would have kept staring if it weren't for the startling knock at the door, and the concerned voice of one of the nurses that followed.

"Doctor Zayne? Is everything alright in there? I heard a lot of noise!"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I want mama leech to beat up mama roseheart

But in all seriousness, I want mama Ashengrotto and mama Spade to talk about how much they love their boys and how proud they are of them (bonus points if you have the boys being bashful/embarrassed)

I remember seeing a fan art where Mrs. Rosehearts nags Mrs. Leech about her "indecent" outfit (because she's a mermaid; she's not used to concealing and constrictive clothes)... and then Mrs. Leech calls Riddle's mom an "old bitch" or something 😭Mr. Leech has to step in before the two throw down.

Decided to go with the second prompt because I'd like to avoid (physical) fights on NRC Family Day if possible! ^^

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"There's this really cool on-campus cafe, mom. Here, I'll take you there for dinner--my treat!"

Well, he had stayed true to his word. His butt was planted in a cushy, plum- colored booth, Dylla seated across from him. She swiveled her head around every few seconds, her glossy mouth agape as she took in her new aquatic surroundings. The jellyfish fixtures overhead, the glass partition separating salt water and seaweed from the eatery, the bar with its shelves of rare tea along one wall.

And their waiter?

"A-Ashengrotto-senpai," Deuce greeted him nervously, "you're working the floor today?"

The merman had shockingly dressed down, casting off his hat, scarf, and the dorm leader's jacket he draped over his shoulders. He was in a violet bowtie and simple white button-down shirt, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, suspenders and a cummerbund accentuating his slight waist. A lightweight, flexible look for squeezing through tight spaces and sliding dishes onto tables before darting away to the next task.

"Yes." His clear blue eyes flicked up from his notepad. With a bare hand, Azul indicated the crowded restaurant. "As you can see, the Mostro Lounge is quite busy today. Normally I work in the back and oversee the establishment--but on days like this, a manager must be willing to roll up his sleeves and walk the talk."

"Oh, it's nice of you to step up like that!" Deuce perked up. "Your parents don't mind you being busy...?"

"Let us say it is a family affair." Azul removed the pencil from behind his ear and tapped it on his note pad. "Now then, do you and your sister need more time to decide what to order?"

"Sister!!" Dylla gasped. "Ahahahah, you didn't tell me your classmates were so funny, Deuce!"

"M-Mom...!!"

"Oya, have I made a mistake?" Azul's lips pulled back into a smirk. His words were slick and sweet--perhaps overly so. "I could have sworn that this beautiful, vibrant young lady was your sister. Your age doesn't show one bit, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you. Deuce-san and I go way back."

"Really?! He didn't really mention you in his calls back home. It was mostly about Ace-kun, Yuu-kun, and Grim-kun... Was I missing something?" Dylla asked, shooting her son a questioning look.

He gulped. Sweat started to bead on his forehead. "E-Er... Ashengrotto-senpai helped me study for the fall finals," Deuce said vaguely. No deals, no anemones, no indentured servitude mentioned.

"Did he? What a helpful senpai!! It sounds like you're keeping real busy between the tutoring and the part-time job."

"You humble me, Mrs. Spade! I wouldn't be able to run as successful of an operation as I do without the support of the rest of my team." Azul's grin grew. "And, of course, without Deuce-san's own efforts. I commend him for his commitment to the pursuit of academics."

"I know, right?" Dylla belted out a laugh and smacked her son--hard--on the arm. "Deuce is the hardest working man I know!! He did so much to turn his life around since his middle school days, went completely clean. It brings a tear to this old lady's eyes."

Deuce was peony at this point, flushed with pride and embarrassment. “I-It wasn’t much,” he mumbled, bashfully scratching his chin.

"Oh, you don't say... I'm intrigued. I would love to hear more about these tumultuous middle school days," Azul purred, leaning forward--his pencil and notepad at the ready, "and how Deuce-san has changed since then."

Cheeks lit aflame and cherry red, Deuce piped up. "M-Mom, PLEASE!! W-We're here to eat. We can't keep holding up Ashengrotto-senpai when he's got so many tables to wait on."

"My bad, kiddo! Can you fault your mom for wanting to chitchat with your classmates?" Dylla chuckled, shuffling her menu. "... I'm just glad you have so many good friends and reliable upperclassmen looking after you at school."

"Reliable upperclassmen? That sounds like my Azul for you. He's always been one to lend a hand to a poor, unfortunate soul in need--takes after his grandmother in that respect."

The octopus merman stumbled, almost dropping his writing implement. A full-bodied woman in a sleek jet-black gown emerged from the sea of guests and wait staff. She ferried a wicker basket piled with warm bread rolls, which she laid out before the Spades with a smile.

"Fresh out of the oven," she chirped, "and complimentary for Family Day, so eat up!"

"M-Mother," Azul sputtered--and was it Deuce's imagination, or was his senior's calm slipping? "I thought we had agreed you would stay in the kitchen and allow me to handle the front."

"You hadn't come in for a while now to pick up the bread rolls for this table, so I thought to come out and deliver them myself. Can't keep the customers waiting, you know!" Mrs. Ashengrotto wagged a finger at him, as if telling off a misbehaving dog.

Deuce and Dylla took a deep whiff of the rolls. They smelled rich and hearty of wheat fields and butter on a warm summer's day. The steam from the basket rolled up, coloring their faces pink and causing them to salivate.

"You made these yourself? They smell so good!" Dylla clapped her hands in delight as she plucked up a roll. "I can only make basic egg dishes! Baking is a whole different set of skills."

"I dabble a bit here and there! Baking is primarily a human thing, dear--but when Azul came back from his land boot camp, babbling about all this 'baking' nonsense, I knew I had to try it with him."

Azul had frozen, his eyes wide with panic. "I think that's enough sharing, mother!"

"So Ashengrotto-senpai was a diligent worker back then too..." Deuce clenched a hand into a fist. "That's so impressive!"

"Isn't it? Azul absolutely loves to learn new things! Didn't have many friends in his youth, so he'd study the day away curled up in his little pot--"

"Aaaaaaah, MOTHER...!" Azul yanked away from her and, placing both hands on her shoulders, attempted to steer her away. "I think I heard a new order being called in! You should tend to that this instant!"

"Wait, I didn't get to finish hearing the story!!" Dylla protested. She had a mouthful of bread, so her pleading was somewhat garbled. "What was that about a pot?!"

“H-Hold on, mom…! Sit down and chew your food first, or you might choke!!”

Their shouts mingled with the noises of the lounge. People, both children and parents alike, sipping slow jazz and eating up the underwater atmosphere, the air spiked with salt. Somewhere along the way, their voices were lost, becoming one with the group—like the many waves of the ocean weaving together in a larger body.

Mothers and sons, the bonds tight as that of the moon and its serene sea.

[babydollmarauders]

OUT — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which everyone has been wondering about the hair tie on Jack’s wrist, and they finally get the answers they were looking for

notes: THANK YOU MADDY ( @thatintrovertedwriter ) FOR THIS IDEA!!! I’M OBSESSED WITH IT!! not proofread and written while heavily sleep deprived

a relationship was never part of my intentions when i accepted my job offer.

in fact, any sort of love was pushed to the far corners of my mind. my focus was on showing everyone that not only men can be equipment managers in the NHL.

i had gone through so much rejection. countless teams citing that they decided to go in a different direction, and hiring a male for the job instead; and though most of the staff would try to deny that my gender was a part of it, there was always that one guy that had no problem with admitting they didn’t believe that a woman had any place in the NHL.

as if the job was hard. as if i couldn’t hand players sticks just as well as any man could.

but then the New Jersey Devils came into play. they had heard some talk about me and were the first team to reach out to me. they offered me the job, and i eagerly accepted. i felt i had something to prove. my gender doesn’t diminish the performance of my job.

so most of the 2022-23 season, i put all my focus into my job. i was amicable with the players, making sure i knew any superstitions or things i shouldn’t do with their equipment, but i never let it pass into any real level of friendship.

and then Jack Hughes happened.

when he got injured and had to sit out for a few games, i was put in charge of keeping him company. for four games my job description changed from handing players new sticks, to babysitting a twenty-one year old, and i wasn’t happy in the slightest.

it felt insulting, and apparently Jack felt the same way. somehow in those four games, we went from sitting across the suite from each other, to bonding over how stupid it was that i couldn’t do my actual job, to forming a friendship.

and in a matter of weeks, our friendship blossomed into something more.

it started with him coming back to my apartment after rough games, watching movies and letting off steam by joking around and playing drinking games. then along the way, we stumbled into bed. one hookup turned into two, which turned into another, which turned into a date, and finally by the end of the season, he was asking me to be his girlfriend.

it took me a week to finally tell him yes. an entire week of struggling with the decision. wondering if, if i start a real relationship with this player, am i proving all those men who told me i had no place in the NHL, right? but ultimately, i decided that my happiness was worth more than someone’s opinion of me, and i told him yes.

***

jackhughes

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subbanator 🚀

user83 is he wearing… a pink hair tie on his wrist?

user45 where?

user83 it’s on the same wrist with his bracelets

user16 omg you’re right

user02 is his hair even long enough to put up?

user77 @/user02 apparently

user91 what if it’s a girlfriends? oh my god

brendan.brisson Same time next year

***

i’m running late.

i’m running late and i’m rushing.

i’m running late, i’m rushing, and i’m contemplating breaking all rules of the road to arrive to work on time.

nothing is going right for me today.

i was supposed to have the morning off, so i didn’t set an alarm, but then i woke up to find six missed calls from my boss and a text asking if i could come help get equipment ready for practice because one of the other equipment managers came down with the flu.

then, i had to deal with getting yelled at because i didn’t have my ringer on and therefore, woke up after practice ended and didn’t come in and help.

then, i tipped over my brand new bottle of cold brew and had to spend almost an hour mopping my kitchen floor and wiping down the counters to get rid of the stickiness.

then, at the last minute as i was stepping out the door to head to the arena, my hair tie broke. and now i’ve spent the last fifteen minutes scouring my apartment for a new one, only to come to the conclusion that i have to leave now or else risk being yelled at for a second time today.

i give up entirely on my search for a hair tie, accepting my fate of wearing my hair down and rushing out of my apartment so fast that i almost forget to lock up behind me.

when i finally make it to Prudential Center, i’m able to clock in just before i’d be considered late, and i have absolutely no extra time to search for my boyfriend amidst the chaos of the season opener.

instead, i set off straight to the equipment area, working in tandem with my colleagues to make sure every players gloves, pads, and everything in between is ready, before i put each players gear into their respective locker room stalls.

i stack pucks in a high pyramid at the bench, ready for warm-ups, and line sticks up against the glass behind the bench, all set to be handed out when needed.

amongst the frantic running around the arena and getting things ready, i lose track of how many times i’m adjusting my hair; flipping it over my shoulder and tugging it out of my face.

finally, i get a split second to breathe, pulling my hair up in a makeshift ponytail with my hands as i stand outside the locker room, on standby in case any of the players need me.

“hey.” i instinctively drop my hands at the sound of someone talking, my shirt falling back down to cover the sliver of my abdomen that had shown when they were raised.

at the sight of my boyfriend, i sigh in relief, his chuckle reaching my ears as his arms snake around my waist.

“i scare ya?” Jack teases.

his helmet hits against my back, as he holds it in one hand. he’s all geared up, ready to hit the ice for the first game of the season, and oddly enough, i can’t help finding it incredibly attractive.

“just a little.” i huff, and a wide grin spreads across his lips. i smack his chest, but all that it hurts is his padding. “don’t be mean! i’ve had a bad day.”

his smile drops into an exaggerated pout, and he leans down to press a kiss to my lips.

“i’m sorry, baby.” i hum in acknowledgment, waving it off when he asks if i’d like to rant.

“no, it’s okay. i’ll rant later.” i assure him. “after you win your game.”

“our game.” he states, and i roll my eyes.

he’s made sure to never let me forget how much work i put into the team’s equipment and gear. citing that they wouldn’t be able to win without my help.

in his eyes, it’s as much my wins and losses as it is his.

“right.” i nod, patting his shoulders. “in that case, i’m gonna be very upset if you lose our game.”

his head tips back, laughter pouring past his lips, and it sounds like a melody in my ears.

“i’m confident. we’ll win this game.” he assures me, finally letting go of my waist and backing up. “if we don’t, you and i will never hear the end of it from Larks.”

ahh yes, Dylan Larkin. the Red Wings captain and Jack’s friend, whom i met over the summer while visiting Jack at his lake house.

“go!” i shoo my boyfriend off as the rest of his teammates begin pouring out of the locker room, heading off to line up, ready to hit the ice for warm-ups.

waving to the guys, who smile back at me in return, i head out to behind the bench.

as the guys warm up, i double check the bench stock of smelling salts, tums, stick tape, skate blades, and whatever else the guys may need during the game, before standing idly by.

*

finally, the game is underway, seven minutes left in the second period, and my boyfriend has already gotten a penalty in first for ‘roughing’.

i’m watching my boyfriend skate around the ice as i tend to his teammates, anxiously holding my breath as the clock winds down.

Jack zips across the ice, and i’m gnawing at my lip as he gains control of the puck. but before i know it, he’s just scored his first goal of the season.

a small smile splays across my lips, attempting to contain my excitement as he skates past the bench, bumping fists with his elated teammates before taking another lap around the ice.

Luke turns his head to grin at me, but he’s sidetracked as i’m interrupted by a teammate.

“y/n, can i get some salts?” Timo asks, and i nod, spinning around to grab some, my hair whipping in my face as i do so.

i let out a frustrated groan, turning back around to hand the little packet of smelling salts to number 28.

“you okay?” Timo questions, his brows threading together and i nod.

“it’s my damn hair.” i huff as he moves down on the bench, making room for my boyfriend and his line mates who now join on the bench. “i usually wear it up, but my hair tie broke and it’s getting on my nerves.”

wordlessly, Jack absentmindedly sheds his gloves off, pulling something from his wrist before holding it out to me where i stand directly behind him.

my lips part in surprise as my eyes lock on the pink hair tie that’s pinched between his index finger and thumb.

my hair tie.

“oh.” i breathe out, plucking the hair tie from his grasp. i smile, immediately pulling my hair up into a high ponytail. “thank you, love.”

he turns his head just enough to spot me, beaming back at me for a moment before turning back to focus back on the game that’s about to restart.

i lean forward a little, my hand lightly resting against the padding on his back, but he must feel the slight pressure because he leans back a little to show me he’s listening to what i have to say next.

“congratulations, babe. i’m proud of you.” i speak lowly, only for him to hear, before i stand back again, as though the interaction never happened. both of us focusing back on the game that takes place in front of us.

***

***

Jack lays beside me in my bed, absentmindedly scrolling through his social media, nodding along as i rant about my day.

“…but seeing you in the box was a plus.” i finish off my long winded ramble, effectively gaining his attention back at my teasing.

he locks his phone, tossing it to the side as he looks over at me.

“what was that?” he asks mockingly, raising an eyebrow. but before i can repeat myself, his fingers are working against the bare skin of my stomach.

my abdomen tightens as i laugh, squirming and trying to get away from his touch.

“stop!” i cackle, attempting and failing to push his hands away as he tickles me.

“no, say that again!” he chuckles, maneuvering his body now to straddle my legs so that i can’t run away, even if i wanted to. i shake my head wildly. “say it again! what was that? i don’t think i heard you right! cause it sounded like you just said the highlight of your day was seeing me get penalties!”

“that’s not true!” i squeal and he momentarily ceases his attack, tilting his ear towards me as if he’s listening closer.

“i said they were just pluses.” i defend myself, quickly following up, “the highlight of my day was finding out you wear my hair tie on your wrist.”

he looks down at me with a smirk, obviously quite proud of himself.

“stole that from your apartment.” he announces with pride.

“when?” i laugh, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to mine.

his hands now rest on either side of my head, holding himself up.

“the second time we hooked up.” he murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss to my lips. “you had complained that day when you forgot you hair tie at home. i never wanted you to be uncomfortable again, so i took one when i left here that night.”

i blink back at him in surprise, my heart thumping loudly in my chest, whooshing in my ears.

“are you telling me, you’ve been wearing that hair tie on your wrist, for the past seven months, just in case i ever needed it?” i ask.

“mhm.” he hums, his nose nudging against mine as he nods, the corners of his lips quirking up in a soft smile.

“i’m so in love with you.” i whisper, pulling him down to capture his lips in a kiss.

his lips slot against mine, his tongue slipping in to tangle with mine in a deep and sultry kiss, before he pulls away.

“oh good, because apparently our interaction tonight on the bench?” he pauses and i furrow my brows, nodding for him to continue. “yeah, apparently that happened while the camera was on me.”

a gasp slips past my lips, and he cringes slightly, nodding his head.

“yeah, we’ve been outted.”

we both let that sink in for a moment, pondering what our relationship will be like now that everyone knows. fans certainly analyzing our every move now.

but despite that, we can finally go on dates in public, and post each other on our social medias without panicking that we may have accidentally posted on our public stories instead of our close friends ones.

“i think i can live with that.” i finally break the silence, and he grins.

“yeah?” he questions, pressing a kiss against my lips, and i nod against him.

“yeah.”

[simpjaes]

dilf!jay and babysitter!reader 🫣

- 💗

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while and i think about it consistently.

like, single dad jay hiring the hottest girl he can find on purpose? getting turned on by the way you clean up after your messes in the short moments he sees you? Loving the way you mother his child in a way a wife would? In the way a mother would? dilf jay, fisting his cock in the middle of the night despite him needing to be up at 6am for work, thinking about the way your shirt looked when he came in from work just the night before, soapy suds soaking through the fabric on your chest? dilf jay, wanting a completed family so bad that his thoughts are centered around you, the college girl who is just trying to make a bit of extra cash to pay for her books....what happens if he just buys those books for you on top of your pay? What happens when he buys you a new car so you can stop worrying about your old junker breaking down? what happens when he asks you to spend the weekend with him and his child on vacation?

who knows? all you know is that Jay is hot, and his child is not only manageable, but an absolute angel most days.

of course you don't think twice when the two of you are sipping wine on said vacation, and his hand strays. of course, you spread your legs for him when he slides his hand down, whispering words of "you ever thought of being a mother?" and "i would take such good care of you, baby, think about it for me, yeah?" and he did take care of you at the end of the day. with the college expenses, gas for your new car, spending money, a house stocked with food and hobbies you could pick up if you wanted to. That little babysitting job became almost a full time job outside of classes, with a boss too willing to make it worth the time. Were you a baby sitter at this point, or just a paid wife to roleplay with him? was it really even roleplaying even? When you find yourself in your dorm room wishing you were in his bed again? Wishing that you could wake up to that nice fucking kitchen, with the nice fucking big screen television, and the nice fucking cock he's always willing to get wet for you? Always sliding in nice and easy, cooing in your ear about everything you could have if you stay? is it really roleplay at this point? what's so wrong with being a wife so young anyway? After all, his kiddo already begs for you when you're not there, he's told you that much. plus, the idea of some other girl coming in and babysitting turns your stomach to knots. Jay is yours, and the darling child of his? You love them far too much to let go at this point too. You're locked in, and you don't mind it a single bit.

[pseudowho]

Glory Glory: Higuruma Hiromi

An absolutely unhinged delicious "Help, I'm stuck!" series, where the reader is taken care of by the JJK guys.

18+ as always.

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Too many late nights and bottles of wine with Hiromi went this way; your conversations ran through a brambled path of half-Law and half-Jujutsu, as was in-keeping with the new path Hiromi's career had taken. His little office was dark, all old mahogany and panelled walls lined with case files, yellowing and dry. Hiromi liked to live life on the edge in this tiny office, by enjoying his wine with you by candlelight.

As you moved from one bottle of wine to two, the conversations turned from educated, to gossipy, and Hiromi participated eagerly with hooded eyes and a sardonic half-smile as you took turns to spill tea. A man who loves learning, loves information in many forms, you reasoned to yourself.

"I mean, Nanami Kento is absolutely right," Hiromi urged, his rich voice wine-drunk and sultry now, "Jujutsu sorcery is shit. And work is shit. I'm not sure why I do any of it. Maybe I should go back to my briefly attempted life of being a murderous reprobate." Hiromi drained the last of his wine, releasing a happy "mmmm" as he rolled his wine glass thoughtfully.

"And yet, we must work to live," you groaned, a dramatic arm over your eyes as Hiromi smiled at you, hooked nose crinkled, jaw resting against his hand. Pointing a finger at you as he arrived at a thought, Hiromi swung his legs down from the footstool before standing, reaching up to a shelf to start rummaging for a folder.

"I read something in an old case file the other day actually, and thought of you...hang on...where is it..." Hiromi mumbled to himself, hunting.

He gestured a hand back to you, still looking through the high shelves, "It's red," he pressed, "the folder, it's red. Help me search." You hummed your assent and went to the corner behind his desk, where a series of case notes stood perilously stacked on either side of a tight nook. Spotting a red folder at the back, underneath a large stack, you knelt on all-fours, and tried to weedle the folder out without causing disturbance to the others before--

-- a heavy paper rustle had you totally engulfed in swathes of case files, now falling open and tumbling over you, squashing your top half down with their weight, leaving you uncomfortably face-down-arse-up.

You heard Hiromi gasp behind you, "No no no, my filing--"

"Oh, 'filing' my arse, Hiromi, that was chaos--"

"-- I knew where everything was and now look at it--"

"--alright, alright, I'll just get out and you can sort--" as you moved backwards to pull yourself out, more stacks teetered and wobbled, collapsing onto you and Hiromi cried out his disdain, pushing you back into the nook with a strong hand on your arse.

You blushed, squirming against him, "Hiromi!" He held you in place, chastising you. He resisted the urge to squeeze you, arousal seeping into him at the shape of you in your delicious pencil skirt, nipping in at your waist and stretching over your arse and thighs.

"Don't move, you're making it worse!" He tutted at you, and you heard him rustling around above you, trying to correct the opened folders. After a few minutes, he sighed, giving up, the job too impossible to manage after so much wine.

Grabbing his gavel, he placed a wooden coaster on top of your outstretched arse, and tapped it sharply, once; "Guilty, of fucking up my filing system. Naughty." You giggled, wiggling your arse at him.

"Oh no, what's going to happen to me, sir?" Hiromi chuckled, humming, eyes darkening at you wiggling at him, god, you didn't know what you did to him, wine-drunk with him in the candlelight, your blouse slowly unbuttoning as the night went on, the gossip getting spicier and the inhibitions lowering, but never enough that you would come to him and let him taste the wine off your lips--

"Did you know," Hiromi pondered, pleased you couldn't see how solid his cock was against the thigh of his black trousers now, and Hiromi loosened his tie with one fine-boned finger, "that I can change the size and shape of this gavel?"

You paused, confused, wondering how this was relevant, but humoured him; "Oh?"

Hiromi hummed, stroking the gavel thoughtfully against your arse cheeks as you shivered, the wine bringing a blush, hot and fervent, to the surface of your skin.

"Obviously, I've considered its many applications," Hiromi continued, voice like satin now, convincing, alluring.

"Almost as long as I've considered you...in that skirt...in my office...all alone together, late at night." Your eyes fluttered shut as you bit your lip, soaking in his voice; you would be lying if you said you hadn't felt the same.

Hiromi's hands ran along the hem of your skirt, clever fingers rubbing circles underneath it now on the inside of your thighs. You let out a hushed moan, much to Hiromi's satisfaction. Emboldened, he continued as he rolled your skirt slowly upwards, thrilled to see the lace edge of your stockings come into view.

"Do you want to see...how it would feel? Inside you, getting bigger, smaller, longer, shorter...it could be fun. Something new." You gasped, pussy clenching at the thought of Hiromi pleasuring you, and you let out a happy murmur, too embarrassed to voice your agreement in words. Hiromi laughed, rich and bold behind you.

"Good girl." Your arse was completely exposed now, and Hiromi made quick work of disposing of your underwear, admiring the womanly curves and dips of you, tracing stretch-marks and dimples with his lithe long fingers. He grabbed his gavel, turning it in his hand.

You felt him kneeling behind you, Hiromi pressing his hips and throbbing cock hard once against you for relief, as he let out a crackling moan. He leaned down, nipping your arse a few times as you squeaked, punctuating the little red marks with wet appreciative kisses. You heard him growl, low and determined.

"I'm going to make you cum so hard, you forget your own name." You whimpered as Hiromi slipped his fingers through your folds, finding your clit with ruthless efficiency, removing them for a moment to taste you and spit on his fingers before pushing back into your pussy, rolling your clit between his fingers like a little pebble as you cried out and trembled at the sudden shocks of intense pleasure. You gasped, mewling, as your pussy clenched around nothing.

Hiromi watched your fluttering pussy, eager to be filled, and twisted his gavel, grasping it by the hammer now. Rubbing the handle up and down once, twice, three times between your folds, just as you were about to cry out and beg him, Hiromi slipped its length inside you to the hilt, and you squealed at the sudden cool wood inside you.

Hiromi continued, hushing you gently, continuing to rub small, tight circles on your clit as he planted soft, open-mouthed kisses to your lower back. He thrusted the handle of his gavel firmly in and out of you, tilting it just so that it rubbed insistently against your g-spot, and you shook and moaned.

"Could do with being a bit...thicker, though, hmm?" You squeaked in alarm and ecstasy as you felt the handle expand in diameter inside you, its added girth pressing flush against your inner walls, making you feel so tight as Hiromi continued to thrust it, harder now, and you felt pleasure coiling rapidly within you, your knees threatening to collapse underneath your shaking body.

"Or how about...longer?" You had a moment to gasp out in anticipation as you felt the gavel stretch inside you, pressing harshly against your cervix as you bucked and cried out. Hiromi revelled in delight as you fell apart beneath him, clever fingers working magic on you as you fizzed with ecstasy.

Hiromi's black spiked hair was unruly now and his shirt came untucked as he carried on working on you, thrusting the gavel into you at a relentless pace as he quickened his pace on your clit, and you begged, nonsense and pleas rolling off your tongue as Hiromi bit his lower lip, frowning and groaning at the white ring of cum forming around the base of his gavel as he thrusted and thrusted it.

Your orgasm was about to peak, when Hiromi rapidly reduced the size and shape of the gavel, and you cried out in utter disdain. Hearing a rapid rustle of fabric behind you, and a zipper being pulled down, Hiromi pulled the gavel out, throwing it aside, and thrusting his aching cock hard into you until he bottomed out with a sandy moan.

Folded over you to continue his frantic circles on your clit, Hiromi rutted into you with abandon. Your orgasm burst through you, white hot, and you would have collapsed had Hiromi not held you up, still slamming his hips against you with wet slaps, unadulterated wine-fuelled whimpers falling from Hiromi's lips as his orgasm hit him, pleasure crackling through him, eyebrows raised and mouth agape in agonised euphoria.

Hiromi held his breath as he came, releasing it in one shaky gasp as he came down, grinning and delighted. You slumped to the floor, utterly dazed, Hiromi's cum dripping out of you onto the dark oak floor.

Hiromi panted, leaning down to kiss your back again as he squeezed your hips. Nuzzling you with his hooked nose, he spoke casually.

"More wine?"

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[the-iceni-bitch]

Lookin’ at You Got Me Thinkin’ Nonsense

Relationship: Lloyd Hansen (le grand homme) x female!reader (coquinette)

Words: ~2k

Summary: you don’t like when Lloyd leaves you alone…

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m and f receiving oral sex, public sex, public nudity, multiple orgasms), mention of crime, Bobby and Kitten cameo, SMUT!!

A/N: Did you miss these two as much as I did?

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on my fics follow my sideblog, @the-iceni-library , and turn on notifications!

Lloyd groaned when you came around his tongue for what must have been the third time, rubbing his face against your pussy and grinning as he slurped up the sweet juices that were gushing out of you. The lower half of his face was soaked, but that was exactly what he wanted. Hopefully your scent would stay on his skin all through the damn meeting he had to go to.

“Ah shit!” He had lost track of time, catching a view of the clock over your heaving breasts and rising from between your thighs with a snarl. “Damn Newark meeting. Ma coquette, I have to go.”

The only answer you could give him was a pathetic whimper, your naked body trembling on the chaise as your system struggled to recover from the incredible pleasure he had wrung out of you. Damn if the sight didn’t make him want to blow off his job, but August and Nick were already grumbling about him missing three other meetings over the past month due to his need to help you “settle in” to your new life at his estate and penthouse. Your eyes fluttered when he kissed your cheek before rising to his feet, the way you murmured under your breath in French and stretched your body before rolling onto your side making it even harder for him to leave.

“No one goes in while I’m gone,” Lloyd ran a hand through his hair when he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him, scowling at Baizen when it seemed like he wasn’t paying attention. “That includes you. I hear anyone disturbed her and they’ll have to answer to me.”

He waited for the dumbass to nod before striding off. Sometimes he really wished they could clone the giant, Everett, because every fucking other idiot that worked for them seemed to barely know how to do their damn job. His mood was hardly better by the time he stormed into the meeting room, fighting the urge to flip August off when the huge bastard gave him a smug grin, as if to give condescending approval for Lloyd actually showing up to a meeting. This had better be short. At least he knew this woman was a professional, though her partner looked remarkably aggressive for a meeting.

All the news was good news. The incursions they had been making into the opposition’s business had been going well, with territories gained all over the tri-state area. Lloyd managed to focus once they got into the details of planning their next assault, eager to encroach further onto the old men’s operations. There was some kind of commotion in the hall, but none of them worried about it. At least not until the doors burst open and you stumbled in.

You were still completely naked except for the sapphire choker Lloyd had given you that morning. Poor Baizen was trailing after you and holding out a blanket, his eyes full of pleading for you to cover yourself even as he did his best not to actually look at your nude body. As soon as he realized it was you he straightened up in his seat, a low chuckle full of affection rumbling through his chest when you zeroed in on him immediately and pouted. Every single eye fixed on him when you started strutting towards him. He could feel the annoyance radiating off of August and the bemusement coming from Nick.

“Mon loup…” when you reached him you flounced down on his lap with a small huff, nibbling on his ear and playing with the collar of his shirt as you ignored everyone else. “You left me all alone…”

“I’m so sorry, amour,” this time he did flip August off when he heard the man clear his throat in irritation. “I have to be at this meeting, ma petite chatte. These nice people I work with need my advice.”

The partner of the woman they’d been organizing with snorted at that, and Lloyd found himself growing even more fond of her when she elbowed the man in the gut before smiling warmly at you and him. Sure, she looked a little bit unhinged, but Lloyd decided he liked that about her. He also liked the way she introduced herself and her partner to you like you were just as important as the other men in the room, though he gave a snort of his own that a man who looked so goddamn lethal was named “Bobby”.

You just gave the strangers a curious look before turning back to Lloyd, whining as you pressed soft kisses all along the length of his jaw. All you cared about right now was getting your much needed attention from your man, your brain still fuzzy from all the orgasms he had given you.

“But you didn’t even let me take care of you, Daddy,” you giggled when he growled at the pet name, thoroughly enjoying how much he seemed to give into your desires ever since you had first started calling him that. “Makes me feel so bad when I don’t get to take care of you…”

“Coquine…” Lloyd groaned when your hand that wasn’t toying with his collar slipped between the two of you and squeezed his growing bulge. “How the fuck am I supposed to say no to you, you little minx…”

Lloyd glanced around the conference table as you continued to squirm in his lap, though he didn’t really know why, he was going to do whatever he wanted anyway. He ignored August’s glower and gave the man a cocky wink, focusing on you once more as Nick began going over the fine details of their upcoming assault.

“Go on, ma douce,” Lloyd peppered soft kisses all over your cheeks and nose, biting your bottom lip with a playful growl when you started to undo his belt. “Such a good girl, you always take such good care of me, amour.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you giggled when he licked the indents his teeth had left in your lip, giving him a quick peck before sliding to the floor between his spread legs as you dragged down his zipper, humming to yourself as you drew him out of his pants.

The sound of the meeting faded away as you focused on your task. You gripping the base of his shaft in one hand as you used the other to trace every inch of him, a single, manicured finger dragging over each ridge and vein with reverent affection. He was so heavy and warm. You couldn’t resist rubbing his tip all over your cheeks and chin as you lost yourself in his masculine scent. When you finally flicked your tongue out to taste him you heard him hiss, smiling and gazing up at him through your lashes before wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking gently, your eyes fluttering as the distinct taste of him filled your mouth.

You decided you want to see if you could pull all of his focus back to you. After weeks of being with him constantly you had been spoiled to expect his constant attention, and the fact that you were not receiving it now was making you feel cranky. So you concentrated your oral ministrations on his sensitive head, knowing how quickly he gave into his baser instincts when you stimulated him so directly. Your lips quirked in a smile around him when you saw the muscles of abdomen twitch, making sure your expression was appropriately innocent when he gave you an inquisitive glance before trying to contribute to the meeting again.

But you couldn’t have that. You vibrated the head of his cock with a needy whine, one of your hands stroking his length while your other reached lower to fondle his heavy balls. There was a thump on the table above your head and you knew it was Lloyd’s fist. Your man couldn’t control himself when you tongued his slit and played with his sac at the same time, a fact that was giving you no small measure of satisfaction at the moment. A thin dribble of precum leaked from his slit and your eyes rolled back in your head, your lips tightening around his tip in an effort to draw out even more of his pleasure.

When you heard him groan you redoubled your efforts, dragging the tip of your tongue along his frenulum a few times before swallowing him to the root. The sensation of his cock sliding down your throat and you gently tugging on his balls did it for Lloyd’s control, his hand finding the back of your head as he leaned back in his seat to watch you fuck your own face on his cock. He couldn’t give a single fuck about the meeting when he got a look at you, so goddamn pretty with your lips stretched obscenely wide and your eyes glazed over making him twitch against your tongue. Goddamn, you were so fucking perfect.

“That’s it, ma bonne petite fille,” Lloyd stopped caring about the meeting entirely when you gently scraped your teeth along his shaft, hissing through his teeth and planting his feet firmly on the floor on either side of your body as he gazed at you with pure passion. “Daddy’s gonna take over, hold on.”

You whimpered at the first snap of his hips against your face, flattening your tongue and breathing through your nose as you kept your eyes fixed on his. They were bright and eager, full of preening satisfaction at finally being the center of his attention again. Drool started to leak from the corners of your mouth with each plunge of his cock down your gullet, your saliva mixing with his precum to create a sticky, pearly mess that dripped down your chin and onto your tits. Lloyd couldn’t get enough of the sight of you, vowing to buy you another sparkly something as you swallowed around the head of his dick and pressed your thumb against his perineum.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He couldn’t contain his shout when he felt his balls pull tight, holding your head still as he ground against your face and pumped his cum down your eager throat. “That’s a good girl. Take it, ma coquinette.”

The way you refused to release him until you’d milked every single drop from his balls had his thick thighs shaking, his fist slamming into the table again when you swirled your tongue around his excessively sensitive tip over and over until he was almost in pain. “Greedy fucking girl,” it came out in a huff when you gave his softening length one final suckle before letting him slide from between your lips, collapsing back in his seat and chuckling warmly while you hummed to yourself and kissed along his happy trail.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Walker,” Lloyd didn’t even have to look at the man to know he was about to make some annoying comment, cupping your jaw in his hands after you tucked him back in and kissing every inch of your face and neck while you crawled back into his lap. Once you had settled he turned half his attention back to the meeting, one hand trailing over the bare expanse of your spine while he drummed the fingers of the other on the table. “The plans are fucking done, aren’t they? So quit being a bitch. Besides,” he kissed your temple when you tucked your face into his shoulder. “Don’t think I’ll be able to leave ma petite pute alone during meetings anymore.”