#still wears a shit-eating smirk more than half the time

[ironwoodwizard]

[lovebugism]

hi bug!! for your shy!reader requests, idk if you’re going smutty w them but if you ARE: I love the concept of reader being generally pretty quiet, which extends to r’s sex life bc they’ve never thought to b otherwise… enter Hawkins’ own loudmouth DM who takes it upon himself to coax every noise out of reader that he can 💖🫡

ty for requesting! here's my first attempt at smut on here since 2023 :D — eddie teaches his quiet gf how to be louder in the bedroom (shy!fem!r, smut 18+)

Eddie’s face appears from beneath the covers — pale cheeks flushed, chestnut hair wild. He’s still got his ringed fingers wrapped ‘round your thighs, clutching you with the same intensity he’d had when his face was shoved between them. 

He blinks at you with chocolate eyes and drags his tongue across his lip. His pink mouth is softly swollen with use and glittering with your honey. “Is this okay?” he slurs between labored pants.

You lift your swimmy head from the pillow and peer at him through the valley of your breasts, rising and falling with each deep breath. You nod until the words catch up to you. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s— it’s good,” you answer breathlessly, though you don’t think that describes the half of it.

There aren’t enough words in the English language you could string together to describe how he makes you feel. How good he is with his tongue. How you’re throbbing clit still pounds like a heartbeat for more of him.

“Okay. Good,” he huffs with a lazy nod. 

His fingers fidget around your thighs when he shifts on the mattress, wincing slightly when his sensitive cock ruts against it. “I just… I wanted to make sure, you know? ‘Cause you weren’t… You weren’t really… Saying anything.”

He forces out a chuckle to keep the honeyed mood light while horror floods your features. Your eyes soften around the edges with worry. “What was I… What was I supposed to say?” you squeak.

“Nothing!” he answers quickly, eyes going wide when he senses your panic. “It’s just… Most— Most people moan when they feel good and stuff…” His lip quirks in a lopsided smile before a laugh sputters from them. “I mean, you’ve heard me. I’m fucking loud.”

He is. He’s more than loud, actually — full of gruff moans, pretty whimpers, and neverending praise. He never leaves you with an ounce of worry when you’re with him ‘cause he’s constantly rambling about how good you feel.

“Fuck, baby, that’s good— Oh, shit,” he babbled while he fucked your mouth, some minutes ago now. He whimpered after, high-pitched and faraway.“Gonna make me cum— so fucking hard— in your pretty little throat. Fuck, angel. Fuck—”

You writhe on the mattress, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin. 

You become acutely hyperaware of how bare you are below him, with his face mere inches from your glistening pussy and his chocolate eyes swimming with warmth. You feel more naked than you already are. Totally fucking see-through.

“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly. “I just… I guess, I’m just quiet. I don’t know.”

Eddie smiles like he isn’t wearing your slick all over his chin. “That’s okay,” he assures with an innocuous twinkle in his eye. “But you don’t have to be. You know that, right?”

You blink at him until you realize the question isn’t rhetorical. 

His smile falls into a mischievous smirk when you nod. 

“Be as loud as you want for me, yeah? Make all the noise you want…”

—————

He’s a menace.

Eddie Munson is a total fucking menace.

He doesn’t eat your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. No, he takes his good and well time with you — like he plans on doing this, and only this, for the rest of his life. 

Your inner thighs are slick with saliva. His spit drips down your ass, along with your honey, as his tongue laps mercilessly at your cunt. Slowly, gently, agonizingly. It’s like he can’t help but be so sloppy. Like he can’t help but drool all over your pussy ‘cause he loves it so damn much.

“Eddie, please,” you whine through heavy pants, clammy hands cradling your knees to keep them spread for him. “I wanna cum, Eddie. Please, I wanna cum.”

If he’s doing all this to get you talking, well, it’s fucking working.

His mouth smacks when it parts from your sensitive clit. The delicate button is as swollen as his lips are now. His pretty face is utterly blissed out — mouth rosy, eyes lidded, cheeks flushed. Like he’s found heaven in your pussy.

“Shit,” he huffs with a crooked smile, still a bit breathless. “You taste too good… Got me all distracted… Wasn’t tryin’ to tease you, babe, I swear.”

He pulls back the sticky hood of your cunt with a ringed hand. You keen when his thumb rolls over your throbbing clit. “Fuck, Eds,” you gasp — back arched, head thrown back.

“Need it that bad, huh?” He chuckles quietly when your hips buck into his hand, desperate for more. 

“Please, Eds,” you beg with your eyes squeezed shut. Tears burn in the very corners of them, stinging like you might cry at how good he’s making you feel. At how badly you want him to make you cum.

Spit dribbles from his pursed mouth onto your already slick pussy. He rubs it in with guitar string-calloused fingers, and your toes curl into the sheets. “Wanna cum?” he slurs, blinking slowly at your trembling form with pretty button eyes. “Wanna cream on my tongue?”

You whine at the vulgarity of his words — and at the lightning strike that rushes down your spine when his merciless fingers graze your pulsing clit. Swallowing down a sob, you nod rapidly against the pillow.

Eddie kisses your pussy like he would your mouth. Your honey clings to him when he pulls away, smirking up at you with glittering lips. “Then keep talking for me, yeah?”

[catcze]

「 ### : 」 Modern AU ish !! Reader’s weight/size/etc. is not mentioned !! Imo Wrio is strong as fuck, so it literally doesn’t matter how much you weigh because this mf will have you sit on his back while he does push ups and will come out invigorated and wanting to do like 20 more, but this is a warning just in case it breaks your immersion !!

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Wriothesley wraps his arms around your middle, tugging you in close so you’re pressed up against his chest. You fight back the urge to melt into his warmth and give in to his ridiculous request. The cheeky smile he wears —undoubtedly aware of the effect he has on you— makes you grit your teeth and steel yourself out of pure spite.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, honey sweet and trying to be convincing.

“Wriothesley. No.”

“Sweetheart, baby,” he tries again, leaning to murmur it in your ear— the unfair, cheating shit. You’re not sure if you want to punch him or kiss his stupid face. “Love of my life. Person I’m gonna marry. Apple of my eye. Snookums—“

“Shut your mouth.” But he does not, and you’re on the verge of strangling him.

“Honey. Pookie bear.“ He grins, holding you tighter so you’re subject to listening to all the stupid ass nicknames he can call you. “My little discord kitten—“

At the sheer cringe and secondhand embarrassment, you slap a hand over his mouth with a grimace. It works, kind of. Wriothesley’s barrage of nicknames is silenced, but you can practically feel his smirk against your palm. You’re painfully aware of the firm but gentle hold he still keeps on you— painfully aware of how you’re probably fighting a losing battle when he’s this dead set on something.

“I am not going to sit on your back while you do push ups,” you say, and that smirk melts into a pouty little frown. “I already told you it’s dangerous. You could get hurt or something.”

He pulls your hand off his mouth by the wrist, expression looking less-than-pleased. “Sweetheart, if you think that I can’t lift you, then I must be doing something terribly, terribly wrong.”

“But if you’re worried about me, then how about this—“ he presses your hand to his cheek, holding it there with his own so he can lean into your touch and peck a quick kiss to your palm. “You sit on my back while I do my routine, but if you ever think that I’m pushing myself or I’m getting tired, then you can hop off and go back to what you were doing, okay?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but in the end you’re weak to him when he’s this sweet to you, and all you can do is sigh a small, ‘fine.’ If it makes him happy, then why the hell not—

And later, with Wriothesley in that unfairly flattering black compression shirt and you sat on his back, you absolutely eat your words. You can only sit in silent shock and hardly hidden appreciation when the man goes through more than half of the reps for his first set.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, watching in astonishment how he easily pushes up with your combined weight, not a single muscle trembling in overexertion. He’s not at all rushed, taking his time with each upwards lift so as to not jostle you. Wriothesley can hear the awe in your voice, and has the audacity to chuckle. He’s not even breathless.

“What did I say, sweetheart?” He sounds smug, proud— undoubtedly delighted to be able to show off in front of you. Like a puppy who was told he did a good job. You kind of want to kiss him. “So, want to help me out tomorrow, too?”

[lucysarah-c]

“Then Lauren said—”

“Stop eating my carrots!” Levi slapped her hand away from the bowl.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, pouting at him as she remained seated on the countertop. She caressed her hand, but the pain wasn't real. “Why?” she complained, playfully pretending to be hurt.

“Because I’m trying to make myself dinner,” he replied, continuing to slice up the vegetables. He momentarily pointed with his knife toward the boiling stew on the stove. “And when I asked if you were hungry, you said no,” Levi added, pushing the chopped vegetables into the bowl.

His stern gaze was quick to return when she grabbed another carrot slice. “I’m not hungry,” she insisted with her mouth full.

Levi maintained his stoic expression, one hand resting on his hip. “Is this going to be one of those times where I ask if you want something to eat, you say you’re not hungry, and then you end up eating half of my meal?”

There was a brief, intense silence until she swallowed her food and replied, “I never do that.”

Levi simply sighed and bent to pick up an extra batch of ingredients.

“Where’s your squad?” Y/N asked as she swung her legs on the countertop. Levi kept cooking, both of them enveloped in the dim light of the almost deserted kitchen.

“No idea,” Levi replied quickly. “Until tomorrow’s morning practice at 6, they’re not my responsibility.”

His girlfriend chuckled. “I bet they’re getting drunk downtown.”

“Good for them. As long as they don’t break anything that belongs to me and they’re on time tomorrow, they can get as shit-faced as they please.”

“What if they break something in the barracks?” she insisted playfully.

“Those budget issues are Erwin’s problems,” Levi said.

She laughed softly, her laughter echoing in the empty, massive room meant to hold many more soldiers than just the two of them. “I went downtown. I met up with friends from other divisions, had lunch, went shopping, had tea, saw a theater presentation, and then had dinner. What did you do all day?”

“I did a deep cleaning of our chambers,” Levi replied, a hint of resentment in his voice. “Something you were obviously not going to do. I did laundry, cleaned everything—even the clothes I was wearing. So, I lounged in my boxers in my desk chair, catching up with a book and drinking tea. When it got dark, I turned on a light, swapped the tea for whiskey, and kept reading. I spent my free day reading, having zero human interactions, and not dealing with anyone’s shitty problems. Best free day I’ve had in months.”

“Does that mean you’re done with your tasks for the day?” she asked playfully, giving him a sly look despite him being engrossed in his cooking.

Levi quickly replied, “Don’t worry, I still have plenty of time to do you, girly.” The words didn’t match his uninterested tone and expression.

But it made her chuckle anyway, mostly out of embarrassment. She softly hit his arm and complained, “Levi! A cadet might hear you.”

A subtle smirk appeared on his face, but not much more. There was a brief, comfortable silence as he put the ingredients into the boiling water and stirred them around.

“You know, I want your opinion about something Juliet told me. So I want you to be honest, be yourself,” Y/N commented. Levi simply hummed in agreement, his eyes fixed on his upcoming dinner. “But be nice,” she warned him.

Levi stopped stirring his meal, looked up at her, and said, “I can’t be both.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever. She’s dating a new guy… and I don’t think he’s good for her.”

“Like the last ten guys,” he interrupted her, “in the last eight months?”

Levi wasn’t a social person, but he was certainly up to date with his girlfriend’s gossip.

“Hey! Are you slut-shaming my friend?”

“No, your friend can sleep with the entire male population of the walls if she pleases,” Levi said casually as he moved around the kitchen. “But she has this tendency to think each one is the love of her life, and they last two weeks.”

Y/N couldn’t deny it. She sighed loudly. “She’s… a hopeless romantic.”

“Daddy issues.”

She snorted and then chuckled. “Hey! She’s my friend!” Y/N tried to defend her, but there was no conviction in her words. “…She used to have a crush on Erwin, remember?”

“Exactly. Having a crush on Erwin is the definition of daddy issues,” Levi said with a playful smile as his girlfriend burst into laughter. “Am I wrong?”

“No, no.”

Returning to stirring before heading back to the kitchen board to cut the potatoes, Levi asked, “So?”

“Oh yes,” Y/N caught herself and continued, “Well… she’s seeing this new guy. He’s in his mid-thirties, and the way she described him made me realize he’s a fuckboy and—”

“A fuckboy?” Levi quickly snapped, looking at his girlfriend, who simply hummed back, not understanding his reaction. “God,” Levi raised his hand to press on the bridge of his nose and slightly shook his head. “Your friend really has a radar for choosing the worst dudes out there.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” she complained. “Let me finish!”

“There’s nothing to finish,” he said. “A fuckboy, for fuck’s sake,” Levi repeated under his breath, almost cursing at the idea.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“A fuckboy, Y/N, really?” He repeated, louder this time, as if trying to make her see reason. Not sensing her understanding, he sighed loudly. “I was a fuckboy when I was 18, maybe even into my mid 20s. Yeah, maybe I fought the MPs in the underground, smoked around, got drunk, had a bunch of casual sex, and got high with Farlan. But I was 18!”

“What does that have to do with any of this—”

Levi quickly interrupted, “18! You can be a fuckboy at 18, maybe until your mid-20s,” he said. “You can’t be a shitty fuckboy in your mid-thirties! That’s not a fuckboy, that’s an unstable, immature, stupid dude,” Levi explained as his girlfriend burst into laughter, with him continuing to curse under his breath. “At this rate, he’s having a fucking midlife crisis, not being a fuckboy.”

Her girlfriend kept laughing, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "So. What is the fucking issue? Don't tell me your shitty friend got knocked up by that idiot."

Y/N kept laughing, tears running down her cheeks as she tried to calm down. “No,” she whispered out of breath between laughs, “it’s the opposite.”

Levi raised an eyebrow silently, questioning what she meant.

“He couldn’t get it up.”

It was Levi’s turn to chuckle. “Well… you definitely can’t be a fuckboy if you can’t get it hard… that’s for sure.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @galactict3a @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[janeyseymour]

I Hate You, I Love You- part 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Summary: Christmas Day, and then some...

WC: ~3.95k

You must end up falling asleep against the redhead again, because the next time you’re coherent of anything around you, Melissa isn’t there with you. You peel your eyes open, and she isn’t even in the room.

“What the hell?” you grumble to yourself. Your silent question of where the woman could possibly be is answered when she walks into the bedroom with two mugs filled with coffee.

“Hey,” Melissa smiles at you. Her eyes are soft and her smile is sweet. “Merry Christmas.” She makes her way to you and hands you the mug with your drink once you’ve sat up enough to drink the coffee.

“Merry Christmas,” you sigh quietly as you blow over the steaming mug. You take a sip and smile. You’re surprised she fixed your coffee perfectly to your liking. “You know how I like my coffee.”

“Well, we did go over it a few times,” the redhead chuckles as she sits on the mattress. “But I also do have a good memory, you know.”

“I know,” you smirk at her. “I just didn’t think you would-”

“Y/N.” Green eyes are rolled at you. “I’ve watched you make your coffee everyday for the past year and a half at school. Of course I know how you like it.”

You enjoy your first cup of coffee in bed with your ‘girlfriend’ before you sigh and throw the blankets off of your body. You shiver immediately. Before you know what’s happening, Melissa is pulling an old Abbott Elementary sweatshirt out of her bag and offering it to you.

“I- I can just wear my own,” you stammer out. God, why is she being so nice to you in private?

“Just put it on,” Melissa tells you. She holds it out more aggressively, and you can’t help the tired laugh that comes from your lips. You take it graciously, and your colleague just gives a victorious smirk.

“Thank you,” you mumble as you throw the hoodie over your head.

The redhead nods. “Alright, we should probably get down there. Your parents were asking if you were awake when I went down earlier for coffee.”

You groan. “But I’m comfortable.”

“And you can get comfortable on the couch while you eat the cinnamon buns your mom made.”

You’re out of bed in an instant, running for the door. Melissa can’t help the way that she laughs at your excitement. “Hun, they’ll still be down there when we get there.”

“You don’t understand!” you call back. You’re already halfway down the steps. “These things are my favorite things in the world!”

The redhead just rolls her eyes and grabs your discarded mug from the nightstand on your side of the bed before following in your direction. 

When she gets downstairs, you already have a plate of the sugary breakfast pastry in front of you. It’s a considerable stack, and green eyes just look at you, clearly amused.

“Did you forget something?” Melissa holds your mug up teasingly before making her way over to the coffee pot and making you another cup. When it’s finished, she comes over, and you practically pull her to sit in your lap. She makes a small noise in surprise before she smiles softly and wraps her arm around her shoulder to help balance herself.

“Open up,” you instruct as you cut off a piece of one of the cinnamon rolls. You hold it up to her mouth and wait for her to take the bite. When she does, you hear the soft moan she lets out, and- oh shit. That just lit a fire in you that you weren’t expecting. Holy shit, that was hot.

“Your mom made that?” Melissa asks through a mouthful. 

You cough lowly, trying to extinguish the flame that her moan did to you. “Uh, y-yeah. Every Christmas.”

“I can’t wait to have this every Christmas with you.” It’s a hushed whisper, so nobody else would be able to hear it, even with Aunt Jo now at the coffee maker. She says it with so much conviction you almost believe her. You’re not quite sure how to respond, so you just lean in and kiss her lips. Somehow, this kiss feels more natural than the rest of them. It’s warm and soft, filled with a sleepy morning haze despite the caffeine already rushing through your veins, and you can taste the cinnamon glaze on her lips. This kiss too, lasts longer than the other quick pecks that you’ve shared over the weekend- this is a real kiss.

When you pull away, your cheeks heat up, and you giggle slightly. Melissa just presses your foreheads together and smiles before pecking your lips again.

That’s when your Aunt Jo clears her throat as she enters the kitchen. “Girls, we’re all very happy that you’re in love, but please… not at the kitchen counter.”

The shade of red that your cheeks becomes is about the shade of your ‘girlfriend’s’ hair. “S- sorry Aunt Jo.”

She just shakes her head in good nature. “No you’re not.” She fixes her coffee quickly before giving the two of you a wink and exiting quickly.

You look to Melissa and take a deep breath, clearly getting ready to confront what is happening between the two of you- this is something different than what yesterday was. But she just gives you a look that tells you, not now. Your coworker believes that you’re going to tell her to tone it down, and selfishly, she doesn’t want to. She’s treating you the way she’s wanted to treat you for a long while now, and she’s seeing the sweet side of you that doesn’t hate her. She doesn’t want to let that go- not quite yet. 

And because you find yourself enjoying this little life that the two of you have right now, you agree with a soft nod of your head. You do pick up the plate in front of you and your coffee though and jerk your head in the direction of the living room. She picks up her own coffee mug and follows you in.

While you sit on the couch, Melissa goes for the blanket that you were using last night. She knows you were cold this morning, so grabbing the blanket while she’s still standing as opposed to sitting is a good choice in her opinion. She drapes it over your lap before pulling you in close as she settles in with you.

“Merry Christmas,” you greet your parents with a smile on your face. The redhead repeats your words, to which your parents give warm smiles.

“Did the two of you sleep well?” your father asks.

You nod. “Was just kinda cold. But Lis was there to help.”

“Finally found yourself a human furnace?” your mom chuckles. “Even in sweatpants, and your-” She catches a look at the Abbott sweatshirt with dates from before you were at the school. “your girlfriend’s sweatshirt?”

“How sweet,” Aunt Jo coos. “Sharing clothes. I remember always stealing my husband’s clothes… still wear them sometimes when I need a reminder he’s still here with me.”

Melissa just dots a few kisses to your hairline before stealing the fork from your hand and feeding herself a bite of your shared breakfast.

After breakfast, your parents bring out a few presents that they got for you despite the fact that you told them repeatedly you don’t need any Christmas presents anymore. They also managed to get Melissa a few little trinkets. Green eyes sparkle with appreciation for your family. You pull out the little gifts that you purchased for your parents and your Aunt Jo; they take them gratefully. And then they look to you and your coworker with expectant looks.

“We decided to do presents tomorrow,” Melissa explains the reason you don’t have gifts for each other.

The three older adults nod, and your dad has a smirk. “Don’t wanna get caught opening something ridiculous in front of us?”

You just put your head in your hands at what your father has just insinuated.

“Al!” your mother smacks his arm.

Christmas Day passes by in a blissful haze full of warm drinks, soft kisses, blankets piled high, and “A Christmas Story” on repeat. You allow yourself to fully relax in the presence of Melissa for the first time. It doesn’t feel like it’s for show- her kisses are longer, they’re sweeter, you feel like you crave them. If her arm isn’t around you or her hand isn’t somewhere on your body, you feel cold. But the second she’s back with you, you feel like you’re on top of the world. None of this feels like an act to you anymore, as much as you know it is. Because the second you leave your parents’ house and leave this fake life that you’ve created behind, Melissa Schemmenti will be back to the hard ass teacher that you love to hate.

After a day that passes by quickly, you and Melissa find yourself retiring to your bedroom for the night. And you that as much as you don’t want to let go of this, it’s all a fantasy- it isn’t real. At the core of you, you hate the redhead that you’ve spent the weekend with.

“Lis,” you sigh. “We need to-”

“Not tonight,” your grade level partner stops you from saying anymore. “Please.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” you counter.

She quirks her lips to one side. “I do. Can we please just… not tonight?”

You take pity on her and relent. “Okay.”

She gives you a grateful look, and then she’s crawling into bed. You climb in next to her, and you attempt to keep your distance despite the fact that you want nothing more than to curl into her hold and allow her to keep you safe in her arms for this last night.

Your dreams are quite similar to the ones you had the previous night, and you heart tells you unconsciously what you truly want in life. You want Melissa. You want all of the warmth that came with this weekend. You want to be the one who allows the rough and tough second grade teacher to let down her walls and show you a side of her very few people get to see- you want a life with her.

When you blink your eyes open, it’s four in the morning- at least that’s what the clock on the nightstand says. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the fact that both you and Melissa curled into each other while you were asleep. Once again, your two bodies have interlaced, and it’s hard to decipher where your figure ends and hers begins.

You press a soft kiss to her head, allowing yourself to stay in this sleepy stupor until your brain catches up to your body. But then it does and you slowly, as to make sure that she stays asleep, you untangle yourself from the redhead. You slip out of the bed and make your way over to the chair that faces the window. You lower yourself into it and take a deep breath before you begin to silently hash out your feelings.

You absolutely adore this sweet and warm side of Melissa that she’s shown you. You believe that even the side of her that is so hard and difficult to read wouldn’t even frustrate you as much as it used to because you feel like it’s a front at this point in your relationship with your colleague. To you, it seems as though her exterior protects the sweet side of her. Perhaps she’s been burned before, or maybe she was taught to keep that inside of her to protect herself. 

Regardless, Melissa Schemmenti is not nearly as tough as she plays, and you feel honored to know that she has a soft side, even if it was for show. But then your mind wanders to the fact that she did and said a few things to you in privacy, or so quietly in front of your family that you doubt they could hear her- she allowed her true colors to slip through the cracks.

You don’t notice that tears begin to trail down your face- you’re in love with this woman. But she hates you- she absolutely detests you and everything that you are, at least that’s what you think. So, despite it being the last thing that you want to do, you make the decision that you will go back to hating the redhead as soon as you are out of this house. You’ve always hated her. It’s what’s expected of you at this point. It’s what you have to do. You have to forget about the last two days full of warmth and kindness and what you’ve come to realize morphed into a real love for the redhead. And it breaks you heart to the point that you feel a physical ache in your chest.

In all of your heartache, you also don’t notice the way that Melissa blinks her eyes open. She doesn’t see you laying next to her, and she assumes that you’ve just gotten up to go to the bathroom. But then she hears your quiet sniffles from where you’re sitting a few feet away, facing the window and looking up at the moon. Silently, the redhead makes her way over to you sighs softly.

You jump just slightly once you’re made aware of the fact that your coworker is awake and standing with you. You don’t even turn- just wipe away the tears on your cheeks. Melissa’s soft hands are on your shoulders, and she can feel how tense you are. She quietly begins to attempt to work out some of the tension that you’re holding.

“You want to tell me what’s got you up and cryin’ at 4:30 in the mornin?” You feel a kiss being brushed against your hairline- once, twice, and then a third time.

You allow her to, somewhat melting at her touch. But then you can’t quite hold it in anymore, and you burst out of your seat. The redhead jumps at your sudden movement, but she allows you to get up. You rush your way over to your bag and pull out the three hundred dollars that you know you owe her.

“Take it,” you huff as you hold out the bills aggressively. “Take it, and then we can go back to hating each other like we always do.”

Melissa frowns and shakes her head. “I’m not taking your money, Y/N.”

“What?” you ask her incredulously. “What the hell do you mean you’re not taking it?” You throw the cash at her.

She squats down and picks it up with a few grunts. She holds it out for you to take, but you refuse. “I won’t take your money because I don’t want it.”

“You? Not wanting money? That’s rich. Isn’t that why you did this? Came to my parents’ house with me for Christmas- for the money?” you hiss out. “You hate me, I hate you, and this is all just an elaborate lie for me to get my parents off my-”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Melissa mutters as she folds her arms over her chest. “So fucking stupid.”

“I’m stupid? I’m stupid?” you ask her. “I’m not the one who agreed to come to a woman’s parents’ house when I hate her!”

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe I don’t hate you?” the redhead asks you. “That I actually like you and enjoyed being here with you?”

You scoff. “You’ve always hated me- always hated new coworkers! We’ve never liked-” Your cut off because Melissa pulls you in for a kiss and stops your tirade. You’re frozen in your place for a few seconds before you kiss her back. Her hand finds its way to your cheek, and she cups it gently, a complete opposite of the way that she’s passionately kissing you. She pulls you closer by the waist with her other hand. 

When air becomes a necessity, you pull away with eyes as wide as saucers. “Wha-?”

“I don’t hate you,” Melissa whispers. “I mean… I wanted to. But the things that I told your family yesterday about me fallin’ for you? That wasn’t a lie- not in the slightest.” 

“What?”

Green eyes are soft as she looks into your own. “I never hated you, hun.”

“What?” you repeat.

“I wanted to,” she chuckles that soft warm laugh as her arms wrap around your waist and pull you in close. “I wanted to hate you more than I hated Janine at first- because I knew you were stunningly gorgeous, and if I at least hated your personality, you would be easier to avoid and not fall for.”

“You-”

“But then you hated me and weren’t afraid of me- wasn’t afraid to show it either,” Melissa chuckles. “And I liked that. Most newbies are terrified of me, but you weren’t. You had a fire in ya, and I liked that. So, to keep your attention, I pretended to hate you. The only way to get your attention was to be snarky and sarcastic- I’d rather have you hate me than not have you talk to me.”

“You’re-”

“Besides, it’s fucking hot when you’re all riled up and angry,” the redhead shrugs. “But I think I like the soft side of you more.”

“I- I-” you stammer out. “I thought you hated me this whole time….” you whisper, and then you lean over and kiss her again. “That’s why I hated you.”

“Like I said, I wanted to,” Melissa chuckles. “But I never did. You’re good at the job, the kids love you, the rest of the staff likes you. And you’re beautiful. What’s not to like?”

“So… you really never hated me this whole time?”

She shakes her head. “Nah. I like givin’ you a hard time though, don’t get me wrong. But it was kinda my way of flirting after a while.”

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh as you kiss her again.

“So are you,” she mutters against your lips.

You pull away again, and you smile as you press your foreheads together. “So…”

“If it wasn’t clear to you already, none of this weekend was acting for me,” the redhead tells you softly. “This is how I’ve wanted to be with you since you started.”

“I-” you hesitate. “How am I supposed to know it wasn’t acting though? I mean… I was dreading this weekend, and I- I fell for the sweet Melissa I got to see for the past few days, but if that’s not who I’m really going to-”

“Y/N,” your colleague sighs. She takes you gently by the hand and leads you back to the bed. The two of you lay down, and she holds you close. “I’m always goin’ t’be a South Philly girl, but I do have a heart and soul- wouldn’t be a teacher otherwise. I- I can’t promise that I’ll ever stop bein’ a sarcastic asshole, but I do have my moments of tenderness. That wasn’t acting. I’ve wanted to hold you and kiss you and stop having to pretend to hate you for some time now. I’ve loved this weekend- your family is something special, and I can see where you get all your spunk and sweetness from. I like it. I like you- love you, even.”

You bite your bottom lip and look at her in the darkness. “I- I like you too. And I think… I think there might be something between us that’s real.”

“I think so too,” Melissa mumbles against your head. “You wanna give it a shot? A real shot- me an’ you?”

A smile appears on your face. “I think I’d like that.”

Christmas the next year is a fun one. After beginning to officially date, you and Melissa fell head over heels in love with each other. This year, the two of you make your way up to your parents’ house as an actual couple, and not just as a fake couple. You’re fairly certain your parents are more excited to see Melissa than they are to see you; Aunt Jo too.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you again!” your mother pulls the redhead into a tight hug. Your girlfriend hugs back with the same fervor, although she does roll her eyes.

“I saw you last week, Nora,” Melissa quips. “But it’s good to see you too.”

“Came back for more?” your dad chuckles as he too hugs your colleague.

She nods. “I wouldn’t want to spend our first year as a couple anywhere else.”

Your eyes widen. You had never told your parents that last year was not real. “Second,” you quickly amend.

But Aunt Jo is too fast to catch on. “No, no. She said first.”

The two of you share a quick glance, and your lips form into a tight line before you sigh. “So… I have something to confess.”

Years later, you’re officially Mrs. Schemmenti. You have a beautiful little girl, Sara. She’s just turned two, and she couldn’t be more of a light in your life. But you’ve also finally gotten her settled in bed and asleep. You and your wife are laying on the couch together as you usually do after a long day of teaching and then coming home to handle your own little tornado of a child (you often tell the redhead that that part of your little girl comes from her entirely). 

You’re admiring your engagement and wedding rings before you look to Melissa’s. You don’t get to look at hers for long though, because you hear your baby crying from just up the stairway, and you sigh.

The redhead just buries a kiss in your hair before promising that if Sara doesn’t settle, she’ll go up. And the crying doesn’t stop, so you feel yourself being shimmied off of Melissa five minutes later before she heads up the stairs. A few moments later, she returns with your baby girl in her arms.

“Oh honey,” you instinctively reach for your daughter.

“Baby girl just wanted Momma,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully as she hands over the little one. “Never Ma, always Momma. Ain’t that right, Sara?”

Your daughter just gives a toothy grin as she lays her head on your shoulder. 

Where you would normally lean into the couch cushions to attempt to soothe your little girl to sleep, you sit up straight, and your brows furrow.

“What’s wrong, mi amore?” your wife asks in concern. This is so unlike you.

You shake your head and smile. “I just got this… this feeling of deja vu. Like I’ve lived this moment before.”

“Maybe you dreamt it,” the redhead offers as she cozies up to you on the couch and begins to run her fingers through your little girl’s wispy hair.

You think for a few moments before you know why you know this moment. “I- I had a dream about this moment that first Christmas we spent together… it was this moment.”

“You mean the Christmas we pretended to be together?”

You nod. “I- wow. I should’ve known then and there that I was going to fall in love with you.”

“And instead, you denied your feelings like an idiota,” Your wife laughs before she presses a kiss to your head.

“You were an idiot too,” you fire out, but the glimmer in your eyes tells her that you have no ill-intention with those words.

She shrugs. “Hey, I still got the girl, didn’t I?"

You roll your eyes as you purse your lips for her to kiss you. Of course, she does. "I guess you did."

And just like that... this sweet little fic is over. I hope you enjoyed!

Xoxo -Janey

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch 

[butterymangowrites]

dad thief

paring: dabi / todoroki touya x fem reader

warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, cum eating, creampie, childhood friends to enemies to whatever this is, obsessive dabi, possessive dabi, jealousy, non-con filming, blackmail, endeavor is a shitty dad but you both have daddy issues, child abuse, domestic violence, hate sex

word count: 2.5k

Even captured by one of the most dangerous villains in Japan, you still had the audacity to smirk. He wanted so much to wipe it off your face, make you sullen, make you regret. You had always been a pain in the ass, a bitch, and a dad thief.

—

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. 

What Touya saw was you, a girl his age whom he had been friends with for a while now, wearing an Endeavor’s T-shirt two times your size. “That’s my dad on your shirt.”

“I know.” You smirked, didn’t tell him you stole it from someone, just like all the merches you had at home because you couldn’t afford to buy one. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Having a fire quirk, you related so much to the number 2 hero. Meeting Touya was the best coincidence you could ever hope for.

But Touya hated it, your quirk was powerful, not more than his, but so much more stable. At Least you didn’t get burnt every time you tried to use it. His dad looked at you like you were a gift from God, given to him to replace his own incompetent children. You had become Endeavor’s favorite in such a short time. 

—

“So you’re still my dad’s simp,” the white haired villain said, looking at you from an old couch where he lay down, shirtless, his torso patched up with staples holding burnt skins to the body so they didn’t fall off. He looked like a doll that the owner didn’t want to throw away and chose to keep repairing. 

“Rich coming from someone with daddy issues.” Standing at his feet, you peered down at him. He had changed a lot, appearance-wise. Half of his face was burnt and stapled just like his body. With black hair, piercings, and impassive demeanor, he became someone else entirely, fooling everyone even his own family—he became Dabi. But those eyes, those were Touya’s eyes. “That was a desperate act back there, airing the plot twist on tv and shit.” 

It was amazing how quickly you got on his nerves. Dabi pounced from the couch and grabbed you by the neckline of your hero costume. You staggered forward from his pull but let him drag you to the couch and down onto him who now had his head back on the armrest. His hands adjusted your legs to straddle his waist, positioning you to his heart’s content. Your skin-tight suit was for sure fireproof; yet, you still felt heat emitted from the bare skin of Dabi’s naked torso. 

Seeing him face to face this close, you couldn’t help but tease your childhood friend a tad. “Fuck, you’re ugly. No wonder your dad didn’t remember you.” 

“This mouth of yours,” Dabi tsked, placing his index finger on your hot lips, “fucking needs to be shut.” 

He lifted the finger from your lips to point to the opposite side of the couch where a TV should be if there was one. Instead, there was a camcorder set up on a tripod, an ominous red dot blinking rhythmically. 

“It’s recording us,” Dabi said. “I’m gonna fuck you on it.” 

“Tsk, tsk. What happened to dates and dinners?”

His expression shifted dangerously. And you yelped, loud, when he suddenly snaked his hand around to unzip your suit from the back. 

“Touya, knock it off!” You swatted his hand. But too late, you already felt the suit loosen. 

“As I was saying,” Dabi continued, “I’m gonna film us fuck.” 

Heat crawled onto your back when he slipped his hand under the open suit and started to skim around. 

“But since I’m a generous man, I’m giving you two choices.” He tapped on your back once before saying, “Be a good girl and I’m keeping the footage”—he tapped twice—“or not, and I’m sending it to Endeavor’s office so he can see his favorite intern getting dicked up, down, six ways to Sunday by his eldest son.” 

His body heated up a little more; you knew it was from excitement. 

“Do you think you’ll still be his favorite after that? I don’t think so if you asked me.” 

You were… speechless.  

“Come on, am I really ugly?” He nudged his face against yours, which was so Touya of him. “I’ve heard people say I’m still hot, baby.” 

“Yeah, hot like the fire that burnt you this bad,” you countered.

He guffawed. “So, what will it be?” 

You thought about burning him, burning this whole place down, but your flame was no match for his. Having experienced what he could do firsthand on the battlefield, you would not withstand his flame—you would die. 

Contrary to his belief, you were not Endeavor’s favorite. That spot belonged to Shoto since the day he was born. Touya was just dumb and blinded by jealousy and prejudice to actually see it. You were nothing compared to Shoto—you and Touya were nothing compared to the half-hot half-cold prodigy. But Touya was not totally wrong, you still wanted to be his dad’s number 1, not wanting to disappoint the only man you considered a father figure.

But fuck if you didn’t hate Touya. “I’m not choosing shit.”

So he chose for you, tongue plunging down your throat while his cock drove in and out of your cunt. Standing in front of the camera, Touya stood behind you with his scarred arms around your midsection, forcing your whole body tight against him. Every short thrust made your breasts jiggle and eyes roll. The camcorder got it all—the visual, the sound. Even with Touya’s kiss shutting you up, you weren’t really silenced. And without it, you were loud. 

“Fuck baby, you like it that much?”

You would have closed your mouth if your hands weren’t stuck in his suffocating embrace. “Not—that good.”

Touya chuckled. “Yeah?”

He quickened the pace, and your brain almost shut itself down. 

“Stop,” you cried, legs starting to shake. That was when he really stopped. That dickhole.  

“This is what bad girls get.” He said, withdrawing his cock but still not releasing you from his clasp. When he walked back to the couch, he hauled you with him like a child hauling a big bag of toys to his secret lair. 

Guiding you to sit on him—again—you still faced the camcorder. 

“Dad, are you watching? Look at me. Am I doing good?” One of his hands mapped a path up to fondle your tits, switching left and right to pay his utmost attention into making you squirm out of your human seat. 

But he didn’t plan to let you go. His other free hand jerked his cock once, twice, before rubbing it on your still-wet pussy. No one was gonna believe you did not want this. Endeavor would not. 

“Have you fucked her yet? Do you want to?” He grinned against your temple. 

You swore out a soft ‘fuck’ when his cock eased its way in. It was burnt, too. Not as bad that it had to be patched up, but you could feel the bumpy texture against your moist walls.

“You know my dad is an abusive bastard, right? Fucking neglecting his own wife and children. He beat mom, too, have you heard? Did he have the guts to tell you that?” he said, tilting your head up so you could see him looking down at you. You were so hot he prayed his dad hadn’t touched you, he might never let him, too good of a pussy to share. 

“He’s not a good replacement for your scumbag of a father, trust me.” 

—

“I can do that, too,” you said from behind the bush you had been hiding, starling the boy you directed the sentence to. He jumped. You laughed. You had been watching him practice for almost half an hour. He looked sort of tired now. 

“Look,” you said before doing the same trick you saw him do, making a flame dance on one hand and moving it to the other hand like you were juggling a ball. 

He frowned, not looking very impressed, but didn’t take his eyes off you. 

That was the first day you met Touya—making friends with him—and after that, coming out to meet him almost every day. Soon after, you got to meet his family. Your eyes almost bugged out of their sockets when you saw who his dad was. 

The big man spared you only a glance when Touya first introduced you to him. The second glance, however, came after Touya said you had a fire quirk. 

Shoto was only two at the time, too young for his dad’s intensive training. 

Two years later, when Endeavor asked if you wanted to train with his youngest who had just turned four and you said yes, Touya didn’t talk to you for three days. On the fourth day, he didn’t let you in when you rang the doorbell. 

“Go away, dad thief.” 

But you didn’t want to. The Todoroki house was your paradise, the highlight of your day. Since Touya brought you to his home, you had been here everyday, spending your weekdays’ after-school time and whole days on weekends playing with the Todoroki siblings—Fuyumi, Natsuo and Touya himself if he wasn’t a bitch, complaining that his sister and brother hogged you all for themselves, and leaving dramatically to play alone, expecting you to follow. 

He was possessive like that. One time, he locked you in a room to only play with him. Rei—his mom—had to use a spare key to unlock the room and scolded her eldest. 

Now, the table had turned. Since your weekdays’ playtime had turned into training sessions, Touya was shunning you. 

“Go back to your shitty father,” he said through the crack of the side door before slamming it to your face. 

He played dirty mentioning your dad like that when he was the one who followed you to your ratty excuse of a home one day and saw your dad slap you on the face for no reason. It was a low blow since he was the one who interfered just before your dad used his fire quirk on you and your mother who was trying to shield you from the oncoming flame. Despite being the one who helped you that day, he used the fact that you had one of the worst dads a child could ever ask for to hurt you. You hated him so damn much for that. 

“Just you wait, Touya. One day, I’ll really steal him from you,” you said to the closed door, knowing he was still behind it. Tears were flowing down your face, but it was alright because Touya would not see them—because he would not open the door for you, and you resented him for it. 

How… wrong you were. 

“No.” 

Just when you walked back to the hand-me-down bicycle you got from the person you were most angry at at the moment—he was kind for that; you had to admit—you heard him before you heard the door open. Wiping the tears off your face, you turned to him and haughtily asked, “No what?” 

Touya didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto your shirt. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“That’s my dad on your shirt.” 

“I know.” You smirked. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Touya scrunched his nose, his hair that used to be red at the ends was now full white. Then all of a sudden, he jumped you. 

You shrieked. It must have been a jaw-dropping scene for a passerby if there had been one—two 12-year-old children grabbing each other’s hair on the floor, fighting with their little hands. 

“Get off me!!” you screamed, but Touya who successfully got on top of you just laughed maniacally. Looking back, he sounded a bit too psychotic for a child. 

He shouted into your ear, “Dad is mine! Dad is mine!” 

From the corner of your eyes, you saw someone’s feet. 

“Touya-nii! Stop!” It was Fuyumi. “Mom, help!” 

The hands in your hair didn’t relent one bit despite the call for an adult who was soon surely going to rip his ears off if he didn’t get off you, but he did quiet down. 

“You’re mine, too,” he said softly into the ear he was shouting into before. “Dad’s not home today. Let’s play. You and me, okay? No Fuyumi-chan and Natsuo-kun. Just you and me.” 

The next thing you knew, he was pulled off you by his mother. Touya didn’t shed a tear when Rei spanked him in the ass, asking why he did that to you. She told him to apologize. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You knew he wasn’t. But he sounded genuine enough Rei let him off with only a one-week-no-tv punishment.

—

To you, he had been… off since that day. Today, he was full-blown unhinged. 

Your legs were spread wide over his own open ones, basically preventing you from trying to close them and hide your fucked pussy from the camcorder. His hands were busy, one grasping at your waist for leverage while the other circling over your clit. You were all bare to the camera with Touya’s cock ramming in and out, concentration drifting like smoke in the wind, so close to coming. 

“Such a good cunt. I’ll fuck it everyday”—he panted—“come in it. You can count on me.” 

“Don’t—” 

“I’ll be a good boyfriend. Will never fucking stray,” he prattled on. “Won’t hit you. Won’t be like dad. You’ll see.” 

You tried to hold it, but the hand on your clit just didn’t stop, pushing you to the top and making your hips buck up uncontrollably Touya had to push you down so his dick didn’t slip out. You felt the throbbing when he spilled inside. The little shit really did it—he creamed your pussy. 

“Want a taste?” Touya proposed, his hands spreading and closing your pussy to see the white thick cream dripping out. 

“Don’t be disgusting.” 

“Bet you drink his cum just to please him.” 

“I never fucked your dad, you villain scum.” 

“Mmmm.” You turned your head just in time to see Touya licking his fingers clean. When he saw you look, the menace put his tongue out to show his own cum on it. You knew what he would do next without a word being said and tried to turn away, but Touya grabbed your cheeks, stilling you, then he squeezed to force your mouth open.

His tongue invaded, feeding you his cum, and ending with a kiss. He took his time, like he had a lot on his hands, making sure you swallowed every drop. 

“Not even sucking his dick?” He continued questioning you. 

“No, you sicko.” You felt your body temperature rising, quirk activating, but didn’t let the fire come out. 

“Bet you thought about it, dad thief.” 

“Bet YOU thought about it, obsessive patchy bitch.” 

He laughed with his whole chest, shaking your whole body with it. “Guess we both ain’t shit, baby.”

[starsomens]

hi star!!

thinking about a really sloppy make out session rn. Like just sitting on his lap grinding on him, him getting hard underneath you running his hands all over your body. Then just leading to the nastiest sex and just being such a good girl for him :((

A/N: OH MY ANON- (i tired my best muah!)

Warning: language, dirty talk, messy-ish sex, recording studio sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), WE ARE JUST DIVING RIGHT INTO IT!

You both had a day off finally! So of course it was spent cuddled in bed, sleeping in and some homemade breakfast, you were even able to get some chores done around the house! However, that also meant you were finding a lot of old stuff and misplaced things as well. Noah was currently in the top cupboard going through some old things that had been pushed to the back.

"Old pasta sauce?" his voice echoed in the wooden space

"Mmm what's the date?"

"Last month," he hands it to you for you to toss "uh...old chocolate bar still in the wrapper?"

"really? Let me see?" he comes out of the space and hands you the bar of chocolate still in mint condition

"What you gonna eat it?" he chuckled "What brand is it anyway?" he asks looking at the item with you

"I can't remember," you flip it around and see the label had instructions? You read them out loud "Split the chocolate in half with you partner, and allow up to 20 minutes to take effect-OH OKAY! I know what this is," you could FEEL the blush creeping already remembering what this was

"Hey wait what do you mean you know? What is it?" Noah said as he tried getting the candy back from you

"It's nothing!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa wait minute," he stops recalling what the label said "is it...sex chocolate? The one that gets you horny and shit?"

"NO!"

"so.....yes?" he smirks at you finally swiping the chocolate from your hands and unwrapping it

"Noooaaahhhh" you whine

"Come on babe, you act like we haven't done worst shit than this," he pulls out the 3 sets of split chocolate "remember why I got a video camera?" he wiggled his eyebrows at you

"That's different...." you pout

"sure it is babe. Here," he opens a set and breaks off his half and popped it in his mouth passing you yours, "say ah princess,"

You sigh while he holds the chocolate aphrodisiac, you slowly open your mouth and he gently slips the piece on to your tongue as he drags your lips down a bit

"Such a good girl" he teased with the signature grin of his.

"shut up," you giggle shaking your head "now come on we still have one more cupboard to go through"

about 30 minutes later you in fact did not move to the next cupboard. It started with Noah taking his shirt off because he was feeling hot, which only made you stare at his back more. Those tattoos....and wide shoulders...and those arms.....

When he had caught you he stepped closer to you. He was practically looming over you with a deep and hungry stare. One that burned into your soul. His hand ghosts over your stomach and up between your breasts and to your neck. Sending a deep shiver down you spine that ended as a dull ache in your very core. He hoists you on to the counter and slots himself between your legs. His lips were fierce and hungry against yours as his hands claw at your to bring you impossibly closer.

It felt like you were hot and cold at the same time, you were anxious and impatient and you just NEEDED him. Luckily for Noah you were wearing an old tank top...old and flimsy enough for him to see your nipples peak when it got cold, and old enough for him to... *riiiiipp*

You breasts feel free from the cloth as it falls on to the counter

"No bra? Were you planning to get fucked princess?" His large hand cupped one of your breasts and took your nipple into his mouth.

"Mmm Noah," you shudder as he lets go with a pop

"tell me what you want...what you need pretty girl," he voice was low and deep. His pupils were blown and deep and with pure lust. Like a predator that had finally cornered it's pray. Noah lift you from the counter and carries you over to the sofa. His lips crashing down on yours with me and fever. First, he was doubting that that chocolate had even worked, but now he felt like he was ready to take you over and over again in every part of the house.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip as it slips inside your mouth. Your tongues dance around in an erotic kiss. While his hands were busy, stripping you of your bottoms. He can feel his cock straining against his pants. The more he tasted you the more he wanted to taste and feel. And then need to fuck you senseless only piled on itself.

"need you Noah...so fucking bad...please," which each gap between your mouths you get out exactly what you wanted from him

"need little slut...need me deep in that pussy huh?" he teased, his lips moving to your ear to nibble it just a bit making a shaky breath escape from your lips. One of his favorite things to hear

"p-please..." oh and the begging how he loved it. Thank god he was only wearing his shorts, pushing them down and positioning himself between your legs. His fingers coming down to feel the wetness of your core. You were more slick than usual

"fuck you're so wet," he growls lowly, his middle and ring finger coated in your juices as he brings it back up to his mouth and licked it off his fingers. You couldn't help the deep blush that floods your cheeks as you watch him.

"alright pretty girl, keep those eyes on me...." he hoists your legs on to his shoulders, his lips kiss your left calf. A playful yet sly grin decorated his face as he rubs the tip of his cock up and down your slit, and god you needed him so badly. His eyes bore into yours as he finally positions himself and slowly pushes himself in , inch by inch. You feel that wonderful stretch and full feeling and you were already seeing stars. He pushes all the way in until the hilt with a deep groan as he watches your mouth fall open in pleasure.

"Fuck! So fucking..." he pulls out just a bit and thrusts back in "tight! Damn princess" he picks up a steady rhythm as he starts to steadily fuck you. You usually lasted so much longer but you already felt like you were going to cum, you eyes were dazed and unfocused, completely engulfed in the sensation of pleasure.

"F-fuck Noah...right there," you pant as he leans his weight down on your legs slightly to get in deeper

"here princess? Like it nice and deep huh?" he smirks as he starts to move his hips harder, faster and deeper

"Oh fuck! Y-yes!" you nails start to claw at his arms feeling that knot starting form in the pit of your stomach

"pussy so tight...and wet just for me..." he pants "Good fucking girl....taking my dick so good..." you could feel his cock starting to pound you to the verge of your orgasm

"N-noah...Noah! Oh god~"

"Gonna cum already? Gonna cum on this dick baby?"

"Y-Yea--oh fuck!"

"Cum....cum for me princess," his next 3 thrusts were enough to push you off the edge and finally cum around his cock. The chocolate completely enhancing your orgasm, as you tighten around his cock, your juices coating him. He keeps moving in and out at a slower pace. The sound of your cum as he thrusts into you filling in the silence of the home

"holy shit babe..... came so much just for me, like a good little slut....my good little slut," he sits back on his heels as he spreads your legs and watches as you drip down on to the couch, coating the entire length of his cock. He watches as his cock pumps in and out of your pussy. "look at that...taking it so fucking good...how about another baby? Gonna fill this pussy up so good,"

His grunts and groans only become deeper as he picks up his pace again. Your walls clenching around him, still sensitive from the last orgasm. Your continuous whines were filled with pleasure and ecstasy as your eyes roll back and your head falls limp. Completely lost in the pleasure, feeling every aching inch that he pumped into you.

"Fuck look at that....so fucking-ugh...."he huffs as he watches intently feeling himself edging closer and closer "Tell me where baby...where do you want it?"

"I-inside please...please Noah fuck!"

"Cum for me again baby.....gonna fill up this pussy....just cum for me again..."

You could feel him twitch inside, as he the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room. He starts to moan as he comes closer and closer.

"Com-coming! FUCK!," he hips give sloppy but strong pumps as he empties himself inside of you, he cock still pumping in and out, fucking his cum deeper into you. You cum again around his cock, your essence mixing with his, flooding on to you and him and the couch below

"Fuck! take it!...t-take it!" he growls as his thrusts slow down as he rides out both of your highs. His hips come to a halt, his body coming down to collapse on top of yours. The room was filled with your pants as you tried to catch your breath be very intense sex that just occurred. One thing was for sure you need to wash the couch before you have anyone come over, or before you even sit on it again as Noah’s head rests on your collarbone, he says between breaths.

“We…need….to buy…..more those….”

“More?” You ask in a half chuckle now believing what you had just heard. You still had another two sets that you could use and he was already thinking about buying more. “You.,.are something else” 

“You’re the one who bought them,” he answers with a chuckle as he kisses the skin of your shoulder. Making a mental note to find any local stores with the same or similar chocolate.

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @vir-tually @tdopomymind @concretenoah @yourfavragingbisexual @calleyx13 @misspygmypie @lust-for-sacher @lolitasangel @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @lma1986 @alloraiona @daylightlvrs @millie-aubs @alittleblackmagic @cookiesupplier @sprokat @rafeyybabyy @foliosriot @foliosgirl

[moongumi]

I love the idea of a perv ghost or graves. like stealing underwear and shit but the reader is into that 🤤

a/n: why not both ehe, grave's a little different i didn't want it to be so similar to ghosts'

not proofread!

↳ ⁀➷ ∵  ❝they like your drawers❞

∵ GHOST ∵

It wasn't uncommon for you to lose your drawers, you often did your laundry in big loads at the end of the week and sometimes they just go missing. But it was that last time, it irked you.

You walk into the laundry room after a long day of doing paperwork, the boring stuff to get your clothes from the dryer. on base the entire building would share the laundry room so it wasn't uncommon to run into different people, you didn't really expect to run into the LT though.

"Sir." You say, walking past him on his way out. He replies to you with a brisk nod. Then when you look at the machine you were using it was slightly open, what the hell?

You got your items, folding your uniform and pyjamas to find all your underwear missing. You groan, rolling your eyes. It couldn't have been him, right? Why the hell would he want—unless he fancied you but...it's Ghost, he wouldn't—well he might actually.

You're only annoyed because you're running out of panties.

The next time you run into him in the laundry room again but this time you're sat right in front of the laundry machine, waiting for the wash to finish to move your clothes to the dryer. You came later than usual, the time you tend to finish doing laundry to try to catch the culprit and well, Ghost stands there frozen as if he wasn't expecting you here.

"Evening, LT."

Ghost grumbles, but responds. "Sergeant."

"Doing laundry?" You ask, looking down at his empty hands with your brows raised. It was obvious now that it was him. Even with his mask and unreadable posture you can just tell.

You stand up leaning against the laundry machine as you unload your wet clothes into the dryer waiting for his response.

He only huffs, muttering to himself incoherently.

You finish your task and take leave your basket a top the dryer, it would take about an hour and half to finish the drying so you were going to leave, do something else while you wait.

You made sure to bump into Ghost on your way out, apologising insincerely, "Sorry, Sir. I should be more careful."

He doesn't say a thing, taking your impact like a tank. You don't see the way he lets out a massive sigh of relief not being caught, or so he thought. When you're gone he felt a bulge in his pants—not the usual bulge but something in the pocket of his cargos.

He reaches in with his bone painted gloves, ragging out a handful of unwashed underwear. He gulps, looking at them. He can't help the way his cock twitches at them, usually he gets them washed—dried but...these were fresh. He can't help but imagine how he was going to fuck his own fists with your panties buried in it. There is a handful of them, he was definitely going to pretend to eat you out with the fabric on his face later.

∵ GRAVES ∵

Your commander is annoying, he talks too much and can't keep his opinions to himself.

It was when you were leant over in the cockpit looking over at the pilot's dashboard. You look behind you, "We're approaching five klicks from target, Commander!"

It's the look on his face, the way he probably didn't even hear you. He's just looking at you with that shit-eating grin on his face. "You wear a thong to work, Lieutenant?" He smirks, looking back at his shadows shamelessly. "Boys, LT. wears the cutest little thong under her uniform."

Your eye practically twitch. Under your mask you sneer with annoyance as he laughs along with the team. You stand, walking back towards the cabin. "Anyone that laughs, I'll make sure doesn't come back alive." After all, you were above all their ranks but Graves.

They all shut up almost immediately, watching the way you glare daggers into Graves as you sat down. Graves lets you order the boys around, scare 'em. It's good practice.

He still smiles, that little shit. He takes his helmet off and sits down right next to you, purposely right up against the side of your body and hits your leg with his teasingly.

"Got anymore of 'em?" He whispers, his head bumping into yours.

You grunt, crossing your arms. "Shut up."

"You never wear 'em for me."

You scoff, looking him in those pretty eyes of his. "Cause, you don't deserve my nice underwear. I only wear 'em for special occasions."

"Who the fuck are ya wearin' em for then?" He's got a stitch in his brow. You like pissing him off, like pissing off a chihuahua but this dog bites pretty damn hard.

You lean towards him, bumping your forehead against the side of his head. "Who knows, maybe the captain of that team you hate so much."

"Don't you fuckin'—"

You stand to interrupt him, you can feel him seething next to you. "Let's go shadows! Let's take this fuckin' place."

During the mission you can hear how irritated Graves seemed and especially when he stands with you by his side giving Task Force 141 some respect after completing the mission with them. He keeps looking at you from the corner of his eyes as if daring to you fuckin' say something right now to the Captain.

You stand there popping your hip with your hand against the end of your rifle as it acts as a support, you turn your head pretending to make eyes at the Captain and overly nodding. "It was nice serving by your side, Captain."

You can hear Grave's kiss his tongue over his teeth. When you see him from the corner of your eyes his jaw was tight, clenching.

When the Captain gives you his regards, a flirty smile and a nod with his hat you beamed, more at the thought of how mad Graves probably was. It's when you stand and wave towards their squad that you feel Graves coming up to your side, his hand rolling up your hip before he grips it tightly.

You can feel his fingers looking for something, but he can't seem to find it. His brows furrow. Your hand comes up beside him, dropping his prize into his hand. "You wanted it right?"

You smile under the mask pushing off him. He holds it in his hand and you think you can see his cheeks redden. But then he notices you're walking away from him. "Where the fuck are you going?"

"To show that Captain how good my ass looks without 'em on." You point to the panties in Graves' hand and you swear you can see steam coming out of his ears.

He practically chases you down, grabbing you by your belt and holding you against him. You could feel it, pressing against your hip.

"You like making me jealous, don't you?"

"I like seeing you possessive, Sir, " You remark before nodding towards the panties still in his grip. "I'll need those back."

"Nah, they're mine now." He brings it up to his face, pressing his lips against them. "You can ride on the helo back without 'em. maybe instead my hands between your legs, hm?

[moldychefboyardeecan]

Maybe I Do Like You..Part 2

a/n: I've never really had to tag 18+ for any of my fics, since i usually imply intimacy, but this one.. oh dear! I need to!

warning for bdsm,tying, cock pounding, penetration, both penile and fingers, oral (recieving), female overstimulation, doffy.

If you aren't comfortable with sex, but still like Doffy, part one is 16+ , and the next parts are more domestic and fluffy, with the occasional flirt and sauce.

AO3 Work Link

if you keep going after the cut, that's all you, boo.

tag list(currently): @physics-of-one-piece

please let me know if youd like to be tagged for this doffy saga :)

extra: i am bi, but with a heavy prefrence for women. I have a girlfriend, weve had sex. I know nothing about dicks, except for what i learn in anatomy and biology, and what i read in smut. so please forgive me for any inconsistencies.

credits to @anitalenia for this divider ^^

You gave in. You wore the damn necklace. It looked good, okay? Fucking shiny as hell. But still, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. Talking with your sister last night left you all over the place. Yeah, you admitted it—Doflamingo’s hot. But that’s it, right?

Nah, don’t get caught up in it. Your sister dared you to wear this stupid necklace, and you were going to prove her wrong. You weren’t that dumb. Just because he's some power-hungry king doesn’t mean you’re into him. Hell no. The guy probably has more important shit to deal with than a seamstress. You? You were just another job to him.

The day went by just fine—pretty uneventful, honestly. You cranked through the orders, all the shit Doflamingo dumped on you. Typical. Finally, though, you had a moment to breathe. You shut the blinds on the windows like you were in a damn panic room. You’d had enough of his bullshit for one day.

Time for a real lunch, not that stupid baloney sandwich shit you always settle for. You made arroz y frijoles—nothing fancy, but it was a real meal. You cranked up the speaker, letting some random tunes take over. A little peace before the storm… or whatever the hell Doflamingo would bring next.

The small efficiency kitchen was alive, full of flavor and chaos. The energy was flowing like wine, and you felt like you were on another plane of existence. You almost blew the damn kitchen up by letting the pressure cooker hiss a little too long, but what’s the pain in a little accidental rush, right? Oh, a lot. Actually, a whole lot. You yelped and dropped the lid on the floor.

CLANG!

“Great. Just great. “...

You snapped out of it, muttering under your breath as you picked the lid up. So much for a peaceful moment. You cleaned up the mess half-assed, grumbling, cursing your luck. And of course, just as you're about to finally eat, the goddamn bell rings.

The store door opens.

Fuck.

You couldn't even finish a damn meal in peace. Not only was your lunch mocking you now, but you had to go back to dealing with whatever the hell was about to walk through that door. You knew damn well who it was without even having to look.

You open the back door and walk back to the counter, the smell of your food trailing behind you.

“Fufufufu, cooking something, cariño?”

“I was,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way his voice sends a shiver down your spine. Of course, it had to be him. You glance up, and there he is—Doflamingo, all smug, towering over your counter like he owns the place, and looking way too pleased with himself.

You don’t even need to ask why he’s here—he’s already got that damn smirk plastered on his face, like he’s about to have you on a string again. “Seems like I interrupted something,” he purrs, taking a slow step forward, his presence pressing into you like a weight you couldn't shake off.

You force a smile, but it’s weak. “It’s nothing. Just trying to have a peaceful moment... you know, for once.”

His eyes glitter with that familiar dangerous gleam, and before you can stop him, his hand glides over the counter, his fingers are brushing your wrist, pulling you closer. “You’re too good to be just a seamstress, hermosa. Maybe you should let me take you out sometime. You look too good to be stuck in here, cooking for yourself.” Thank god that counter was cock-blocking him.

You almost choked on your own spit when he said that, freeing your hands. While pounding on your chest like a damn gorilla to get it out, he noticed the necklace. His eyes locked onto it immediately, and the smirk on his face only grew wider. His gaze flicked up to yours, then back to the pendant, before he slowly licked his lips.

“Fufufufu,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect his attention was having on you. “So, you did wear it.” His voice dropped an octave, his usual teasing replaced with something else, something primal. “I must say, you look even better wearing it than I imagined.”

“Thank my sister. I told her about it and she dared me.”

“Telling people about me now, huh?”

The moment you blinked, he was behind the counter.

Your breath hitched as you felt the shift in space, the sheer heat of him closing in behind you. You could feel it, the way his body radiated warmth, how the air itself grew thick with the weight of him standing so close.

His fingers brushed your waist, featherlight, like he was testing something. “You wore it.” His voice was low, rich—so fucking smug. Your body tensed as he leaned in, his chest barely grazing your back. The warmth of his breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. “Mmm. Looks even better on you than I imagined.”

His scent invaded your senses, rich, intoxicating—something dangerously sweet mixed with raw power. You swallowed hard, gripping the counter to ground yourself. His hand, large and deliberate, traced slow circles against your hip, barely there, teasing.

 “But I am serious. I wouldn't mind taking you out, or even..” his lips a whisper against your ear. He pressed into you, the vibrations of his chest massaged against your own, sending a jolt of heat and slight pleasure through you. 

“..eat you out.”

Heart racing as his words hung in the air, sending a rush of heat straight to your core. You should be angry—hell, you were angry—but all you could focus on was how his body was so close to yours, how his presence seemed to swallow you whole. 

 “You’re insane,” you muttered, but the way your voice trembled betrayed you, giving away just how much his proximity was getting to you. And it was, for sure. 

“Mami, is that a no?” His voice was smooth, every word dripping with amusement. “I like hearing it directly, you do understand…”

He did the same thing again,this time,  leaning in so close you could practically feel his lips brushing your ear. “...right?”

His laugh echoed in your head, sending a hue of heat rushing to your face. Your core tensed up, already throbbing with need, and you hated how easy it was for him to have this effect on you. Just him being him was enough to unravel you, and he hadn't even used his damn strings yet.

But you felt it—his presence was like an invisible thread, pulling you in, slowly wrapping around you until you could barely breathe.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice a velvet promise against your skin, “I can tie you up in knots without even touching you, cariño. But you’re already so tangled up in me… aren’t you?”

Your stomach flipped at his words, and you hated how true they felt. You were tangled up in him. Every word from his lips, every brush of his body was pushing you further into this mess, but you couldn’t back out. Not now. 

And, honestly? You didn't want to get out. Hell, you were into this shit. But you aren't going to let him win that easily.

“Fuck off,” you muttered, trying to shove him back, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist in the grip of his string. It tightened just enough to make you gasp, pulling you closer until you couldn’t move. His lips brushed your ear once more, and this time, the pressure of his chest against your back felt like a weight you couldn’t escape.

“I think you’ve waited long enough,” he whispered, his voice dark with satisfaction. His invisible strings tightened around you, locking you in place, and with every breath you took, you could feel the pull—the tension mounting. “You’re mine, cariño. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

His grip on your wrist tightened, and you could feel the invisible thread pulling you closer, making your heart race. “You can fight it all you want, but you’re already falling for me, aren’t you?” His voice was a low growl in your ear, and when he leaned in, his lips brushed your neck just enough to make you shiver. “No,bella. I think you already fell, no? Say it, cariño. Say you want this.” He goes down and licks your earlobe, his tongue so gentle you couldn't help but let out a soft moan,his face full with pride..and lust. He chuckled and kissed your lips. “I need an answer..and you've been doing so good.I promise you, I’ll take you out, and I'll treat you so damn well you'd think you're a doll.”

You tensed so nicely for him, the food you cooked earlier seemed disgusting compared to what he was offering you. His fingers ghosted over your skin, and every part of you seemed to come alive with just the slightest of movements. You were so aware of him now, your senses overloaded with the heat of his body, the scent of him, the way his breath made your skin tingle. All those thoughts of keeping control were slipping away, drowned by the undeniable hunger in your body.

“Yo tengo hambre para algo más que comida, mami. Y creo que tú podrías darme lo que quiero.” You mewled at his words, This tango was getting more heated as he let your wrists go from the strings, letting you move your arms with ease. Your gaze locked with his, the intensity in his eyes daring you to make the first move. But he wasn’t waiting.

Before you could make a sound, he slammed you against him, his lips crashing onto yours with an overwhelming force. The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was a claim, a mark of possession. His hand shot to your waist, pulling you flush against him like you were nothing but his to control, his strength making you feel weightless.

He didn’t just kiss you. He took you. The pressure of his body, the firmness of his grip—it was all-consuming. He guided you, his movements sharp and commanding as he deepened the kiss, forcing your lips to match the intensity of his. Every movement he made had a purpose, and you were nothing but an object for him to use. His dominance was felt in every inch of his touch, the way his arms circled you, pulling you closer, locking you to him.

Your body betrayed you, melting under the force of his kiss, your hands moving instinctively to his chest, trying to steady yourself. But Doflamingo wasn’t about to let you take control. He tugged your arms away, pinning them behind your back with a string, forcing you to feel every bit of his strength and power. His lips broke away from yours, leaving you breathless and vulnerable.

“I told you, you’re mine, mami,” he growled against your neck, his voice a dark, possessive rumble. “You don’t get to make the rules here. I do. You're in Dressrosa, and I am king. You got that?”

“What’s it gonna be, hermosa?” His thumb traced your bottom lip slowly, like he was savoring the moment. “Say it, or I’ll make you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the fire of his words burn in your chest. You couldn’t deny the pull he had on you, the overwhelming desire to submit to him. Slowly, you parted your lips, your voice shaky but obedient.

“..yes,” you whispered.

“Yes, what?”

“yes..please.”

He smirked, pleased with your submission. “Good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours once again, this time with the promise of everything he was about to make you feel.

He turned you around and walked you to the back door, which led to your efficiency, your house, your room. 

“Dime, muñeca,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, “how do you want me to take care of you?” Nice and slow, making you beg on your knees for your own pleasure, or..” His other hand, the one not torturing your hip, trailed up your arm—slow, intentional, tracing the curve of your shoulder before curling around the necklace at your throat. He tugged—‌‌ enough for you to feel the weight of it, of him. “Hard and rough, making you scream?” 

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He chuckled against your skin, his grip on the necklace tightening slightly. “Mami, you don’t have to say it. I already know.”

With that, you opened the back door, his hand tight on your arm as you passed the kitchen, the now cold meal catching his eyes. “Fufufu, qué lo qué, mami? You made that for me?”

“Oh shut up.” you remarked, his demeanor not changing one bit, but instead, intensifying. 

“Being defiant now, are we?” he laughed as you pace into your room. “Dont worry, mi amor, I’ll take care of that little attitude when i'm done with you.”

Your room was a chaotic mess of fabric scraps, half-finished projects, and laundry you swore you’d put away two days ago. His sharp gaze flickered over the clutter, amusement clear in his smirk.

“Fufufu, coño, mami,” he drawled, stepping over a pile of thread spools, “you live like this?”

You scowled, shoving a stack of papers off your bed. “Shut up.”

He ‌chuckled, far too pleased with himself as he leaned against your dresser, letting you go,arms crossed. “Messy girl. Should’ve known.”

He gets up, from the dresser, and pushes you onto your bed, gripping your breast and massaging it, so rough that it hurts. You want more. You hold back a moan as he massages through your shirt, pressing his knee against your pants, pushing against your clit. You couldnt hold the moan in as you were already begging for more. He hasn't even started. Instead, he stops, gets up, grabs your torso, and pulls your shirt off, revealing your laced bra. He loved it.

“Hermosa, did you doll yourself up like that to show me?” He placed a hand on your stomach and teased up to the strap of your bra, while his other hand was teasing your panties. “I wonder if they match..” Both hands are teasing each side of your body, tracing your curves as if he was cutting out your silhouette, His touch fueling your soaked core. His hands instead, didnt take off your pants, but dug into them, into your panties, his fingers not even reaching your center, but instead swiped a sample of your need, and brought it to his lips, tasting it. 

“Que rico.” He didnt say anything else, only took off your pants and saw your panties.

They were matching.

He chuckled. “Que linda, mami. Matching just for me.” He got his fingers and rubbed your clothed pussy, your panties soaked. You yelped, holding back further. He noticed, and he tied your wrists, one to each of the top corners of your bed. 

“Don’t fight me, I told you, I’ll make you scream.”

With that you let loose, He smiled, climbing back on to you, and massaging your breasts. You were already over the moon with his voice, and now you were crying. His touch felt phenomenal, touching and gripping your breasts like the doll he promised. You were in too deep, wailing for him to touch you there, licking your stomach and going under your bra, teasing your already hard nipples. One of his hands trailed down to your panties again and rubbed your  clit, making you whimper and wail for him even more.

“Good girl, coma una muñeca linda, you listen. Don’t worry. I promised I’ll take care of you.” He licked your panties, tasting your soaked pleasure before taking them off, and tying your legs down after. He kept one hand on your bra, one on your clit, rubbing it so soft and nicely, while his tongue was cleaning up your mess. 

You gasped, your voice trembling as you tried to speak, "F-fuck..I’m close doff-". Your words trailed off into a soft moan, and he grinned, mistaking your pause for a term of endearment. His deep chuckle filled the room, a sound that was both comforting and unsettling. "Mi amor, you can call me Doffy, don't use my full name. It's not fitting anymore. But then again.." he mused, his voice tinged with amusement. "When were you ever one for propriety?"

He took his hand off of your clit and moved his tongue to it. “I’ll let you cum, mi amor, make sure you scream nice and loud for me.” He started moving his tongue in circles, before going directly on in, moving his tongue back and forth, while that previous hand that was on your clit goes in you now, making you scream. You were so close, feeling him pleasure all your senses, and your breaking point was when he curled his fingers in, his big fingers hitting your spot just right. 

“Louder.” He started sucking on your clit, while his tongue was still dancing on it. “I want the cops to come after you do.”

You complied, with tears streaming down your face as you screamed his name. It was too much, but it was so good. You peaked, and he felt your spasm on his fingers, and the blood rush on his hands. Holy shit. You didn't even see him anymore. You only saw stars. He didnt stop, only sped up. 

“Mami, give me a second round, I want you to be ready for me.” You meweled and screamed, with pain and pleasure. Everything was so heightened. You couldnt focus on anything else, just his touch.It was so easy for him to make you cum again, your energy already draining, and losing feeling in your limbs. He pulled his fingers out, your core already missing his touch. He shoved them into your mouth, making you gag and taste your pleasure.

Your body spasming with pleasure, draining more of your energy, made him so glad. He took off his pants,The friction of just taking off his pants against his sensitive cock made him shiver. He was big. 12 inches, at least. You had no idea how you would handle all of him. 

“Dejame mostrarte, bella. Como yo te amo.” He shoved himself in you, his moan making you even wetter. His tip was just the beginning. You started whimpering again, his cock so big it teased you as well. It was electric. He kept one hand on your thigh, rubbing it back and forth, and circled your clit with his other one. His tip against your walls felt amazing, and there was still more to come. He started getting in you deeper, feeling his shaft starting to enter you. He was thick, stretching you while he entered, the pain mixing with pleasure again. He started thrusting himself in and out, with each time he re enters, more of him fills you. Both of you start screaming with pleasure, and seeing him fall apart made you love it even more. The sounds filled the room, until he was fully into you. He didn't hold back, thrusting in and out so fast, you were spasming and shaking, quivering and screaming. You already came, but for a big man like him, he needed more. “Shhhh, querida. I’m going to take care of myself too, y'know?” He whimpered louder and louder, until he became undone, his body falling onto yours crushing you. The weight was comforting, bringing you back down to earth after you were out of this world struck with pleasure. With him knocking out, you followed, feeling the effects of his devil fruit letting you free. Before you fell into him, you muttered and kissed his chest.

“Maybe I do like you too.”

okay, one down..next is parent!mihawk & cross guild dynamics

[kireilien]

test out. 

pair. gf!yunjin x fem!reader; wc. 531

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing, intentional lowercase, not proofread, drug use; soft dom!yunjin, sub!reader, race neutral reader, weed use, both yunjin and reader are high but are still coherent!!!, both first times with edibles, hickeys, half-clothed/half-naked reader, yunjin has a tongue piercing, hair pulling, oral (reader receiving), cunnilingus, dry humping-ish ending, use of “jen,” and “love”

note. a req for my “irl” “c” miss u ml!!! also remember, drugs aren’t for everyone! you’re not missing out on anything, do drugs safely! don’t be ever pressured to smoke it if you don’t want to. this is also in no way me defaming yunjin’s reputation, this is fiction! 

“c’mon love, why don’t we test it out?” yunjin questions, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, wrapping her arms around you. you pause and look at her, then looking down at the brownies in your hands. this was such a bad idea. trying edibles with your girlfriend is bound to get insane. 

you murmur under your breath, “this is gonna go bad, jen.”

she giggles, “no it won’t, you’re being dramatic, y/n.” 

but explain how you ended up on the couch in your shared apartment with yunjin leaving spit-covered hickeys on your neck and collarbones? you can explain, but you’d rather pay more attention to yunjin. 

your girlfriend giggles as she makes it down your body, slithering hands down your shorts and panties to bring your lower half bare for her. “so. fucking. wet.” she simpers as she spreads your legs to place a small kiss on your bare cunt. cold lips to your hot clit was definitely a different experience when high on a stupid edible.

“shut up. just eat me out already.” you slur on your words as yunjin rolls her eyes. whatever her girlfriend wants, her girlfriend gets. 

the sudden cool barbell sets a shiver up your spine.

shit. 

you forgot about that damn piercing jen got a few months ago. you’ve been avoiding any intimacy to let it heal, but damn. she got you good. no wonder she wanted to eat the edible so bad. she wanted to fuck you with it; while high.

the piercing slides down and up against your folds, a new sensation that you could definitely get the hang of. your fingers slowly find their way on yunjin’s scalp, tugging at the roots to grind down on her face. your hazy eyes lock onto her reciprocating ones. this was so hot. 

yunjin impossibly digs her knees even more down into the floor than they already were. your whimpers and small gasps have her going insane. just the way your wetness covers the piercing, how it reaches places and crevices you’ve never thought you could feel. the way you’re shifting deeper in the coach, fiending for even more. she notices the small shakes your body was emitting. realizing you’re cumming quicker than usual. 

“you cumming, love?” yunjin sighs betweens kisses on your labia. choking out a response, “yeah– ‘m close– oh fuck– jen–!” you squirm against her face, feeling that familiar edge of your orgasm.

in a few more licks and kisses, you cum over yunjin’s face. yunjin laps at your cunt making sure she got every last drop. she licks her lips and comes up to kiss your lips to taste yourself. 

“you liked that too much. the piercing and the edible,” you mutter grabbing her arm to sit beside you. “you liked it even more,” yunjin snickers, shifting herself to lay down.

you exhale from your nose before raising yourself up to sit on her lap, “the edible won’t wear off until a few more hours. have any ideas?” 

yunjin smirks, holding onto your hips to grind you down on the rough fabric of her jeans, emitting a deep moan from your throat, “i got something we could test out.”

© KIREILIEN 2025 | please like, repost, and/or comment! ♡︎

[shyamanuensis]

The Hit List - HL Smut.

Yep - we're going there. MC (Katie Greene) needs to let laid to get off some stress and steam and there's an unhealthy amount of young horny wizards around the castle a little too eager to help her out. Unhinged and unplanned. Enjoy xo

Girls in the courtyard – Katie’s POV

“You need to get fucking laid.”

The corner of the Transfiguration courtyard we’re huddled in goes silent. Not like when you’ve made a bad joke silent – no this is the kind of silence where everyone falls into agreeance with what’s just been said, and you’ve got no smartass response ready in your arsenal to try and save yourself. There’s a knowing glance exchanged amongst the girls huddled around me and by the smirk I notice on Imelda’s face, it’s clear that she meant what she said ‘literally’.

“I don’t. I’m just stressed with exams – that’s all.”

I feel the burn pierce through me brought on by Poppy and Natty rolling their eyes. My skin is hot – like a fever I just can’t sweat out. The smirks on their faces grow to mimic the expression Imelda’s still sporting and the only option my body has to retaliate is to sigh. As I’m chewing the inside of my cheek to buy my brain a half minute to fully take in what the rest of them are all thinking, Samantha pipes up with a question.

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“Probably never. There are first years I know who get more action than Katie does.” Imelda’s words aren’t far from the truth, but I’ll be damned it I let her be right about this too. How did we even get to having this conversation you might ask? Typical school yard girl gossip. I literally just brought up the fact that I was stressed having learnt my grades had slipped in divination and the girls – as always, have to turn everything into something sexual. It seems impossible to go a day without an innuendo now that we’re in seventh-year. Looking back – the first-year versions of ourselves were abhorrently innocent and uncorrupted.

“I could get laid if I wanted to.” “Then do it.”

My retort is met with a challenge what Imelda just won’t let up on.

“But..” “But you don’t know where to start.”

I want to slap the smirk straight off her face but she’s quick, and again – has a point.

“So start small..”, Natty shrugs. For the most modest dressed girl in school her colourful sex life is a real juxtaposition of what I’m used to. “Yeah – start small”, Poppy agrees, “Just find someone to kiss - a little heavy petting. Then give a hand job to. Then blow. Then you know… make a hit list.”

A hit list? God no.

“Yeah – a hit list. Fuck Poppy, so smart girl - I could kiss you.” Imelda wraps her arms around the shorter Hufflepuff and teasingly pretends to move in for a snog. “Pick 5 guys and work your way up from kissing to fucking.”

The idea is absolutely insane.

“And where am I going to find 5 guys to agree to this?” “Um hello… the castles a walking cesspool pack of needy horny wizards who would do just about anything to get with a virgin..”

Kicking my shoes at the ground, wanting to dig a hole big enough to swallow me; I reluctantly agree. Having sex before graduation wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. I look around at Imelda, Natty, Poppy and Samantha who are eagerly awaiting an answer from me.

“…fine. If it helps with reducing stress, I’ll make a hit list.” “That’s a girl”, Samantha growls with a wink before spanking me. “…babies first hit list.”

“So… kiss, heavy petting, hand job, blow job, full deal…”, Poppy lists, “Who’s first on your list?”

“Um…”, I murmur to myself and bite my lip. “I’m thinking…”

Boys by the quidditch pitch – Garreth’s POV

“KATIE GREENE’S GETTING FUCKING LAAAAIIIIDDD!”

The announcement comes out a little too excited but I can tell by the looks on everyone’s face it was the last thing they expected to hear from me.

“What? By who?”

I scoff and shove Leander out of the way so that I can join the circle the boys have made and run my hand through my hair while wearing shit eating grin; self-righteous on the news I’ve just managed to overhear.

“Fuck off – there’s no way she’s sleeping with you.”

Sebastian’s words are quick to fire out and I place a hand over my heart, dramatically weeping as I drag a fake tear from my eye.

“And you think you’re a better option Sallow.” “Well clearly!”

The clear hype and excitement that’s followed my revelation is instantly wiped out the moment Ominis throws his two cents in.

“First off – she’s a lady. Secondly – how do you even know this?” “She mentioned it in the transfig courtyard...” “You mean you were eavesdropping?” “Look Gaunt - the girls were having pretty open conversation.” “You’re a lascivious fool.”

He has a point. I mean, if it’s got legs and it’s willing….

“Rewind here”, Everett snaps, fingers winding in a circle before he points them to shoot straight at me. “Katie Greene – The Katie Greene… wants to get laid.” “She’s making a hit list.”

The last two words I say are enough start the ruckus back up.

“Fuck me”, Sebastian chokes out, “Never thought I’d live to see the day she willingly became a little minx.” “Wait.. what’s a hit list involve?”

We turn to stare blankly at Leander who’s clearly behind in the conversation.

“Kiss, heavy petting, hand job, blow job, full finale!”

My clarification on the term seems to have turned his brain to mush.

“But this is the best bit”, I add, straightening my posture in front of the lads, “… she doesn’t know that we know. So – we could have a little fun influencing this.”

When the realisation hits the lot of them; there’s a self-ego stroke that grips onto us all just right.

Rosie Greene – just wait and see what we’ve all got install for you.

[peqchsoup]

could you maybe write a q x shy!reader story? it can be fluff or smut i just feel like his dynamic would be so cute w a shy girl

Quiet Eyes | Q x Shy!Reader

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK A MONTH AND A HALF I HAD A MENTAL BREAKDOWN BUT IM BACK

anyway, enjoy some Q fluff on this fine mid-march afternoon. I'm gonna continue working through all of my reqs!

I hope I did shy reader justice

It had been around three weeks since you started as the new sound tech on the set of Impractical Jokers. You were the one in charge of making sure members of the public could be heard on the show when the jokers were interacting with them. Because of that, you constantly had headphones either over your ears to listen in while shooting, or around your neck when nothing was being filmed.

Even though you had been on the show for a short time, you were quickly becoming friends with a lot of the crew. Jason in makeup had quickly adopted you as his work bestie, the two of you clicking instantly when you first spoke. You had a lot of things in common, especially your love for LGBTQ+ advocates and icons throughout history, and the fact that he found you adorable.

On the Friday of your second week, Jason invited you out for drinks with some of the other crew members so you could get to know them and be ‘officially initiated’ as he put it. You weren’t certain at the idea, being quite a shy person who had always kept to herself, but you told yourself before starting this job that you were going to be more out there and push outside of your comfort zone. So, you agreed. That was your first mistake. 

The second mistake came at midnight of that Friday night when you were meant to go home, but you were having so much fun that you stayed and had several shots.

Mistake number three came in the form of you whispering to Jason that you only applied to work on the show because you had a huge crush on Q and now that you got to spend time with him in the flesh, that crush had only gotten more intense. 

When you woke up at some point on Saturday afternoon with smudged makeup, hair like a bird’s nest and still wearing your clothes, you didn’t remember a thing. And you continued to not remember anything until arriving at work on Monday to find Jason with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Dread pooled deep in your stomach as the events of the night played back in your head. Jason walked you to the van and sat next you as you began the short journey to the day’s filming location. 

“Someone had fun on Friday night, huh?” Jason smirked at you with that smug grin of his. You continued to frown.

“Say a word to anyone and I will actually kill you.” You whispered through gritted teeth. Jason snorted.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The morning of filming went pretty well, you arrived on location and began to mic the guys up while cameras got in position and the producers went through the challenges for the day. When Jason finished Murr’s makeup, he came to you for his mic. The rest of the guys teased him about his oddly hairy chest from their makeup chairs. You laughed along with them and even through in a couple of lines, earning praise from the rest of the group for your quick wit. 

Then came Joe who always felt like a father figure to you, even though he was only 10-15 years older than you. Ever since you started working with them, Joe created a safe space for you to work in. He gave you a hug at the end of your first day and welcomed you to the show. He was just a really great guy who made you laugh with his terrible dad jokes and funny facial expressions. 

Third in line was Sal. Another one who made you feel safe and welcome. All of the guys did, but Joe and Sal especially. You kind of had a crush on Sal, but it was more like a friend crush. When you weren’t with him you craved his company, but you didn’t see him in a romantic light at all. 

Last but certainly not least came Q. The second he stepped up to you, you instantly had a blush crawling up your neck. You glanced toward Jason who was, of course, smirking at you while you picked up Q’s mic. Being this far into the show, the guys were used to the mic-ing process. As you were grabbing the pack, Q lifted his shirt over his head to remove it. With the nature of the show, the mics had to be hidden, often in a button if they were wearing a shirt with buttonholes or, when not wearing something with buttons, the mics were taped to their chest. Of course today it was 79 degrees, so Q had gone with a t-shirt.

The blush raged over your cheeks as you tore off a little piece of body tape, trying not to stare at the man standing in front of you. With one hand on the tape, the other picked up the microphone and placed it gently against the centre of his chest. His warmth spread over you quickly, warmth radiating from the core of his body. You placed the tape carefully and gave it a small pat to keep the mic in place before adding a second piece of tape slightly lower than the first.

Filtering the wire through your fingers, you spun around Q to stand facing his back and picked up the pack to plug the wire in. Q didn’t work out much, but you could tell that he really went for it when he did. He was solid as a rock under your hand, but his belly had some extra cushioning and you couldn’t help but admire his love handles as you tucked the pack into his back pocket. 

“All finished.” You squeaked and Q reached his arms up to put his shirt back on. His biceps bulged as they raised by his head and just as quickly as he removed his shirt, Q was covered once more. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. You know, if you wanna have a longer look you can always ask. Or I can take you for a drink and if I’m lucky I’ll get to show you.” Q quipped. You didn’t notice that he was slowly backing you against the wall until your back met the cool surface. You were a mess. Was it you or was the wall getting hotter? The room was heating up rapidly. 

“You don’t think I’ve seen you getting all pink and flustered when I talk to you? When we met I thought a gal like you would already be with someone, I didn’t think I stood a chance.”

Your expression softened at Q’s confession. You never thought someone who looked like him would be nervous around girls, especially you. You searched his face for any kind of smirk or sign that this was a prank but when you were met with nothing, you sighed a breath of relief. 

Q grabbed your chin with one hand, the other finding its place on your hip, “may I?” You nodded in his light touch and he leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your hands naturally snaked into his hair and he pressed harder against you to deepen the kiss. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but it wasn’t nearly enough to enjoy the kiss. But, when you pulled back, Q piped up with, “if you wanna do that again, how about I take you for that drink?”

You tried to form words, but the feeling of Q’s lips against your own had your tongue paralysed. So, you answered him with a smile and a nod.

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 13 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur get to know the town better, getting to know each other better in the process.

Author’s Notes: This chapter needed some major reconstruction, so I apologize for the wait on it! I split it in half and completely changed the ending, but I’m so glad I did because it’s one of my favorite chapters now. Enjoy all the fluff and these two getting drunk together for the second time :) Chapter thirteen of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Thirteen: Townsfolk

Word count: 5416

You startled awake at some point in the night, darkness pushing in through the lone window. Once you had your bearings, a sudden panic overtook when you realized Arthur wasn’t there until you saw him lying on the floor beside you. You’d slept through his return. And the fool had refused to wake you, had let you have the bed. This was no better than lying under canvas for him. You told yourself you would berate him for it once he woke, but the thought soon eddied away when your tiredness overtook you once more, your panic easing away now that you knew he was there beside you, that you didn’t have to face the bedroom alone. You fell back into dreams of your family, of a past life, of a time when you were never alone.

~

You must have truly needed rest, as you awoke a second time to Arthur reentering the room, having slept through him ever leaving it. You were normally a lighter sleeper.

“Just stabled Harriet and Bo,” he said. “Figured they could use a good rest and plenty of hay.”

“Does this mean we’re staying?” You couldn’t help the hope that lined those words.

Arthur caught it and smirked. “What, my company that miserable?”

Truth be told it was…quite the opposite. But before you could blush over the thought of that kiss, you pushed on. “You don’t see me running for the hills. Yet.”

“Yet,” he replied with a low laugh. He turned to the small mirror and basin the room had to offer, running his hand over his beard. It had grown long in the time you’d been traveling with him. His hair had too, starting to hang down past his eyes when his hat wasn’t pinning it back.

“You’re starting to look like a Montanan,” you told him. Starting to, because most men’s beards were twice the length of his in those snowy mountains.

“I usually keep it short,” he said, still looking at his reflection. “But it’s sure as shit been cold enough not to.”

You shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“The cold or the beard?” he asked, his hand falling as he turned to you. And when his eyes landed on you, the room suddenly felt a little smaller.

“The cold. Afraid I’ve no experience on the latter.”

He smirked, and you hated how much that look burned you up inside. You turned away.

“Well,” he said. “I’m starving. Want to go eat a proper meal? See a little of this country for yourself?”

Your heart gave a nervous kick at the very idea.

“It’s either that, or you’re staying here,” he added, and you knew without having to look at him he was just trying to rile you. Of course you would come with him, no matter how begrudgingly you did.

“Forgive me for not liking either of those options.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and I can think of worse ones. Especially having to deal with me when I haven’t eaten, so come on.”

You rolled your eyes and wondered when the day would come that he would stop using his humor to get you to agree to things. Or maybe when you would finally find the will not to listen.

You threw your legs over the bedside and stood, realizing you were still wearing his clothes. “It won’t be…odd for me to walk around looking like this?”

“Like that? Sure,” he said with a laugh.

You glared at him. His amusement wasn’t helping.

“Here,” he said, crossing the room. And you let him invade your space without pause as he turned up your coat collar, sticking your hat low on your head to hide your hair. No matter that your heart was racing. That you felt disappointment take hold when he stepped away.

“Could pass for a man now. Ain’t no one looking a man’s way, ill-fitting clothes or no.”

“Great,” you said flatly. But Arthur just gestured to the door, and you scowled and did as he said, making for it.

After eating one very well-deserved meal of oatmeal piled with sugar, you and Arthur explored the town. It was interesting to see how mankind lived all intertwined like this. And sure enough, you got to look around relatively unnoticed. After a stop at the launder for your and Arthur’s clothes in which you weren’t even glanced at, you came out with a newfound confidence. It was nice being looked over, being an afterthought. All you had ever known of other people was unwanted attention, and now you felt freer than you ever had around so many eyes. It made for an enjoyable morning.

Arthur found a barber and stopped in, annoyed with all that hair after all. You sat outside in the sunshine and watched the people mill about. If where you were headed was anything like this for you, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You were basking in the rare heat when you heard spurs clicking in your direction.

“Ready to go back?” Arthur asked.

You turned to answer, but when your gaze landed on him, words escaped you. His beard was now nothing more than stubble, his hair shorter but still framing his face, his hat in his hands instead of on his head for once. He was…distractingly handsome.

Apparently thinking you had fallen into another one of your spells of not speaking, Arthur put his hat back on his head. “I posed that like a question, but let me rephrase. You’re coming with me.”

The way he cleaned up so well plus him demanding that of you…it had you blurting out words to shake your sudden stupor.

“Why not stay? Get to know the town a little better, I mean.”

He smirked at you. You couldn’t figure why, your nerves at looking at him making it hard to do so.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” he jeered.

“What?”

“You, sitting around enjoying the place.”

“I just- I’ve never-”

“Save it,” he said, holding up a hand. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But tell you what, let’s go back, let it get dark, then I’ll show you around. Town’s always best at night anyhow.”

You could feel the nerves veritably rushing through you at the prospect of that, at all these people, at him. But you just nodded and stood. “Lead the way then.”

You were pondering what it would be like to finally get to experience this kind of life when you looked up and were faced with Arthur’s broad back, his mere presence carving a path through the people walking about. Had it always been that broad? And had he always looked that good in that big coat?

You shook your head to get that particular madness out of it and went back to watching the townsfolk. Anything to distract you from the one thing you wouldn’t allow yourself to think of for the remainder of this trip.

Nearing the hotel, you still felt those cursed nerves, but you had fully convinced yourself they were nothing more than timidness over the town. Certainly not a lone room and a bed and an outlaw to keep you company.

~

Arthur sat in the chair in the corner of the room and drew in his journal. He had stripped his coat, the heat of the day making it sweltering inside the hotel. He was just glad it wasn’t snowing. He’d had enough of that to last him the year. So he took up his time drawing the town you found yourselves in, debating what trouble to get you into tonight. He’d told himself miles back he’d show you how to cut loose for once, only now it seemed not the brightest idea he’d had. Now all he could think of was those men’s eyes on you at that shit hole of a trading post. But he’d given you his word, and he wouldn’t go back on it. Not when you had shown genuine excitement for once, all over seeing the glamor of city living. Well, glamor was a stretch, but it was something to you at least. More than could be said for Montana. So he sketched down a few bricks on a building side, debating all the while some type of harmless fun. Harmless, because his type of fun usually ended up being anything but. He wouldn’t show that particular genius to you lest you both end up in a jail cell. He grinned at the very thought.

The sound of the creaking bed reached Arthur’s ears, and he snuck a glance at you, seeing you sprawled out on your back, lazily reading the ledger you held above you. You were calmer here. He could tell you felt safe when you had been fine staying outside while he visited the barber earlier. And especially when you’d wanted to stay. Considering what happened in the last settlement, he was surprised you even wanted to do that much. But this trip would be coming to an end in a few short weeks, and maybe you, like he, knew it was time you got used to being on your own. Or without him, more like. Though he did feel a certain pride that you felt so safe around him, the same pride that still plagued him while he sat there admiring his shirt on you. It made him want to…well. Best not to think on that.

“Think I could make it as a trader in Nebraska?” Your eyes remained on the ledger despite the question.

“I know you could,” Arthur said, going back to drawing. “Better question is, would you want to?”

You sat up then, sitting cross-legged on the bed in a way that drew his eye.

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at hunting,” Arthur said. “Those are two different things. You want to be a traveling salesman on top of that?”

“Maybe. Probably not.” You looked down at the ledger, your lower lip catching between your teeth. It took everything in Arthur not to stare at your mouth. “I don’t know,” you went on. “Maybe I could have a stall in town. I’m sure I could sell something if it was as valuable as what Pa used to sell.”

“Sure,” Arthur said, surprised at your ambition. How far you had come, willing to consider opening your own stall in a town you used to think you would never make it to. Planning a future for yourself. He was proud of you for it.

“Anyway,” you said, shutting the ledger and setting it aside. “You got any thread? Sewing needle?”

He let his amusement show. “No.”

You scoffed. “Of course you don’t. I was going to offer to sew up your coat.” You pointed at it where it lie on a trunk under the window, the afternoon sun shining down on it.

“Well, I ain’t got any.”

“Sure.” Then you stood and crossed the room, headed right for the door.

“Where you think you’re going?”

“To find some. Most women have a needle and thread on them. At least, the ones working here probably do. I’ll go ask.”

“Hang on. I didn’t keep you cooped up in here all day just to get snatched now,” Arthur said.

“I won’t get snatched,” you said, already opening the door and shooting him a glare all at once. Like an entirely different person from the one who had followed his every step just yesterday. For some reason, this sudden confidence shut Arthur up, and he let you be. The door closed behind you with force, leaving him shaking his head and going back to his journal.

The minutes ticked by, and Arthur got to a stopping point with his drawing and stood, moving to the window to have something to do with his restlessness. Looking out over the back street, he spied a small, dingy-looking saloon that didn’t even have a name, just ‘saloon’ written in big block letters. It would normally be a place he would be drawn straight to if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t take you there. Certainly not with the kind of population that frequented those places. His population, he thought with a chuckle. You were damn lucky Dutch and Hosea had drilled some manners into him, what few they could. But the place did give him an idea for the night’s festivities.

The door creaked open behind him, and Arthur turned to find you with thread in hand, showing it off in triumph.

“Told you. She even had blue.”

“How ‘bout that?” he teased, though he was secretly grateful you had gone so far as to get the proper color thread. No one else would have bothered with something like that.

You motioned to his coat, and he picked it up and threw it to you. You took his spot in the lone chair and set to work, Arthur trying not to watch too closely. He instead went to looking back out the window, thinking of what the pair of you could get up to.

“This is a pretty wide gash. You sure you didn’t get scratched too bad?”

Arthur hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the scratch the wolf had left behind on his arm. He had enough scars to forget to worry about the smaller ones.

“Nah, it ain’t bad. Don’t need any stitches at least.”

You were quiet for a moment, likely thinking of your own nasty scar. Then, “Your shirt needs mending too. I’ll work on it once we get it back from the launder.”

Arthur looked at you then. You were never so nice to him this…willingly. It reminded him of when you’d cleaned the blood off his face, and the thought made something finally click in his brain.

“You do this kind of thing for your parents?”

He knew he’d gotten it right when you didn’t immediately respond. Then, in a small voice, “Momma taught me.”

You didn’t talk about her much. Usually only your father and all he had taught you. But Arthur was willing to bet that defiance in you didn’t come from him. It was a trait best suited to daughters who had learned how to fight through testing their mothers.

“Well, I’m glad she did. I’m dogshit at sewing.”

You snorted a laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You may be pretty at shooting a gun, but sewing’s a far cry with those big hands.”

Arthur felt his face heat at the word pretty but barreled through the feeling it brought him. “I sewed you up just fine.”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You went red. “And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

He felt his smile widen of its own volition. “Never.”

You didn’t respond, only smiled down at your sewing. Then you were bringing the needle away, gathering up the thread. “Done.” You handed the coat back to him. He took it and examined the new patch, a small line of darker blue now marring his right coat sleeve. It was a token of sorts—something to forever remind him of this trip.

“Thanks.” He meant it. You just waved him off.

Instead of putting the coat down, he put it on, not buttoning it up to keep the heat at bay. “Well, we may as well get going before the shops close. I have one more errand to run.”

You didn’t hesitate to stand, your eagerness returning. “What errand?”

He grinned. “You’ll see, nameless.”

He hadn’t called you that in a while, and it had you swatting at him as you passed, heading for the door. He opened it before you could, holding it ajar for you with hand outstretched. It made you even madder, and all he could do was laugh as he shut and locked the door behind you both.

The town was livelier at this hour, just as Arthur suspected it would be. Most folks were off work, in town to blow off steam after a long day. The heat had tapered off with the setting sun, turning it into the perfect golden evening. It was as good an introduction to regular life as you would ever get.

“You plan on telling me where we’re going?”

Arthur glanced at you, at your funny-looking clothes. “We could always stop at the launder, get you your clothes back.”

You caught the amusement on his face and frowned. “I don’t want them back yet. I was enjoying blending in just fine earlier.”

He figured. Looking ahead, Arthur found the shop he needed just down the main road. “Going to the gunsmith. I need more revolver cartridges since you shot all mine at nothing.”

“And you wonder why I’m mad at you all the time,” you muttered under your breath. He grinned.

The gunsmith had a fairly bare-bones shop, but it had what Arthur was looking for. He coughed up the money and was soon putting the cartridge boxes in his satchel, getting a few out to stick them in his gun belt.

“As riveting as this is,” you said, watching him do it, “I had hoped for a more…memorable evening. To be one of the townsfolk, if you will.”

Arthur finished and waved at the gunsmith, opening the door for you. “You always gotta be on a man’s case so bad?”

“It’s the duty of every woman.”

Arthur barked a laugh and pointed at the saloon he had already scoped out—the Red Horse. It was the biggest of the three saloons he had seen in town. Biggest usually meant easiest to blend into. “That’s where we’re headed. You up for it, miss townsfolk, or is that not memorable enough for you?”

He could see your eyes catch on it, see the way you clammed up with nerves before you calmed yourself back down. “No, memorable is a good word, I think.”

“Good. Come on then.” You both made to cross the street, but a horse and rider came barreling through so fast from around the corner you didn’t see it in time. Arthur grabbed your hand and yanked you back. He expected you to be cross about his saving your hide, as you tended to be, but instead you looked down at your hand. He was still holding it. He dropped it and cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

You wouldn’t meet his eye then, turning to attempt the street again. Or maybe to get ahead of him so he couldn’t see that blush on your face, but it was too late for that. He had seen it, and it was making him stare after you like an idiot.

Arthur remembered himself and rushed after you, putting all meaning of that blush behind him lest he let some pitiful semblance of hope get to him.

The saloon was lively and growing fuller by the minute, the bar full and nearly all of the tables the same.

“Beer or whiskey?” he asked you, having to talk loud over the man at the nearby piano as he pushed you into the room.

“Beer,” you responded, busy taking in the scene before you. Life at its very simplest. Gambling, alcohol, and a good time. Women, too. There were women hanging off of men’s arms everywhere, and Arthur hoped the sight would settle you some, as it seemed to settle you having women around in that hotel.

“Over here.” Arthur steered you toward the bar and let you stand behind him as he got the barman’s attention. He placed his order and handed more money over, thinking he needed to count through all he had left before the trip was over. He didn’t want to find himself without the means to get back to his gang. The bartender handed him two beers, and all thought of that washed away as Arthur pushed back through the growing crowd with you and made for a less populated wall to stand against.

Enjoying the first taste of his beer with more satisfaction than he could name, Arthur sat back and watched you. He had to keep from laughing at the way your head kept turning in all directions to take everything in. This would be a regular night for him, given that the gang had made it into town, but for you it was likely a whole new world.

“Careful not to hurt your neck there,” he said, smiling over his beer.

You shot him a dirty glance but saw him drinking and seemed to remember the beer in your own hand. You brought it to your mouth to take a sip, and Arthur couldn’t resist watching the way your lips touched the bottle. Something shot through him at the sight that he let be for once.

“God, that’s terrible,” you said, cringing. “Is there any alcohol that doesn’t taste like shit?”

He chuckled. “Probably not. But that’s not why you drink it.” He thought of how much gin he had downed with you that had led to a kiss and knew that to be true.

The pair of you took to arguing over how well you could handle yourself in a town like this before a game of poker across the way got so rowdy it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“Ever played cards?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t know how.”

“Come watch me then. I’ll show you.” And, at your sudden reluctance, “Relax, I won’t make you play.”

You eyed him and took another swig of beer before cringing just as noticeably, motioning at him to lead the way.

There were only two players left sitting at the poker table, but both had such high stacks of chips that Arthur knew better than to get in on the game until after one busted. Those high stakes were also why a crowd had gathered and was cheering so loudly for one man or the other. The pair of you watched alongside them, most rooting for the yellow-haired working stiff nearest you. The other man, a well-dressed but worse for wear man with a hatted, dark-haired head had men cheering for him that all looked just like him—well-dressed but sloppy.

“Stick it to him, boy!” someone shouted at the working man. His cards were visible to those standing behind him, showing a strong hand—two high-value diamonds to the flop’s two of the same suit.

Arthur knew as the turn revealed the third diamond—giving the man a flush—that he had his opponent beat. And sure enough, he went all in. Either bluffing or drunk, the other man followed suit and swiftly lost all his winnings.

“Now, now hold on,” he slurred, standing. “I saw him stick that diamond up his sleeve an hour ago!”

“Awe, save it, Lawrence!” someone in the crowd shouted back.

Arthur was too amused to notice you leave until he turned to find you gone entirely. Panic overtook him before he spotted you against the nearest wall, watching from a distance. He stormed over.

“What are you doing running off like that?”

“I didn’t want to be in the middle of…whatever that is.” You pointed to the poker table, and Arthur watched as the interaction between the two players started to get heated, the slimy-looking one not wanting to pay up.

He turned back to you. “Fair enough. But warn me next time.”

You eyed him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You turned your attention back to the others, taking another sip of beer. And Arthur was mad at you for it, for distracting him like that when he should have been giving you a piece of his mind. But instead he watched your mouth again, watched as your lips pursed against the glass and thought of how they had felt against his own. He turned away and took a sizable drink himself.

To take his mind off of things, Arthur started explaining poker to you, namely the game that had just been played. You asked a few of the usual questions—what call and check meant and why the seedy man’s high card didn’t win him the game. Arthur finally seemed to explain things well enough that you said, “I get it. Go play then. I’ll watch.”

“I ain’t leaving you over here.”

“I know you want to play, Arthur. Go. I’ll stand closer if it makes you feel better.”

The sarcasm lining your words had him ready to argue.

“Just go,” you said with a small smile, pushing against his chest. Your hands on him made him comply. Made him melt into compliance, more like.

“I’m…getting another beer,” he said. “Then poker.” He hadn’t even realized he was out until then.

“Go then. I’ll be fine here.” Arthur really didn’t want to leave you. But you were looking at him with a light in your eyes you didn’t normally have. And he knew, stubborn fool that he was, that he wouldn’t always be there to protect you. Now was as good a time as any to test you when you were so comfortable being left alone.

“Stay here,” he said, voice filled with as much authority as he could muster.

“Yes, Arthur,” you teased, and even that did something funny to his insides. Christ, what the hell was he doing, getting so worked up? He needed to be drunker than this. Much drunker.

Two beers later and deep in his cards, Arthur kept turning to make sure you were there. You always were, usually shaking your head at him for the way he played his cards—he was almost out of chips to show for it.

He had a decent hand but not a great one when he heard you come up behind him and whisper, “Fold.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw the other man’s cards.”

Arthur had to stifle his laugh, but he did as you said. Then he was finishing his beer, cashing in while he still had some money left, and leaving the table. Only when you were far enough away so as not to be overheard did he turn to you. “That’s cheating, you know. I didn’t take you for a cheater.”

“I didn’t take you for a terrible card player.”

“I walked into that,” Arthur said as he stepped up to the bar to order yet another beer, this time two. Once in hand, he gave you the second one. “Cheers.”

You looked around for something to do with your empty bottle. “Here,” Arthur said on a laugh, forgetting how much you really didn’t know about this sort of thing. He took it, set it on the bar top, and turned back to you. “Now. To long, miserable, back-breaking travel. And not long left to go.” He held his bottle neck out to yours.

You smiled. “To you, Arthur.” You clinked the bottles together.

“Awe, come on, nameless. Don’t get sappy on me now.”

That smile of yours remained, and Arthur returned it before turning his bottle up.

The night went on, more beer drank and more people spilling in the doors than you had likely ever seen in your life. Arthur knew he was due to be cut off when he saw a few patrons dancing and thought it a good idea for the two of you to join them. Just for a moment. Then he came to his senses. But he asked you anyway, knowing it would irk you.

“Spare me a dance?” He held his hand out to you.

You swatted it away. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t think you know the meaning of that word.”

He barked a laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why don’t you show me this big, bad outlaw I’m supposed to be traveling with instead?”

“What?” He turned to you, shocked you brought it up.

“I keep hearing about him,” you joked. “Haven’t seen him for myself yet.”

“And you ain’t going to. You don’t want to.”

You leaned in close to talk low, and Arthur made a point not to look at you lest he think about how easy it would be to kiss you. “You mean to tell me you haven’t thought of picking anyone’s pocket tonight? Not one?”

Truth be told, he had. It was overcrowded, the patrons were drunk, and it would be easy enough to get lost or blame it on someone else if things went south. But he wouldn’t risk that with you here.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Some outlaw you are,” you teased, and the winning smile you gave him stopped him in his tracks. Half for the look of it, half for how happy you could be while talking about the worst parts of him. Like it didn’t matter that he wasn’t a good man. Like you enjoyed his company anyway. He couldn’t say how much that meant to him.

“Anyway,” you droned on, finishing the last of your beer. “Let’s go back. I’m tired.”

“You’re even whinier when you’re drunk,” he quipped, but he downed his beer too, even through the particularly hard hit you landed on his arm for that one.

He got up and motioned toward the door. “Lead the way then.” You shot him a mischievous look he wanted to kiss right off your mouth. But too quickly, you turned and nearly disappeared into the crowd, so for the second time, Arthur grabbed your hand to keep up with you. The warmth of it in his grasp filled him with whatever happiness he had left. Especially when you wound your fingers through his and led him on.

The two of you made it outside, and only then did you drop his hand, never bringing any attention to the fact that you held it in the first place. He wanted to grab yours again, keep it held in his all the way back. But, he realized, you were already walking, not looking back. He jogged to catch up. Then, like a fool, he debated threading his fingers through yours every step of the way back. He never quite found the courage.

It only hit Arthur that you were about to join him in this hotel bedroom, and that he very much didn’t want to sleep on the floor, when you stepped through its doorway. He watched you shed your coat and hat and boots, doing the same so as not to draw attention to the way his eyes caught on you. After he got his satchel and gun belt off, he turned to find you already curled up in the bed like a cat.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor again, are you?” you said through a yawn.

“My back may never recover,” he joked.

“Come up here then.”

You said it so simply—such an easy thing to agree to. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t resist doing it. So he lifted the sheets and laid down beside you, letting you curl around him in a way that had his heart pounding through his shirt. You laid your head right on it and yawned again. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“That’s a relief. Let me know if it stops.”

You let out a laugh. A genuine, easy laugh that had Arthur wanting to turn your face to his and kiss you then and there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The two of you were just lonely and drunk and had each other for company. That didn’t mean he could do something you may not want from him—something you didn’t understand. Not to mention how it would eat at him when he had to leave you so soon. So, he didn’t turn your face to his. He wrapped his arm around you instead and pulled you close, his head resting atop yours in a way that was so comforting it was almost worse.

“I’m glad you’re here, Arthur.”

Your voice was small, heavy with tiredness. And the words cut into him, because he was the one you wanted to help heal your loneliness. Of all people, him.

“I’m glad to be here, nameless.” He truly was.

After long enough that he thought you asleep, you whispered, “Not nameless.”

“What then?” He had never wanted to know a name so badly in all his life.

You just yawned again, curling against him. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Arthur smiled, looking forward, for the first time in a long time, to waking up.

_________

Chapter fourteen is here.

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

[katyawriteswhump]

Never let me go (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18, Free Space--Hurt/Comfort. 

Steve’s really good at pretending he’s fixed—especially to himself—and decides he’s totally up for kinky fun with Eddie. Also part of my steve whump fic thread on ao3

WC: 922.

Rating: M.

CW: Mild kink and bondage, sexual content, panic attacks, PTSD, flashbacks. Tags: Emotional hurt/comfort. Trauma. Fluff, whump.

***

Eddie draws the tinsel garland around Steve’s arm, looping it loosely before dragging it tighter. Not too tight. Steve swallows hard, nerves fizzing. Eddie tethers Steve’s wrist to the bed frame behind his head with a loopy, hitchy knot.

“Where the heck did you learn—"

“My uncle. He’s worse than a billion scout leaders, I shit you not.” Eddie lazily kisses the tender underside of Steve’s wrist, beneath the knot, setting Steve’s pulse skittering. Eddie shifts his attention to Steve’s other hand. Steve has, without thinking, moved himself into place, ready to be tied. He’s happily drowning in Eddie’s gorgeous eyes, lapping up Eddie's hungry appreciation of him, till…

“You’re sure you’re good with this, Stevie?” 

“How many times, dude? I’m fine.” Steve slides his tongue around suddenly dry-feeling lips. “Tinsel is dangerous for cats and babies. I could literally snap this crap in half.”

“You could snap me in half.”

“I dunno. You’re crafty. And deceptively strong.” Steve tugs speculatively at the tinsel. It’s deceptively strong too, and the wire holding it together grooves into his flesh. Clearly breakable, though. If he wanted out.

He doesn’t.

When Eddie confessed a drunken desire to tie Steve to their bed, they’d both been apprehensive—given Steve’s “history,” with Soviets and throttling vines, and the rest of the shitshow. Using tinsel was Steve’s dumb, buzzed-out-of-his-skull idea.

Now, Eddie drags the tinsel across Steve’s bare chest, swirls it over his abs, raising goosebumps in its wake. Eddie’s using black and silver tinsel. “So pretty against your skin,” he purrs. Steve’s eyes flutter closed, because the sensations… Gnng! So good! Also, kinda excruciating. Both too little contact, and too much.

Eddie trails the tinsel lower. Steve’s wearing his boxers, and he moans, whimpers—why isn’t he naked yet? Eddie’s fingers drift down Steve’s leg, and Steve flexes into Eddie’s hand. Eddie spreads Steve’s leg toward the bedpost then crouches beside.

Eddie’s hot breaths scorch his flesh. Steve’s breaths accelerate further. As he binds Steve’s ankle, Eddie’s brows knit in concentration. Why’s that super-hot? Steve’s gotten a semi already, and he’s no clue what Eddie’s gonna do next.

“I better be naked soon, Munson.” Eddie lightly pinches Steve’s inner thigh, a total blindside. “Ow!”

“Patience, Babe. Or I’ll start over with your ass upward.”

Steve smirks: “Only just thought of that, moron?”

“Haha, don’t be a brat. Takin’ this slow. Now, shhhh.”

Steve shudders, frets his lip. Eddie winds the last of the tinsel around Steve’s other leg. This is still fun—right?—and he trusts Eddie. Okay, that nervous stirring in the pit of his stomach persists, but it’s sure as hell exciting. Eddie backs away, and Steve rolls his eyes. “Gonna eat me or fuck me?”

“C’mon on, man. Didn’t I say, ‘Sssssh’?”

“There’s better ways to shut me up.”

The kiss is delicious and deep, and Steve just breeeaaaaks. It’s easy to surrender to this—the hot, thrumming weight of Eddie’s clothed body pressed to his near-nakedness, the slick sweep of Eddie’s tongue, the frisson of tinsel against Steve’s ever-more-sensitive flesh as he fidgets and sighs. He feels wanted, worshipped… and randy as hell.

Eddie breaks the kiss abruptly. Before Steve can whine about it, Eddie presses a finger to his own lips, looking… kinda stressed?

The blood thundering in Steve’s ears calms enough for him to hear the loud knocking on the door.

“Eddie? Steve? Hellloooo!” It’s goddamn Henderson.

“I’ll tell him to scram.” Eddie leaves.

Steve’s breathing speeds up again—his face burns, the rest of his skin feels oddly chilled. Distant voices murmur, an owl hoots, and he’s all alone… and feeling… okay, yeah, vulnerable.

Don’t be a wuss, Harrington. You can break free if you want. It’s candy-ass tinsel.

He tugs at his bonds. 

No, don’t spoil the game.

His eyes lull closed, and he’s lost in an instant. 

His hands are tightly bound… above his head… no, behind his back? Shit, shit, shit, he’s losing track of everything save his terror. All he knows is he’s struggling, and he can’t get free and the Soviets are gonna hit him again. They just keep hitting him. Shouting in his face. He tastes the blood, and he’s screaming it over and over: “For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy.”

His raw throat clogs, then closes up. He can’t breathe! The vines… Those goddamn vines. They’re winding about his every limb, slithering, squeezing tight around his neck. His whole existence reduces to a desperate fight for air… I’m choking… drowning… suffocating… Oh God… Oh God! He fights in small, snatchy gasps that he barely believes in. Vecna’s got him, and he’s gonna die, and…

“Steve! Sweetheart, you’re okay… You’re okay… I gotcha.”

“Wha—” Steve’s eyes fly wide. Eddie. Eddie’s here! Leaning over him. Touching him tenderly. Reality slams back, and he throws an arm around Eddie’s neck and clings. Eddie hugs him close, and the whirlwind of his panic slows. His only actual pain is a faint sting in his wrists and ankles, where he’s busted through the tinsel.

“Crap, I’m sorry.” Eddie presses a soft kiss to Steve’s clammy brow. “Leaving you was dumb. The whole idea was dumb.”

“S’okay.” Steve buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder, and his pulse and breaths calm further. “I kinda enjoyed it till…” I totally lost my shit. He slowly inhales Eddie’s warm, reassuring scent. The terrifying flashbacks retreat a little further. He’s okay… He’s okay! As long as Eddie never lets him go, the darkness won’t win.

He nuzzles up toward Eddie’s ear: “Maybe try again next year?”

[kkcauseway]

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Summary: It's Christmas at the Millers, and Sarah is super excited for Santa to make his appearance and hopefully leave her and her sister some amazing gifts. It's so fluffly eeek! Content/warnings: Joel Miller in a Santa hat. So much Christmas time fluff. Sarah and Ellie being blood related siblings and it really is the cutest thing. Matching gifts. A/N: Life Christmas special is here and its so full of fluff I cant deal! I really hope you enjoy!

Next I Life series masterlist I Main masterlist

Sarah’s sat up in bed as you tuck her in “when’s Santa cominggggg he’s taking foreverrrrrr.” She huffs like it’s the most inconvenient thing ever that she needs to wait for him.

“When you’re asleep baby” Joel chuckles as sat on the edge of her bed stroking one of her legs over the covers softly.

“But I’m not gonna sleep I’m too exciteeeeed.” She bounces in her bed as she beams at the pair of you.

“You need to sleep, or he can’t come!” You add with a laugh.

“Okayyy” she submits. “I will, but what if I do fall asleep and then wake up when he’s in the house? That’s not my fault.” She shrugs with a smirk on her face.

“Then he will come and sprinkle his magic dust at your door to make you fall back asleep”

“He has magic dust?” Her eyes expand in wonder.

“He does, but he won’t need to use it because you’ll be fast asleep won’t you baby?”

“Uhu the quicker I sleep the quicker I get presents!” She shrieks kicking her feet under the covers.

“Who says you’re getting presents?” Joel adds with a cheeky smile on his face.

Her body stills as the questions dawns on her “oh…”

“Only jokin’ baby you’ve been such a good girl this year, m’sure you’ll get loads of presents!”

“Now you go to sleep so Santa and his reindeers can get to work, okay?” You add softly.

She nods moving to lie down and curl herself up under the covers.

“Night precious girl” Joel strokes her head before placing a kiss there and then he moves to allow you to do the same “Night baby.”

“Love you” you shout at her in unison.

“Love you more than all the leaves on the treeeeeees!” She exclaims back, trying her best at a different crazy saying every night.

You both chuckle as you walk away

🩷

“How does one girl get so much?” Joel huffs placing his hands on his hips as he stands before the tree with the Santa hat on that you forced him to wear, and the large pile of presents underneath it. Having just placed the last few down.

“Because we don’t know when enough is enough and spoil her.” You chuckle. “She’s so worth it though.”

“Hell yeah she is.”

You move over to the tree to re arrange a couple of the presents so that it all looks perfect.

“What are we doin’ with this?” He quizzes turning to you with the small, gift-wrapped box in his hand.

“Here” you hold your hand out to take it from him placing it into your dressing gown pocket. “She’s gonna absolutely love it.”

He chuckles moving closer to you wrapping his arms round your waist, as you do the same back staring into his eyes, “yeah, she is. Now come on lets go to bed gonna be an early start.” He squeezes your butt cheek as he kisses you causing you to yelp and hit his arm as you pull away. He chuckles as he pulls away making his way towards the stairs with you following. Grabbing her stocking to place at the end of her bed.

“Hang on Santa, you’re forgetting something.” You add as he turns back to look at you puzzled.

He quirks his brow as you chuckle. “The cookies and milk.”

“Shit yeah… and stop callin’ me Santa.”

You laugh out loud “sorry it’s the hat its hot I dig it.”

He shakes his head as he rushes to the table by the front door drinking the milk eating the majority of the cookie but leaving a bite and then as you watch so thoroughly entertained, he bites the carrot in half pulling a disgusted face as he spits it out into his free palm.

“Not eating that too?”

“Fuck no.” He laughs opening the front door and throws it into one of the bushes for an animal to pick up.

After then getting ready for bed, feeding Ellie, and placing her special matching present with Sarah on her you fall asleep excitedly imagining her starstruck face in the morning.

🩷

“Mama daddy! Santas beeennnn!” The screams wake you as she comes hurtling into the room stocking in hand and jumps onto the bed so excited.

“Morning pretty girl.” You utter.

She jumps up and down on the bed “Santas beeeennn look he got me chocolate in my stocking!! Now come onnnnnnnn! We have to go and see all the presents!”

“Okay baby let us wake up a minute first, why don’t you go see if y’sisters awake.” Joel mumbles before yawning.

“Okay!” She jumps down from the bed and as much as she’s super excited hyper and crazy she’s still super gently when she approaches her sister in her bassinet.

You both get out of bed putting on your matching Christmas Day pyjamas. Admiring the way she moves towards her sister and strokes at her face.

“Wakey wakey sissy it’s Christmasssss and Santa’s beeeeeeen and I bet you got loads of presents because you’ve been a really good girl just like me, and good girl gets loads of presents don’t they daddy?” She turns to look at him.

“Yeah baby.” He smiles and it’s a smile so full of love you feel your heart could burst. Your little family is your favourite thing in the world.

Ellie makes a little squeal as she starts moving her tiny body obviously waking.

“Mama she’s waking uppppp! Quick get her uppp she needs to see her presents.”

Winnie yawns as her wide eyes adjust to the setting.

“Hi Ellie! It’s Christmasssss!” Her elder sister exclaims.

You chuckle as you move over to where she is stroking her head softly before moving to un swaddle a sleepy Ellie.

“Hey, look Sarah your favourite part” you utter. Sarah moves to watch as Ellie’s body is unwrapped, and she gives an almighty stretch completely star fishing as she lets out another yawn smacking her lips together immediately.

“Look she’s hungry!” She points to her mouth movements.

You think it’s amazing that Sarah is so engrossed in her sister that even she understands what the different movements she does mean. In this instance the lip smacking indicate hunger.

“Yeah, she is baby, let’s get her changed quickly and then go see your presents!”

It dawns on her that she seems to have forgotten so fascinated by her sister. “Oh yeah. Yayyyy presents!”

🩷

She squeals once she sees the plate of cookies and milk left for Santa is basically empty and that the carrot left for Rudolf has been bitten.

Joel helps Sarah to open her presents as you feed Ellie on the sofa you love watching them together. It’s the most beautiful father daughter bond the one you always hoped your children would have.

Every pack of chocolate that she has is opened and tasted as she rips more paper off more gifts and by the end when all presents are opened, she has chocolate all round her mouth. “It’s allll done! Look at the mess, I think Santa did a really good job!” She beams at the pair of you.

“I don’t think it’s all done baby.” You smile at her.

“Huh? But I opened everything?”

“Did you?”

She pulls a face confused.

“Why don’t you ask Ellie if she got you anythin’.” Joel butts in.

She walks over to where you’re nursing Ellie. Peering down at her sister “mama did she get me a present?”

“You know something I think she did!” You exclaim as you give her the little box you had stuffed in your pocket last night.

“Ooo what is it?”

“Well you’ll have to open it!”

She rips off the paper discovering a box clearly for jewellery, and her eyes grow massive before she exclaims “O.M.G!”

“Baby where the heck did y’learn to talk like that?” Joel utters from across the room

“It’s what big girls say!” She mumbles back not looking to him.

“But you’re my baby, no being a big girl allowed.”

“But I am! I’m getting bigger every day!” And then she opens the box. “Woah this is so pretty! And it’s got a ‘E’ and ‘S’ on it!”

“It’s an anklet baby and you know something else?” You quiz her and she looks to you curiously again, you roll up her Ellie’s small trouser leg and reveal an identical tiny ankle bracelet with an E and S on it.

“Matching!” She exclaims so excited.

“Daddy daddy! Ellie got us matching anklets!” She turns to him jumping on the spot.

“Did she? Wow you lucky girl!”

“Thank you, Ellie!” She exclaims moving to place a gentle kiss on her head.

“Lemme have a look at this” he moves closer grabbing Sarah’s waist to move her to sit on his lap. Sarah beams holding the box out for him to inspect. “Woahhh so pretty, Ellie did so good huh?”

“This is the best present in the world!”

“You said that about everythin’ you got!” He tickles her side making her squeal.

“Yeah, but this is actually the best one in the world!” She rolls her eyes, the tone serious.

“Will you put it on for me daddy?”

“Course baby” he rises from the floor taking her with him as they move as one towards the vacant couch cushion. Joel sits placing her back in his lap and she practically throws the ankle at him so he can clasp it to her.

He grabs her ankle and clasps it tightly, so she won’t lose it. “Beautiful baby girl.”

“I love it so much!” she squeals going back over to inspect Ellie’s. “This is so cool! I love matching with sissy!”

[tomhardystories]

Part 1

Jules had always been a dreamer. Leaving Poland to chase her ambitions in the bustling streets of New York City was no small feat, but she knew she was destined for more. With a suitcase full of plans and a heart full of hope, she arrived in the city that never sleeps, ready to carve out her place in the world.

Her dream? To create something meaningful. Within months, her determination and charm led her to open a language school on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. The school quickly became a hub for professionals and students looking to perfect their English or learn a new language. At the same time, she partnered with her cousin to launch a mental health clinic, offering a safe space for New Yorkers to seek support and healing. Though Jules wasn’t a teacher or a psychologist, she had a knack for bringing people together and ensuring her ventures ran seamlessly.

But it wasn’t all work. New York had a way of introducing people who felt like old friends, and Jules soon found herself in the company of Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte. They met by chance one evening at a chic cocktail bar, and what began as polite conversation turned into deep belly laughs, late-night gossip, and a friendship that felt like fate. They welcomed Jules into their tight-knit circle with open arms, each impressed by her boldness and relentless optimism.

The townhouse on the Upper East Side screamed wealth. Every detail, from the polished marble floors to the massive crystal chandelier dangling precariously above the foyer, radiated the kind of luxury that made Jules feel a little out of place. Samantha, of course, fit right in, gliding through the crowd in a figure-hugging gold dress, a flute of champagne in hand, leaving Jules, Charlotte, and Miranda trailing in her wake.

“Who’s the host again?” Jules asked, leaning toward Miranda as they passed a towering floral arrangement that probably cost more than her monthly rent.

“Some bigwig producer, James-something” Miranda replied, scanning the crowd with her usual air of detached interest. “Samantha says he’s richer than God and twice as single.”

“Great. So we’re here to feed her ego” Jules muttered, adjusting her black dress. She wasn’t dressed to impress. This was Samantha’s world, not hers, but she still carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly who she was.

Inside, the air buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and murmured conversations. It was the kind of party where everyone looked like they belonged in a magazine spread, and Jules was already plotting her escape. She loved her friends, but networking with celebrities and billionaires wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.

“Don’t skulk” Samantha whispered, suddenly appearing at her side. “You’re gorgeous, you’re charming, and you’re exotic. Men eat that shit up.”

“Exotic? I’m Polish, not a tropical bird” Jules shot back, earning a laugh from Charlotte.

“Well, whatever you are, try to have fun.” Samantha winked and floated away, undoubtedly toward some impeccably tailored man she planned to charm into oblivion.

Jules lasted another half hour before she needed air. Grabbing a glass of wine from a passing waiter, she slipped out onto the terrace, grateful for the quiet. The city stretched out before her, glittering and infinite, and for a moment, she let herself breathe.

“Don’t tell me you’re hiding too” a voice cut through the silence.

She turned to see a man leaning against the railing, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. His face was shadowed, but there was no mistaking him. Tom Hardy. He was wearing a leather jacket over a simple black shirt, looking both perfectly out of place and exactly like he belonged.

“Not hiding,” Jules said, raising her glass. “Just needed a break from all the… razzle-dazzle.” She winced slightly, realizing too late she’d probably used the wrong term.

Tom smirked, the kind of lopsided grin that could disarm anyone. “Razzle-dazzle, huh? That’s a new one.”

“Oh, shut up” she said, laughing. “English is my second language. You’re lucky I didn’t call it ‘sparkle-bling.’”

That earned her a proper laugh, low and rich. “Fair enough. So, what’s your excuse for being here? You don’t seem like the type who gives a toss about Hollywood parties.”

“Friend dragged me. You?”

“Work dragged me. And my agent. Same thing, really..” he said, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “What do you do, then? Besides dazzling rooms full of strangers.”

“I own a language school and a mental health clinic” she said matter-of-factly.

“Ambitious. And what’s your role in all that?”

“Boss.” Jules grinned, leaning on the railing beside him. “Which means I get to tell people smarter than me what to do.”

Tom chuckled, nodding appreciatively. “I like that. Honest.”

She shrugged. “It’s a skill.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the hum of the city filling the space between them. Tom offered her a cigarette, which she accepted, lighting it with a practiced hand.

“So, is this the part where you tell me who you really are, or do I have to guess?” she asked, exhaling smoke into the crisp night air.

“You don’t know?” He feigned mock offense. “That’s refreshing. Thought everyone in this bloody town knew my face.”

“Oh, I know who you are” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But who you really are? That’s still up for debate.”

Tom tilted his head, intrigued. “Alright then. Let’s see if I can win you over.”

“I wouldn’t count on it” she teased, her lips curling into a smirk.

“Challenge accepted.”

And just like that, the first spark ignited, a meeting of sharp wit and guarded hearts against the backdrop of the glowing New York skyline.