#usually i just ask my wife if it sounds reasonable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pearlymel · 8 months ago

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A duty— Capitano

Synopsis: You were set to marry a fatui... Wait, is that a fucking harbinger?!

Wc: 3.3k

Warning(s): fem reader for this one, reader gets called "wife", Capitano is described to have dark blue eyes (i swear i did my research and they said yes to dark blue eyes), MDNI masturbation but no sex between them.

Notes: don't ask the reason why you are in an arranged marriage, my brain is fried. You can come up with your own reasons ! Wrote this with my eyes cursing at me to sleep so half not proofread. Part 2 is out here. Part 3 is out here!

Tick tock.

You watched as the clock ticked louder than usual, cringing to yourself when the sound became unpleasant to you, it was ringing in your ears.

Even the fatui around you were like statue's, you considered for a minute to check if they were even alive and breathing.

The door then swinged opened, everyone's head suddenly lowering slightly which made you even more confused, but you mimicked their gestures nonetheless for respect.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the room, the sound only getting louder and heavier the closer it got you.

The steps finally stopped, and your glance up to see a big—no, giant man standing right infront of you. He seemed to be wearing a helmet to cover his face, long black hair that protrutes from the back of his helmet and over his shoulders, and the big coat that was full of fur draped around his shoulders.

You must say, he went all out with his appearance as a fatui.

"Are you perhaps..." You started, breaking the silence that hung think in the air, "... The person who I'm arranged to marry?" You finish off, tilting your head curiously.

He doesn't answer immediately, rather, he looks down at you, observing your features which makes you wipe your sweaty hands to your sides.

"Il Capitano," he finally spoke, a raspy voice, you noted. Capitano extended his arm out for you, and you willingly accepted it, giving it a gentle shake.

"Member of the fatui Harbingers."

His next words made your hand freeze. Did he just say Harbinger? Not even a normal fatui like you thought, but a whole harbinger. Standing right before you, and shaking your hand.

Well you were screwed because what the hell have you gotten yourself into.

You both were quiet now, staring at eachother that it's becoming almost painfully awkward.

"Your name?" He asks, letting your hand go and it's like you were snapped back to reality when you immediately blurt out your name.

He repeats your name like you were on his kill-off list, but that was just overthinking on your part.

"I'd like your company from now on." He announced, stepping a tad closer to you which made you hold in your breath.

"then i shall be at your company..." Giving him your best small smile, you bowed your head again.

•••

Your wedding basically consisted of a witness and marriage papers that needed your signature. You didn't even get the chance to wear a traditional wedding dress nor have a honeymoon, which you don't think is necessary for now since everything was going too fast for your liking.

And Marina, your new personal maid, has become your new friend in this big estate of Capitano's, teaching you everything you must and mustn't do. Kind of like a 101 guide on how to be a wife.

Ever since that day a two months ago, you have not done anything but cause trouble.

You wanted to go out? Well you need your husband's permission. You want to eat something? Ask Marina first and she'll whip it for you no problem, and no you're not allowed to cook by yourself. You bombarded Capitano with questions about himself, but his answers wouldn't be enough as they were about a word or a sentence long.

As boring as that is, this is your life now for... Archons know how long. But you remember it being temporary, if your memory did not fail you.

Capitano had returned back to the estate for the night, and for the first time, you greeted him at the front door with a smile, wishing you could see him smile back at you.

"My lord," you bow elegantly like how Marina taught you, speaking even softly like nothing ever happened a week ago, the fit you remember throwing at him, demanding an answer on why you couldn't do anything around.

The silence in the hallways was deafening, broken only by the clanking of his armor as he took a step closer to you, his towering figure cast an intimidating shadow upon you. "It is rare," he spoke in a blunt tone, "to see you this obedient." Capitano paused, his gaze scrutinizing your every move. "You have been behaving recently?"

You couldn't help but fidget with the hem of your clothes nervously like you have been caught, a nervous quiet laugh escaping your lips, "i believe I've always behaved."

Capitano let out a terse sigh at your answer, his eyes unflinching through the slits of his helmet. "To your luck," he muttered, "you have been... tolerable." The word 'tolerable' hung heavily in the air, making it clear that it was the most positive adjective he could summon about you.

"However," he added after a few moments, "you seem more compliant than usual today. This is an... interesting change." His tone was questioning, as if hinting that he was wary of your compliance, expecting a hidden scheme behind it.

"Shall we have dinner?" You change the topic, changing your position to stand by his side so that both of you could walk to the dining room together. Capitano nods curtly, acknowledging your suggestion. He allows you to approach, though there is a stiffness in his movements as he lets you stand by his side.

The two of you begin walking to the dining room, your husband's steps were heavy, and it was evident that he was still in his full armor, the sound of his footsteps filling the hall.

"You are not usually the one to suggest dinner," he commented, "I thought today was nice... Despite how i always fight you, forgive me." you mumble apologetically.

You become quiet when he doesn't answer back, your hands clasped infront of you instead.

You both soon reached the dining hall, now sat opposite eachother on the dining table, Capitano's gaze remained fixed upon you as you both sat across each other, the coldness in his eyes didn't waver as he observed you intently. The silence seemed to thicken as the only sound in the room was the clinking of silverware against the ceramic dinnerware.

"How was your trip?" You asked casually while stuffing some veggies in your mouth.

"The trip was... uneventful," he replied tersely, pausing briefly before continuing. "The usual Fatui business, nothing that concerns you, wife." His words were as biting as ever, indicating that he wasn't keen on discussing his business matters with you.

"nofing mfun?" You ask again with your mouth too full this time, "don't speak with your mouth full of food." You swallow your food down when you caught a glimpse of disappointment in his tone, maybe he was even frowning if you could see him behind his helmet.

"i will retire to my chambers after this," you place down the silverware on the tablecloth to reach for the glass of water next to you. Capitano doesn't answer, but he nods slowly in return.

•••

The world was still and the moon illuminated the grounds outside, casting a soft glow upon the landscape. You could hear the occasional sound of crickets and the whispered rustle of leaves, creating a peaceful atmosphere inside the expansive estate.

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one seemingly longer than the last as you anticipated Capitano's return this time. You fidgeted with the sheets, as you waited, you recalled Marina's words, a distant memory echoing in your head, "It is custom for a wife to wait for her husband to return before she retires to bed." You never did that, no. You would always sleep before he did and he would always wake up before you did. It was rare to even see him on your side of the bed, only sometimes when you would wake up from a sudden heavy weight shifting next to you.

Despite being married for quite some time, the connection between you two was still distant and cold. Capitano didn't seem to care for you on any emotional level, instead seeing you as a mere accessory to his life as a mighty Capitano of the Fatui Harbingers. A possession rather than a wife, you thought.

Capitano's steps echoed through the room as he stepped into your bedroom, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. He closed the door behind him with a thump, shutting out the outside world and isolating the two of you in the room.

He observed you quietly for a moment, "You're not in bed yet?"

"i was waiting for you."

"And why, pray tell, were you waiting for me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Marina..." You mumble, standing up from the bed while looking away in a bit of embarrassment, "she taught me it was custom for a wife to wait for her husband."

Capitano seemed even more surprised upon hearing your answer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Marina... I see," he said slowly, of her name sending a ripple of irritation through him. Capitano disliked Marina's influence on you and how she seethe mentioned to be teaching you things.

He strode closer to you, by now you were used to his presence that it would not make you involuntary step back, you instead wait for his next move.

Lifting his hand to take a few strands of your hair was the last thing you expected. The strands resting on his hand as he lifted it closer to his helmet, almost like a gesture of kissing your hair which made you blink rapidly.

"You don't have to," he whispered, his thumb gently caressing the strands, "don't have to listen to Marina or anyone. You may do your own thing in this estate. I just want you well taken care of and safe."

You think you may have just fallen in love with the man because... Why is your heart beating so fast that it could explode? Or wait, can he hear it?

Capitano then let go of your hair, walking past you as he started loosening the straps of his armor, "it is late," he muttered with a rasp, his hands working quickly to remove his armor. The sound of armor being unthreaded echoed through the room, punctuated by the clinks of metal.

Taking off his helmet next so casually made your eyebrows furrow and sit back on the bed with your head tilted to get a closer look at him.

His eyes were glowing dark blue, the most beautiful shade of blue you think you've ever seen. The prettiest face too despite his dark and intimidating aura.

"you're beautiful." You whispered in awe, though Capitano, who was half-way through removing his armor, paused for a moment as he heard your words. He wasn't expecting such a compliment from you. It was rare for you to praise him, preferring to defy him more often than not.

"Beautiful?" he repeated, his voice gruff, you noticed his expressions and tried to act cool, your fingers nervously scratching your neck out of habit when you get shy.

"You're beautiful too, my wife." This completely caught you off gaurd, but it doesn't stop you from smiling and laughing it off quietly.

"Goodnight." Your head rests on the pillow, and this time you face him in your sleep, and he makes the effort to mimick your gestures.

"Goodnight."

•••

"Marina, where is my wife?" That was the first thing he asked your personal maid the moment he arrived back from his mission. His head looking around rather than looking down directly at Marina.

"The lady should be at her chambers."

"She's not."

"What?" Poor Marina's eyes widened, she was sure she just gave you a basket of fruits and snacks in your room, even asking you if you needed anything else.

"... Forgive me, my lord. She's probably in the bat—"

"She's not in the bathroom." He replied in a low, dangerous tone that sent a shiver down her spine.

Where are you, my lady? Marinas thought through gritted teeth before exhaling out shakily, "i shall go find her at once." Marina began looking around every corner of the estate, and each room she opened without you in it, she would lose two years of her life with Capitano following her.

You couldn't have escaped, right?

Finally when she hurriedly went to the back of the estate, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw you sitting outside on the grass with the basket of goods she handed you earlier.

You wave your hands and both Capitano and Marina with a bright smile, causing his shoulders to relax when you were at last seen having fun by yourself.

"you're going to get me killed one day." Marina mouthed at you, but since there was some distance between you both, you just smiled and shrugged at her.

Capitano approached you slowly, his purposeful stride carrying him towards you with measured steps. You were perched on the grass, happily savoring the treats in your hands, when he suddenly materialized before you. "Sit." You pat the space next to you, to which he obliged without hesitation.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"No."

"Never? It's nice."

"You do seem to be enjoying yourself." He hums thoughtfully, and your smile widens, "The last couple of months have been interesting, and i get to know you better now." You say before popping a blueberry in your mouth to chew on.

"Blueberry?" You offer, raising your hand while holding a blueberry in between your thumb and forefinger.

You might think your husband is shy by how he looks around at first before taking off his helmet, cute. Eventually he leans to take the fruit between his teeth before chewing silently, the slight fruit juice glistening on his lips before his tongue along with his thumb swiped over his lower lip.

"you know," you suddenly speak, drawing your hips near him, "we've never kissed yet."

He pauses, staring at you while thinking deep about it, "does it bother you?"

"No, does the idea bother you?" Your question held a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue.

Without a warning, his hand held your left cheek with gentleness, his lips slotting against yours for three seconds max before it ended.

What?

Your eyes were wide open the whole three seconds of it too!

"What was that?" The horror in your eyes was evident, not because you were scared, but because you were caught off guard and your eyes were fucking open. Capitano, upon seeing your eyes, he immediately tried pulling away, thinking he might've scared you in some way.

But you were quick to hold his wrist firmly so it wouldn't leave your cheek. "I liked it." You blurt out with the reddest cheeks ever, and he's almost amused.

"But it was too fast," you clear your throat before tilting your head closer, "may i, husband?" How can he refuse when you asked so nicely too?

Your lips latch onto his for the second time, and this time, you were going to give him a proper kiss. With your lips moving with ease against his, the sounds of soft smacks of your lips together filling the air which makes the tips of his ears go red.

You don't continue after both of you pull away to catch your breath, your eyes staring deeply into eachother as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Let's not do this again," your heart almost drops at his words. Did you mess up again? Did he not like how it felt—

"In public, i meant. I wouldn't like anyone to see you in such a state."

You can definitely hear the crickets in your head. "So we can continue kissing?"

"Mm," he only hums back before reaching for his helmet to put it back on. "I have to leave, i will be back by midnight," and when he stands up, it was your cue to stand up to bid him goodbye.

"Take care, husband." You wrap you arms around him, and he circles his arms back around you into a tight hug. It was not your first hug together, so you got used to the feeling of not being able to breath for a couple of seconds before of his tight arms around you.

•••

Capitano expected you to be awake when he returned from a few errands he had to run earlier, expecting you to wait for for him so that both of you could sleep at the same time ever since you did that day.

But you were asleep, peaceful and relaxed on your shared bed. You, wearing nothing but a silky nightgown like you always do, the blanket shuffled messily on you which revealed your legs slightly parted, and your arms hugging the pillow underneath you.

You looked like an angel to him, so vulnerable.. so pretty like this—god was he pent up from today.

He hands clenched tightly into fists until his knuckles turned white as he looked away, instead busying himself in taking off his usually neat coat which was now covered in few splatters of crimson red.

The sound of the running water masked his muttering, instantly regretting his thoughtlessness. As he grabbed the bar of soap, he began to wash vigorously, trying to expel the memories of combat and the musky scent of carnage. His body couldn't be gentler with himself though, as he massaged his muscles that ached from the constant strain.

His heartbeat quickened as his mind wandered back to you. You were the sweetest thing in his life, and he would never ever hurt you, in fact, he would rather die than have your precious skin scratched. Or even cutting off the heads without hesitating if one would hurt you.

He hates himself for envisioning your body under his, or thinking about how skilled you would be with your tongue or hands. he thought he was a selfish lustful man for thinking of such thing when you were sound asleep and tired.

Unable to bear it any longer, he reached for himself, stroking slowly at first before heavier thrusts took over all while imagining how it would feel like to be inside your soft and warm cunt instead of his hard and rough fist. The steam from the shower served to muffle his low groans, half in agony, half in ecstasy. Closing his eyes, he pictured your warm smile or shy and embarrassed facial expressions as his release came steadily forth, his forehead hit the cool tiles as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

After taking a moment to get himself together, he turned off the water and faced the mirror. How can he go back to bed after jerking off to the thought of your smile and sleeping figure? He would very much rather bang his head on the wall.

But he dried off with a sigh and headed back to bed, trying to keep his eyes half closed with his back turned to you as he sinked down on the mattress, taking a bit of blanket to cover himself with his eyes forced shut.

Your sudden arms that enveloped around him from behind is what gave Capitano a scare. A literal scare to the big man.

Were you awake this whole time? Did you hear him back in the bathroom? Was he too loud?

But your soft snores made his stiff shoulders sag in relief, indicating you were still in deep in your dreams.

He decided to turn around to face you, looking down at how innocent you looked, how the moonlight seemed to glow on your face from the window, giving your features a glowy shine.

"You have ruined me," he whispered carefully while brushing off strands of your hair away from your face to press a goodnight kiss on your forehead. "I am yours, ruin me, break me, and love me as much as you want, my wife."

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nicsnort · 26 days ago

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Sex Therapist

NSFW 18+ male incubus x female reader

Word count: 2980

CW: hypnosis, dubious consent, illusions, incubus, cuckolding, blowjobs, edging, praise kink, pet/owner talk, squirting; also you have a shitty boyfriend

Usually, I'd have a lore prompt here but I really just wrote this over three days as a way to distract myself from...errr "current events". It is set in the same world as my other monster fucker fics though

You and your boyfriend were having trouble with your sex life. So, you agreed to go to a therapist. Turns out their therapist is an incubus, and he has his own plans for you.

~~~~~~~

You were thinking of breaking up with your boyfriend. He had been super pushy lately about sex. He wanted every meet-up to end in sex, and when you said no for whatever perfectly rational reason, he still pushed for a blowjob or tried to guilt trip you. It wasn’t like sex with him was that great, like it was fine, but you took more pleasure just doing things by yourself than relying on him for an orgasm…not that he had ever made you cum in the first place.

Still, you hesitated to break up with him; the first couple of months together were great outside of sex. He was kind and considerate. Then, something changed after he lost his job and spent most of the day online; he started putting all his focus on your sex life together. Sex wasn’t everything in a relationship, and the way he acted was enough to turn you off. Still, you wanted to work on these problems together - though so far, you’d gotten nowhere.

What you needed was outside relationship counseling. And luckily your boyfriend agreed.

“Are you sure this is the right place,” you asked him as you approached what looked like a renovated club. He had found a counselor through a recommendation from a buddy from his work who had similar problems with his wife.

“This is the address I was given. I mean, open property around here is pretty scarce; I’m sure they took what was available.”

Together, you went up to the club—the therapist’s—door and rang the bell. A peep window on the door slid open; you saw a feminine set of eyes peering through. Your boyfriend smiled at her. “Hi, we’re here for an appointment with the doctor.”

“Oh, yes! One moment,” a feminine voice replied with surprising enthusiasm. The eye slit shuttered, and a few moments later, they were buzzed in. Inside, the office was surprisingly clean and formal compared to the exterior. Comfortable chairs and couches were littered around, a tea and water station against one wall, and a desk where an extremely beautiful woman was waiting to check them in.

“The doctor knows you are here and will call you in when he’s ready. Please feel free to sit down and have a drink while you wait.”

You found it a little strange that the woman didn’t take your names or confirm your identities at all, but you shrugged it off. It wasn’t like this was a selective thing; people only came here if they needed help. You poured yourself a cup of tea and offered one to your boyfriend, who denied it as he sat in a chair. His eyes were on the assistant covetously.

With another shrug, you sat on the plush couch across from him. Whatever tea this was smelt marvelous. Just inhaling the scent made your shoulders relax. There was a water feature providing a gentle, burbling water sound. As you sipped the tea, you sank into the couch. This waiting area was so relaxing that you were nearly falling asleep.

There must have been a silent fan somewhere as you felt a soft breeze drifting over your face and neck. Relax. The whisper of touch across your whole body. Let go. A ghostly caress upon your lips. Sink. A soft sigh escaped your lips. Deeper. Your neck muscles released, your head tilting back to rest upon the plush couch back.

“The doctor is ready for you.”

You jerked slightly as you were awoken from your dozing. Had you fallen asleep? You must have, or else had your boyfriend been speaking to you? Either way, you were feeling very relaxed. Getting up from the couch, you saw anticipation in your boyfriend’s eyes. He was nowhere near as relaxed as you.

The assistant led them through the door. On the other side, a tall man stood there. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Both he and his assistant should be models instead of working in a place like this. Where did the assistant go? Had she already left?

“Ah, please sit down,” the doctor greeted, his enrapturing voice capturing your attention completely. He gestured you to a couch across from the chair he was standing near. With a soft smile, you did so. Good girl.

You blinked, confused. It sounded like the doctor had said something, but his lips had not moved. Your boyfriend entered as well, sitting on the other end of the couch. You barely paid him any mind; your focus was on the doctor.

The doctor sat in his chair, his legs open and relaxed. Through his dress pants, you could see an impressive bulge. It was so much bigger than your boyfriend’s. So, eager.

Your eye slid up to the doctor’s face. Had he spoken again? No, but he wore a smile almost as if he knew what you had thought. Let your worries fade away.

“What brings you into my office today,” the doctor asked, his voice low and melodic, forcing you to focus on it to hear him.

“Unmet sexual needs,” your boyfriend said bluntly. “She doesn’t want to ever have sex when I do, and when she finally puts out, she’s no fun, just wants to get it over with.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. Then his beautiful eyes focused on you; there was a strange shimmer in their depths. “Do you believe that is an accurate statement?” You are a good girl.

“No. He always wants sex or sexual favors whenever we get together. I asked him to bring my lunch to work, and he wanted a blowjob in the bathroom in exchange. Bringing your girlfriend lunch shouldn’t be an exchange; it is simply something you do.” Your shoulders tensed, and the stress started to reenter your body.

“I see.” Relax. “Do you give him oral sex otherwise?” Sink deeper.

“Yes.” You are warm. Comfortable. You leaned back against the couch. Like sinking into a hot bath, a flush rose up your body. You were so relaxed. Listening to the doctor’s voice, each syllable pulling you down. Deeper. Sinking. Your thoughts were growing sluggish.

“Do you like sucking your boyfriend’s cock?” The direct nature and harsh words from his mouth were spoken in the same smooth tone as before. Such a question should have jarred you, but you were so relaxed.

“No.” You heard your boyfriend huff. Would the doctor be upset with you? Relax. You are safe.

“Can you tell me why?” You are a good girl.

“It feels like an obligation.”

Good girls like sucking cock. The doctor shifted in his chair, your eyes could not help but gaze down to his straining pants. The bulge was bigger than before. You licked your lips at the thought of his member aching to get out of its confines. “Do you want to suck my cock?”

“What the fuck, man,” your boyfriend shouted. The doctor waved his hand, and your boyfriend stiffened as if restrained.

“Yes, please,” you replied politely, your boyfriend’s words and sudden petrified state not even phasing you.

“Good girl,” the doctor said aloud. A shiver of pleasure coursed through you at those words. A smile grew on your face. “Tell me, does your boyfriend eat you out?”

Your smile faded into a pout. “No.”

“Do you orgasm when your boyfriend fucks you?”

“No.”

“My poor, pretty pet,” the doctor cooed. “Thank you for being honest with me. As a reward, you may suck my cock.”

The smile returned to your face. He pulled his cock from his pants and gestured you to him. Your eyes were fixated on the cock as you slid off the couch and crawled forward. Just like the man, it was such a beautiful cock. Long and thick with just the right amount of curve. He was already rock hard, a glistening bead of white pre-cum waiting for you to taste.

As you knelt before him, there was a grunt behind you like a muffled scream. Your head turned back to see your boyfriend frozen in place. The doctor touched your chin and gently redirected your face to look at him again. “Forget about him, pet.”

His gorgeous yellow eyes shimmered like fire. They were so beautiful against his scarlet skin. A stray thought passed your clouded mind. Had they always looked like that? Had the doctor always had beautiful ink-black horns that curved up from the top of his head, reaching back to his strong, leathery wings? Of course, he did. Silly you.

“Good girl, brush away all those silly little thoughts. All you want is your reward.” His devil’s tail lifted from behind him, pushing your head forward.

Your focus returned to your reward. The turgid cock before you. Reaching up, you grasped the hot rod in your hand. Pumping your hand up and down, you marveled at how the soft, smooth skin combined with each bump and ridge. Your pussy clenched with desire. You wanted to feel this cock in you.

Silly you. You could.

The growing bead of inky black pre-cum on the tip of his cock was calling to you. Sticking out your tongue, you ran a long lick up the underside of his cock before lapping up the pre-cum. As that beautiful pearl of essence hit your tongue, you groaned. You had never tasted anything so good. Salty, yes, but with an undercurrent of addictive sweetness. You wanted more, and you already knew how to get it.

Popping the tip of his cock in your mouth, you began to bob your head up and down. The bumps on the underside of his cock rubbed against your tongue, pleasuring you as you pleasured him.

“There is a good girl.” He cupped the back of your head, guiding your rhythm but not forcing you to take more.

The beautiful creature before you moaned and sighed gently as you pleasured him. “Mmmm, you are already so good at this, but there is room for improvement.” His breath hitched with pleasure. “I will teach you. No worries, pet, I will teach you everything you need to know and more.”

You could feel his body tensing, his member growing hot. His fingers tightened on your head, his claws digging just a hair into your scalp. “Such a good girl. You are going to swallow all of me, right? Good girls don’t let cum go to waste.”

You redoubled your efforts. Taking more of his cock into your mouth. Usually, you would choke on a cock this deep in your throat, but all you could think about was taking more of it in. Each time it went deeper into your throat, you sank deeper into yourself. Relaxing your throat, letting more of his cock inside of you.

Sucking cock felt so good. Good girls liked sucking cock. You were a good girl.

He held your head in place. His member swelled as his delicious cum poured down your throat. You worked hurriedly, swallowing every drop you could. With each spurt of the hot, thick seed, your pussy clenched with delight.

Releasing your head, he began to stroke your hair. Slowly, you raised your head, cleaning his cock as you went. You sucked on the tip of his cock, getting every last drop of his cum. It tingled in your throat and stomach, warming your body like a hot meal on a cold day. With a pop, you released his cock. Looking up at him, you smiled contentedly.

“You look happy. Are you happy, pet?”

You nodded, your smile growing. He smiled back, his beautiful fangs displayed. “Excellent. Good girls are happy girls. And you are a very good girl.”

The compliment sent a wave of warmth across your body. You were so warm.

“Stand up, pet.”

Without hesitation, you rose to your feet. As you moved, your soaking sensitive pussy lips rubbed against each other, causing you to whimper. Your nipples were rock hard, poking through your shirt and bra, begging to be touched.

“You look warm. It is warm in here. Undress for me.”

Your movements were languid as you complied. Your fingers dragged across your skin as you removed your shirt. The tension of your bra straps stood out compared to how relaxed your shoulders were. Freeing your breasts was a relief. You wanted to touch them, to pull at your nipples, but you resisted. Good girls did what they were told, and you had not been told to touch yourself.

As you pulled down your jeans and underwear together, a pool of your arousal was revealed in your panties. Your inner thighs quickly slickened as your desire was no longer soaked up by your clothing. Soon, you stood nude before him.

“Good girl. You look delicious, pet.” As he stared at you, you realized that while his eyes were roving your form, they were looking beyond the flesh. His fiery yellow eyes stared right into your very being to your soul. He licked his lips with hunger.

The large wings on his back flexed as he opened his arms, inviting you to sit. His serpentine tail guided you in place. Your back rested against his chest, your legs on either side of his, baring your dripping pussy to the man in front of you. Who was he? Oh, that’s right. Your boyfriend. You had forgotten.

Your boyfriend was still frozen in place. Fear in his eyes as he forcibly stared at the beautiful creature coddling you. Was something wrong? You furrowed your brow in confusion.

“No need for that, pet,” the heavenly being touching you suggested. “No need to worry. You are safe with me. Relax.”

The claws at the end of his elegant bat wings hooked around your ankles, holding your legs up and out. The position forced your arms up and around his neck or else risk slipping off. But you felt no fear. No concern that you would fall. You were safe with him. He would never let you fall.

“I am going to pleasure you, now, my pretty little pet. All you need to do is focus. Focus on my voice.” His low, even, melodic voice spoke in your ear.

His claws hands ran up your stomach to play with your breasts. He rolled and rubbed your nipples and breasts gently. The spade of his tail stroked your pussy. Just enough pressure to keep your attention but not enough to let you cum.

“Now, pet, do you know why you are here today? No need to speak. Just nod or shake your head.”

You nodded. The tip of the spade of his tail flicked your clit. You gasped with pleasure.

“You are wrong. But that is okay, silly thing. You are wrong because that man across from you lied to you. You know that man, do you not, pet?”

You nodded and were rewarded with a tug on your nipples that made you moan in want of more.

“Correct. You do know him. He is the man that cannot make you cum. He is the man that only thinks of his own pleasure. He is the man that came to me and asked me to make you a cock-drunk slut who would cater to his every sexual whim. He is the man who could never make you feel as good as I do.”

You whimpered in need. While he spoke in your ear, his hot breath caressing your skin, the words buzzing in your mind, his eyes were fixated on the man across from you.

“That man thinks you are a bad girl, but I know better, pet. You are a good girl. You are such a perfectly submissive girl.”

His long, forked tongue ran up your neck. He bit your ear softly before continuing. “You see, I like to help people, pet. You humans are so wrapped up in your sexual morals that you all have such a hard time indulging. So, few of you know what you truly want, but I help you discover that.”

He began speeding up his attention and the rhythm of his words, driving you closer to the edge.

“You humans think my kind brings sexual corruption, that we are evil, but all we do is reveal your deepest desires and aid you in reaching them. When that man came to me, I accepted his request to help in your sex lives as a therapist. But when you arrived, I saw what he truly wanted - you as nothing more than a tool for him for sex and money, a leech. And I saw what you truly were - such a good submissive pet, so ready to find the perfect owner.”

Your body writhed in his arms. You were at the edge, almost ready to climax, but you could not cum. Deep inside of you, you knew. Good girls did not cum without permission.

“Good girls do not deserve men like him. You have so much more potential.”

You whimpered. Tears forming at the corners of your eyes. Your body was pulled taught, ready to hear that word. You need to hear it. You would go insane if you did not-- “Cum.”

White filled your vision as your eyes rolled back in your head. A gush of fluid shot out of you as your pussy clenched wildly on nothing, nearly reaching the dreadful man sitting frozen on the couch. You had never felt like this before. The orgasm was a rocket, and now you were floating among the stars.

Slowly, your body relaxed once more. The hot hands on your body stroking you, calming you.

“Very good,” his voice was low and evenly melodic again. He sighed and pressed a kiss against your ear. As he pulled his lips away, the softest whisper that you only heard because of your focus on his voice was spoken. “I think I am going to keep you.”

_________

This is definitely a part 1 - I'll link part 2 here

Other Department of Monster Affairs works

Werewolf bites and bodily fluids - worldbuilding/lore prompt for Hello Neighbor

Hello Neighbor - m!werewolf x f!reader, teratophilia, knotting, heat. One-shot.

Minotaur Essence Products - worldbuilding/lore prompt for After Party

After Party - m!Minotaur x f!reader, teratophilia, breeding, overstimulation.

For other works see my masterlist

#monster smut #incubus #incubus x reader #incubus x human #demon x human #demon kink #hypnok1nk #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x you #monster x reader #monster x human #teratophillia #department of monster affairs

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fuiru · 6 months ago

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A 44 year old man goes to a K-Pop Concert

I promised you a report on the K-pop concert that I, a 44-year-old accountant, went to a couple of weeks ago with my wife and daughter in Toronto. So here it is.

The band we saw were Ateez. They're my daughter's favourite band and my wife's second favourite. I know most of my mutuals are similarly aged like me and may not be familiar with them so let me give you a brief primer on Ateez.

Imagine the most attractive eight men you can think of, just unfathomably beautiful specimens of aesthetic perfection, and make them sing songs that somehow combine the subjects of 'dancing like nobody is watching' with 'we live in a dystopian hellscape that we must all work together to overthrow'. Give them an ongoing music video story lore that literally nobody - not even the band themselves - understand, so that online discussion of their visual motifs looks more like the fevered rantings of a conspiracy theorist, complete with speculation about alternate realities and time being a Moebius strip. There is also a giant sand timer, for some reason.

That's Ateez. That's what you need to know.

Now, K-pop concerts are very different to the gigs I've been going to for the last 28 (!) years. There's no support act, for a start. Also the band perform for like, three hours, with breaks for costume changes and interpretive dance. Furthermore, hanging above everything is the constant looming threat of mandatory military service.

So this being my first such concert, I wasn't sure what to expect. What happened was difficult to explain, but I will try as I am already six paragraphs into this write-up and I'm too invested to stop now. Here goes:

In his Wicked + Divine comics series, Kieron Gillen places modern pop icons as deities, feeding upon and gaining strength from the worship of their fans at the altar of musical performance. I thought I understood that metaphor. I thought I understood it AS a metaphor. I was wrong, because that night Ateez WERE Gods with a capital G and we were their worshippers, a crowd emanating adoration (in the religious and non-religious senses), bestowing strength upon them and gaining their strength in return.

If that sounds weird, it probably is. But as pointed out above, I have lived over four decades and never yet experienced anything like the overwhelming passion of that crowd, the utter abandon with which they conveyed their love for the band.

"But Fuiru, what of the actual music?" you ask. Thinking back, there was a moment in one of their songs - I can't remember which - where I watched the stage, and the people around me, taking it in, and I thought, "Man, I just love Music". But that doesn't answer your question, sorry.

Ateez's music is bloody great. As a tiresome indie/rock/metal kid I'm resisting the urge to add the usual tiresome indie/rock/metal caveat of "...for pop music" because honestly that does it a disservice. They have some genuinely amazing songs. Halazia is an absolute fucking masterpiece that descends into furious hardcore breakbeat. Bouncy is a big, brash racket that somehow is also a perfect pop song. Utopia, Wonderland, and Guerrilla are similarly superb. The obligatory boy band slow number is represented by Dancing Like Butterfly Wings which will make you cry because you will forever associate it with your twelve year old daughter being pointed to and waved at by her favourite Ateez member (Seonghwa) because of her Seonghwa-branded lightstick.

That might just be me, though.

So in summary: being a 44 year old dad at his first K-pop concert rules and you should endeavour to partake in the experience if the opportunity arises.

Finally, for any Atiny reading this: my bias would be San or Seonghwa but my wife and daughter said they were taken so it’s Mingi. My concert outfit (designed and created by my offspring) reflects this.

#ateez #atiny #mingi #song mingi #k-pop #the oldest bloke at the dance #kieron gillen

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covenofagatha · 2 months ago

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A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall.

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber.

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind.

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position.

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?”

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.”

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.”

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.”

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle.

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–”

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.”

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question.

“Oh, you want me to go there?”

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.”

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?”

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters.

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?”

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.”

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?”

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway.

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.”

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump.

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory.

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too.

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children.

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly.

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her.

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins.

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were.

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window.

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach.

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats.

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black.

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch.

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card.

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number.

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back.

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’”

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.”

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back.

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal.

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman.

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison.

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim.

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals.

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison.

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse.

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed.

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone.

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere.

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight.

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations.

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you.

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in.

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office.

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.”

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.”

“Any leads so far?” You ask her.

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you.

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career.

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face.

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?”

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully.

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy.

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize.

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.”

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory.

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.”

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point.

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.”

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited.

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case?

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.”

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.”

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like.

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question.

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.”

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table.

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames.

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously.

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.”

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.”

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?”

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder.

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave.

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall.

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind.

But what is it?

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly.

“Hey, Director,” you say.

“There she is! How’s it going?”

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.”

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?”

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says.

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.”

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles.

Something feels off.

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night?

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest.

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor.

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food.

Friends? Sisters? Lovers?

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous.

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place.

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table.

They were here.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x you #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x reader #agathario #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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sanjisleggy · 2 months ago

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the warlord’s wife (dracule mihawk x reader)

req: Oh if you want to you should do a Mihawk x reader (fem or gn) that's hurt comfort where the reader is like the exact opposite of him. Like she is usually so happy and sweet and kind. And something happens and maybe she starts to worry that she is too much for Mihawk because he is just someone who is quiet and to himself all the time and she thinks she is constantly bothering him

a/n: ahhh my first attempt at writing for Mihawk! a much shorter fic compared to my others but i hope you guys like it nonetheless :3c i’d love to write longer fics for him if anyone has any ideas yippee

contents: rude people (lol), insecure!fem!reader, simp!Mihawk, a tiny bit of angst, some hurt/comfort, fluff :3c

wc. 1k

wanna be on my taglist?

—

standing outside the large ornate doors, you feel your face burn with embarrassment as you contemplate simply going to the docks to wait out by the hitsugibune until the gala ends. as tempting as escaping from the horrific social situation sounds right now, your pride refuses to let you bow your head in defeat.

”i don’t know how else to convince you,” you try to appeal to the two marines standing guard outside the venue entrance once more, “if you could just ask him to verify my identity—”

”i’m sorry, miss,” the larger man of the two cuts you off with a less than apologetic look. “there’s just no reason why we should do as you say. if we listened to every man or woman demanding to go in, we’d lose our heads.”

your indignance and frustration quickly bubbles into pure anger and for a brief moment you lament having left your katana back at the castle. you bite your tongue, unable to think of any other way to convince the marine officers that you are, indeed, a guest who’d been invited to the gala because you’re literally one of the Warlords’ wives.

“besides,” the other officer chips in unprompted, “no offence but you don’t seem like the type of woman someone like Dracule Mihawk would marry.” his partner fails to hold back a scoff but quickly attempts to return his expression back into one of neutral professionalism.

clenching your fists by your sides, you try your very hardest to keep your eyes from tearing up for the second time tonight. normally such a comment wouldn’t phase you—years of being Mihawk’s partner has done wonders for thickening your skin—right now, though, you can’t help but feel a familiar sharp stinging sensation pierce through your chest.

of all the snarky comments you marine dogs decide to make, why this one?

ii.

it had only been an hour into the gala and already you regretted begging your husband, just weeks prior, to consider attending with you as his guest. the event was a grand one held by the marines every year to “show their appreciation” towards their allies, which included the Seven Warlords; and every year the invite would show up at your doorstep only to be promptly thrown out by your introverted husband.

”can we please go? i miss going for social events like these.” you’d pleaded that night in bed, hugging his arm tightly as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck—a move he liked to call ‘playing dirty. “just this once to see what it’s like, then i’ll never ask again.”

both you and Mihawk knew it was a lie but the swordsman was nothing if not a simp for you so he begrudgingly agreed.

”care to elaborate why?” you challenge, taking the two marines aback if their surprised expressions are anything to go by. clearly not used to ‘civilians’ talking back to them, they take a moment to gather their thoughts—and at least have enough decency to look embarrassed at being called out.

”w-well—”

“your wife is such a chatterbox! it’s a wonder you’ve tolerated her for as long as you have!”

”your husband is whom? forgive me, i find that hard to believe.”

”i thought he was some kind of recluse?”

”maybe it was an arranged marriage. how scandalous.”

”i pity the poor man. all my husband does is talk and it drives me insane some days.”

”darling?” a deep familiar voice calls out from behind you, accompanied by the sound of heeled shoes clicking against stone. before you can turn around, you feel his warm hand rest itself on your shoulder, the comforting heat of his body engulfing you from behind. “i’ve been looking for you.”

the blood drains from both the marine officers’ faces, their eyes widening in shock as it dawns on them what a mistake they’ve just made. as though pleading for mercy, the eyes of the larger man flickers in your direction, almost screaming: “please, i’m too young to die.”

”were these men giving you trouble?” Mihawk probes gently, using his other hand to tilt your head in his direction. the moment his eyes meet your own and widen ever so slightly, you know there’s no point lying. as much as you’ve been able to hold back your tears of frustration well enough to fool the average man, your husband is anything but average.

mouths still agape, the marine officers can do nothing but watch as the notorious swordsman proceeds to cup your face with his right hand in a manner so tender they can’t help but suspect he’s an imposter. unbothered by the unbelieving stares sent his way, Mihawk brushes his thumb under your eye as though to confirm his suspicion.

”they were but it’s okay now,” you finally reply, placing your hand over his to hold it in place as you relish in the comforting warmth of his palm.

”what did you do to my wife?” he disregards your subtle plea for peacemaking. he knows you well enough to infer that you simply don’t want him to make a scene for the sake of maintaining his public image.

Mihawk’s aware of how much you actually enjoy silently watching him defend your pride and honour; and he also knows from experience how happily you’ll reward him with your honeyed words and sweet touches later tonight, when it’s just the two of you alone together. it concerns him, slightly, if he were to be honest, how easily you have him wrapped around your finger—but that’s something to think about another day.

the marines stutter and stammer but nothing coherent leaves their lips, all linguistic ability fading into nothing under the angered gaze of the Warlord.

”be thankful my beloved is as kind as she is,” the swordsman warns, all the while maintaining his hardened glare. “know that had she not vouched for you two, i’d have no problem killing you right where you stand.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op x reader #op #fanfic #imagine #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort

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adoristsposts · 2 months ago

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all the seasons | quinn hughes

author's note; guys i fear i may be coming back with my first non-song-inspired quinn hughes fanfic... and it's loooong. anything can be a oneshot if you post it all at once, right? summary; when stumbling upon quinn hughes seems to become a year-round habit, it's hard to deny that maybe fate might be pushing the two of you together. word count; 4.7k warnings; a little bit of purple prose probably idk i've been writing this on and off. swearing + mentions of drinking

winter

There is a large chance, you realise, that Quinn Hughes will not like you as much as your best friend has been assuring you. Cole, of course, is beaming at you like he knows some shit is going to go down. The idiot. It had taken a lot of groveling for him to convince you to come - and a lot of whining about how all the other 'old farts' on the team would bore him to death with hockey talk and flaunt their hot girlfriends, making him miss his hot girlfriend who had flown home for Christmas. All of it had ended in the promise that you would get to talk puck with your favourite players and he would buy all your drinks at the bar the eldest Hughes brother had rented out. You had agreed reluctantly. Cole was hard to say no to. After you had spilled hot chocolate all over him his first year in Vancouver and begged him to send you the dry cleaning bill, you had become a bit of a lifeline to the boy. You became someone whose apartment he stayed in whenever he was called up to the Canucks, and someone to drive the long commute to his weekend games. The two of you had become inseparable. Well, separable only by the distance between Vancouver and Abbotsford that you refused to cross on workdays. Recently called up, and staying in the guest room next to yours, Cole had been invited to the Canucks' Christmas party. A party "usually organized by Millsy's wife, but she's like, sick or something" Cole had explained to you. Therefore the responsibility fell on Quinn Hughes. "What are you all stressed about?" Cole asked, looking up from his phone and settling his gaze on you. You had been lost in your thoughts, listening to the hum of the Uber's engine and the quiet radio the driver was playing. "Dude," You breathed out, "I'm going to puke." "You are not" He said, well aware of your dramatics, "going to puke. You will be fine, they'll love you." "In ten minutes I have to talk to the Vancouver Canucks. The captain of the Vancouver Canucks. I deal with enough talking to you." You hissed out, glancing at the Uber. Was this information safe to share? Should you be worried he was going to dox the Christmas party address? Oh, God save us all. Happy birthday, Jesus. Thanks a lot. Cole laughed at you "Would you chill out? I keep telling you Quinn will love you." "I'm chilling out, I promise," You breathed, "Just thinking about all those drinks you're going to buy me." "Alright, alright."

Ten minutes later the two of you were clambering out of the Uber. "Do I look okay?" You asked him, adjusting your dress. He just shrugged and let out a grunt that almost sounded like an 'I don't know.' You rolled your eyes at him but followed him as he led you towards an eerily quiet bar. It was obvious it had been booked for a private event, but the missing element of drunk people lining the streets outside of it made the whole thing feel a little out of place. A pub for Christmas? Cole opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside first and take the place in. Whoever Quinn had hired had done a great job - red tinsel was strewn about just about anywhere it could go. Christmas decorations lined the bar, as well as a handful of Menorahs and other Hannukah decorations. The whole place was alive already. You and Cole were fashionably late, you presumed. "Let's say hi to Quinn" Cole said, pressing a hand against your upper back to help lead you towards the Captain. You wouldn't have needed the help. For God knows whatever reason, Quinn basically shone in gold to you. His face was flushed and his hair slightly sweaty from the pure heat radiating throughout the place. There was a lopsided grin on his face as he smiled at whatever joke the man across from him was telling. The bar lights, slightly tinged red, fell over him like water that cascaded down his strong nose, off his shoulders, and over his body. It was a pull you had never felt before, one that made you forget about the fact Cole was literally pushing you towards the man. Quinn's gaze slid away from his conversation and across the room, obviously taking note of if everything was running well. For a moment it scanned over you before coming back. And for a second, it was like everything in the world fell into place. Almost as if he felt it too, his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed. Or, perhaps, you realized, he was wondering 'Who the fuck is this girl at my party?' "Quinn!" Cole greeted happily, darting out from behind you and giving the man a hug. Over Cole's shoulder, Quinn held you in a quizzical stare. When he pulled away, he asked, "Who are you?" Cole laughed awkwardly at the blunt question. "This is my friend I was telling you about. The one from Vancouver?" Quinn's face showed no sign of recognising or remembering any mention of a 'friend from Vancouver.' Instead he just stared. It was stranger, probably, that you just stared back. "Okay..." Cole said, glancing between the two of you. "I'm going to go get a drink. You want anything?" "Whatever you think I'd like." You said, finally breaking your gaze to give Cole an appreciative smile. He gave you an odd look and then backed away before fully turning around and heading towards the bar. Just you and Quinn now. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name." Quinn said. His face still held a look of perplexity. He looked so intently at you that you felt like he was trying to figure out if he recognised you from somewhere. You gave it to him, lips curling up as he nodded at the information like it was some interesting fact. "I'm Quinn. I mean- Cole just said it but.. I'm Quinn." You laughed. It really wasn't that funny, but it bubbled out of you before you could stop it. "Hi Quinn."

A few drinks later and you and the captain of the Vancouver Canucks that you were so anxious to meet had been glued at the hip for hours, talking about anything and everything you two could think of. You had wandered out to the outdoor seating of the bar. It was entirely empty, thanks to the freezing conditions of a Vancouver winter that everyone inside was trying to escape from. But you had discovered throughout the night that the heat in your cheeks seemed forever present around Quinn, and the cold air was like a soothing kiss. "Are you cold?" He asked you. "No, are you?" You asked back, eyeing his red nose and bouncing leg. He smiled and shook his head. It was quiet out here. Conversation in the bar had gotten difficult the rowdier everyone had gotten. Cole had long left you two, pouty that you wouldn't save him from awkward conversations he couldn't relate to about marriage and kids with the older guys. Quinn's hand on the railing brushed against yours. "Listen, I don't really know how to approach the topic, but do you think I could get your-" "There you are!" If you could pick a time and place for a person to drop dead, you would pick right here, right now, and Cole McWard. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I am desperate to go home- No offense Quinn, the party's great." "Okay, okay," You said, "Right now?" "The Uber's outside. I've been frantically searching for you ever since I realized you and Huggy here had left your little corner." Shit. Okay. You turned to Quinn. Even at the sight of him, a stupid grin broke out on your face. There was something romantic about him that you couldn't quite place, like it was written all over his face that he should be the star in some cheesy movie about loving and loving hard. "See you around?" You said. "See you around."

"Did you get his number?" Cole asked in the Uber. "No," You sighed, "And fuck. 'Cause he's hot." "If it's meant to be, it'll be." He shrugged.

spring

April hit like a drug. After a few weeks of pining over Quinn Hughes (who had chased Cole down to ask if you were single and then gone radio silent), and then a few hours of remembering you were single and didn't have to care, the first few months of the year had flown by. Work had been hectic, and you loved it. You navigated the isles of the florist's shop, on call with Cole through your headphones. You made a beeline to the lilies, choosing the pink ones and complaining to Cole about some client of yours that had been beyond difficult. "Seems to me like you need to lock Hughesy down and retire so you take all this over-achiever energy and put into being the captain's wife." Cole snorted. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you, "I told you, I'm over that." "You were like, in love with the man." "And he did nothing about it!" You exclaimed, walking up to the cashier and paying for them. You mouthed a quiet thank you and moved on. "He literally always asks me about you." "Yeah, on the rare occasion you get called up. I think that's just called small talk." You huffed. Cole sighed, "Listen, just... I don't know. You guys seemed good together. It'll happen." And then he ruined the moment by quoting Surf's Up "I can feel it in my nuggets." You snorted at him. "Whatever, it's whatever. I've got to get home, I'll call you later, okay?" "Okay, bye." He hung up quickly. No drawn out goodbyes for you two. With a start, you realized you had forgotten to ask him if he had remembered to set aside a ticket for you for his game Saturday. You quickly pulled up your messages, typing out the question for him. About to hit send you- A grunt and the feeling of the hard pavement on your ass stopped you before you could. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, that's totally my fault and- Quinn?" You were surprised by the blue eyes that stared at you as you pick yourself up. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, then open, then shut, like a fish. You furrowed your eyebrows at him. "Are you alright?" He stuttered to life, like a machine rebooting. "Yes! Um, yeah, I'm all good. I haven't seen you since..." "Since the Christmas party." You finished for him. You wanted to press your lips into a thin line, tell him to have a good life, and move on. God, you wanted to. But something about Quinn made your brain muddled. You smiled at him. He smiled back. "Want to grab a coffee? I can buy you some flowers to make up for the ones I just crushed." True to his observations, the lilies you had just bought were bent out of shape from hitting the floor with you. "Yeah. That would be nice."

Quinn Hughes, you were beginning to realise, was easy to stare at. It was like every part of his face was designed with some gravitational pull that just beckoned you closer and closer until you were entirely enamoured with the way his mouth curled as he talked. You didn't realise the conversation went quiet until it did, too busy staring to clock that he had finished talking. He cleared his throat and you broke out of your trance. "Sorry." You said. "Listen.." Quinn trailed off. You were a little afraid he was going to call you out and tell you that you were making him uncomfortable. "That night. The Christmas party- God, I hope I don't come on too strong here but.. We were good, right? There was some crazy, cosmic connection. Please tell me I didn't make that up." It was like the air had been sucked out of the room and forced into your lungs. You wanted to call all your friends who had told you that 'delusional doesn't get anyone anywhere' and tell them that he had felt it too. The feeling that before you locked eyes the world hadn't moved, hadn't been set in motion until you knew the feeling of his gaze on you and yours on him. You wanted to cry out, 'Yes, you idiot', but instead you settled for a smile and "I felt it, trust me." "I was going to ask for your number, but Cole interrupted and I felt like maybe it was a sign that I wasn't ready for you yet. Like maybe the universe was telling me to wait for you. God I sound like such an idiot. And if I freak you out and you turn me down just know I will still replace those flowers," He was talking slowly, sure of himself, "But I would really like your number now. If you and the Universe want me to. Have your number, that is." You placed a hand over his, hoping that the sign of interest would get him to stop rambling. "Firstly, my lilies better be replaced. And secondly, you could've had my number at the party, universe be damned, but I'm just as happy to give it to you now"

summer

There was nothing that compared to the absolute defeat reflected in Quinn's face as he wrung his hands sitting on the couch. An injury for earlier in the season had flared up again, leaving him scratched from the second round of the playoffs- a round that the Canucks were struggling in without their Captain. It stressed you out to see him so stressed out. And you honestly had no clue what you were supposed to do. Since exchanging numbers, the two of you had done just about everything other than put a label on what you were. It was terrifying and exhilarating and you didn't know if you should turn the television off or not to spare Quinn from what was beginning to turn into a nasty loss. It killed him to not be able to fly out for the away game, to not be able to be there for his team. Having him play through his injury had left him sidelined for weeks, and not allowing that injury to fully heal before he picked up his stick again had bothered him until finally the medical team had to force him to rest. Even now you knew he'd be laced up and on the ice in seconds if he could be. "You alright?" You asked him, "Need any ice or heat or anything?" Your apartment had become his over the past few months. His gear had a permanent spot in your coat closet and his Yankees cap hung up next to your Abbotsford one. And now everything Quinn-care was stored around the place. He grunted in response, eyes still glued to the screen. "Quinn." "Jesus, what?" He snapped. At least he broke his gaze from the TV. Immediately, he softened. "Sorry. I'm alright, thank you. I'm sorry." You moved from your station behind the kitchen counter and sat next to him on the couch. "I know it sucks." You told him. "It's one more week. I want you healed, Quinn. You gotta help me here." "I know, I know." He pressed his lips into a thin smile, grabbing your hand and turning back to the game. He stroked circles onto the back of your hand. Even with the ups and downs of the game, they never lost their rhythm.

You fell asleep listening to the hum of the commentators and the sounds of skates and sticks on the ice. When you woke up, Quinn was texting furiously, the pads of his thumbs beating on his phone in an almost soothing dance. "Everything alright?" He didn't turn. "Yeah, babe." "How was the game?" "They lost. Sorry- give me a second, I'm texting the groupchat." You hummed in response, not bothering to talk. He was lost to the hockey he was replaying in his mind. Over and over on a loop until he felt he had identified what went wrong and how he could fix it. You unfurled yourself from your place amongst the pillows and rose, your bones cracking and groaning in pleasure from getting out of the position. You padded to the windows, closing them. They had been open to release some of the heat in your apartment, but now all you wanted to do was sleep without worrying about pesky insects getting in. When you turned back to the couch Quinn was still typing. "I'm going to bed, you coming?" You asked him. He turned and gave you his big stupid grin that hung lopsidedly on his face. "In a minute. Don't wait up, okay? I know you have work tomorrow." "'kay" You wandered into your bedroom, slipping yourself into your sheets. Over the past few months of seeing each other it had become near impossible for you to sleep without the white noise of Quinn's quiet snores next to you. Roadies were beginning to genuinely impact your functionality at work, with the lack of sleep and following overconsumption of caffeine messing with you. Quinn was the complete opposite of everything you had searched for. Being best friends with Cole, you knew what dating a hockey player was like. And you had been adamant you didn't want anything like it. His schedule made everything about dating difficult- not to mention the added privacy that was required in his situation. On top of it, he was entirely enamoured with hockey. When you caught him zoning out during movies or taking a little too long to reply in conversation, you knew he was just dreaming of it in the same way he had his whole life. It was what made him so undeniably talented on the ice. And as a fan of the sport yourself, you understood. And God help you, you forgave. Because you wanted nothing other than him. The boy had tainted you completely. If you ever had to date again, if the two of you never did label anything and just fizzled out, he would have ruined you for anyone else. There was no one else with his passion and dedication. His ability to take charge and make the best of difficult situations. And no one who made you feel so whole. He was far from what you were looking for, but he was what you needed. A man. One that was still texting his groupchat as you drifted closer to sleep without the heat of his body next to you. But twenty or so minutes later you felt the brush of a kiss at your temple and the familiar dip of the bed as Quinn slipped into his side. And you fully fell asleep to the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his chest against your back.

fall

"You're going to be my wife." Quinn cooed. You turned around from your seat in front of your vanity, narrowing your eyes at him. "Quinn, what?" You were shocked at the statement. Also shocked at the fact that you didn't quite hate the idea. The two of you had become official a month or so back, and the four weeks had felt exactly like the four weeks before it: calm and blissful. He was smirking at you from the bed. You studied his face. You had never been more obsessed with someone's face. You could probably close your eyes and still accurately point to where his beauty mark was, you were so obsessed. There was something so romantic about him. It opened a pit in your stomach and swallowed you whole. You were like a teenage girl with a crush. Quite literally weak in the knees at your big-girl age of 23. "You're going to be my wife." He repeated, rising from where he sat on the edge of your bed. You turned back to your vanity, allowing him to plant both hands on the back of your chair and lock eyes with you in the mirror. "My wife." He said. Third times the charm, you suppose, as the reality of how insane he sounded hit you. "Your wife?" You almost snorted, "Is this a proposal after one month, Hughes? You know you're yet to even meet my parents." "I've met them!" He defended, "Over the phone- that is so not the point." You rolled your eyes at him. "It's also not a proposal. I just know." At your unimpressed look, he said "The universe, baby." "Sure, Hughesy. Are you ready to go?" You and Quinn were heading out to your last dinner of the pre-season. Getting ramped back up had been difficult with off-season trades and signings and finding the chemistry in a practically new team had taken it's toll on Quinn. But the pressure would be tenfold once the season started. The players and fans were ravenous for a cup. Years of hard work were starting to pay off with better records and longer playoff runs, and you knew that when Quinn closed his eyes at night he was dreaming of that pretty piece of metal. One that, you had admitted to him while drawing patterns on his chest, you had always wanted to be able to kiss like all your hockey idols before you. "I'll get it for you" He had said like it was a shiny piece of jewelry. "You better" You had replied, sealing the promise with a kiss. "Yeah, I'm all ready, pretty lady."

winter

"Happy three years" Quinn smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. You laughed at him, "What are you talking about? Put your shoes on." The two of you were on your way to the Canuck's annual Christmas party. This was your first year sharing the responsibility with JT Miller's wife. You still weren't quite ready to fully take on the role. Although the woman insisted you would have been fine on your own and seemed a little eager to officially pass the mantle of party-planner onto you. Quinn was still staring at you. "The uber is here, you goof" You tugged him by his shirt out of the door. "We're going to be late." "Happy three year," He repeated. "What? Our anniversary is in September" "We met three years ago. Happy three years, my love." You stopped in your tracks. "Oh my god, Quinn, I'm so sorry - I didn't even realise." He smiled at you. Three years in and that look still made you melt. His hair was freshly washed, and the wet strands fell across his forehead like they were styled to look perfectly messy. His ever-scruffy facial hair seemed custom made to frame his perfect smile. "If you don't stop looking at me like that, we're going to miss the Uber and the party. That I planned" You put an emphasis on the last part like it would deter him at all. You had left a couple 'you' planned parties because he wouldn't stop looking at you a certain way. Being in love had never been so entirely overwhelming for you before. You could remember when you met him like it was yesterday. The electricity that charged between you two. The feeling that your heart was trying to claw itself out of your body so it could get to his. It was nothing you had felt before and something you had felt every day since. He grabbed your waist with one of his hands. One of the many things Quinn brought up when he raved about fate and the universe was the fact that he claimed you fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. That it was his "God-given spot." The sap. You felt the same, secretly. "Happy three years," He said, still giving you that fucking smile. You tilted your head to look up at him. Lifting to your toes so you could reach him comfortably, you pressed your lips against his. He parted his lips quickly, a hand making it's way to your chin to angle you into the perfect position. The kiss got passionate fast, and your hands explored his chest, smoothing over his pecs. One wandered over his shoulder, pulling him into you, while the other grabbed a fistful of the flannel he had thrown on over his long-sleeve.

The buzzing of your phone interrupted you. He tried to chase your lips with his as you pulled away, but you gave him a playfully stern look and he gave up. "The uber is literally texting me, Quinn, we have to go." "I have the flu." "You do not." "I'm very truthfully ill. I don't think I should risk giving it to my teammates and their girlfriends. I think we should stay home." You quirked an eyebrow, "We? I can go without you." "If I'm sick, so are you." "You are not sick, Quinn." "Oh I am. Outrageously so. The Scarlett Fever, I think." "Quinn," You laughed. "The Bubonic Plague." "Come on." "Marry me." "We're- What?" Quinn hadn't faltered at all. "Let's miss the Uber. Marry me." "Quinn, what? Are you still joking?" His face paled a little at the question, "Why? Do you not want to?" You swatted his shoulder, "Obviously I want to. This is so not a funny joke." He looked into the hallway past you, like he was scanning for an aggravated Uber driver coming in to drag his customers into his car. "Wait here." You opened your mouth to protest that you really truly were going to be late now, but he was already thundering back towards your apartment. He rushed in, the door not even having enough time to click behind him before he raced back out. In his hand was a black velvet box. "I was waiting for a good opportunity. I thought maybe when I got you that Stanley Cup. Or at the lake, but I couldn't wait that long." "Quinn" You breathed out. "I love you. So much. And I know I've said a million times that I'm going to marry you, but this time I'm asking for real. Marry me? We can have a big wedding with everyone from the team and a crazy venue and my mom can fuss over your bridesmaids so you don't have to and Cole can even be your Man of Honour. Or we can have a tiny, courthouse wedding with just you and me- and maybe Jack and Luke. I don't care. Just marry me?" You had expected, your whole life, that the world would spin on its axel the day you got engaged. You had thought profusely about this exact moment, and how everything would change, and wondered if your husband-to-be would pick the perfect ring. But you didn't even care if Quinn ever opened the box. If it was the ugliest thing you'd ever seen in your life. And it didn't feel like the air had left your lungs, and it didn't feel like everything was changing. It felt like everything was slotting in where it was supposed to be - and this was your place. Maybe not in your dingy apartment that you loved too much to move out of for your boyfriend Quinn (a problem that would not arise for your fiancee Quinn, you realised as you began to dream of a gorgeous house and a few little Hughes running around that most certainly would not fit in your one-bedroom one-bathroom) but your place with him, however you could have him. You couldn't even get the words out, opting instead for a tearful nod. Quinn surged to you, wrapping his arms around you. Overcome with emotions, you practically collapsed. Quinn helped you lower yourself to the floor. You grabbed for him, taking a fistful of his shirt and using it to pull his lips to yours. "I love you," You murmured against them, "And we are totally missing this party." He laughed in response, pulling away and pressing his forehead to yours. "Absolutely. Now get this ring on and let's get off this gross floor, yeah?" Your face hurt from smiling, but your grin somehow got even wider. "Yeah."

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fluff #nhl #nhl fluff #nhl oneshot #adoristsposts

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coldfanbou · 3 months ago

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Kinkcember Day 2: Stepcest

Day 2 is time to get a little kinky by keeping it in the family.

Length 2K

Jeewon X Mreader

“Do you really have to go?”

“Yep, duty calls!” Eunbi chirped as she packed clothes away in her suitcase. “It won’t be so long this time, just a month. Acting is hard work.”

“I know it is, but still, can’t you do something closer to home?” You said, growing tired of Eunbi’s constant trips. “Since we got married, we’ve barely been able to spend time together. I rarely see you these days. I get, maybe, a month if I’m lucky. ”

Eunbi puts her clothes down and turns around, cupping your cheeks, “I know it’s hard for you, it’s hard for me too, but I’m finally getting recognition for my work. Just bear with it a little longer, and in a few years, we’ll have all the time in the world.” You sigh, knowing that there was no convincing Eunbi.

She continues to pack her clothes as you head downstairs. You wait by the entrance for her, listening for the sounds of her suitcase slamming on the stairs. You hear the sounds soon enough, and you walk over to Eunbi, grabbing the suitcase from her hand and walking it down the rest of the way to the car. You open the back door to see your stepdaughter Jeewon already waiting there. “Occupied!” She chirps. You head to the trunk and place the suitcase there. The drive to the airport is relatively quiet and quick. Eunbi’s flight leaving early in the morning was one of the reasons for that. You set Eunbi’s suitcase on the sidewalk, and she quickly hugs you before walking into the airport.

“Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone!” She yells without turning around, her hand waving at you.

You wave goodbye to your wife as she leaves on another one of her business trips. “Bye, Mom!” Jeewon yells from the back seat. You roll up the window and begin driving home. Jeewon stares out the window for most of the ride home but leans forward between the front seats as you get closer to home. “So what are we going to do now that mommy is gone? I want to make a lot of memories with you, Daddy.” She says, running her hand down your arm.

“She’s gone on trips before; we’ll just do what we usually do.” Jeewon pouts and sits back in her seat, beginning her plan. You head inside with Jeewon walking a few steps behind you. She considers how she’ll go about things, thinking it would be better to tempt you first. As she walks into your home, she pulls out her phone, searching for clothes that would make you want her. She heads upstairs when an idea pops into her mind. It was summer; it would be natural for her to wear a bikini, considering the house had a pool. Jeewon spent hours searching for swimsuits before deciding on one that would be perfect for getting your attention. She chose a plain red micro bikini. It arrived early the next morning. Jeewon grabbed it the moment it arrived and put it on, looking at herself in the mirror, satisfied with the result.

The next morning you came out to the living room, spotting Jeewon’s head poking up from one of the lawn chairs. Hearing you open the door, Jeewon sits up, turning her head before standing. She moves quickly, causing her breasts to bounce in her swimsuit. You can’t help but stare at her. Jeewon smiles back, her hands together behind her back as she spins. The force causes her tits to spill out before she quickly covers her nipples back up with the small piece of fabric. “Daddy, do you like my swimsuit? It’s been pretty hot, so I thought I’d try it on. Do you like it?” Jeewon gives you a smirk as she asks the question. You just nod and head back inside. You were hard; you had just seen your stepdaughter's nipples spill out of her swimsuit. It was hard to get the image of her out of your head. She practically wasn’t wearing anything.

Once your back is to her, she frowns, disappointed that you didn’t say anything about her swimsuit. Seeing that it wasn’t enough to be in her swimsuit, Jeewon decided she would always wear more revealing clothes, switching her usual attire of sweats and oversized t-shirts to miniskirts and tiny crop tops. She walked around the house constantly, bending over often so you could catch a peek of her panties. Her smooth and pristine skin was there to tease you as she would slowly stand back up every time.

Days passed where Jeewon did this, slowly breaking you down; a couple of times, you were close to touching her, but you’d always pull away in the end.

It was hard to resist Jeewon; her well-endowed body made you hard, but she was your stepdaughter. You do your best, trying to look away when she bent over. Jeewon continued to pressure you; when you watched TV, she would put herself beside you, grabbing your arm and pressing it against her chest as she clung to you. It was worse now that Jeewon’s shirts barely covered her; a low neckline gave you a perfect view of her soft tits. “Daddy?” Jeewon whispers into your ear, the sweetness in her voice overwhelming. “I need you to check something for me,” Jeewon gently tugs at your wrist, bringing your hand up and between her breasts. “Is my heartbeat okay?” Your hand is on her tit, and you can’t help but instinctively squeeze. Jeewon purses her lips, holding back her moan as she feels your hand against her chest. She takes a step closer, pushing her tits to fit into your palm.

“J-Jeewon,” you stammer, struggling now that you’ve crossed a line.

“Daddy,” Jeewon moans as she grabs your other hand and places it on her other breast. She holds you there and stares into your eyes, “I want you,” she says softly. Something in you breaks as you grope her tits. Jeewon moans softly as you massage them.

The next thing you know, you find yourself on the couch with Jeewon, still playing with her tits, her hand on your cock, stroking you slowly. “You’re so big, Daddy,” she moans softly as she presses her chest against yours. Jeewon continues to hum as she runs her thumb around the head; her breathing is staggered. She finally has you in the palm of her hand.

Jeewon leans in closely and steals a kiss as you knead her breasts; she moans into the kiss and squeezes your cock gently, her hand continuing to move up and down your shaft. Precum flows onto her hand, bringing a smile to Jeewon’s lips. “Don’t hold back, Daddy. You can cum.” You struggle, trying to hold back from crossing another line, but Jeewon pushes you over the edge. Her slick hand glides along your cock, forcing you to cum on her. You see Jeewon’s smile grow as she continues to stroke you past your orgasm. She seems almost surprised, “You came so much,” She says excitedly before setting herself down on your lap, her cunt rubbing against your cock.

You feel her panties; they’re soaked with her nectar. She gently rubs herself against your cock, rocking her hips as she reaches for the bottom of her shirt. Jeewon teased you, tugging at it, making her breasts bounce in front of you. You don’t notice as you lick your lips, your eyes glued to your stepdaughter's chest. Jeewon bounces her breasts twice more before lifting her shirt and showing you her bare breasts. They bounce violently, crashing against each other before slowly settling down. “I massaged them every day to make them bigger for you.” The young woman holds her breasts up to you as if offering them. “Do you like them?” You gulp and nod along. “I knew you would. Here,” Jeewon presses her chest against your face, adjusting until you latch onto her nipple. Her breathy moans fill the room as your tongue hesitantly moves around her soft nub. You were losing your senses; Jeewon’s scent flooded your nose. You knew it was wrong, but you didn’t care much anymore.

This was it; this was what she wanted. Jeewon wrapped her arms around your head, letting your hands wander her body. She would give everything to have you. Jeewon dragged her nipple out of your mouth, “Pay attention to this one too,” she tells you, tracing your lips with the other one. You attach yourself to it, flicking the hard nub with your tongue, all while Jeewon continues to rub her cunt against your cock. “I want you,” she moans.

“Jeewon,”

“Mom is never around for you. I’ve seen how sad it makes you. Daddy, you have me, too. I’m a woman, too. Mommy doesn’t have to know. We can keep all this between us.” Jeewon replies. Jeewon slowly pulls away from you and takes your hand, pulling you toward her bedroom. She drops her skirt and panties on the floor. Crossing her arms under her chest, she waits for you. “I’m ready, Daddy,”

Approaching her slowly, you pull Jeewon closer to you, your cock rubbing against her stomach. She reaches around and hugs you before climbing into her bed and laying back. You strip down and look over your stepdaughter. In the back of your mind, you know it's wrong, but you’re too far gone to think about it consciously.

You spread her legs slowly and rub your cock against her needy cunt, leaning over her. You stare at your stepdaughter, taking in her body once more. Jeewon holds onto your shoulders as you sit at her entrance. “Please, Daddy,” she whispers. You move slowly, spreading her lips and pushing yourself inside her tight cunt. You both let out lengthy groans as you push more and more of your cock inside Jeewon, her walls holding you tightly as she grips your shoulders. “Ah, D-daddy, you’re so big,” She shuts her eyes and feels her body tense as she finally gets what she’s wanted.

As you bottom out, buried deep inside Jeewon, she cums, her small whines the only sound now as her walls clamp down around your cock. “Oh, Daddy, fuck me, please, fuck me.” She groans, not wanting you to find out she came. You pull out slowly, and once only the tip remains, you slam yourself back in, reveling in the pleasure. Your thrusts begin slow, but as you start to grow comfortable inside Jeewon, you pick up speed, and her breasts bounce as you become rougher.

Your senses leave you; you kiss Jeewon’s neck, leaving marks on her smooth skin. Your hands move down to her thighs, gripping them tightly as you drive yourself deeper into Jeewon. Jeewon’s moans flood the entire home as you ravage her body; you’re giving her everything she imagined and more. She could feel your cock move through her, stretching her tight cunt. “Daddy!” She cries out, a euphoric look on her face, “I love you, Daddy!”

“I love you, too,” You grunt before pressing your lips against Jeewon’s. She holds you tightly, refusing to let back away from the kiss. She crosses her legs behind your back. Every thrust feels better than the last, and you feel yourself getting close to cumming. Jeewon can feel it, too. The thought of you cumming inside her sounds like heaven to her. As your cock begins to thro,b she uses her legs to push you in deeper, making your cock knock against her womb.

You move like a piston, slamming yourself into Jeewon with reckless abandon, fucking her harder than you ever did your wife. In a second, you come to a complete stop, burying yourself inside your stepdaughter and filling her with your cum. Jeewon’s senses go wild as she feels your cum flood her pussy; her breathing becomes staggered, and she cums. The joy of being filled with your cum feels like waves washing over her. You groan in a low voice, Jeewon’s walls slowly squeeze your cock, milking you as you remain buried inside her.

You cup Jeewon’s cheeks and kiss her again, feeling her melt into it. “Thank you, Daddy,” she moans softly as you finally pull out. Jeewon looks down to see your cum flowing from her cunt. You roll onto your back, tired, and fall asleep as Jeewon scoops your cum from her cunt and plays with it between her finger,s amazed at how much you have given her.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #cignature smut #jeewon smut

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velvetypoets · 4 months ago

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Mister pitch perfect

The perfect Gryffindor golden boy has gone off his rails to catch a Black daughter.

Warnings: James Potter x reader fanfic, James is down bad, I tagged marauders but no peter, Slytherin reader, Black family reader, reader is portrayed as she/her, reader centric, forbidden love trope, SFW, James perspective

havent done this in a while and this will be the first time im posting on this platform. im very sorry if its quite messy!

this was supposed to be a oneshot but i drag it too much. so it'll be some sort of a series oneshot? will also be posted on ao3 soon!

————————————————————————————————————————

It was never meant to be. James Fleamont Potter was basically molted into the perfect specimen of man and every soul who has ever walked Hogwarts knew. Sure he would cause trouble every then and again with his fellow mates. Yet of course, James would always dazzle his way out of it with a few charming smiles or reasonings to squeal his way out of being blamed.

[ part 1|part 2|part 3 ]

He was confident, charismatic, spotless.

And when he meets eyes with you, it was set. James is sitting at his usual spot with the marauders at supper when the moment arrives. You were fixing your necklace to your neck at the Slytherin table, struggling with the clasps as your face scrunches in frustration. James almost walks the whole way over to you and offers his assistance right then and there.

"Stop undressing my cousin with your eyes, Prongs," Sirius brings James back to reality with a slap on the back of his head. He seems to still be having his feast so that was new of him to pick on James in that setting. Remus raises an eyebrow as he stares at the two, "Since when do you care about the other Blacks?"

"That was foul, Pads!" James yell as he rubs his head and glares at his mate, he's used to Sirius playfights but that slap seems to be sincere. He tries to focus on the conversation as he tries to find you again on the table across. You seemed to have moved next to Regulus as he helps you with your necklace. James lets out an involuntary sigh.

"She's different, Moony. She's on the edge too. Pretty sure she's going to find a way to run when she hits 18," Sirius lets out a scowl, "Heard she is to be arranged with Nott. Bloody brilliant that."

"Nott? That Nott? Surely you're joking. That bastard can't even keep his owl alive for a week! How's he going to keep a wife that young?!" Remus exclaims in disbelief. Whipping his head to take a good look at you now that you're a big deal. "I wish I was. I love you but seriously mate, don't. You're big enough trouble yourself," Warns Sirius with his fork right to to James face. A juicy piece of meat dangling right on it.

He bites it though. Sirius lets out a shrieking squeal of, "My meat!", erupting laughter at the Gryffindor table as James chews proudly with a sly smile across his face. The boisterous sound turns a few heads, including yours. Your brows raised at the sudden commotion, only to have the red of your cheeks creep in as you find one of your cousin being the center of it. He watches as you rub your cheeks to hide the tint.

James gulps the meat down. He's quite full himself but he must admit, it's nothing like he has ever had.

——————————————————————————

The next time he sees you, you are sitting by yourself writing in parchments on a patch of grass by the lake. James is in a broom practicing to catch the golden snitch on Hogwarts grounds. Quite foolish but he's gotten bored of the arena and its currently being used by the Hufflepuff team anyways.

He's worried about you sitting all alone in this breeze though. It's quite cold and you don't seem to be wearing enough layers. He keeps a distance near a tree so as not to scare you, although he is quite discontent with seeing just your figure by the lake.

You whipped your head to the skies behind you, "Reggie? Is that you?" You ask calmly, your eyes not missing the shadowy figure blatantly hiding behind a tree, "I saw you from the reflection. Very funny, Regs."

James cracked a smile at your sarcastic tone. He even finds your voice perfect. He fixes himself a little before he reveals himself off the shade and lands in front of you, "So I'll take it you find me quite funny?"

Your eyes widened as you process the man in front of you. Why would James Potter—the Gryffindor golden boy—be here? And why is he talking to you now?

"You're not Reggie." You said still in shock, almost sounding like a question. Your brows are raised as you try to study his demeanor. He's holding his broom awkwardly in his arms, you've always thought James Potter's confident composure was permanent.

"Well if your standards of humour is a certain Regulus Black, I'm sure I'd be comical, love," He cracks a small smile and a hand extended to you, "Potter. James Potter."

You look at James like you're Newt Scamander finding a newfound beast, "I know who you are. Everybody does," You said in disbelief, finding the whole situation suspicious. The breeze of wind moves his curly hair to his face, framing it gracefully, "What I want to know is why are you doing this? We're not exactly fit to be friends."

"Why that's quite bold of you, lovely. Who said I'd like to be friends?" He said as he leans closer. You never noticed it before but his glasses are rather clean today, his hazy eyes look at you with glimmer in them you've never seen on anyone before. You think to yourself if its one of the charisma of being James Potter.

You stood your ground, you would have never thought to ever be face to face with this dazzling man in front of you. You are a Black though, your legs won't give in even if you try, "Well that's settled then. Are you here to pick a fight?" You ask him plainly, crossing your arms upon your chest.

James finds it adorable, he knows full well of his effects on people and especially of course girls. What he doesn't understand is the effect you have on him. "The contrary, darling. I have a proposition for you."

You lift a brow and yet let him continue, "I heard you're in quite the predicament with Nott. Now I know a way to get you out," His claim makes your eyes open, you let him continue. Words dripping in confidence, "A date. With me."

This time, you can't help but let out a laugh–of which James can't help but take in the sight. He's completely enamoured.

'What? Huh– Hold on. You can't be serious," You looked at him as if he had gone mad, the thought of a Black and a Potter dating is out of this world, "I don't know what kind of prank you're up to, but do you seriously think I'll fall for that?"

"Wait, I am serious! Picture this, if Nott knows you're going out with me he'd be livid, enough to break off the arrangement. I mean have you seen the way that scum looks at me? It's like he has this permanent face of eating vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans!" He rants as he joined in on the laughter with you.

You are smiling as the laughter reduces to giggles. As stupid as it is, it has a good chance of actually working. You pondered, there's still one thing on your mind, "What's in it for you? Would I have to do anything?"

James let out a smile, his palms are sweating like he's deep into a Quidditch game, "Well I get to see Nott lose his bride—" He pauses, confronting himself whether to tell you the real truth or not, "I mean I'll also get a beauty on my side."

You roll your eyes at that, "Don't you try to charm me, Potter. Give me the real reason or its off. I have a feeling you need this more than I do,"

She's right, James thought. He was about to play it off if you denied it straight away, he wasn't entirely sure you would actually take him seriously. He grasps the sight of you for a bit before closing his eyes tight, "Okay, how about I tell you the reason in a week— Maybe a month. You don't have to do anything, we'd just go out like normal couples do. Sounds good to you?" He said, he extends his arms to you for a handshake. His thoughts full of prayers to Merlin so you wouldn't notice the tremble in his arm.

You grin the same one James had seen a million times on Sirius's face, the Black's grin of content. You shake his hand firmly, his big ones almost encasing yours, "You've got yourself a deal, Potter."

James is using every atom on his magical being to control his ecstasy as he smiles widely at you. Once the handshake is done he reaches for his scarf over his neck and wears it on you, "Nice doing business with you, sweetcheeks. I do hope you start wearing warmer clothes though. No snogging will be done if you're in Pomfreys care."

She looks good in my color

Well technically so is the color of a quarter of the schools because of course its a Griffyndor scarf.

"You surely don't expect me to go back. To my dorm. Through the halls, the stairs and the common room. With this on?"

Oh I won't regret this one bit, James thought. He chuckles at your words dripped in such a sarcastic tone, "Of course not, darling. Do you think I'm mad?"

He extends his arms for you to hold, "We'll go back together. Through the halls, the stairs, even the common room. I heard you folks have lovely parties there."

You let out a chuckle as you circle your arms around his, "Oh, the best ones. Your Gryffindors ass is so not invited though."

"Well at least I do have a lovely one, don't I?"

"Oh shut it, Potter!"

——————————————————————————

Another storm of commotion is coursing through Hogwarts. A lot has played it off as a mere prank. James grins at the thought of it. He has only you on his mind lately, cherishing the bits of conversation you and him had.

He's on his way to charms class this morning, one that inconveniently does not have you in it, he checked. He checked your schedule last night sneaking through administration with the invisibility cloak.

Moony and Pads by his side as usual. Sirius seems to still haven't caught wind of it, his hair tousled from a good sleep. Apparently he was up all night helping Remus solve a 10k piece magic puzzle.

Won't be long with how loud the students are gossiping though. James let out a coherent sighs. He had an amount of grins with knowing looks from a couple male students and even a pat on the back by a random Slytherin, "Alright, what is going on?" Remus breaks first. Stopping the two boys right before the class door.

James crackles a laugh, "What's going on? Nothing's going on, mate! What?" Moony lets out a drawled scowl on him, one he makes when he pieces that they're in some kind of trouble, "Why is everybody on Hogwarts up your pants then, Prongs?!"

Sirius yawns as he hugs James by the side to lean his head on him, "Yeah... Saw that too even if my eyes were closed the entire walk. You can tell us mate, come on," He does notice the lack of scarf on his mate's neck though, none in this rapidly chilly morning? "Prongsie, where's your scarf? I could really use a pillow here–"

"Oh! Thank Merlin! One second late and I would've thrown this in the bin. Here, take this off me," There you are with James Potter red and yellow scarf on your hands, just coming out the door. All three boys were quite startled, "What? Wait. This isn't your class," said James. His eyes land on the presence of a Slytherin scarf wrapping your neck. James wishes he could take that one instead.

"Yeah... I'm sort of risking being late to Dark Arts for this but I can't take the whispering anymore. I might square the next person who even looks at me!" You told him, your grip on his scarf tightens and James wishes the fabric would stretch upon your nails.

Sirius is well awake now, his bagged eyes darting between you and James as if you're both insane, "Hold–Hold on! What is this? What is happening, Why do you have James's scarf?" He cuts, going between you and James to put a distance and blocks James view. Remus gives James a 'he did warned you, mate' face at the side.

James on the other hand, in too much of a thrill of seeing you this early in the morning, "You could also just admit ya didn't want me to get cold, love. Thanks for the thought there," He said almost shouting as he stands on his tips to try and see you from above Sirius's head.

You let out an annoyed grunt, "Ugh I don't have time for this. Here Siri, give this to that stupid friend of yours. I'd like to keep my Dark Arts seat next to Cissy and Malfoy's been eyeing it like the vulture he is," You throw James's scarf to your cousin's head not caring if it covers his vision, it earns a few chuckles from nearby students. He trashes to take it off and looks at you in betrayal.

You're about to run off to Dark Arts and leave your cousin and his foolish mates when your feet stop and turn you back, "If you still want that date to happen. Expect my owl, Potter. She's a snow named Emerald."

"Oh and it is lovely to meet you, Remus. Do take care of my sod cousin and my idiot boyfriend. Make sure they're out of trouble," You smiled sincerely at Remus, you actually do admire him a little. You love dark arts and your professor rants and rants about Remus's talents.

Remus seems taken aback, but that would make the three of them. You left after he reciprocated your smile and responded with a polite, "You too, (Y/N)."

And as such, you scurried off in a rush to go shoo away Lucius Malfoy from your seat and save Narcissa. Leaving behind a bewildered Remus, an angered Sirius, and a lovestruck James.

James keeps his eyes on you until you turn the corridor, a stupidly huge smile stays on his lips. He turns to find the reality of Sirius's wrath upon him. Remus is quite literally holding back Sirius with his whole body, it's quite an advantageous turn of events that Sirius hasn't had his proper sleep yet.

"Boyfriend! Boyfriend?! When did you even– How is this— Let me go, Moony! He's going to have an earful!"

He definitely will get that earful later. James grins an apologetic smile at Remus as he picks up his scarf that fell to the ground. He could already smell the sweet of your scent from a distance.

Remus lets out a huffed noise, "You really do always get what you want don't you?"

James doesn't reply. He wraps his own scarf on his neck, embracing the warmth it does to his skin. Your scent crashes onto him like tidal waves. A tint of rose blooms on the pale of his cheeks.

He smiles faintly at the open skies over the hall window. He wishes for an owl he hadn't even met for safe travels.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james fleamont potter #marauders fanfiction #james potter fanfiction #forbidden love

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wonderjanga · 3 months ago

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I… I love my Uncle. *grimace*

Billy impersonates Ebenezer a lot. And by a lot, he means a lot. His “uncle” is the go to adult for everything because for some reason, he’s still listed as under the man’s care.

Like, his “uncle” signed the waver that allowed Billy to become a radio show host.

Marvel: *reading the waiver*

Whiz Employee: “I just can’t believe it.” *sounds a little dumbfounded*

Marvel: “Believe what?” *finally signs the contract*

Whiz Employee: “That you’re Ebenezer Batson? The old creepy guy?”

Marvel: “I hardly think I’m old-”

Whiz Employee: “I didn’t even think you left the house!”

Marvel: *sounds slightly offended* “Well, I do.” *hands the contract to them*

His “uncle” is the person who works moving boxes for a little extra cash.

Marvel: *moving boxes*

Worker 1: *watching him* “Geez, that new guy is flipping huge.”

Worker 2: “I know, right? And guess what his name is.”

Worker 1: “What?”

Worker 2: “Ebenezer! Who would guess an at least eight foot tall man’s name is Ebenezer?”

Worker 1: *sounds perplexed* “Ebenezer? I woulda thought he was a Charles or something. He looks like one.”

His “uncle” is the person who shows up for parent teacher conferences.

Teacher: “Mr. Batson, it’s so lovely to see you!”

Marvel: “You too?” *sounds a little confused but shrugs it off* “So uhm… Billy?” *sits down*

Teacher: “Ah yes, Billy. He’s been doing well in class, like usual. He’s a really nice kid, he’s seems to have somehow gotten more nice ever since his sister joined our class.”

Marvel: “He has? That’s just wonderful. Speaking of his sister, what about Mary? Is she doing well too?”

Teacher: “Yes.”

Marvel: “Good.” *smiles and gets up* “Well, thanks for having me.”

Teacher: “I see. I see.” *nods head and waves as he leaves*

The Next School Day…

Teacher: “Billy, could you stay after class? I have to ask you something.”

Billy: *walks over to her* “Did I do something wrong teacher?”

Teacher: “Oh not at all. It’s just…” *sounds embarrassed* “Does your uncle have any close lady friends?”

Billy: *sounds horrified* “What?” *thinks she’s talking about the real Ebenezer and does not want to discuss that old man’s dating life*

Teacher: “Okay, phrasing it like that is my fault. Does your uncle have a girlfriend or wife?”

Billy: *stares for a solid few seconds before realizing she’s talking about fake Ebenezer* “No?” *now just extremely confused*

Teacher: “I see…” *nods head*

His “uncle” is the person who goes out to buy groceries.

Marvel: *paying for his food*

Cashier: *hands him his receipt* “Has anyone ever told you you look like Captain Marvel?”

Marvel: “Nope, not at all.” *takes his bags* “Thanks.”

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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hopesworlld · 1 year ago

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౨ৎ oh ! dear diary, i met a boy !

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — step!bro anakin x fem!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — your stepbrother anakin finds your diary full of all your dirty little secrets

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 6k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, stepcest, smut ( masturbation f and m, oral sex f and m, vibrator, degradation, praise, use of the term slut/little slut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, overstimulation ) i think that’s all !

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — someone call the psych ward immediately !

part two part three masterlist

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

anakin groaned in annoyance as he stormed up the steps at his mothers command asking him to fetch his stepsister for some reason or another. he barged into your bedroom not bothering to knock, he always liked seeing you jump, sometimes you were on your bed, phone dropping from your hands as your lips parted in surprise. other times you were perched at your vanity catching his eye in the mirror with horrified delight. but his favourite would always be when he entered your room to find you clad in nothing but a pair of white panties. your face had been painted crimson, eyes clutching your breasts but he could still see your rosy nipples peeking beneath your manicured nails, pert from the cold winter air.

but this time, much to his disappointment he found the room empty, your fairlights glittered along the ceiling and the pink lamp beside your bed cast light on the little book had seen you clutching to your chest every so often, it was hot pink and dotted with stickers of various celebrities that he despised. you had always been protective of it, even your father had once gained a slap to the hand when he tried to touch your book. so anakin knew he had no choice, he slowly entered the room further, noting the sound of rushing water from the bathroom. perfect.

he crossed your room in a matter of seconds and scooped up the book, flicking through a couple pages, the first few he saw held nothing of interest and he skimmed through. there were no dates but he could tell they were from before your father and shmi had bought the house and blended your family, he read a few sentences of you complaining about school, and friend drama and almost called it a bust. his innocent priss of a stepsister was the same in her diary as she was every day. that was until he skipped ahead and found his name appearing. with new found interest he settled down on your bed.

/ anakin came back from college today and he actually looked happy to see me, or he smiled when he got out of the car which is a first. i wish he would smile more, he looks so pretty when he smiles.

anakin scoffed at this, rolling his eyes, this had only been a few weeks ago and he had been laughing at a text just moments before, but of course you would think he was happy to see you. you always greeted him the same, glossy lips twisted in a saccharine smile as you bounced on the balls of your feet, begging for an ounce of attention from him. it was ridiculous, but he had to know more.

/ anakin is fixing up dad’s old car in the driveway so that he can use it, i’ve never been so happy for my father’s hoarding tendencies in my life. i was sat at my window for two hours today watching him. he was wearing that black wife beater, the one that makes his arms look even bigger than usual, so muscly and strong. i wonder what it would feel like for him to pick me up, and feel his muscles against my back, they look so good when they’re tensed. he was so sweaty too, i wanted to run out there and lick it from his skin, how disgusting but wow, i wish i took a picture of him like that. soaked in sweat and oil.

anakin’s jaw was agape, his sweet innocent stepsister wasn’t such an angel as he once thought. his dick twitched beneath his sweatpants at the thought of you perched on your window seat with a perfect view of him working rubbing your thighs together, desperate for his touch, his taste. it was taboo, disgusting, your parents were married and here you were writing dirty little fantasies. he loved it. addicted to the words you had spilled across the page in pretty gel pens.

/ dad asked me why i was so distracted today at dinner, how could i not be? anakin came down in just shorts and i swear i could see everything, he’s bigger than i imagined, i probably wouldn’t even be able to fit my hand around it, but ellen said boys like that. i wonder what it looks like, i’ve only ever seen them in porn. anakin didn’t even notice anything was off with me, didn’t notice me staring. i wish he would.

“fuck,” anakin hissed, his dick was now almost fully hard and throbbing. who knew you were such a slut, fantasising about his cock at the dinner table. if he had known… god he wanted to fucking ruin you. show you how to take his dick, watch as you choked and cried around it as he forced it past your swollen lips. he wanted to paint you in his cum and not stop until you were a shaking writhing mess. he knew you were hot, had thought it the second he saw you, your hair in braids clad in ivory like some kind of fallen angel but had pushed it away, you were his stepsister for fuck sake, but now…

/ he walked in on me changing today, i was only in my underwear and he laughed, but i caught him staring at my boobs, i made sure not to cover them properly and it worked. i got so wet, i don’t think i’ve ever come so hard before. i wanted him to do something, walk over to me and rip my hands away, push me on the bed and fuck me till i saw stars, but instead i just had to use my vibrator. sometimes i wish he could hear me moaning through the wall, maybe he can.

“little fucking slut,” anakin said to himself as he glanced across the page, hand cupping his rock hard cock through his trousers, your words were depraved, desperate. maybe he should walk into the bathroom right now and take you like you were so desperate for, you would have no trouble spreading your legs for him, would probably beg for it, do anything he asked. his perfect little fuck toy. he couldn’t help himself anymore, spitting on his hand and slipping it down his trousers tugging at his cock as he continued to read.

/ i bought a dildo today from ann summers but i’m scared, my fingers are so small compared to it, the woman said it was about average but wow. no matter how much prep i do it hurts. i bet anakin would feel better, the silicon is so hard and cold. i wore one of his t-shirts it smells like him, that helped a little but it’s not the same, i’ve heard his stories when he talks to his friends about the girls he’s fucked. he knows what he’s doing, i wonder how he would take me, on my back nice and slow, or pound into me from behind while i screamed. maybe he would call me angel like he does sometimes, i wish. now my arm just hurts so i’m here alone in my bed playing with my clit wishing it was him.

anakin jerked against his hand at the last sentence, he had never cum this quickly before, but your words had him loosing his shit, he couldn’t even imagine what else you thought if this was only what you choose to write down, what other dirty secrets lurked beneath that pretty facade of pink and glitter. the next page held a collection of polaroids you had taken of him, some from the window as he worked on his car, skin sheened in sweat and oil, shirtless as he drank a bottle of water. another of him laying on the sofa arm resting behind his head a can of beer in hand, and the last was him glaring at the camera. he remembered this one, he had demanded you rip it up, but here it was immortalized with pink and purple hearts surrounding it. but the next page was from today.

/ anakin came home from playing baseball with his friends about an hour ago, he was gross, sweaty and loud after hours with his friends. he slid past me in the kitchen his hands on my hips for just a second i wish he would have bent me over the counter and fucked me there and then. i would have let him, dad was in the living room but i don’t care, god, he’s ruined me. all i can think about is him, his cock, his hands, his lips. i need him. i’m gonna go shower, i was meant to help shmi with dinner but i couldn’t, not when i was soaking through my panties while stood next to her fantasising about her son.

“oh fuck,” anakin hissed as he came into his fist, cum coating his boxers and knuckles. you were insane, and maybe so was he for getting so worked up but he knew he couldn’t hold back now, he had seen those words and there was no going back. a bit shakily he stood from the bed wiping his hands on his sweatpants and grabbing the sparkly pen from your desk and decided to leave a little note of his own in your dirty little diary.

/ who knew you were such a dirty little slut, angel girl

and with that he left your bedroom, cum drying on his boxers, he could only hope you found his note sooner rather than later.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

after your shower you felt a lot better, you had turned the water considerably cooler than usual and taken some deep breaths you had learned from yoga, pushing anakin far from your mind, you let the ritual of getting redressed soothe your mind, slipping into a soft matching set of white shorts and a crop top, leaving your hair loose and applying your skin care. you almost felt like yourself, untainted by the dirty thoughts that seemed perpetually in your mind.

you wished it would stop, you hated yourself for it, your father was finally happy after years of thinking he would never find love again after your mother had passed. if he knew what you were thinking he would be disgusted, he would probably send you off to your aunt to protect anakin and shmi from your sick mind, the thought made your stomach hurt. you wanted to stop you really did, but then you would see him and all those dirty thoughts would slip back in, he was haunting you.

you headed downstairs, an airpod pressed in one ear hoping some music would soothe your guilty mind, finding shmi in the kitchen. the woman smiled in relief when she saw you.

“there you are, i sent ani up to get you half an hour ago,” she said a little flustered and instantly your heart dropped, you didn’t know why she was upset but she had needed you. you hated upsetting people, ‘always a people pleaser’ your mother had used to scold you fondly.

“i’m so sorry, anakin never told me,” you said truthfully and the woman sighed before laughing begrudgingly.

“my son has many talents, listening has never been one of them,” she said with a fond smile before turning back to the stove, “i’m making your dad that soup he loves so much but this recipe seems wrong, think you could help me out?” she requested holding out a sheet of paper to you and you took it immediately, nodding happily.

“of course,” you beamed, “well firstly it’s chicken stock not vegetable stock,” you informed her, “and secondly use heavy cream instead of milk, he likes the taste more. but other than that it seems perfect”

“really?” she asks you, face a little tight.

“yep, we always make it a little different depending on what we have but you have got this down to a t now i would say, and dads gonna love it,” you said and shmi finally smiled again, you hated when she frowned, it made her seem much older, an echo of the struggling woman she had once been and she didn’t deserve that, she never did.

“want to stay and help me make it?” she asked and you accepted. the pair of you worked in tandem, and soon you had a delicious pot of soup bubbling on the stove ready to be served along with homemade grilled cheese.

“okay, i’m gonna go grab your dad from the den do you mind getting, ani,” shmi asked and you agreed despite yourself, bounding out of the kitchen and up the stairs to anakin’s room, knocking once, then twice and then three times before you finally got a response.

“come in,” he called out, so you swung the door open, expecting a scowl or a blank stare but instead he was smirking widely at you, as though he knew something you didn’t and it made your skin crawl. “oh, hey, angel,” he greeted. fuck.

“dinners ready,” you told him, proud that you managed to keep your voice steady and his face dropped a little bit before his smile suddenly widened again.

“and you came to get me?” he asked teasingly, your stomach tightened, twisting into a ball and sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. he was going to kill you.

“your mum asked me to,” you say shortly, spinning around and walking away, taking a deep breath as you did so. stupid, stupid, stupid…

“angel,” anakin said again, and that name was going to send you into overdrive, a flush growing on your cheeks. “not gonna wait for me? that’s not very nice,” he complained and you shook your head.

“are you high?” you asked him as you reached the landing but anakin grabbed your wrist stopping you from heading down the steps.

“what makes you say that?” he asked you, drawing closer to you so that your faces were only inches apart, you could feel his hot breath fanning on your cheeks, see deep into his eyes, so pretty and blue beneath the crystalline lights above.

“your acting strange,” you pointed out with a frown, anakin was never nice to you, he was cordial sometimes, blunt others and sometimes he was simply rude, but never this. never teasing and friendly and chasing you down through the halls of your home to chat. it was as unnerving as it was utterly addictive.

“i just learned something new today, something that’s changed my perspective a little bit,” he crooned, hand coming up and resting on the wall beside your head, you blinked at him. what the fuck?

“what did you learn?” you asked him curiously and anakin grinned, a beautiful blinding thing that took your breath away.

“you’ll see,” was all he said before withdrawing from you and heading down the steps leaving you flabbergasted where you stood, heart racing and core throbbing. “come on, angel, don’t wanna be late for dinner,” he called up to you and you followed soundlessly, wondering if you had accidentally fallen into a different dimension while in the shower.

dinner was normal, or as normal is it could be with anakin acting so out of character, he was chatting like he hadn’t seen anyone in years, some kind of newfound zest for life that even had his mother seemed confused about but accepted with open arms. it was nice to see anakin talking, usually, he would mutter a few words before disappearing back to his room.

“yea, i was thinking of working at the garage next term to get a little extra cash, you know where you’re going to colleague next year, angel?” anakin asked, you looked over at him a little wide-eyed at the nickname in front of your parents, but glancing at them you saw that they both seemed… pleased.

“um, i have a few options actually, still not sure,” you murmured, still lost in what was happening, but it was making your head spin.

“she’s been looking at your school a bit,” your dad cut in, “it’s got a great program for what she wants to study,”

“oh really? maybe i could set something up for you, or maybe just give you a show around of the school next term, let you see what it’s really about,” anakin suggested with a smile and shmi beamed.

“oh that's a lovely idea, ani dear,” she exclaimed, “what do you think, sweetheart?” she asked her eyes darting to you and you pulled your lips into a smile.

“yea that sounds great,” you agreed, glancing back at anakin who sent you a wink. you almost groaned, rubbing your thighs together, you thought anakin being mean to you was enough to send you spiraling, spilling dirty fantasies into your book but him being nice was going to send you into a whirl of delusions that were going to be detrimental to your mental health if it continued.

once dinner was finished you rushed to your room, ready to spill your guts into your diary, you grabbed it from your bedside table and flicked to the next open page, your heart dropping to your stomach when you saw the words scrawled on the page.

\ who knew you were such a dirty little slut, angel girl

“oh my god,” you whispered to yourself, tossing the book down onto the bed, horror-struck. you knew that handwriting, had seen it many times before and now here it was taunting you in a book full of your sick twisted fantasies that all featured him. you felt nauseous, bile rising in your throat, is this why he was so happy, some sort of twisted revenge? had he taken pictures of it? did he plan on showing your dad? “this can’t be happening,” you whispered to yourself.

“i see you found my note,” a cocky voice echoed from behind you, you span around, lips trembling and anakin’s brows furrowed slightly.

“please don’t tell my dad, i’m so sorry anakin. i know it’s wrong and disgusting but please he will never forgive me if i ruin this for him, he loves your mum so much and i…” the world were tumbling from your lips so quickly you could hardly process them, not even noting as anakin shut the door behind him and crossed the room so that he was stood before you, “i’m sorry,” you practically wailed, “you were never supposed to see that, it was just somewhere to put down my thoughts,” tears were streaming down your cheeks now, “please don’t hate me,”

“you gonna be quiet now?” anakin asked you once you finally stopped rambling and you nodded through sniffles, vision blurred by your tears. “good,” he whispered, reaching up and cupping your cheek, “i’m not gonna tell your dad, angel,” he said soothingly, “not when i know how much fun we can have now,” anakin said with a smile.

“what… what are you saying?” you asked him. this couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening right now. no way.

“i’m saying, that i wanna see just how dirty you can be, angel,” he cooed, “i wanna know the darkest parts of that fucked up little mind of yours,” your breathing hitched, raising your hands to wipe the tears from your ruddy cheeks and staring at him in disbelief.

“anakin…” you whispered, “this is wrong,”

“oh i know that, baby, but it didn’t stop you from burying your fingers into your cunt and imagining it was me. from laying in bed only a room away from me and moaning my name while you tried to use a dildo on yourself wishing it was me,” he hummed, “and what was it that you wrote earlier? that you were picturing me bending you over with your dad in the next room, that you couldn’t be with my mother in the kitchen because you were dripping down your thighs thinking about me,”

“oh fuck,” you moaned, hearing him depict your fantasies, the things you had said were driving you wild, something stirring within you, it set your veins alight with molten flames, spreading through your body and stirring your aching cunt, you could feel your arousal flooding your panties, sticky and wet, you didn’t know what to do, what to think but you needed him, more than you had ever needed anything in your life.

“that’s it, angel, i wanna hear every pretty sound you can make fall from your pretty lips,” anakin prompted, one hand falling to your hips and pulling you in so that your flush was pressed against him another moan falling from your lips when you felt his half hard cock press against your stomach. “what is it you want, tell me, what dirty secret are we sharing tonight?” he asked you.

“kiss me, just kiss me please,” you begged, and anakin obliged crashing his lips to yours, it was messy, all teeth and tongue and spit. immediately he was diving in, tongue prying through your lips and plunging into your mouth, he tasted of smoke, mint and sugar and instantly you were addicted. your hands rose to his shoulders, tugging him closer you wanted to feel every part of him. your hands tugged at his t-shirt wanting to taste his skin, to see him everywhere.

“so eager, baby,” he muttered against your lips before reaching behind him, tugging his t-shirt over his head revealing the planes of his chest and his toned stomach to your awaiting eyes, you had seen him shirtless many times before, but now you could touch him. “take what you want,” he grinned and you did just that, fingers dipping into every crevice, you explored him as though one would a fine piece of art you wanted to memorise the feeling of his skin, the taste, you hardly thought twice before leaning down and kissing the middle of his chest, running your tongue along the unblemished skin, moaning at the taste of salt and skin. “god,” the boy murmured, reaching down and grasping your hair, yanking your head back harshly, “take my sweatpants off,” he commanded and you were not one to disobey, not now, not when you had him.

you wrapped your hands around the waist band and tugged, gasping when his dick sprung free, unrestrained by any boxers beneath, he was already hard, really hard, his cock flushed a deep red, the tip weeping milky precum and gods were you right, he was big, long and thick, far bigger than the dildo you had purchased. you salivated at the sight.

“can i…” you whispered, slowly trailing off, a wave of embarrassment washing over you.

“tell me what you want, angel, this is your dirty little dream, i’m just helping make it come true,” anakin said and you nodded, taking a deep breath.

“wanna taste you, ani, can i?” you asked him gently, batting your lashes at him and the boy hissed through his teeth, jaw clenching in a way that made your entire body sing.

“fuck me, go ahead, pretty girl, show me what that mouth is actually good for,” his words were disgusting, a sick way of calling your words worthless and it made you go fucking feral, you sank to your knees, eyeing his cock a little unsurely before carefully wrapping a hand around his thick length, anakin groaned, watching you, eyes alight with interest.

“look at that you were right,” he told you, “your hand can’t even fit around it,” he said, and you shuddered, ingjerking your hand slightly, letting itit glide along the velvety skin of his cock, admiring it, and the sound he made was worth it, so much so that you leaned in, licking a stripe along the side of his cock, stopping once you reached the tip and suckling it gently. a.nakin’s hands fell to your hair gripping it, but not forcing you, he was letting you explore first, you bobbed you head, sinking deeper on his cock, the sensation was strange but not unpleasant. so you took him deeper, the salty taste of him drawing you in further, you pulled back, sucking in a deep breath before taking him deeper until it hit the back of your throat. you were hardly halfway down his cock, so you tried again this time more forcefully, choking when his cockhead rammed into the back of your throat.

“easy, baby,” anakin cooed, pulling you off of his cock, you looked up at him with glossy eyes, spit spilling down your chin.

“you’re so big,” you whined at him accusingly making the boy laugh, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“poor little slut, so desperate for cock but has no clue what she’s doing,” he patronised, thumb trailing down and hooking in your mouth, parting your lips for him, you let your mouth fall open. “gotta take it slow, you aren’t gonna take it all the first time, okay? probably not for a few times, gotta train that throat of yours to take cock, huh?” he asked and you nodded at him, unable to speak with his thumb in you mouth. “try again, huh,” he prompted and you nodded eagerly, this time letting anakin guide your mouth to his awaiting cock, you followed his instructions going slower this time, starting at just the tip suckling it, savoring the taste of his salty cum in your mouth but eventually anakin began to push you further with a groan. you swallowed around him, trying to remember to breathe with the heavy weight on your tongue, your mouth felt stretched, lips stinging, and jaw aching but you couldn’t stop. you needed this, needed him to cum, to know he was enjoying this as much as you were.

“good girl, that’s it,” anakin praised you and you preened, moaning around his cock and making the boy chuckle, “oh you like that, huh, pretty girl? wanna be my good girl?” you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak so instead you locked your eyes with his and this time it was anakin’s turn to moan. “you look so fucking sexy like this, should have known you made for it,” you bobbed your head faster in agreement, it felt wrong to agree, to accept that you were just some sort of object that was made to take dick and love it, but you couldn't argue. not now when you had tasted his cock and you knew you would never be the same again, this was it for you, a springboard into a world that would drive you insane.

“you keep going i’m gonna cum, you ready for that, angel?” he asked you, but you didn’t respond, only forcing him deeper, spluttering slightly but you didn’t pull back, instead taking a settling breath through your nose, spit was dripping down your chin, tears streaming but you couldn’t stop, continuing to choke on his cock, only pulling away when you absolutely had too and it was barley for a few seconds before you were on him again. it was only about a minute before anakin’s hips began to twitch, his cock heavier in your mouth.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck, baby pull back a little you don’t wanna choke,” he prompted and you did as you were told. lips suctioned around his tip, using your hand to jerk off the rest of his cock and with that, he was cumming down your throat in thick hot spurts. it was disorientating and everything you had ever dreamed of. you swallowed as much as you could of the salty liquid, but some escaped the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto your plush carpet, you kept suckling until anakin pulled you away, his lips parted and cheeks flushed.

“that was…” he trailed off voice hoarse, “you did such a good job, angel,” he cooed, reaching out and helping you stand up, your knees ached and you felt a little shaky but you couldn't ignore the heat in your core and the sopping wetness between your legs.

“i liked it,” you said bashfully, voice scratchy.

“of course you did,” anakin mocked lightly but there was no malice behind his words, instead he reached down and grabbed his shirt using it to mop your cheeks and mouth, “come on i wanna try something,” he said, grabbing you hand and leading you over to your bed, “lay down, pretty girl,”

“what are you doing?” you asked him softly and he grinned.

“just lay down, okay, i’m gonna do the work for a bit,” he said, so you followed instruction and laid down on the bed, looking up at him with such innocent trust that it made his heart stutter slightly, “i’m gonna take your top off okay?” he said, climbing onto the bed with you and hovering over you, his legs stradling either side of your hips, he looked so big like this, tall and strong, body on show as he looked down at you.

“okay,” you agreed, letting anakin tug the crop top from your body leaving your chest bare to him.

“been waiting a while to see these again,” he murmured, finger pinching your nipple lightly, you gasped, jolting upwards at the sensation and anakin laughed, “sensitive girl,” he teased, pinching your other nipple, using his body to keep you pinned to the bed. “what was it you said in that dirty little book when i saw your tits for the first time?” he asked you, “hm, let’s have a look shall we?” he said grabbing the book from where it lay only a few inches away from you. your cheeks lit up in shame, shaking your head.

“ani, no,” you pleaded with him but the boy shot you a harsh stare.

“what was that, baby?” he questioned, tone stern, “i thought you wanted this? want me to leave you to deal with this alone like you always do, seeing my cock should do you a good couple months, and you even got to taste it,”

“don’t leave” you begged, “i’m just embarrassed,” you whimper, this brought the smile back to anakin’s face.

“you don’t need to be embarrassed, pretty girl, without this little thing you would probably still be downstairs watching tv with your dad trying not to think about me, isn’t that right?” he asked, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your swollen lips.

“yes,” you said quietly, “just don’t be mean, i really… i needed you. i need you,”

“oh, baby, but you like it when i’m a little mean don’t you?” he snickered, “but back to what i was saying, where is it?” he asked flicking through the pages of the book before he found what he was looking for, “ah, here it is. you wanted me to push you onto this bed and fuck you till you saw stars,” you whimper at this, “and look how proud you were that you caught me staring at your tits,” he grinned, “pretty things aren’t they,” he leaned down, capturing your right nipple between his teeth, nibbling slightly before sucking it into his mouth. the sensation was too much, you gasped, trying to jerk against him but anakin was too strong, he bit down on your nipple, a warning before soothing it with his tongue, moving and doing the same to the other one until you were a panting mess.

“good girl,” he praised, “now this wasn’t what i wanted to do actually, just had to get a taste,” he told you with a wink and you blinked at him stunned. “where do you keep your vibrator, angel?” anakin questioned you.

“um, my bedside draw,” you murmured and anakin nodded, leaning over and opening up and pulling out your pretty pink vibrator.

“cute,” he said, “now, baby, i want to see you use this, okay? wanna know what you look like when you are playing with yourself and thinking about me,” he crooned.

“ani, i’m… fuck okay,” you said reaching out and taking the vibrator from him, anakin climbed off of you and you immediately missed the weight of him atop of you but ignored it was you yanked your shorts and panties down, revealing your throbbing pussy to anakin, the boy groaning in apprecation.

“holy shit, you’re fucking soaked, angel,” he crooned, “look at your clit, all puffy and red. all from sucking my cock?” anakin asked and you nodded, cheeks crimson. “you are a dream, pretty girl,” your clit pulsed at his words and quickly you pressed your vibrator to it before switching it on. your body writhed at the contact, you had been desperate for this for what felt like hours, every inch of your being aching for relief as you trailed the toy down, soaking it in your wetness before bringing it back to your clit, moaning at the feeling.

“fuck, anakin, feels so good” you cried out, tilting your head to look at him and seeing him gazing at your pussy in awe.

“i bet it does, angel, you were so sore, so desperate for this,” he said, reaching out and trailing a finger along your dripping slit, your hips jerked, heart pounding, “gonna come that quick, fuck, do it, baby,” he prompted. you pressed the toy harder to your clit gasping and crying out, the sight of anakin before you, the months of waiting, wanting, it all built up and before you could even react the coil in your stomach snapped and you came with a sharp moan, the vibrator still pressed to your cunt as you twitched through the aftershocks of your orgasm. then you felt it, something wet and warm trailing through your fold, you looked down to see anakin now lying between your legs, his tongue buried in your cunt.

“ani” you sobbed, switching the vibrator off and tossing it to the side, anakin taking this as his chance to wrap is lips around your clit and suck. you all but screamed, still strumming with pleasure and overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth on you, it was hypnotic.

“did i tell you to stop?” he asked pulling back and grabbing the vibrator and flicking it on, pressing to to your abused clit, you gasped, looking down at him with wide eyes, “you are gonna hold this while i eat you out okay, you move it and i’ll stop,” he commanded.

“but, ani, it’s so sensitive,” you told him and anakin simply scoffed.

“you can take it, sluts like you can come as many times as you need to, bet you are still aching for relief,” he said pressing it down harder and you screeched, “take it,” and you did, grabbing the toy from his hand and holding it there as he burried his tongue back inside of you, licking into your sopping walls.

“oh my god, oh my god, anakin please,” you begged one hand slipping down to his hair, tugging on the dark strands with a sob. the vibrator on your clit was brutal, stirring up another orgasm in quick sucession to the last but anakin didn’t stop, he continued to lick and suck while you trembled, slick pouring from your slit as you jerked violently, cumming twice before anakin finally let up.

“you taste fucking divine, angel,” anakin said, his face glossy with your cum, you couldn’t move, couldn’t think as he switched the vibrator off and tossed it to the ground. “fuck me, i’ve never seen such a pretty girl before,” he crooned, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before crawling up your body and pressing a dirty kiss to your lips. he tasted of salt and your release and it made your body ache once more.

“ani, ani, please,” you begged against his mouth, you werent sure exactly what you were begging for but you needed it, needed him.

“sh, angel, its okay,” he said gently, running his hands down your hips sothingly, “tell me what you need” he prompted and you wailed, he looked stunned, “hey, come on talk to me, too much?” he questioned but you shook your head violently.

“need to feel you,” you said through heaving breaths, clumsily reaching out and grasping his cock that pulsed in your hand, he spluttered out a moan, rocking his hips into you, head of his cock catching your clit with such delicious pleasure that you swore you almost saw stars. “inside,” you demanded, words failing you in that moment of utter want.

“need to prep you first,” he said, gently removing your hands from his cock before sliding his fingers through your throbbing heat finding your slit with ease and slowly sinking one finger in.

“more,” you begged almost instantly, hands clinging to his shoulders and anakin complied, sinking another finger inside of you, pumping into your wet heat as you babbled and cried.

“never imagined i would have you like this, so desperate for me,” anakin panted, “wanna know a secret, i’ve wanted this for so long, have pictured taking you so many times,” he whispered, “i came reading your diary, seeing how much you wanted me,”

“anakin,” you said, hands coming to his cheeks cupping them so that he would face you, you could see the raw desire that danced behind his pretty blue eyes, “i’m ready, please,” and he complied, slowly lining his cockhead with your swollen hole slowly inching in. the burn was intense, a tearing feeling consuming your cunt even as you leaked more slick onto his sodden cock. you gasped, more tears streaming down your cheeks as anakin slowly inched deeper.

“you can do it, baby, doing so well for me,” he praised as he sunk deeper, inch by inch before burying himself at the hilt and staying there, “look at that, angel, you did it,”

“oh, oh fuck,” it was nothing like your dildo that was all solid plastic and cold feel, instead it was warm and hard and sending your body into overdrive, it took a few moments to adjust to the feel of it, the intrusive weight uncomfortable but not unwelcomed, and it was all worth it to see anakins face. his eyes screwed up in pleasure, bottom lip pinched between his teeth as he tried to stay still for you. “move, you can move, please,”

“you sure, baby,” anakin gasped, voice tight.

“yes, please,” you agreed, he started slow at first, gentle shalow thrusts that allowed you to get used to the feeling of it, but soon he began to speed up, sinking deeper inside of you with each thrust until you could feel the tip pressing against your cervix, the pleasure was indescribable, you never knew it could feel like this, so all consuming. “yes, yes, harder,” you pleaded with him.

“you sure,” he gasped out.

“yes, i’m okay,” you nodded, and anakin listened, suddenly there was nothing between you but the heat of your skin and the slick of your bodies, a mix of sweat, cum and spit. it was disgusting, a sick merging of your bodies, anakin’s face was burried in your neck, sucking crimson marks onto your sensitive skin while you clawed at his back, manicured nails cutting into his golden skin.

“shit, you feel fucking amazing,” anakin said against your skin, grinding deeper, “such a good little pussy for me, taking me so well,” he told you, “you need to come on my cock again, wanna feel you cleanch around me, okay?” he said and you nodded frantically.

“please, ani,”

“that’s it, good girl,” he cooed, thumb coming between you to circle your clit, you could feel your orgasm building as he jerked into you, his thrusts getting sloppy and you knew he was close, could tatse it on your tongue, you needed it, needed him. “i own this pussy now,” he hissed, “gonna make every single one of your dirty fantasies come true and then we can try some of mine,” anakin told you, thumb speeding up and pleasure exploded behind your eyelids, everything went white and you were gone. when you came too anakin was hovering over you still cock in hand jerking himself off frantically.

“ani,” you whispered, hand coming up shakily and grasping his cock jerking it lightly and anakin came in thick hot spurts all over your chest and face while you took it happily. he collapsed down beside you, pulling you in so your face was pressed against his chest, leg cocking over his hips. “wow,” was all you managed to say.

“better get ready baby, this was only the beginning,” anakin smirked, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forhead and you couldn’t wait to see what else he had in store for you, and you thanked the stars that you had made that little diary.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

part 2???

#anakin skywalker fanfiction #emo anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #star wars fanfiction #anakin smut #hayden christensen #sam monroe #anakin skywalker #stepbro!anakin #hopes fics !#star wars #anakin x you #darth vader x reader #anakin modern au

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insomniadreamzz · 2 months ago

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Yours Forever

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader smut

Mentions of breeding, soft love making, crying, emotional, use of strap on, praising, mentions of pregnancy, impregnating

You and Jinx have been married for a while now. It’s the most beautiful thing that ever happened to you. You are in a very happy relationship and you‘re looking forward to many more years with your wife.

This evening you and Jinx already were in bed, being all cuddled up but could feel that there was something in her mind. You opened your eyes and shifted a little, seeing Jinx looking up at the ceiling. „You okay?“ You ask and her eyes met yours, smiling softly as she moved her hand gently to your side, caressing you. „I am. I just can’t really sleep.“ She mentioned and that made you sit up a little, having an idea. „Maybe we could do something to make you relax.“ You mentioned as you caressed her thigh, feeling her tense up at the touch, she had the same thing in mind as you, maybe that was the actual reason she couldn’t sleep. She was horny but didn’t want to wake you because she thought you are already asleep.

„Alright I guess I do need to let my energy out on you.“ She teased before getting up from the bed, taking taking out the strap from the headboard she loved to use on you, your cheeks already heating up.

„Jinx I-…“ You started but she shut you up by placing her finger on your lips. „Shh…of course I won’t use it before making you ready.“ She reassured you before she undressed you, her lips moving down your body, making you hum softly, enjoying the touch of her soft lips against your skin.

„God I love you…“ You said softly, making her feel even more excited to go further down on you, her tongue now being busy with pleasuring you as she eats you out, soft moans escaping your lips, loving the sweet sounds you are making.

„Please…please fuck me already…“ You whined softly, feeling shivers down your spine every time her tongue flicks your clit, you really wanting her strap now.

Jinx sat up with a smirk, licking her lips as if she just got the best meal since forever, her eyes looking down at you with a needy expression before she put on the strap. „Oh I will give you what you want don’t worry, I will take care of my beautiful wife.“ She said so softly before rubbing her strap against your wet folds, making you gasp softly, grabbing the bed sheets as you spread your legs wider, showing you really needed it.

She didn’t want to let you wait any longer, slowly sliding it in, watching your expression as she finally entered before beginning to thrust her hips in a slow pace, making sure you feel every inch of her stroking your insides, making you moan.

Jinx leaned down, kissing you while she kept on thrusting into you, her hands grabbing yours to hold you as she pinned you down on the bed, wanting to be as close as possible to you. „I love you.“ She whispered against your lips, a soft moan escaping her lips. She really did love you and she made sure to show it to you this night, being gentle and loving towards you. Usually she wasn‘t that gentle and more of a tease during sex but today was different. Her thrusts becoming a little faster, filling up the room with wet sounds your pussy made as she hit your sweet spot so well, making you let out whiny moans at this point.

„God…I wish I could breed you. I wish I could make you pregnant, my beautiful wife, I love you so much.“ She said with a soft voice, close to your ear. Her words making you feel soft and a little emotional, her next words making your eyes wet with tears, happy tears. „You would be such a amazing mother…“ She mentioned, her voice so soft between her soft moans.

„Jinx…you make me all emotional…“ Your voice almost cracking. jinx cupped your cheeks so gentle, looking into your eyes with her beautiful pink ones, a lustful and emotional gaze. You could see her eyes being filled with happy tears as well. „It’s okay baby…I feel the same.“ She said before leaving some sweet little pecks on your lips.

„Mhhn…you want my cum too don’t you? You want it so bad, wanting me to get you pregnant mh?“ She moaned out softly, her thrusts becoming deeper, hitting you just at the right spot as you couldn’t control your moans and gasping at this point. „Y-Yes, yes please give it to me, make me pregnant baby.“

Your words drove Jinx crazy, really wanting to do it if she could. „Mm..yes take my cock.“ She sped up more, wanting to make you cum, wanting to make you at least pretend. Your arms being wrapped around her neck now, keeping her close as her movements became more faster and harder, making you moan into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. „I am close, I am so c-close.“ You whine and Jinx didn’t stop. She wasn’t even thinking about it. „Yes, ah-…take my cum baby ngh!“ She groaned as she came as well only by your words and sweet moans, you cumming shortly after, legs shaking and a loud moan escaping your lips, your nails diging into her back, almost scratching her but Jinx didn’t mind at all.

After you both calmed down again, she pulled out, making sure to take care of you now after that emotional love making, keeping you close to her chest as a little sob escaped her, her face nuzzled into your hair. „Fuck…I wish it was real…“ She mumbled with a little raspy voice, your arms only hugging her tighter. „Jinx…I-I am ready. I am ready for being a mother and having a child with you.“ You whispered, shifting a little so you could look at her, seeing tears running down her cheeks and you couldn’t stop your own tears as well.

„R-Really?“ She asked, wanting to make sure this was real and it was. Your hands cupping her cheeks to kiss her, wanting to show her again how much you love her with a deep but loving kiss.

„Yes my love, let’s do this.“

#x reader #fanfiction #female reader #x fem!reader #lgbtq #short imagine #arcane #arcane fanfic #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x y/n #jinx smut #smut scenarios #smut #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw #wlw post

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corroded-hellfire · 5 months ago

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As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 10

Written with the help of my beloved @munson-blurbs

Summary: The time comes for the first custody hearing between Eddie and his estranged wife. You do your best to be there for both him and his sons.

Note: I do not know the ins and outs of the legal system, so I did my best when it came to the court scene

Warnings: mentions of bad parents, Brittany, slut shaming, i think that's it?

Words: 9.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

There’s just over a week to go until the first court date and you can tell your boyfriend is on edge. Every time he sees the boys, he’s overly cheerful. You know he’s trying to make it seem like nothing is wrong, but the kids aren’t dumb. They see right through the forced happiness, even confiding in you after school one day about how weird they think Eddie is being. That night you pull him to the side to relay that message—but in much nicer terms.

Since that discussion, Eddie’s been more himself. He still forces himself to be more upbeat around the boys, but that’s more of wanting them to be around positivity and as much light as possible while they continue to struggle with the thought of two separate homes.

Once the boys are in bed, or are at the house with Brittany, you take advantage of the time alone with your boyfriend. He’s stressed beyond belief, and you want to make damn sure that he knows you’re here for him in whatever way he needs.

Evenings usually start with dinner, then a movie on the couch, but end up with Eddie’s head on your lap and you play with his hair as he gets things off his mind. Sometimes you just listen, sometimes you speak your mind in reply.

“I know I’m the better parent,” he tells you one night a few days before the trial. “But I also know that courts usually rule in the mom’s favor. And what if…what if the boys don’t want to be with me most of the time?”

“Why on earth wouldn’t they want that?” you ask. “You know you’re their favorite. Because you are the better parent.”

Eddie squeezes your hand gently where they rest entwined on his chest.

“I know. But home is familiar to them. It’s the only home Luke has ever known and the only one Ryan remembers. There are memories there, their old rooms are there, their favorite toys. It’s safe and comforting.”

“Do you think it’s going to feel that way with just Brittany around?” you ask in response. “Also, I think you have a double-edged sword there.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you said that the boys have memories there.” With your free hand you gently boop the tip of Eddie’s nose with your index finger. “I’m sure there are memories from that house that the boys would rather forget. Yeah, there are memories of Christmases and birthday parties, but there are also memories of Brittany screaming at them for no reason. Or of times when their mom was supposed to come home for whatever reason, like dinner or a special occasion, but she was late as usual. Here, Ryan and Luke won’t look at the front door and think of all the times they stared at it, waiting for it to open with their mother on the other side. The walls here don’t hold disappointments like the ones at the house do.”

Eddie gazes up at you with those big doe eyes and a charmingly crooked smile.

“My college girl is so smart,” he says softly.

You chuckle in reply and bring a hand up to his hair. Gently, you scratch your nails against his scalp. Eddie hums in appreciation and turns on his side so his face is buried in your belly. He mumbles against the material of your shirt, but you can’t make out what he said.

“What?”

He pulls away just enough for you to hear him.

“I’m scared.” His voice is low, and he keeps eyes on your midsection.

He’s never said that to you before. You frown as you gently card your fingers through his bangs.

“Of what?” you ask softly.

Eddie shrugs and you move your hand to cup the side of his face, your thumb gently brushing over his left cheekbone. It feels like the entire apartment complex has gone silent, not a sound to be heard except your breathing.

“A lot,” he finally admits. “Messing up in court and not getting to see my boys anymore. Brittany lying so viciously that I don’t get to see them anymore. Them deciding they don’t want to stay with me. Putting them in the middle of this and it messing with their heads. Of Brittany trying to turn them against me.” He pauses and chews on his bottom lip, and you know there’s something else that he doesn’t want to say. You don’t want to push him, but you also want to make sure he knows that he can confide in you.

“What, sweetheart? You know you can tell me anything.”

He sighs and rolls onto his back. You watch the reflection of the ceiling fan spin round and round in his dark misty eyes. After a minute of silence, Eddie reaches up and takes one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to the back of it before he holds it in his own and rests them on his chest.

“I know I can,” he says. “But I know you. And if I tell you that I’m worried that you’re somehow going to get hurt during all of this, you’re just going to tell me not to worry about you. Which, I don’t know if you know this or not, doesn’t really work.”

It's another double-edged sword, that he knows this about you. Because, on the one hand, it feels really good to be known so well and loved so deeply by him. But on the other hand, now you can’t use that reasoning with him, which doesn’t give you much of a leg to stand on. Instead, you come up with another question.

“How do you think I’m going to get hurt?”

A long inhale puffs up Eddie’s chest before a heavy sigh deflates it.

“I’m worried someone is going to say something dumb on accident. Me or the boys. Or Brittany, only it wouldn’t be an accident. I’d rather you not be near us while all of this is going on, really. But I’m too selfish for that. I need you here with me.” He brings your joined hands up to his lips and presses a few kisses against your knuckles. “You keep me sane when the rest of the world is trying to throw me off my rocker.”

“Eddie, my love,” you begin, “it’s very sweet that you’re thinking about me but I’m not some delicate little flower that will crumble at an unintentionally—or intentionally, in her case—unkind thing that’s said while you’re all going through this. It’s insanely stressful, which can wear down patience sometimes. But I know you love me. I know the boys love me. The three of you would never say something to try and hurt me on purpose. And Brittany? Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what she says to me—or about me.”

A small smile grows on Eddie’s face, and you’re relaxed by the sight. He licks over his lips before he speaks.

“You be my rock now, and I promise to be yours from now on. Whenever you need me.”

“Oh, I don’t know if you know what you’re signing up for there, buddy,” you say with a chuckle.

“You somehow deal with me, a genius little boy who is always rattling off things that he’s learned, a little hellion tornado of a boy, and did I mention me? Princess, if you can handle the three of us, the three of us can be there for you with no problem.”

You gaze down at him with a fond smile on your lips.

“I feel super honored that you trust me enough to open up,” you tell him in a voice close to a whisper. “I know how lucky I am.”

“I open up to you because I feel safe with you,” he tells you. “It’s weird, I never… This is a new kind of safety for me. Finding safety in another person. I didn’t know this kind of thing existed.”

“Me neither, honestly,” you admit. “It’s a deeper level of trust than I’ve ever had before.”

“I thank God just about every damn day that you came into my life. And the boys’ lives.”

“Oh, Mr. Religious all of a sudden?” you tease, leaning down so your face is hovering over his.

“Hey,” Eddie says with a chuckle, “I’ll thank whatever being in whatever realm or universe that had us cross paths.”

“Maybe it was aliens,” you joke, widening your eyes in alarm.

“Then I’ll learn how to thank them in Klingon.”

Your nose wrinkles up, and Eddie thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Do aliens speak Klingon? Does Spock speak it? Is Spock even an alien?” you ask.

“Ah, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my nerd knowledge doesn’t reach quite that far. You’ll just have to be content with me knowing an inordinate amount about D&D creatures.”

You shrug, pretending to consider it.

“I guess I can live with that.”

The long-awaited Monday has finally arrived, and it fills everyone with nerves. Eddie took the whole day off from work, so he takes his time making the boys breakfast and getting them ready for school.

As the two boys take their seats at the table, Eddie notices Ryan acting a bit more withdrawn than usual. Luke is his usual self, shoving spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth while his short legs swing back and forth beneath the table. Ryan is older and the more sensitive of the two, so Eddie isn’t surprised that he has the better sense of what will be happening today.

“Whatcha gonna be working on today in school?” Eddie asks his oldest as he plops down between his boys at the table, a full bowl of cornflakes thudding on the table in front of him.

“Oh, uh,” Ryan starts, looking down into his bowl as his spoon stirs marshmallow pieces around, leaving streaks of blue, pink, and green throughout the milk. “We’re reading about Sacagawea.”

“Ah, alright,” Eddie says between bites of cereal. “She was a pretty cool lady, huh?”

Ryan nods and scoops some oat pieces onto his spoon.

“Who’s Sar…Sarcas…Sarcophagus?” Luke asks through a mouthful of cereal.

“Sacagawea,” Eddie corrects him with a soft chuckle. “Go ahead, Ry. Tell us what you’ve learned so far.”

“Uh, okay.” He sounds less than thrilled. But when the second grader starts to talk about something interesting he’s learning, he gets excited. “She was a Native American. And she went with Lewis and Clark to explore the west.”

“What makes her so cool?” Luke asks, shoveling in another spoonful.

“She did the whole thing with her newborn baby strapped to her,” Eddie replies.

“And she was only sixteen,” Ryan adds.

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

“She was a mommy at sixteen?”

Eddie thinks Luke’s eyes are going to pop out of his skull.

“People had babies earlier back then,” Ryan answers, much to Eddie’s relief. He also notices the improvement in Ryan’s mood now that his brain has something else to focus on.

The more pleasant atmosphere keeps up while the boys get dressed and Eddie packs their lunches. It does feel weird to put on a suit instead of his normal t-shirt and jeans, though.

“You look funny,” Luke says as his eyes scan over his father’s gray slacks and matching blazer.

“What else is new?” Eddie jokes, trying to keep the mood light. The white dress shirt tucked into his pants is an odd feeling and all Eddie can focus on is wanting to yank it free.

“Where’s your tie, Mr. Fancy Pants?” Ryan asks as he grabs his lunch off the counter.

Eddie stalls in his movements before turning to face his oldest son.

“Should I wear one?” He feels silly for asking the seven-year-old, but he feels self-conscious now that Ryan pointed it out.

“I dunno,” Ryan answers with a shrug. “I just thought you’d wear one.”

The first real tick of nervousness hits Eddie now. It irks him that it’s not even about court itself, but whether or not he should wear a tie. He sighs and goes to grab one of the few ties he owns from his dresser. You’ll know if he should wear it or not.

Instead of waiting for the bus, Eddie says he’s going to drive the kids to school since he has the time. He doesn’t have to be in court until this afternoon and he’s meeting you for coffee after your first class.

It’s a nice mellow morning and it continues to get better when they’re all loaded up in the truck and Luke turns on the radio.

“Ah, this song!” The six-year-old’s face lights up and he bops his head along to the beat. “It’s my favorite part!”

Both Ryan and Eddie join in to sing:

Chickity China, the Chinese chicken

You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin'

Eddie turns the volume up as the truck approaches a red light. Once they’re completely stopped, Eddie thrashes his head back and forth, headbanging to the song that’s taken over the airwaves. Ryan and Luke both giggle, watching their father’s frizzy curls go flying all around, before joining in and headbanging to “One Week” as well.

The light turns green and Eddie resumes driving responsibly, but that doesn’t mean his boys have to stop headbanging.

It's been one week since you looked at me

Dropped your arms to the sides and said, "I'm sorry"

Five days since I laughed at you and said

"You just did just what I thought you were gonna do.”

Ryan finishes singing out the song while Luke flails his curls around for the remainder of it. It’s perfect timing, as Eddie is pulling into the drop-off lane at school just as the song ends.

“I’ll see you squirts later, alright? Have a good day at school.”

“Bye, Daddy!” Luke gives Eddie a quick side hug before climbing over his older brother to get out of the car.

“What time are you going to be home?” Ryan asks.

“I’m not sure,” Eddie tells him honestly. “But I’ll definitely be home in time for dinner.”

The boy nods, placated by this answer. He leans in and wraps his arms as far as he can around his dad’s torso.

“I love you,” Ryan says.

“I love you, too.” Eddie rubs his hand over his son’s back, trying to convey so many thoughts and emotions in the one touch.

It’s going to be okay.

I’ll see you soon.

I’ll never stop fighting for you.

The moment Eddie sees you tucked away into the corner booth at the small cafe on campus, he feels lighter. Simply being in your presence is enough to melt Eddie’s stresses away. Instead of sitting down across the table from you, Eddie decides to slide into the same booth you’re sitting at and instantly wraps his arms around your waist.

Without looking up from the book you’re reading for your Renaissance Literature class, you say, “If you’re going to feel me up you better hurry, because my boyfriend is on his way.”

“This boyfriend of yours is very lucky,” Eddie murmurs as he leans in to press a kiss to the side of your neck.

“He is. Especially because I ordered his coffee just the way he likes it.” You shut your book and slide a white paper cup tucked into a brown cardboard sleeve in front of him.

“You taste better,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss just below your ear.

The feel of his warm breath dancing across your skin coupled with his sultry words sends a shiver down your spine. Eddie notices the little tremor that passes through your body and pulls back with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Drink your coffee,” you say, trying to will the heat away from your face as you put your book away. The last thing Eddie needs is to be late to court because you can’t keep your legs closed when it comes to him.

That statement is especially true when you turn and get your first real look at your boyfriend. You’ve never seen him in a suit before and the urge to drag him into the back of your car grows even stronger.

“Damn, you look good,” you say softly, leaning forward to run your hands over the material of the blazer.

Eddie does his best to ignore the way your eyes darken and how you bite your lip—but it’s tough. Maybe this suit isn’t so bad after all.

“Oh,” Eddie says as he remembers the rolled-up tie in his pocket. He fishes it out and holds it up for you to see. “I wasn’t sure if I should wear this or not.”

Your eyes take in the dark red tie, then look back over Eddie’s ensemble.

“I say yes. It’ll add a nice pop of color, as well.”

Eddie flips up his collar and slips the tie around his neck. You watch as his deft, guitar-playing fingers fiddle with it until it’s properly knotted.

“Do you think I should put my hair back?” Eddie asks.

Opposing emotions fight for dominance in your body. One side is getting worked up because he already looks drop dead gorgeous and now he wants to put his hair back in a bun? Is he trying to kill you? But the other side hears the slight shake in his voice and breaks because this poor man is so nervous and unsure. Never more have you wished for a magic wand to wave and make all his problems go away.

“Want me to tie it back for you, sweetie?”

He nods and you can see a minuscule amount of relief in his eyes. It’s no secret that he loves your hands in his hair, and it always calms him when you play with it. Though you don’t have time for that, you make sure to gently brush his hair back from his face with your fingers before securing it at the base of his neck.

When he turns back around to face you, he lets out a sigh that has his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t want to go,” he admits quietly.

“I know.” You reach up and gently cup the side of his face. “But everything is going to be okay. You’re going to tell the judge the truth and he’ll see that you’re the all-around better parent. And I’ll pick up the boys from school like usual and distract them to keep their minds off of what’s happening today. Even if I need to use puppies and candy to do it.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head.

“Great. Now I get to worry about coming home to a hopped-up Luke begging me to keep a dog.”

You smile at him and lean forward to gently peck his lips.

“You’ve got this, Eddie.”

He takes a deep breath and nods his head.

“I got this.”

Everything echoes. That’s Eddie’s first thought as he steps inside the courthouse. Every footstep, every cough, every conversation bounces off the walls and reverberates in the hollow space of the atrium. Brown eyes take in the gray marble that seems to cover every surface. Towards a hallway to the left, Eddie spots his attorney, which relaxes him and kicks up his nerves at the same time.

“Hey, Carl,” Eddie greets as he approaches the man. He can’t help but notice that his lawyer’s suit looks infinitely more expensive than his own. It makes sense though, given that the man practically gets paid by the hour what Eddie makes in a day.

“How are you, Mr. Munson?” Carl asks as he offers his hand.

Eddie’s told him several times to call him by his first name, but it always reverts back to the more formal. It makes Eddie feel old, though. When he hears “Mr. Munson” he either thinks someone is talking about Wayne or has flashbacks to Ms. O’Donnell scolding him in high school.

“Doing alright,” Eddie replies, but his shaky tone conveys that it’s less than true.

“Ah, it’s going to be okay,” Carl says, gesturing for Eddie to follow him down a long hallway. “I’ve been in front of Judge Rogers plenty of times and he’s a fair guy. One of the better ones we could’ve asked for.”

Eddie nods his head and takes a deep breath as Carl comes to a stop in front of a set of mahogany double doors. The air in the courtroom is stifling, invading all of his senses. It only gets worse when he takes his seat next to his lawyer.

Sweat beads at the nape of his neck, and it takes all of his willpower not to yank off his tie right then and there. His slacks—a far cry from his usual cotton coveralls or denim jeans—itch his legs. His dress shoes are laced too tight, squeezing his toes until he feels his pulse in his feet.

I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.

Negativity floods every pore. Eddie shuts his eyes, steadying his breathing with reminders of who this is all for. In—Ryan. Out—Luke.

Happiness. Peace. Love. Family.

The room is silent, save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. The secondhand glides past the twelve, signaling that it is now officially one o’clock. Time to begin. A glance at the other side of the courtroom shows that there is no other parent of Ryan and Luke present.

The mahogany doors open once more and Eddie looks over his shoulder, expecting to see his soon-to-be ex-wife. But the only person walking down to the front of the room is another lawyer, by the looks of his suit. Brittany’s lawyer, presumably. He’s taller and younger than Carl, but Eddie just tells himself that means Carl has more experience on his side.

A heavy door behind the judge’s stand swings open on squeaking hinges and a bailiff steps out, the judge following right behind him.

“All rise,” the bailiff says. There are only three others in the room, so Eddie, Carl, and the third attorney stand as the judge takes his seat.

“So, we’ve got Eddie Munson, correct?” Judge Rogers looks down at a few pieces of paperwork set in front of him before looking over the top of his bifocals at Eddie.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And it looks like Brittany Munson is not here.” Judge Rogers looks up at the other lawyer for confirmation.

“Um, no Your Honor, I—”

A large bang covers up his next words as the double doors are shoved open. This time when Eddie looks over his shoulder, it is Brittany hurrying into the room. Her usually impeccably styled hair is a little askew. It’s all pulled up into a bun on the back of her head, that she sometimes wears to work. Her outfit is also one of the many skirt and blazer sets that are part of her repertoire for her job at the bank.

Eddie glances at the clock on the wall again. Maybe this was her lunch break and there was traffic. But as Brittany gets closer, Eddie notices her blouse. It’s a silky pale blue that she’s worn a hundred times, but that’s not what catches his eye. It’s the fact that the blouse is not buttoned up correctly. She either missed a hole or there’s a button not tucked into where it’s supposed to be.

A low disbelieving chuckle tumbles from Eddie’s mouth at this all-too-common occurrence he became acquainted with during their marriage. The unkempt hair, the disheveled clothes, and the way her face is slightly flushed, and her breathing is a little faster than usual tells Eddie exactly why Brittany is late, and it has nothing to do with work. Unless it was one of her co-workers she was fucking. Hell, Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if she was fucking her lawyer.

“Nice of you to join us, Mrs. Munson,” the judge grumbles as Brittany takes her spot next to her lawyer.

Ugh, did he have to call her Mrs. Munson? Eddie internally gripes.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Brittany says as she tries to smooth back some loose strands of hair. She offers no explanation or excuse for where she’s been, and Eddie thinks that’s for the better.

“Alright.” Judge Rogers clears his throat before he smacks his gavel down. “Let’s begin.”

After school today it’s just you, Ryan, and Luke. Karen Wheeler came to pick up the Harrington kids and take them back to her place so your focus could be on the Munson boys.

Neither brother has said anything about their parents being at court today by the time you get back to Eddie’s apartment, and if they’re not going to bring it up, neither are you. You prepare them a snack while they sit at the kitchen table, starting on their homework.

It’s not long before the apple slices and peanut butter have disappeared, and the homework has been finished. Luke shoves his work folder back into his book bag and wanders off for a moment before returning with crayons and a small stack of paper. While he’s rummaging through the crayon box, Ryan reaches over and plucks the piece of paper on top of the pile. Instead of reaching over to use some of his little brother’s crayons, Ryan picks up the pencil he used for his homework and presses the tip of it onto the top of the sheet of paper.

“Whatcha doing, Ry?” you ask as you dry off their snack plate that you just washed.

“Um…” Ryan chews on his lip for a moment before looking up at you. “I wanna write a letter. Actually, can you help me?”

“Of course.” You put the plate away and make your way over to the table. The chair next to the seven-year-old scrapes against the floor as you pull it out to sit. “Who is the letter for?”

The little boy bites at his lip again and it makes you frown. This isn’t a usual habit of his. He avoids your eyes as he looks down at the blank paper, nerves radiating off of his small frame.

“The judge at court,” he finally says.

“Oh.” You clear your throat after realizing your pitch was too high. “What do you want to say?”

Ryan sighs and taps the point of the pencil against the paper.

“I don’t like that I can’t go with Daddy and tell the judge how I feel. They’re talking about me and Luke, but Daddy said they might not ask us what we want. I don’t like that.”

The words crack your heart. He feels like he has no control over the situation. and the sad fact is that you can’t tell him that he’s wrong. The court might not ask Ryan and Luke who they want to live with. But Ryan’s determination to have his voice be heard is a testament to how Eddie’s raising him.

“I’m proud of you,” you tell him, reaching up to move some of his hair off of his forehead. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“I also don’t wanna be there cause I’d be scared,” Ryan admits quietly.

“That makes complete sense, sweetheart. I think most adults even get nervous in court. I know I would be. Daddy doesn’t like it either. But he would do it over and over again for you both. He’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” he says confidently.

“Good.”

Luke’s crayons scratch against his paper, and you look over at him. He’s hunched over the table with his small tongue poking out as the green crayon moves back and forth against the page. He doesn’t seem stressed like his older brother is. You hope that’s really the case though, and he’s not hiding or internalizing his feelings.

“So,” you say with a sigh, turning to Ryan again, “how do you want to start the letter?”

So far, the hearing isn’t as bad as Eddie thought. For some reason he thought he’d be tripping over his words, not sure how to answer the questions asked of him. But even though it is nerve wracking, it’s pretty easy; all Eddie has to do is tell the truth.

“What is the living situation of the children?” the judge asks.

“They live with me in the house,” Brittany is quick to answer. “Eddie sees them after school sometimes, or on the weekend.”

“I just moved to a new apartment,” Eddie says once Brittany has finished. “And the boys are almost done setting up their rooms the way they like. So, I’ll start having them overnights as well.”

“No, I don’t want that.”

Brittany’s lawyer leans in to whisper something in her ear after the outburst.

Judge Rogers scribbles something down before moving on to the next question.

“How are each of you involved in their daily life?”

“I’m very involved,” Eddie makes sure to answer first. “I’m the one who makes them breakfast, moves them along to get ready for school, and gets them out on the bus. I know their favorite toys, games, shows, movies. You name it, I know it. They feel comfortable telling me anything because they know I’m always there for them.”

“He’s also very involved with the babysitter,” Brittany adds.

Eddie’s vision goes red. His hands tighten into fists beneath the table, and he does his best to breathe through his anger.

Brittany doesn't attempt to add anything further, which Eddie realizes is because there’s nothing much she can contribute. She doesn’t know anything about her own sons and has virtually no part in their everyday routines.

When the judge realizes there’s nothing else coming from Brittany, he moves on.

“That brings me to my next question, then,” he says. “What third parties are involved in their care?”

“My uncle, who is grandpa to the kids, will watch them sometimes,” Eddie says. “They like to go over and spend the night at his place a lot during the summer because they like to make s’mores over the fire pit. And there’s my best friends, Steve and Nancy, whose kids are best friends with my boys. So, they spend a lot of time there. And my, um, their babysitter. She picks them up from school every day and watches them until either I or Brittany come home from work.”

A witch’s cackle comes from the other side of the courtroom. Fitting, for who it’s coming from.

“That ‘babysitter’ is the whole reason why we’re in this mess! She’s a little homewrecker who seduced my husband and now they’re shacking up together with my kids there.”

If Eddie thought he was mad before, now he’s in danger of turning into the Hulk. Brittany dares to call you a homewrecker when she’s the one who has been cheating for most of their marriage? When she’s the one who has skipped out on countless family events just to go fuck some other guy? The fact that she even had the audacity to entertain the thought that she might have the higher ground? Eddie’s surprised flames aren’t shooting out of his ears.

“That isn’t true, Your Honor.” Eddie is doing his best to sound calm, but there’s a noticeable edge to his voice. “I mean, yes, I am involved with the babysitter, but the rest of what she said is a lie.”

Judge Rogers takes his bifocals off and sets them down on the desk in front of him. “Care to elaborate?”

“First of all, this divorce was a long time coming. I don’t mean to get crude, Your Honor, but Brittany has stepped out with countless men while we were married. It was lie after lie, but I knew the truth. And I was relieved when it was very obvious my sons are mine. That is what led us here today.”

“So, did you leave your wife for this babysitter? And are you living together?” Judge Rogers puts his glasses back on and makes another note.

“No, Your Honor,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “To be perfectly honest, I was at a place of not caring that I was constantly being lied to and cheated on anymore. I became numb and just went through the motions of my life. I didn’t want to break up my boys’ family, so I did nothing. But when I met her—the babysitter, she helped me realize that I deserve better. In my opinion, I was a great husband. I did my best and stuck it out. But it became clear that the atmosphere in the house was too hostile for the boys. I’d rather them have two peaceful homes than one painful one.” Eddie pauses and licks over his lips before continuing. “I briefly stayed with the babysitter while I went through the process of getting my apartment, but the boys never stayed the night there. And the babysitter continues to live in her apartment and I in mine.”

“How do the boys feel about this babysitter?” Judge Rogers asks as he keeps writing. Eddie can’t help but wonder what he’s taking down.

“They love her. In fact, they tried to set her and I up.”

Brittany scoffs but says nothing. Eddie refuses to look in her direction and keeps his focus on the judge.

Talking about you was relieving. Honestly, a part of Eddie had been afraid that he wouldn’t come off looking good if you got brought up. But he now sees how ridiculous that is, because in the reality of everything, Brittany has no leg to stand on whatsoever when it comes to you.

“This is a vacation with me and my best buddy.”

“Donald Duck?”

“No, silly, with you!”

A knock on the apartment door distracts you from A Goofy Movie, and you push yourself up off the couch, leaving a gap between the boys as you head to open it.

Wayne stands on the other side, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his rugged jeans.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greets.

“Hey, Wayne. Come on in.” You move to the side so the older man can step inside.

“How they doing?” Wayne asks quietly, nodding his head towards the boys on the couch.

“I think they’re doing alright,” you tell him as you close the door, making sure to keep your voice low as well. “Ryan wanted to write a letter to the judge before. So, we did that, and I think it let him get some of his emotions out. Luke seems like his usual self. I’m just worried he’s bottling it all up.”

Wayne nods his head and lets out a small sigh.

“And how are you doing?” he asks.

The question catches you off guard. Honestly, you haven’t been thinking about how you’re feeling today. Your focus has been on Eddie and the boys and trying to make things as painless as possible for them.

“I’m…okay,” you say. “More worried about Eddie and the boys. It affects them more so than me.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you, hon,” Wayne replies quickly. “You’re part of this family.”

His words cause you to choke on your emotions. He considers you family. He sees that you’re in this for the long haul and that you really do love and care for all of them.

You force yourself to swallow and take a deep breath. It’s like Wayne’s words also gave you permission to feel your feelings about this whole ordeal. The front you had been putting up for Eddie and the boys was up so consistently that a part of you forgot that you had your own fears and worries deep down. Now, with the turn of a key, they all flood your head, dizzying you as you hold onto the back of a kitchen chair for balance.

“How can I support him?” you ask, voice soft and wobbly. “What if I somehow make him feel worse?”

Wayne’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you. Luke lets out a chuckle over where he’s watching the movie on the couch still, so Wayne gestures for you to follow him into the kitchen.

“Darlin’, I don’t think you could do anything but make Ed feel better. You seen the way he lights up when you walk in a room? All you gotta do is be there for him. Ask him how he is. Listen to him. Nothing special, just what you’ve been doing for him all along.”

“Well, that’s easy,” you say.

Wayne smiles and you tilt your head in question.

“It might seem a simple thing to you…but Ed ain’t had that kind of support in a relationship before. He ain’t been able to open up and talk freely. I remember he learned real quick to keep how he was feeling to himself when he started dating her. It broke me, but what could I do? He was dumb and in love. If I said anything ‘bout it, I would’ve lost my relationship with him and I wasn’t about to do that. But, hell, I saw him be open and comfortable with you practically from day one. You’ve always been willing to lend an ear and somethin’ inside of him picked up on that right away. Hon, by just being his friend you gave him more than his own wife did. It’s just who you are. And it’s part of why everyone in this home loves you so much.”

It’s impossible to see Wayne clearly through the tears that have pooled in your eyes. You refuse to let them fall, not wanting the boys to see even a hint of a tear track on your face. But your heart is so full it feels like it could burst. Somehow Wayne always knows the right thing to say. You’ve been grateful from the start that the man took Eddie in after everything went to hell with his parents, but it’s so obvious that was the best thing for Eddie for a myriad of reasons. No one could have raised him better or taken care of him more.

“Thank you, Wayne.”

“It’s nothing, darlin’,” he says with a shake of his head. “I should be thanking you. For loving my boy the way he’s always deserved. All my boys.” He looks over to the couch where Ryan is sound asleep, and Luke looks to be in a losing battle with the sandman himself.

“That’s something you never have to thank me for,” you tell him. “It’s the greatest pleasure of my life.”

As many times as Eddie got in trouble as a kid, he’s never been interrogated by the police before. Never had one of those moments you see on television where someone sits in an uncomfortable metal chair as a light shines in their face bright enough to burn their retinas. But sitting here, answering question after question for the judge, starts to feel like an interrogation after a while. Eddie could talk about his boys all day and night, but this was mostly talking about himself when it comes to the boys. He’s starting to feel over it all. But he keeps pressing through, always thinking of those two sweet faces at home anytime he wants to throw in the towel.

“What are each parent’s plans for housing and stability loving forward?” Judge Rogers asks.

“I’m in the house,” Brittany reiterates, a smug tinge to her words. “With the yard and the pool.”

“Will you be able to remain there with solely your income?” The judge follows up.

Brittany’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. It tickles Eddie, but he manages to keep the smile off his face as he looks across the room at his ex.

“I, u-um…” Brittany stutters.

She’s got nothing, Eddie realizes. He knows her finances very well, having shared bills with her for the last decade. The mortgage took up most of their combined incomes every month, so Eddie knows there’s no way she can afford to stay there without him.

“I’ll be able to remain there for a time,” Brittany finally says. “I’ll find a way to make it work.”

Eddie has to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, leaving little crescent moon shapes behind, so he doesn’t burst out laughing. Brittany’s not going to get a second job. She hates the first one enough as it is. All Eddie can think of “making it work” meaning is finding a sugar daddy, winning the lottery, robbing the bank she works at, or maybe borrowing money from her parents. Or a worst case scenario would be Brittany’s sister Sandy and her bratty kids moving in with her.

“Mr. Munson?”

“As I’ve said, I have a new apartment. It’s now all fully furnished, all unpacked, and the boys have their rooms.” Eddie hates how repetitive this all is. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s mentioned his apartment, and he’s sure the judge knows it by now as well, but Eddie understands there are procedures that need to be followed. No matter how annoying they are.

“Are there any concerns about the safety or well-being of the children in either home?” Judge Rogers asks, looking back and forth from Eddie to Brittany over the rim of his glasses.

“I have reason to believe the boys are better off with me, due to Eddie’s drinking.”

This time Eddie almost succumbs to his rage. Brittany lying and the judge believing her was one of his worst fears, and here she is trying to do just that. Eddie can’t remember the last time he had a hard drink, only a beer or two after work. And actually, now that he’s thinking about it, he isn’t sure when he last had a beer. After moving into his apartment, he thinks. A bunch of them drank beer with the pizzas they had once the work was done. But a moment of clarity leads Eddie to a realization. He used to come home every night and have a beer. Now, it occurs to him that he hasn’t had a beer after work in a number of weeks. Because he doesn’t need one to deal with Brittany. He doesn’t need to attempt to numb himself to the horrible woman he was living with. Now he comes home to you. He can hug you, kiss you, talk with you. There’s something to be excited for when he comes home, now. You and his boys.

“Drinking?” Judge Rogers asks her.

“Yes, Your Honor. Eddie drinks every night.”

“Is this true, Mr. Munson?”

“No,” Eddie responds confidently. “I used to have a beer or two when I’d come home from work, but that hasn’t happened in at least a month. And it was never more than one or two beers. I have never been drunk in front of my boys, but Brittany is not able to say the same.”

“Is this true, Mrs. Munson?”

“No,” she lies reflexively. The boys may have been too young to realize that’s what was going on with their mom, but it was most certainly the case.

Eddie catches a quiet sigh from the judge as he jots down another note. It causes some of his nerves to flutter back in.

“Any other concerns about safety or well-being?”

“Perhaps you should mention how your upbringing has caused you to prioritize the safety of your boys,” Carl says softly to Eddie.

He nods and clears his throat before speaking.

“Your Honor, I lived in an unsafe environment with my parents when I was young. Thankfully, I was placed with my uncle instead, which is the best possible place I could have been. I’ve lived and seen the difference between a home that has the well-being of children prioritized and one that doesn’t. It taught me how to make sure that my boys are always safe. Not just child-proofing the space or taking them to the doctor, but also by making sure they know how loved they are and that they can make mistakes and everything will be okay. That my love is unconditional, and I’ll always be on their side.”

“Would you say Mrs. Munson has those same priorities?” Judge Rogers asks.

“No.” Eddie didn’t even need to consider the question. He has so many examples on the tip of his tongue that if he told them all, they’d be there for days. “There have been instances of Brittany hiding the fact that our son Luke was sick from me, then taking him out of state just so her plans weren’t canceled. Both boys have also made remarks to me about knowing their mother does not care about them.”

“The boys have a preference?” Judge Rogers asks.

“Yes. They’ve both informed me that they’d prefer to be with me.”

“I don’t believe that,” Brittany immediately snaps back.

“Feel free to ask them,” Eddie responds without looking in her direction.

Carl nods at Eddie, letting him know he’s doing a good job. It comforts Eddie, but more than anything, he wishes for this to be over already.

Thankfully, it’s only a short time later that the judge wraps things up.

“Alright, let’s get to the temporary custody arrangement,” he says. “What is the arrangement between the two of you now?”

“The babysitter,” Brittany begins, the acidity emphasized on your title, “brings them either to my house or the apartment, depending on our schedules.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way from now on, then,” Judge Rogers declares. “It’ll be fifty-fifty custody right now. Between the two of you, look at your schedules and decide how you’ll split the time. Weekends are also fifty-fifty, which can either be one parent with them on Saturday and one on Sunday, or both days with a single parent every other weekend.”

The arrangement doesn’t thrill Eddie, but he’s mostly relieved that Brittany didn’t get primary physical custody. He can live with this back and forth right now if he has to.

Court is dismissed shortly after, and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief as he steps outside. The stuffiness of the courthouse disappears, and Eddie feels he can take a deep breath for the first time since entering earlier this afternoon.

“Okay, let’s figure this out.”

Eddie looks behind him to see Brittany approaching him, her lawyer not exiting the building with her.

“Okay.” The familiar feeling of wanting to rip Brittany’s head off is right below the surface, but Eddie knows he has to keep things civil.

“Why don’t you come back to the house, and we’ll talk about it? Since the boys are at the apartment.”

There’s a glimmer in her eye that instantly makes Eddie uncomfortable. Going back to the house with her? With them being the only two there? His stomach roils at the thought. Eddie has absolutely no trust in this woman whatsoever, and he wouldn’t put it past her to try something when they’re alone. Whether she tries to seduce him or uses the period of time to later claim that he harmed her in some way, Eddie isn’t risking it. He also wants to spend the least amount of time possible with her.

“Why don’t we go to a diner or something?” Eddie offers instead.

Brittany stares at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. It’s clear she’s irritated, but is she really dumb enough to think Eddie would fall for whatever is going on in that twisted mind of hers?

“Whatever,” Brittany scoffs. “I’ll do Monday to Wednesday morning, and you can do Wednesday night to Friday.”

The fact that she already had a plan in her back pocket only enforces Eddie’s idea that she wanted him to come back with her for another reason.

“Weekends we’ll do by ear? Depending on if you work Saturdays or not,” Eddie says.

“Fine. Have your tramp drop them off at the house tomorrow.”

“Brittany…” Eddie seethes.

“Bye.” She gives him a small wave over her shoulder, throwing him an over-the-top smile before heading towards her car.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mumbles to himself as he heads towards his car in the opposite direction. “How did I ever love that bitch?”

As much as Eddie is yearning to see you and the boys, he knows he needs some time to cool off before going home. He takes a detour to visit the man who has the best track record of talking him down off the ledge.

“None of that surprises me, sadly,” Wayne says once Eddie finishes filling him in on the hearing.

Eddie rolls out his neck, trying to dispel some of the tension as he stretches out on the couch next to his uncle.

“What do I do?” Eddie asks, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. “How am I supposed to refute every goddamn lie she tells?”

“You just tell the truth,” Wayne says simply. “You got nothing to hide. Everyone knows you’re better for the boys, all you gotta do is let the judge see it, too.”

“How the hell did you go through this for me?” Eddie rubs his hands over his face and lets out a long sigh.

“Yeah, well, at least Al had the decency not to fight me tooth and nail.”

Eddie chuckles. “At eleven, I never thought I’d be happy about that. But thank God.”

“I know what ya need.” Wayne smacks Eddie’s thigh before pushing himself up and walking into the small kitchen.

“Oh, Wayne, no beer,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna touch the shit at all, now.”

“I’m not getting you beer, ya dingbat,” Wayne teases, making Eddie smile.

The older man grabs two mugs off the wall–an old army one and Eddie’s favorite Garfield one. Wayne pulls a glass bottle of YooHoo out of the fridge and pops open the lid. Eddie laughs as he gets up and goes to join his uncle near the refrigerator.

“Your favorite as a kid,” Wayne says as he pours half the bottle into each mug.

“Luke’s favorite now,” Eddie adds.

“What, you think I have this here for me?” Wayne asks as he tosses the empty bottle into the trash.

“Eh, you’re a kid at heart,” Eddie says, picking up the orange cat mug.

“Here’s to the best outcome we could hope for,” Wayne says as he raises his cup.

“Brittany getting eaten by the Loch Ness Monster?”

Wayne snorts a laugh and shakes his head.

“Sounds good to me. Hopefully the judge can sentence her to that.”

“Here’s hoping.”

Eddie clinks his mug against his uncle’s and they both down the chocolate milk.

The pots and pans clatter together as you pull out the skillet to get started on dinner. Just as your hand reaches for the dial to turn on the burner, the front door opens. You immediately set the pan down and march right over to Eddie. Without saying a word, you wrap your arms around his middle and pull him into a hug.

A small smile grows on his lips as he returns your embrace. He hums softly as he closes his eyes and rests his head against yours.

“How’d you know I needed this?” he asks quietly.

“Lucky guess,” you mumble against his shoulder.

He pulls back, but you don’t let go of him. Your hands rest on his waist, below the blazer, as he drops his wallet and keys on the counter. His back arches and stretches as he shrugs out of the blazer and tosses it onto a barstool.

“What did you and the munchkins get up to today?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you again.

“Y’know,” you say with a shrug. “I let them bungee jump, then skydive, and then they ate their weight in Pixy Stix.”

“I figured.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Daddy!” Ryan runs in the room and takes advantage of the small space between you and his father to wriggle in. But when you try to step away to let the little boy have his father all to himself, Ryan catches your hand and keeps you there with the two of them. “What happened today?”

“Just answered a bunch of questions,” Eddie tells him, reaching up to ruffle his sandy hair.

“Did Mom go?”

“She did.” Eddie nods. “We talked with the judge and with each other. Everyone just wants to make sure you and Luke are happy.”

Ryan looks over his shoulder at you, then back to his father.

“Can I show you my letter?”

“Letter?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing.

“Ry wanted to write a letter to the judge,” you explain, resting your hands on the seven-year-old’s shoulders.

“I’d love to read it,” Eddie tells him.

The little boy slips out from between the two of you and goes to pick up the piece of paper on the kitchen table. He comes back and silently hands it to Eddie.

Dear Judge,

My name is Ryan Wayne Munson, and I am Eddie’s oldest son. I am seven years old and my brother Luke is five. I know we are young and sometimes grown-ups don’t listen to kids, but I wanted to share how I feel anyway. My daddy is the best man in the world, and he loves me and Luke more than anyone else in the world. We are always happier when we are with him than with our mom. Our mom has missed lots of things in mine and Luke’s lives. I had a Christmas concert last year and she didn’t show up at all, even though I had a solo and was very excited. But Daddy made sure I got there on time and told me how good I was and how proud he is of me. He always makes sure to tell me that. And he tells Luke, too.

I don’t want to live at the house with my mom. I want to live at the house with my daddy, but I know he does not live there anymore. Even though I love my first room and my house, I would rather live with Daddy anywhere. I have a cool new room at his apartment and Daddy worked hard to help make it special for me.

I am writing this letter while you are having your first meeting with my mom and dad. I had some help with spelling and punctuation, but the words are all mine. I would be scared to come to court and talk, but if it meant that I would get to live with my daddy, I would do it. I know Luke would too. I hope this letter helps you make your decision.

Love,

Ryan

Eddie can’t help but smile through his tears at the endearing “love” signoff. That’s Ryan in a nutshell; always spreading love.

The words have restored Eddie’s exhaustion and fill his drained soul.

Small arms wrap around Eddie and large brown eyes look up at him.

“Why are you crying, Daddy?” Ryan asks.

“Because that was a really sweet letter, Ry.”

The older brother doesn’t get a chance to respond as Luke rushes into the room and runs head-first into his dad.

“Daddy! Can we get ice cream for dinner?”

“After dinner?” Eddie suggests, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” Luke pouts, “because then I’ll be too full.”

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes as he lets out a laugh.

“You earned yourself an extra piece of broccoli with dinner tonight, kid,” he tells his son.

Luke lets out a growl and sticks his tongue out at Eddie. Eddie sticks his tongue right back out at the five-year-old, who giggles in response.

“Oof,” Eddie grunts as he scoops Luke up and throws him over his shoulder. “What do you say we order pizza? Hmm? Have a movie night?”

“Yes!” Luke cheers.

“Can we watch Hook?” Ryan asks.

“Sounds great,” Eddie says, rubbing his hand over Ryan’s hair.

You watch as the three of them head towards the couch. It’s impossible not to smile as Eddie plops Luke down on the cushions and flops down next to him. The youngest Munson laughs as Eddie rolls on top of him and laughs even harder when Ryan gets on top of the pile of boys.

Tears begin to fill your eyes as you reach for the telephone. You sniff and blink them away as you scan the fridge for the magnet with the pizzeria’s phone number on it. Hearing the three of them laugh as they roughhouse is a balm to your heart after the stress of the day. Unfortunately, this is just the beginning of the journey to keep these boys where they belong, but as long as there is laughter and love at the end of days like today, you think it won’t be so bad after all.

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