#bit drafty in here

[coyote-cemetery]

everything is awesome

my uber is a jeep with no fucking doors hello?

[total-drama-brainrot]

nowen playing up the world's funniest bit post world tour (assuming the og cast stays on playa des losers whilst roti is being filmed) and just not telling anyone they're dating. abusing the "best friends" card to get away with increasingly more pda until someone cracks.

it starts off with owen carrying noah around on his shoulders like a neck pillow for a whole day. no one bats an eye; noah's lazy and owen's too altruistic for his own good, nothing strange about buddies carrying their friends.

and then the two of them just start randomly hugging whenever they want. people brush it off when owen's the one doing the hugging, until noah just walks up to his loving bf and clings to him like a koala unprompted. probably takes a nap like that too. but everyone politely refuses to address their mutual clinginess because it's whatever, right? nothing outlandish about friends hugging.

one day, during one of the casts' shared meals, someone notices that noah's missing and points it out. noah's head pops out from owen's shirt collar, revealing he's sat with (on) his chubby buddy underneath his shirt. eyebrows are raised, but it's overlooked.

later on, noah smacks his massive forehead on the corner of a door or something and owen rushes over to kiss it better, then peppers his whole face in kisses to "heal his boo-boos". people are starting to question how platonic their friendship is, but remember that owen's just kind of like that sometimes as a disaster bi and let it slide.

but after this incident the two of them get more comfortable playfully kissing each other in public and everyone is too awkward to outright ask if they're /srs or /j.

they start calling each other increasingly ridiculous pet names- escalating from things like "little buddy" and "big guy", to the classic "honey" "babe" and "dear", to outlandish stuff like "my little rotisserie chicken" and "my darling malewife whom i love dearly" and "panzerkampfwagen viii maus". no one knows what to make of this.

it isn't until heather gets fed up with everyone's hesitance to address the subject and corners the two for answers (she strikes me as the type of person to be super direct when asking for tea to be spilled) that the pair turn and nod sagely to each other. owen explains "we're married for tax benefits." noah laughs so hard he passes out.

[der-schweizer]

There's my portal

As i said on @bet-on-me-13 'Where is my portal' post, here is my short about their idea. please enjoy.

Danny sipped his coffee, slowly shuffling towards his lab. It had been a long time since he had a ‘run on two coffees and some ecto’ weekend but here he was, Monday morning, on his way to work.

He really wanted to be in bed but he had bills to pay.

Quietly he shuffled into his lab, which he found oddly drafty and oddly bright, considering he hadn’t turned on the lights yet. After flicking them on he moved on towards his desk, passing a big gaping hole in the wall and—

Danny paused, shuffled backwards a bit and then looked at the place where his portal used to be. For a long moment he just looked, then did a slow blink and took another sip of coffee.

After making sure that his portal, including parts of the wall, were really gone, he let out a sigh and held his face. “Who the fuck stole my door?”

With a sigh he pushed his bangs out of his face and walked to his PC, to check the security footage of his Cameras. For once it wasn’t Vlad who stole his shit, Vlad at least had the courtesy to leave a note that he ‘borrowed’ something. It was safe to say that he was surprised to find the footage gone. There weren't many people that could hack through Tucker's programing.

Danny sat there, looking at the black screen of his PC for a long moment before thinking aloud. “Okay, we have one or more people who can; One, break through Tuckers firewalls. Two, physically move a portal weighing around ten tons and, Three, knows their way around Arcane Runes so as to not cause a mass ghost invasion.”

He thought about it for a minute before throwing his hands up. “Fuck this, I’m just going to use the other side to find it.” He got out of his chair before transforming. 

Danny focused his power into one of his fingers before poking the air in front of him, the tip of it pierced the fabric of space which he then used to rip it open. He quickly flew through the tear before it sealed again. Despite Wulf teaching him how to do it he still sucked at it, which was the main reason he built his portal.

Once in the Zone he looked around for it. He found it after over two hours of searching, which only served to piss him off to the point where he began muttering curses under his breath.

Standing in front of it, he gave it a quick inspection. After inspecting the Runes, Danny had to admit that, whoever had stolen it, knew his way around them. They pretty much locked out anyone not authorized and or approved by the Caster. Too bad for them, Danny had the ‘Masterkey’ and went through anyway.

John Constantine was holding his face, quietly counting to ten. Neither smoking nor drinking would help in this situation. After reaching fifty he ran his hands over his head, looking at the assembled brigade of idiots in front of him.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” He started, “You,” he pointed at Batman, “found an ‘unknown energy signature’ and went to investigate. Then you found a high security lab with had an active portal to ‘who knows where’ and your first decision was to fucking steal it?!?!”

Superman moved forward, opening his mouth to counter but Constantine didn't let him. “AND you moron helped him steal it, not to mention you!” he pointed at flash, “Help install it here, in the watchtower, without telling anyone from JLD about it?”

Flash looked a bit sheepish at him. “Well, in my defense I didn’t know it was stolen.”

Constantine wanted to bash his head against the next closest bulkhead, maybe that would help.

“Okay, okay.” Constantine facepalmed, trying to stop the aneurysm from building up more.

A deep chill suddenly filled the air and sent goosebumps all over his back, “Oh this is just getting better and better.” Constantine reached into his pocket for a warding charm, before turning around and swearing. He stopped swearing when he saw who had come through. “Oh, hey Phantom.”

“Constantine, why the fuck did you steal my portal?” Danny wasn’t even pissed anymore. He knew the English drunktard too well to blame him. Granted he was obnoxious, didn’t pay back his debt and came whenever it suited him, but Danny liked the man. He didn’t exasperate problems and always did what was necessary.

“Look, I didn’t.” He then threw a thumb over his shoulder, “Those morons did.”

“Constantine, do you know this entity?” Batman already looked on high alert.

“Excuse you! I have a name. And that is my Portal. Explain why it isn't where it is supposed to be.”

“The sensors of the Watchtower found an unknown energy signature, upon investigation we found an unsecured pathway to a different dimension, so we secured it.”

Danny stared at Batman for a solid minute, then simply said, “Oh I'm going to sue your ass so hard your grandkids will feel it.”

[puckinghischier]

thinking about comforting nico during this weird playing period.. he comes home upset and frustrated with not only the team but with himself.

he’d be so mopey, just kind of dragging around, not really saying much. mumbled answers to your questions, saying he’s not hungry, no input on what to watch. he’d kind of just go lay in your shared bedroom, headphones-in-and-staring-at-the-wall, kind of mopey.

you’d pad softly into the room, knowing you had to bust him out of the slump somehow. he had every right to be frustrated and upset, but you hated seeing your bright boy so down and dark.

he’d have his head leaned back with his eyes closed, legs stretched out in front of him with his hands resting clasped on his stomach. you softly crawl onto the bed to sit cross-legged beside of him. you poke at his soft belly a few times to get his attention.

peeking one eye open, he raises his head and removes one ear bud.

“what’s up?” he flatly asks, so unlike himself.

you smile at his fuzzy hair, his lack of properly drying it before slipping a beanie over it to leave the rink evident.

“let’s go for a drive,” you propose.

he scrunches his nose up at your suggestion, not interested in the slightest at getting back out into the cold air and riding around the city he keeps disappointing.

“not really in the mood,” he shakes his head, going to put the bud back in his ear until you grab his arm.

“please?” you give him your pouty eyes, hoping they’ll work now just like they do every other time.

reluctantly he agrees, tossing a sweatshirt on and covering his messy hair with a hat.

you bundle up yourself, slipping on a pair of comfy shoes before meeting him at the door, his hand reaching for the keys resting on the hook on the wall.

your hand beats his, though, grabbing his car keys before he can.

“you’re passenger princess tonight, bud”

he rolls his eyes, holding open the door so your smug self can walk out, making your way down to the drafty parking garage and seating yourself in the drivers seat of his lush mercedes.

pulling out of the garage, you turn the radio on to play whatever he was listening to last, some swiss rap you couldn’t understand the words to playing softly through the speakers. nico isn’t talking, just looking at the various lights and buildings as you drive through the quiet city.

most of the traffic from the game is already dispersed, giving you an easy ride to the mystery destination you didn’t tell him about.

you half expect him to figure it out based on your pattern of turns and familiar surroundings, but he must really be in his head, because when you park his car on the street outside of your destination, he’s still staring, unaware that the car even stopped moving.

“hey, neeks, come back to me,” you softly touch his arm, startling him a bit.

he looks over at you, almost like he forgot where he was, relaxing once his brain registered there was no threat. just you, looking over at him sweetly, as you always do.

“sorry, got lost thinking,” he mumbles, a little embarrassed. you smile at his accent shining on “thinking”, the subtle slip of his lips when pronouncing the word one of your favorite things about him

“s’alright. we’re here, though, so we gotta get out of the car.”

his thick eyebrows furrow in confusion, turning to look out the window to figure out where “here” is.

once he sees the familiar logo on the building right next to your parking spot, he looks back over at you.

“are they even still open?” he asks you, his tone lifting in a hopeful tone you haven’t heard for days.

you shake your head yes, trying not to grin like an idiot as his small show of excitement. “called them before we left, asked if they’d stay open a little bit longer for a special customer.”

the small, swiss owned bakery was somewhere you and nico had found on one of his few days off, simply setting out to explore the city with no plan in mind. on your lengthy walk, the sky had unexpectedly opened up, drenching both of you to your core. you ran into the closest storefront you could find, needing cover from the downpour.

the second your soaked figures trampled into the store, you were met with some of the most delicious smells you’d ever encountered in your life. the small space was empty, other than a plump older woman cleaning a display case of some of the most delicious looking pastries you’d ever seen.

“oh je!” the woman exclaimed when she saw the state of the two of you.

you thought the expression has sounded familiar, but couldn’t place it before she started speaking again.

“oh you poor kids, please, come sit, let me get you something to dry yourself,” the woman insisted, pulling out a couple of chairs at a small table, rushing off to find something dry to give you.

you heard her voice conversing with someone, a language you definitely had heard before, while you took your seat in the wooden chair.

she came back out to the two of you with warm dish towels, allowing you to at least rid your face of the excess water. nico was eyeing her suspiciously as she was bumbling about her husband making both of you a hot tea and something warm to snack on with it.

when he started speaking swiss german to her, you had no clue what was being said, but you loved the way he melted into being able to use his native language with someone who understood him and spoke it back. a tall, thin old man came out of seemingly nowhere in the middle of their conversation, two mugs of tea in hand.

the older man joined right in their conversation, his kind face just as excited as nico seemed to be.

the two of you ended up sitting in the small bakery for longer than anticipated, the rain long gone before you made your exit. the conversation had eventually switched back to english, the woman explaining how they had moved to the states many years ago, their dream of owning a bakery in the city finally coming to fruition a couple of years ago.

nico was amazed at the selection of swiss desserts they had, and praised their recipes as being reminiscent of his mothers. the couple insisted you take a whole hoard of stuff home, wanting nico to have a piece of home to enjoy.

the hidden gem ended up being a frequent weekend destination for you and nico, making a visit at least once a week when he’s home. the shop was so small and off the beaten path that nico never had to worry about someone spotting him there, going and sitting and conversing with his new friends for hours as you sat and watched their animated conversations.

you even found yourself frequenting the bakery on your own when nico was gone for any length of time, needing your own pastry fix. always being welcomed with open arms, you never left without a special pastry just for nico to have when he returned home.

which is what lead you here tonight, wanting to bring him even the smallest bit of comfort you could.

“schätz, did you really?” he uses the term of endearment you loved the most, having heard the shop owner utter it to his wife several times during your visits. “you shouldn’t have, they need their rest.”

you roll your eyes at his insistence on never wanting someone go to any extra lengths for him. he never wants anyone to be inconvenienced for his sake, even during times like these when he deserves to be made to feel special.

“hush, they insisted on it. you know how they are, too stubborn for their own good,” you wave off his concern, the concerned tone of the woman fresh in your mind when you called and explained the situation. “they even told me they were making something extra special for you tonight, so i hope you’re hungry after all that skating.”

nico doesn’t react to your words, staring at you so intently you were beginning to squirm at the gaze.

sensing your shift in body language, nico breaks the loud silence of the car.

“i love you, you know that?”

you giggled at his words, because of course you know that. he tells you all the time. every day. as often as he can.

“yes, neeks, i know that. and i love you too.”

he shakes his head slightly.

“no, i mean it. i love you so much. you…you always know what to do when i’m being a pouty mess. you never fail to make me feel better by just being you, but when you do things like this, even though i’ve been closed off and pouty this whole week because of the team and how our game is right now, even when i don’t deserve it, you still always manage to know exactly what i need.”

he grabs your hand in the middle of his small speech, needing to touch you so you can feel his words and his sentiments.

“well, you do deserve this. you always do. especially with how things have been going for you lately, because you’re giving it your all, always. and i’m proud of you. win or lose, i’m so proud of you, nico.”

you squeeze his hand in yours, emphasizing your point.

nico can’t stand how far away you are from him all of a sudden, reaching over and pulling your face across the console to meet his, consuming himself in you. the feeling of your lips on his melts away any thought in his head about his job and is filled with only you. the taste of your fruity chapstick, the softness of your face in his hands, the smell of your perfume still left over from earlier.

he tries to tease your lips open with a swipe of his tongue, but you give a small laugh as you pull yourself back.

“alright now, can’t be doing all that, now. you’ve got a hot, home cooked swiss meal waiting on you i promised some very eager people you’d be by to try ten minutes ago. don’t want them to think we flaked, do you?”

“oh god, i hope it’s traditional fondue,” he groans at the idea. “i’m sorry, baby, but this american version is shit, and i can’t pretend to like it anymore,” he completely switches up on you, taken over by the thought of food, completely unaware you’d already expressed to the owners how it was his favorite, a hot pot of the cheesy dish awaiting him behind the door he’s speeding towards.

[ldrfanatic]

Crawl Home to Her

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader synopsis - you and theo had always been enemies and you thought he hated you until you found out that he loves you so much it hurts; lowkey just quite a bit of fluff lol; enemies to lovers; both theo and y/n come from death eater families and they both have the dark mark.

slytherin boys masterlist works

part two here

Inspired by Work Song by Hozier

"What do you want, Nott?" Your voice rang out and broke the silence of the moonlit hallway.

Theodore Nott had always been your enemy. Since the moment the two of you arrived at Hogwarts, you'd always hated each other. No exceptions. He pulled on the ends of your hair in potions, he mocked you in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he sent stupid little notes to you in Transfigurations that conveniently burned up before you got the chance to read them.

So, yes, Theodore Nott was your enemy.

Which is why you were so surprised to hear his footsteps following you. Especially when he should be in the Slytherin Common Room enjoying the huge winter party they'd thrown.

"Couldn't sleep?"

His smooth baritone voice contrasted your airy one. Still, you couldn't decipher if he was asking you or fumbling for an excuse.

Theodore Nott was cool, calm, collected. You'd learned that much over the years. He didn't need excuses or reasons and he didn't bother to explain himself. It honestly took you by surprise when he answered your question at all.

The first time that you and Theo got into it was the second week of class in your second year. He'd never been particularly kind to you, but he hadn't been rude either. Well, until then. You'd taken to being friends with Pansy Parkinson, a fellow second year in Slytherin who had the largest crush on another Slytherin second year, Blaise Zabini. Blaise often hung out with Theo, who you'd known from first-year, and two other boys you didn't meet until that year, Draco Malfoy and Mattheo Riddle.

The boys teased Pansy relentlessly and you stuck up for her as often as you could. Unfortunately, that seemed to paint a big target on your back and caused them to turn their mischievous acts towards you as well.

As you and Pansy were walking towards the Great Hall for lunch one day, Theodore came rushing by with the rest of their little entourage and drop a few dung bombs on the pair of you. It shouldn't have angered you to the point you felt it necessary to start a never ending feud with the boy, but it embarrassed your little 12 year old self to an irredeemable point.

You turned swiftly on the ball of your heel and faced him. He was wrapped up in his winter robes. A green and silver scarf with the initials TN was wrapped snugly against his neck but provided no protection for his reddening nose.

It was then that you took note of how cold it was in the corridor. The castle often got drafty at night, especially in the winter, and here you were, in nothing but a school skirt and thin sweater. You could still hear the roaring sounds of laughter emanating from the dungeons.

Theodore held your gaze with a pensive stare before taking a few testing steps closer to you.

"You're going to get cold, Y/n."

His use of your first name took you by notable surprise but you masked it the best that you could. It was now year six of having known Theodore Nott. Of having known his family and their affiliations. You caught a brief sight of the black ink on his left arm as he unwrapped his scarf and tugged it around your neck. The image of the dark mark made your stomach swirl, all too familiar with the itching of your own tattoo in precisely the same part of your arm.

The damn thing had, after all, been the object of your frustrations since your mother so kindly gave it to you this past summer. As you remembered the excruciating pain, you stared into Theo's eyes. Something about the thought of him enduring the sort of pain you remember it being makes your stomach twist in a weird way. Sure, you'd known the boy for years, but the same was also true of Draco Malfoy, and you didn't feel this uncomfortable twisting when you caught glimpses of his dark mark.

"Go away." When Theo made no intention of leaving, you turned back towards the large glass window and allowed your voice to crack with emotion. "Please."

The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed down the hall. The laughter got louder as he opened the door to the common room, and then finally, quiet again.

There was only one time that you got the inclination that Theodore Nott may not hate you entirely. Fifth year at Hogwarts was quite unpleasant for pretty much every Slytherin student. After Cedric Diggory's death, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and even Hufflepuff had taken to casually terrorizing Slytherin students in the halls. Whether that be ganging up to hex them or sneering at them from across classrooms.

Unfortunately, you'd found yourself in one of those situations. You'd asked to be excused from Potions to use the restroom. Yet, when you'd finished your business and began to exit, a group of three boys cornered you in the hallway. One of them, you recognized as Cormac McLaggen who asked you out the year before and was clearly still butt hurt about your albeit respectful rejection.

"Well, well, boys. Look what we have here," He stepped away from his sidekicks and caged you against the stone wall. You felt your discomfort growing as his face neared yours. "The little Slytherin bitch who thinks she's too good for everyone else." He laughed disgustingly and began getting closer until his body pressed yours against the brick.

"Tell me something, Y/n. When your parents pimp you out to all the other little Death Eaters, do all your nasty little friends get to touch you like this?" Cormac's words caused bile to crawl up your throat. He reached his hand out to touch you but before he could, a throat cleared only a few meters to the left. You thanked every God you could think of. For once, you were happy to see Theodore Nott's smug little face.

Only, he didn't look smug right now. Right now, he looked ready to send Cormac McLaggen into the afterlife. Painfully. "McLaggen, I swear on every life in this castle, if you touch her, it will be the last thing you ever do." Cormac was an arrogant prick, but even he knew better than to fuck with a Death Eater's son in these times. He didn't say a word to either of you as he took his sidekicks and all but ran from the scene.

You would have been touched. If it hadn't been for the fact that Theo immediately turned away from you before you had the chance to thank him and hadn't spoken to you since that day.

You snapped from your memories when a soft hand grabbed yours. Your head whipped around only to be met with the blinding smile of Pansy. Admittedly, she'd grown up quite pretty over the years. It was no wonder Blaise finally pulled his head out of his arse long enough to finally start dating her.

"Come on, Y/n. The party's pretty much over. Now it's just the rest of us. It's cold."

You let Pansy lead you back to the common room thankful when she didn't question the scarf around your neck. Your relief was short lived. As soon as you were within sight of the group, Mattheo whistled lowly. He opened his mouth like he meant to say something but a look from Theo left the boy smirking into his drink. You noted from his droopy bloodshot eyes that Theodore Nott was intoxicated. In fact, everyone was. Except for you. And of course, Hermione Granger who sat on the floor tucked into a smiling Draco Malfoy's side.

You were proud that you'd been the one to knock some sense into his head. For once, the boy did something for himself.

Mattheo's stare lingered on you before glancing to Theo and then back down to his drink again. "Perfect timing, Y/n. We were just deciding what to do." The thing to know about Mattheo Riddle is that he liked to cause chaos. He was, in that sense alone, his father's son. He especially loved when that chaos causing was directed at his favorite person to toy with. Theodore Nott. The pair had been best friends, practically attached at the hip since first year.

Mattheo Riddle was the only person in the room that knew of Theo's irrepressible love for you.

"I have the perfect idea." He stood on his place on the dark green couch and grabbed your wrist gently. He offered a smile as he lead you back to sit next to him. Conveniently, also right next to Theo.

"Now that the whole gang is here, I hear that our little Theo has a crush. Seeing as we pestered Draco endlessly until he finally found dear Granger over there, it only seems fair that Theo receive the same treatment." Draco made a loud noise of agreement before being shushed quietly by Hermione.

At this point, everyone had agreed and Theo was too intoxicated to stop them. You pushed down the panging in your heart at the idea of Theo liking someone and nodded numbly with the others, attempting to force a smile.

Mattheo's voice rang out again. "Afterall, Theo here is most honest without pesky inhibitions of being sober to get in the way."

Again, you tried to ignore the twisting in your stomach. Hermione, ever the curious cat was the first to speak up.

"When did you start liking her?"

Theo sat quietly for so long you were convinced he was going to ignore the group entirely before he finally spoke up.

"Right after I got my dark mark at the start of fifth year. My sleeves rolled up a little and she saw it. After dear old dad gave it to me, I'd kind of lost all will to even try anymore. Not to mention that my body had not reacted kindly to it. I was burning up a fever. I didn't care much how long I lived. But she was so kind. She didn't judge me. She just smiled and waved."

Your gaze burned into the side of Theo's head. Not only had you never heard him so raw and honest, you'd also never even known he was feeling this way. It made you wonder how much practice the boy had with masking his emotions. Pansy shifted uncomfortably and bounced softly on her arm chair.

"My turn! Is it a friend?"

Theo hummed and took a swig of the drink in his hand. You had half a mind to snatch the bottle and drag the poor boy to bed, but you didn't want to be on the receiving end of his discontent.

"You could say that."

Draco made a noise at his clipped answer but Blaise cut in quickly. The excitement seemed to have finally spread throughout the whole party while Mattheo watched on with a disturbingly intense look.

"You said she didn't judge you for the mark. Does that mean she's a Slytherin? A death eater even?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the open talk of the dark mark but Draco's arm tightened protectively around her shoulders. He placed a chaste kiss on the side of her temple that had her body relaxing into his. The type of affection you found yourself craving for.

"I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did. Even for a Slytherin that's uncommon. Everyone wants to know. They want all the details."

Recognition passed over Mattheo's face. A look mirrored by both you and Draco. Being the children of such prominent dark figures, all four of you were familiar with the inquiries that Theo was referencing.

Finally, Draco got his opportunity to ask his question.

"Why not just talk to her then? If she's so understanding?"

Theo didn't answer. He stared at the blonde boy for a few tense moments before laughing humorlessly to himself.

"She hates me, man. I know it. I've terrorized her for years." His eyes welled up but he pushed the tears back by draining the rest of the bottle in his hand. "She's too kind for the fucked up person that I am. It hurts knowing that even when I try to be good, she can only think of me as the stupid Nott boy that's been making fun of her since first year."

Air seemed to leave every pair of lungs in the room as the attention shifted to you. A quiet accusation whispered through the air with no one brave enough to actually voice it. It didn't need to be said.

Theo purposefully kept his circle small after his father's torture over the years. There was only one girl that he'd consistently paid half a mind to at all since fourth year. You.

Theodore Nott was in love with you.

Your thoughts were confirmed when Mattheo's eyes met yours with a wink. Even further when you finally took note of all of the signs. He hadn't looked at you this whole time. He called you Y/n in the hall. In fact, now that you thought about it, he'd been calling you Y/n all year. He blew notes to you in class. He even dropped a messily wrapped present on your desk claiming it was from a secret admirer.

That alone hadn't made sense. Inside the box was a pendant that you'd seen walking in Hogsmeade with only the group of people sitting in this room. You hadn't even mentioned you wanted it.

But your gaze lingered on the piece for long enough that Theo knew he was going to buy the pendant for you.

A pendant that rested against your collarbone right now.

Suddenly, the room felt too small. The pendant was heavy on your collarbone. You could feel everyone's eyes on you but you were staring at Theo who'd taken a sudden interest in every other damn thing in the room. The group waited with baited breath before Mattheo broke the silence.

"Tsk. Theodore." He fixed an unnerving stare on you that had you subconsciously shifting a little closer to the dark haired boy on your other side. "With the war coming. You should tell her. I mean, come on. With your father's affiliations who knows what might happen to you. Either of you."

Theo's head shot up and in his drunken state, he wasn't watching how he spoke to the Dark Lord's son. Like at all.

"I don't give a damn, Mattheo. Fuck my father and his cowardly bullshit. I would burn every square inch of this planet to keep her alive." His voice was deadly serious. It didn't waver, it didn't raise. He was cool, calm, collected. Like Theodore Nott always was. For once, his eyes lit with emotion. Blazed, in fact.

You were caught by surprise when his eyes snapped towards yours. His stare was compelling. No matter how much you willed yourself to look away, his eyes pinned you. Your hand reached towards the pendant of it's own accord. His voice startled you. "As far as what might happen to me, when my time comes around, I don't care if you dump my body into the deepest ocean or lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave could hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her."

His eyes never left yours. You stared up at him for a few moments trying to decipher the look on his face. You realized with a start that none other than Theodore Nott was looking at you like he would throw everything away to kiss you right now. Like you were the only thing that mattered.

Cheers erupted from around you as you threw your arms around Theo's neck and smashed your lips against his. And there was no part of your brain that disagreed with him. There was not a bone in your body that had any intention other than giving Theodore Nott exactly what he wanted. All of you.

WC - 2681

[blondechariot]

~NCT127 reaction to you wearing something revealing~

Pairing: NCT127 x Reader

Warnings: none :) have fun

Taeyong

Don’t cheat, okay?”

“I’m not! Can I finally see it now?”

“Yeah, I just want to fix it a little first.”

“Couldn’t you have done that before you called me in?”

“Don’t be such a boomer,” you grumble while your boyfriend covers his eyes with his hands and taps his foot impatiently.

You’ve been invited to an SM party, and you bought a brand new dress just for the occasion — all to surprise Taeyong. You know he’s going to love it, which only makes you more excited.

“Okay, 3, 2, 1, go!” you call out enthusiastically, striking a playful pose.

When he removes his hands from his eyes, they widen immediately, and a big grin spreads across his face.

“W-Wow,” he stammers, looking you up and down while you twirl around to show off the full dress.

“So? What do you think? Can I show up like this?” you ask sarcastically, flipping your hair over your shoulder.

“Baby, you look stunning,” he marvels, reaching for your hands.

“R-Really amazing,” he repeats with sparkling eyes, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You beam back at him, happy with his reaction.

He smiles and then looks at you excitedly. “But to be honest, I have something for you too.”

“What?” you ask, confused.

“Yep, now you have to close your eyes,” he grins.

You shut your eyes and hear him walking away. When he comes back, you wait patiently until he tells you to open them.

As you do, your face freezes for a second.

“That’s your blazer,” you say, a little puzzled.

He nods proudly, holding it out to you.

“Yeah, and you’ve always said how much you liked it. So I decided to give it to you!”

“Oh… cool,” you say uncertainly, taking it from him hesitantly.

“Come on, try it on!” he urges excitedly.

Raising an eyebrow, you slip on the blazer. It reaches just above your thighs, and the sleeves are a little too long.

“It looks better on you than it ever did on me!” he cheers, spinning you around.

“It’s a bit big, isn’t it?”

“That’s trendy now! Everyone’s wearing stuff like that,” he assures you enthusiastically.

“Really?”

The doorbell rings, and Taeyong quickly turns his head.

“Oh, the car’s here! It’s cold outside… you could just leave it on,” he suggests.

“You want me to wear it to the party?”

“Why not? It looks great with the dress, and like I said, it’s trendy!” he insists optimistically.

You glance down at yourself uncertainly.

“Tae, I don’t know—”

“We should hurry,” he interrupts, quickly buttoning the blazer over your chest.

“You can decide if you like it on the way there, but the venue’s probably going to be pretty drafty. It’ll keep you warm,” he says hastily before pulling you toward the front door before you can protest.

Jaehyun

“I like this spot,” you say contentedly as you walk along the beach with your boyfriend Jaehyun, looking for the perfect place to settle down.

You squeeze his hand while he walks beside you and he nods, smiling.

“Sure,” he agrees and sets the bag down in the sand before pulling out the large towel and spreading it out.

The wind blows through your hair, and you brush it out of your face.

“It’s super windy today,” you remark.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a cheeky grin, winking at you.

You giggle and nudge him in the side.

“Do you want to go straight into the water?” he asks, already pulling off his T-shirt.

“I think I’ll stay in the sun for a bit first,” you decide, and he shrugs.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” he teases and smacks your butt playfully.

Laughing, you watch him head toward the water.

You, on the other hand, sit down on the towel and tie your hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of your face.

You’re wearing a light blouse and the hot pants he gave you for your birthday.

You let the salty breeze wash over you for a while, enjoying the smell of the ocean, before deciding to get a little sun on your skin.

You stand up again, unbutton your blouse, and slip off your shorts.

You’re wearing a brand-new bikini that perfectly matches your hair and skin tone.

You tug lightly at the side ties and smile, pleased.

You spot Jaehyun in the water and wave at him.

He waves back, only vaguely able to make out your figure on the beach.

What he can clearly see, though, is two volleyball players turning to look at you and nudging each other.

He frowns and runs a hand through his wet hair, leaving the water and heading back toward you and the towel.

You’re lying on your back, soaking up the sun, when you notice his shadow looming over you.

“That was quick,” you say in surprise, opening your eyes.

“Is that new?” Jaehyun asks, nodding toward your bikini.

“Yeah, cute, right?” you reply happily.

“Yeah… very,” he mutters, glancing over at the two volleyball players.

“Hey, why don’t we go swimming together? I’m so lonely in the water,” he says.

“In ten minutes, okay? I’m a little cold and I want to warm up first,” you explain.

“Oh, you’re cold? Good thing you brought that pretty cover-up,” he says quickly, rummaging through the bag.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, here it is. If you’re cold, you should wear it,” he suggests, draping it over your body.

“What—”

“Perfect! I’ll just lie down next to you too, that way you’ll be protected from the wind,” he adds and settles beside you, positioning himself to block the view and making it very clear to the volleyball players that he is the only one allowed to admire you.

Johnny

“Are you here alone? It’s so quiet,” Mark says in surprise as he steps into your apartment.

Johnny chuckles briefly and shakes his head.

“No, she’s just sleeping,” he explains before they head into the living room.

He closes the door carefully to avoid waking you up, so he and Mark can spend the afternoon gaming.

After about an hour, you slowly open your eyes from your nap and yawn deeply.

You fumble around blindly for your phone to check the time.

Stretching lazily, you sit up — your throat feels dry, and you’re starting to get hungry.

You hear muffled noises coming from the living room and assume Johnny has a friend over.

Still a little sleepy, you climb out of bed and swap your wrinkled sleep shirt for one of Johnny’s oversized T-shirts, which falls almost to your knees.

You’re only wearing a bra and underwear underneath, but you really don’t care.

When you leave the bedroom and open the door to the living room, the first thing you spot is Mark sitting on the couch.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, giving him a small smile.

Mark flashes you a quick smile, his eyes briefly scanning your figure — though you don’t notice.

You shuffle into the kitchen where Johnny is standing by the fridge, pulling out a Coke.

“Hey,” you greet your boyfriend.

“Good morning,” he laughs, bending down to kiss you.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Not long enough,” you sigh, leaning against him.

He grins and runs his hands along your back, down to your legs.

His hands pause for a second, and he smiles.

“Wow, that’s a lot of bare skin,” he notes playfully.

“I’m not naked or anything,” you shrug.

“Not much is missing,” he grins, lifting the T-shirt slightly.

“At least you’re wearing underwear.”

“Hey!” you protest.

“You must have tons of super comfy sweatpants you could put on,” he says brightly.

“But it’s warm,” you argue.

“Then just roll up the legs! Come on, I’ll show you where they are,” he says decisively, gently pushing you out of the kitchen by your back.

“Where are we going?”

“Eyes on the game!” Johnny calls back over his shoulder to Mark as he leads you down the hallway back to your room and opens your closet.

“Here, this one’s nice. Put it on.”

“That one’ s way too big for me.”

“All the more comfortable!” he insists with a grin.

Mark

“Happy Halloween!” you shout excitedly as you jump around the corner, making a scary face.

You and Mark are headed to a costume party, and you’ve come up with the perfect outfit.

You’re wearing a black corset with an attached cape and matching over-the-knee boots.

Sharp vampire fangs flash in your mouth as you let out a playful hiss and flash Mark a big smile.

“Whoa, you’re a vampire,” he says, stunned, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Yeah, cool, right? I made it myself,” you say proudly, twirling your cape.

“Where’s your costume?” you scold him teasingly.

“Oh, uh, I was going to get changed,” he says, thinking for a second before his gaze drops to your outfit.

“Nice shoes… but aren’t they gonna be uncomfortable all night?” he asks, concerned.

You look down at your boots and then glance back at him sadly.

“You don’t like it,” you say, disappointed.

“No, no, no, no,” he says quickly, stepping closer.

“I love it. You look amazing,” he says proudly, making you look at him questioningly.

“But?” you prompt, raising an eyebrow.

He grits his teeth and laughs awkwardly.

“Baby, they’re never gonna leave me alone if you show up at the party looking like that.”

You giggle awkwardly and lift a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“You look incredible — that tight corset… and those… tight boots… Are you even wearing a bra?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

“Of course I am. It’s a strapless one though, otherwise it would look weird,” you explain.

“But if it’s a black bra, it would totally match the outfit!” he says excitedly.

“And you could throw on a leather jacket too. You’d be like a sexy biker vampire,” he suggests, looking thrilled.

Your excitement dims a little and you look at him uncertainly.

“I don’t have another costume, Mark.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to tell you what to wear,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug.

“But… I do have something that would look really good on you,” he admits, and you eye him skeptically.

“What is it?”

“Hey guys! You look awesome!” Yuta beams as you both stand at the door.

Mark is dressed in a firefighter costume, holding a rubber axe.

“And you’re…?” Yuta trails off, looking at you in confusion.

“I’m a hockey player,” you explain dryly, wearing an XXL jersey with shoulder pads underneath and holding a helmet under your arm.

“Cool, come on in,” Yuta says, stepping aside.

“I feel ridiculous,” you mutter to Mark, annoyed.

“Nah, you look sexy. A sexy hockey player,” he grins.

Yuta

I’m so hyped for this movie. I heard it’s supposed to be super scary. Jungwoo’s probably gonna pee his pants,” he laughs mischievously while typing on his phone, walking into your bedroom.

You’re just zipping up your skirt and smoothing down your tight top in front of the mirror when he enters and catches sight of you.

He stops for a moment, gives you a once-over, and bursts out laughing.

You turn your head and look at him in surprise.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

He keeps laughing as he closes the door behind him and tosses his phone onto the bed.

“Nothing, nothing. You look amazing,” he says enthusiastically, opening his closet doors.

“Then why are you laughing?” you ask suspiciously.

“Because next to you, I look ridiculous,” he snorts, pulling his sweater over his head.

“This is better,” he says, grabbing a vest he once wore during a video shoot.

It’s made of black leather and has a deep neckline.

You stare at him, perplexed, as he puts it on and admires himself in the mirror.

“You’re really gonna wear that? To the movies?” you ask, shocked.

“Yeah, why not? I like this vest,” he says, grinning.

“Yuta, we’re going to the movies, not Coachella,” you say, clearly unimpressed.

“But look, it matches your skirt! We could go in matching outfits,” he says excitedly, biting his lip.

You picture other women staring at him, probably drooling over him non-stop.

“At least… at least zip this up,” you mumble, trying to pull the zipper of his vest upward.

“Babe, that ruins the whole look,” he laughs, pulling the zipper back down.

You eye him for a while, then glance down at your own outfit.

“If you want to match outfits, let’s wear something else,” you murmur decisively, scratching your head.

“Nah, it’s fine. Leave it. I like it — it shows off your butt really nicely,” he says cheerfully.

But you’re clearly no longer thrilled about your outfit.

“No,” you growl through gritted teeth.

“I’m changing — and so are you!” you say loudly, rummaging for a simple T-shirt that would match his.

“If you say so,” Yuta shrugs, but he can’t hide the triumphant smile on his face as he watches you pull off the red low-cut top.

Doyoung

You’re carrying two bags of food as you walk down the hallway, heading toward the recording studio where your boyfriend has been working all day.

You’re wearing a short plaid skirt and a black-and-white striped T-shirt, which you tied up just above the waistband of your skirt to make it fit better.

Doyoung has been keeping you updated throughout his stressful day at the studio, and you definitely noticed how tired he sounded.

His last few messages were short, filled with emojis showing just how stressed he was.

So you stopped by his favorite takeout spot to grab his favorite meal — and picked up a delicious coffee from Starbucks too.

You maneuver the bags into one hand so you can knock on the door with the other.

“Yeah?” comes a voice from inside.

You push the door open with your hip, beaming from ear to ear.

“Surprise!” you announce cheerfully.

Your boyfriend swivels around in his chair, looking at you in shock — and then grins wide.

“Hey,” he says, clearly pleased.

“I brought you — well, you guys — some food. And I got you a coffee,” you tell him, setting the bags down on the table.

He gets up from his chair and walks toward you.

“Thank you, baby,” he sighs, pulling you into a tight hug and giving you a sweet kiss on the lips.

You smile brightly at him, and he smiles back as his gaze drifts down to take in your outfit.

“Is the outfit part of the surprise too?” he asks curiously, biting his lower lip.

You chuckle and run a hand over his chest.

“Why? Do you like it?”

“I like it a lot,” he murmurs, “even though that kind of skirt might be better suited for more… private spaces, don’t you think?” he adds cautiously with a wide grin.

You laugh and give him a teasing look.

“What’s wrong? Afraid someone else’s eyes might wander?” you tease.

He snorts dismissively and clears his throat.

“No,” he says firmly, giving you a proud look. “They wouldn’t dare.”

You raise an eyebrow and grin while he looks at you fondly.

“Well, if you want, I can keep wearing this outfit for the rest of the day… and wait for you at home,” you tease.

He smirks, resting his hands on your hips.

“Sounds good,” he murmurs before kissing you softly.

Just then, the door opens and Taeyong appears in the doorway.

“Oh hey, didn’t see you there. You look great,” he says with a wink before nodding at Doyoung and disappearing again.

You turn your head back to Doyoung, who’s frozen, staring at the door.

You clear your throat and look at him questioningly.

“Do you have a hoodie I could—”

“Yeah, here,” he cuts in immediately, handing you his hoodie.

You pull it on, and he tugs it down even further to cover your thighs.

“Much better,” he says dreamily before kissing you proudly again.

Jungwoo

“Ouch!” you squeal when your boyfriend pinches your thigh again.

You’re out with Johnny and Jaehyun, and since it’s a warm day, you decided to wear a summer dress — a slightly shorter one.

Jungwoo hadn’t said much when you showed him the outfit at home, but ever since you stepped outside, he hasn’t stopped tugging the hem of your dress down, trying to cover more of your thighs.

Every now and then, though, he ends up pinching your skin, earning him an angry glare from you.

“Oh nice, ice cream! It’s on me,” Johnny announces happily, heading toward a nearby ice cream truck.

“I’ll help him,” Jaehyun says, following after him.

You decide to sit down on a bench, smoothing out your dress as Jungwoo suddenly plops himself down onto your lap, wrapping an arm around you.

“Jungwoo!” you yell in disbelief, staring at him.

“What?” he asks innocently.

“Get off me!”

“But you’re comfy,” he protests, shifting around on your lap.

“You’re wrinkling my dress!”

“No, I’m actually stretching it a little, which isn’t that bad. I think it might have shrunk in the wash,” he says, pretending to think seriously about it.

You roll your eyes and give him a shove until he finally gets up.

He grits his teeth a little when Jaehyun and Johnny come back, handing you an ice cream.

Jungwoo doesn’t miss the way Jaehyun’s eyes briefly linger on your exposed legs and he clears his throat pointedly.

“I don’t want anything to get dirty. Here,” he says, quickly taking off his denim jacket and laying it across your lap.

You shoot him a “Seriously?” look but give in when you see his pleading expression.

You quietly eat your ice cream, chatting with the guys while Jungwoo sits next to you with his arm draped protectively around your shoulders.

When it’s time to head off again and you try to give Jungwoo his jacket back, he just smiles sweetly at you.

“Keep it, I’m warm anyway.”

“I’m warm too — that’s why you should take it back,” you reply dryly.

“You know what? I have a really great idea,” he says suddenly.

He grabs his jacket and pulls you gently closer by your waist, tying it around your hips.

“There! You look super cute,” he says proudly, tugging the jacket a little so it looks like a skirt and covers your thighs properly.

When he sees you pouting, he cups your cheeks with his hands and kisses you.

“Super cute,” he repeats, beaming.

“Super cute,” you mimic his voice, pulling a funny face.

Haechan

You’re lying on your back on an inflatable float in the pool, one hand trailing lazily through the water while you let the sun warm your face.

You and the Dreamies decided to hit the pool because it was simply too hot to do anything else.

Since your boyfriend and Jaemin went to grab some drinks, it’s just you, Jeno, Renjun, and Chenle for now, already cooling off and enjoying the water.

You’re wearing the bikini that Haechan loves most on you — it’s sure to be a nice surprise for him.

“Watch out!” you hear Jeno shout just before a beach ball smacks into your stomach, making you flinch.

“Hey!” you yell at Jeno, who swims over, looking sheepish as he comes to retrieve the ball.

“Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head as you sit up.

“Nice bikini, is it new?” he asks curiously, his eyes briefly scanning you.

“Not really, I just don’t wear it that often,” you shrug.

“Looks good,” he says, giving you a quick nod before grabbing the ball and swimming back over to Chenle.

You’re about to lie back down when you catch a glimpse of Haechan and Jaemin arriving with drinks.

Your face lights up and you slide off the float, swimming back to the pool’s edge.

As you climb out of the water, Haechan’s smile freezes when he gets a good look at your bikini.

He quickly shoves his drink into Jaemin’s hands and hurries over to you.

“Heeeeeey,” he says loudly, pulling you into a tight hug, making sure to use his body to shield yours from view.

“Why are you wearing that bikini?” he whispers into your ear.

“Because you love it. And Jeno said it looks good too,” you tease.

“Oh, did he now?” Haechan says, clearly stressed, glancing over his shoulder at Jeno.

“Haechan, we’re at a pool. What else am I supposed to wear?” you ask, laughing.

“You know those gorgeous vintage swimsuits from the 50s? They really show off the curves — super classy,” he says dreamily, but you immediately see through his plan.

“I know them. But I prefer bikinis from this century. And I’m pretty sure you do too,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Are you saying you don’t like the way I look?”

“Of course I do. You look absolutely stunning today,” he admits, pressing a kiss to your cheek, making you blush a little.

“Thanks,” you grin shyly as he cups your face in his hands.

“But you look a little too good,” he murmurs before giving you a quick shove — sending you splashing right back into the pool.

Your once-dry hair now clings to your face, and you come up sputtering, shocked.

“Haechan!” you bark, furious.

He claps his hands and gives you two thumbs up.

“Now you look even better, baby!”

[darilarostarg]

To Taste

Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

Summery: Daemon sees a pretty little Lady at a feast, and cannot help himself. 

Warming: SMUT, this is literally just pussy eating lol episode five took a toll on me

Words: 686

He didn’t mean for it to happen. His plan was to take his fill of wine and then somehow get himself to the nearest brothel. But then he saw you. Sitting alone at the end of a table, as your older husband gorged on the feast and ignored you entirely. Last time he did this, he was banished for nearly six moons after nearly causing an uprising in the Westerlands after he was caught balls deep in the daughter of Lord Reyne, two moons before she was to be wed. But you just looked so pretty, so soft, so lonely…he honestly couldn't help himself.

So here he was, on his knees, your skirts gathered around your waist, under a damp and drafty stairwell in the Tower of the Hand, with nothing but the sound of dripping water and your pretty moans. With ease, he hooked one of your legs over his broad shoulder, forcing it to wrap it around his neck just as he sinfully runs his tongue between your gooey folds; it's just as much a treat for him as it is for you. Daemon enjoyed eating out for his own pleasure, he got off on how responsive ladies were to his fingers and tongue.

"Such a sweet, little cunny," he muses as he comes up for air, eyes flitting up to your face just before he's enveloping your clit to his mouth. Your juices continue to coat chin, making it easier for him to slip his tongue downwards and glaze over your needy hole. He loved how your body melts into his ministrations, searching for more pleasure by carding your fingers through his long silver hair to press his face further into your folds.

“My Prince,” you sigh, head lolling back into the wall when he stiffens his tongue to then dip it inside of you. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and ass, making sure he can keep you spread enough for him to slightly nudge his nose against your clit as he moves his tongue within you.

Your fingers tighten on his roots, pushing his head back a bit and pressing him closer to you. At the same time, your hips are bucking softly after he slips two fingers into your heat, pulling his tongue from you to flick it against your clit.

Daemon can feel your leg start to weaken in stance while your other does as predicted: tightens around the back of his neck. He wouldn’t be able to pull away from the taste of you if he tried.

He continues to curl his fingers inside of you, gliding over that soft spot that has your knees buckling and breath hitching in the back of your throat. He knows how to toy with you, giving you more and more but making sure you don’t fall over the cliff without his permission. The art to his pleasure was menacing, but one he’s learned to master throughout his time in brothels, and his own, as well as other Lord’s beds. Daemon had always taken his time with his lovers… to explore, to satisfy, to taste.

The decision is split second: Daemon places your other leg onto his shoulder and keeps you pressed to the wall for him to devour. You let out a small gasp of shock at the sudden movement, but that is soon overshadowed by a long moan escaping due to him managing to slip three fingers into you while his ring covered pinky ghosted over your other hole.

However, this wasn’t your undoing, for that only arrived when he pulled his lips back a bit to spit on your clit before tonguing down the bundle of nerves and continuing to open you up on his fingers.

“Daemon! Oh, fuck! oh, fuck! Ohhh, fuck,” you whine as quickly as you can muster, both hands sinking deep into his hair so your nails scratch along his scalp as your thighs clamp tightly around his head. The feeling causes him to groan into your pussy, reeling in the pain as he plunges you into the fiery pits below.

Authors Note:

Little mini blurb as a treat in celebration of the season finale! I am currently re-working my OC story, so I haven't been writing much else recently, but trust a sex scene will always make me wiggle out of my little dark hole.

My masterlist can be found by click here!

You can add yourself to my taglist here or ask in the notes!

Taglist: @yn-jackson@ilikechocolatemilkh@velathaheigeros@anthonys-viscountess@multiversemayhemme

[dollfacefantasy]

Meant to be Broken ♡

pairing: corrupt cop!naoya zenin x fem!reader

summary: on your way home from work, you accidentally hit naoya zenin with your car. you believe you're in huge trouble when you find out he's a police officer. luckily (or unluckily) for you, he has a few ways you can make it up to him in mind.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dub-con, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, car sex, misogyny (it's naoya lol)

word count: 3k

a/n + tags: comm for the bestie @nexysworld @gor3-hound picture of naoya by @/sso_s__ on twt

Your fingers thrum against the steering wheel as your car glides along the road. You match the beat of the music playing in the background. It's a good distraction for you. It was a nice enough day out, but your mind wasn't as sunny and serene.

You'd had a shitty day at work. You woke up late and got shit from your boss for it. Your computer wouldn't log in, so you had to work at the outdated one towards the back of the office under a drafty vent. On top of that, you had a killer headache. You really just wanted to get home.

The sun was setting over the horizon in the distance, the sky a pretty hue of pink. You take it in while making the turn into your neighborhood. Only a few hundred yards till you could pull into your garage and walk into the comfort of your home. You just have to get down one more street.

You're making the final turn on your route. You can nearly feel the soft fabric of your sweatpants and oversized t-shirt when there's a blur in front of your windshield and a sound thud against the hood of your car. You slam on the brakes as fast as humanly possible, jerking yourself hard against the seat. Whipping the car into park, you sit there for a moment. There was no fucking way you just hit someone. If asked, you would swear on everything that no one had been crossing.

After a couple moments, you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out. Your movements are a little slow, simply for the fact that you're still questioning if this is some kind of joke.

You round the front of your car and gasp at the sight before you. You'd actually hit someone. A man lies crumpled up near the bumper, writhing in pain.

"Oh- Oh my God. Are you ok?" you ask him. You rush over and crouch behind him.

He turns to face you, and your heart drops. His face is stained with scarlet, blood oozing from a cut on his forehead. He's got a nasty scowl aimed at you too.

"What do you think?" he snaps. You're pretty sure you hear him grumble something about how of course it was a woman that hit him, but you can't be sure. Your pulse is pounding in your ears too loud to focus on mumbling.

"Jesus, I'm so so sorry," you say.

"Instead of wasting your time with apologies, you could try helping me up," he says.

"You're right. My bad. Here," you say, offering your hand. He takes it but doesn't stop glowering at you for a second.

You help him to his feet again. Once he's stable, he lets go of your palm and wipes it on his pants. A bit rude, but you supposed you deserved it.

"Are you hurt? Could I take you to a hospital or anything?" you ask. 

You try to sound as sweet as possible. He could be as pissy as he wanted, you were just praying to any higher power you could think of that he wouldn't sue you.

He simply rolls his eyes at your question. Your cheeks burn, and you awkwardly avert your eyes. You notice he'd dropped his wallet on the asphalt, so you reach down to retrieve it for him. Once you pick it up, your blood runs cold. Inside the wallet is a shiny silver star. A police badge.

Panic runs through you. The last thing you needed was a ticket, let alone a criminal charge. Your eyes dart up to him. He's wearing the smuggest grin you'd ever seen.

"Officer. Sir, I am so so sorry. Again, please let me know if there's anything I can do to help you. It was my stupid mistake. I swear, I'm normally a super safe driver," you say.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "It's cute how you little girls try to get out of trouble once you see how helpless you really are," he taunts.

You're speechless. If he was going to be like this, you were truly fucked.

"Don't tell me that's all you have for an apology. I've heard better from a mute," he says.

"I really didn't mean to hit you. Please, I'm just having a really bad day," you start timidly, but he cuts you off.

"Stand up. You look like a bitch begging for scraps down on your knees like that," he says, flicking two fingers to beckon you up.

You rise quickly at the command. You hated obeying a total asshole like him, but he held so much in his hands right now. There was nothing to do but follow along.

"There we go," he says and brings his hand to your face. It runs down your jawline to your chin. He tilts your face around, getting a look at you from all angles. "You're cute. No wonder you hit me."

Confusion flickers through your eyes. "What's that mean?" you ask as non-confrontational as you can manage.

"Well you know what they say: a pretty face or a brain, women don't get both," he mocks.

Now it's your turn to scowl. You can't even help it. The expression shows itself before you have the chance to hide it. Your previous mindset shatters in a matter of seconds.

"I didn't hit you cause I'm a woman. I hit you cause you darted into the street," you say.

His eyes brows raise with amusement, and the urge to bicker with him dwindles inside you.

"Really?" he asks, "Are you high then? Drunk maybe? Those are the only other reasons why you'd make such an egregious error."

Internally your blood pressure rises, but externally you keep it cool. "I promise it's neither. It was an accident. I just didn't see you," you explain.

"An accident? I don't know if I believe that," he tuts, "Before you said mistake. That could imply some intention."

"Accident and mistake mean the same thing," you dispute with a little desperation.

"I don't know... changing your story, cause to suspect intoxication, arguing with an officer. Things aren't looking good for you. I have reason to write you up at the very least," he chides.

"Please don't," you practically beg, "I'm sorry for arguing, but I swear on everything that I'm not on anything and it was absolutely not my intention to hit you with my car. Please there has to be something I can do."

That grin from earlier spreads across his face again. "I suppose there's a few things you could do. Don't think we should talk about them in the middle of the street though."

"Oh um, did you want me to pull my car to the side of the road?" you ask.

"Sounds like a good start, don't you think?" he asks.

You nod and quickly turn around to hop back in the car. Alone in the interior, you let out a shaky breath. You had a feeling as to what was coming. It wasn't ideal, but you guessed it was better than hundreds of dollars for a ticket or thousands on bail. Maybe he didn't get laid often with an attitude like that, and you could make him cum quick.

You drive a little way down the street before putting the car in park again. It crossed your mind to speed off and drive away, but you'd bet your life he had your license plate by now. You let out a final deep sigh before the backdoor opens, and he slides into the car.

"Get in the back with me," he says.

You obey again, opening your door and transferring to the rear seats of your vehicle. You look over at him with a mix of apprehension and annoyance. It entertains him all the more.

"You look like you know what I want," he says.

"I have a pretty good guess," you say, your voice quiet compared to his.

He leans in closer to you, nuzzling the side of your head and taking in your scent.

"You get yourself in this kind of situation often?" he asks before nipping at your earlobe sharply.

You wince and pull away slightly. His hand comes up and keeps your head close before you can move too far away though.

"No," you scoff.

"Good," he chuckles.

Despite his pretty face, everything about this moment is absolutely vile. He teases your ear and down your neck with a mixture of his lips and teeth. Simultaneously, his hands slide up your body to fondle your breasts. He gropes the mounds haphazardly, digging his fingers into them a bit too hard.

"You got nice tits, I'll give you that. Think I should've frisked you first," he whispers, "Maybe taken you back to the station for a strip search. Though then some of the other guys would've wanted a turn, and I don't like sharing my toys."

You scowl and look in the other direction. He was repulsive, but at the same time, some heat was beginning to pool in your belly from the combined touches of his mouth and hands. Though just as you're coming to enjoy the sensations, he takes them away. He pulls back from you, his hand going to the hardening bulge in his pants instead.

"I wanna try out that cute mouth first. I know there's a better use for it than talking," he says.

He's quick to undo his fly and whip his cock out. He gives it a few lazy strokes. It's pretty like everything else on him, the head already starting to glisten with pearly white precum.

He smirks at you taking in the sight. "What're you waiting for? I don't have all night."

Reluctantly, you get on your knees on the bench and lean forward. Your fingers wrap around the lower half while your mouth engulfs the top portion. The salty liquid spreads over your tongue, and your eyes flutter shut.

You hear him grunt from above you. One of his hands comes to rest on the back of your head and pushes you down a little more. You suck him deeper, laving your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"There you go. Take it," he moans quietly.

You tune him out and begin to bob your head. Soft slurping noises come from your mouth. Your hand lazily strokes the base. He was long enough to give you a little challenge but not thick enough to present a real struggle. You pick up a little speed, still wanting this to be over as quickly as possible.

He hums with satisfaction and relaxes against the smooth leather seats. His head tilts back and a low, whiny purr leaves his lips. You give his dick a gentle squeeze and suckle on the tip, letting some of your drool dribble down to his balls.

His hips buck up at the onslaught of sensations, and you gag a little. The noise isn't too loud, but he hears it. His eyes glow with desire at the thought of making you do it again.

His hands find their place on either side of your head. He acts as if he's guiding you at first, but he doesn't have the patience to truly ease you into having your face fucked. Before you can really register it, his hips start to thrust upward. His tip rams against the back of your throat, his shaft sliding between your lips over and over.

You give him what he wants and gag again. Spit seeps from between your lips onto his length. Your eyes water as he forces his cock as deep as physically possible.

"Think your throat was made for this. With lips like yours, it has to be," he mutters.

He keeps going, using your mouth as his fleshlight for the next minute or so. Your nose is nestled against his pelvis before he finally yanks your head off and sits you up again.

You're a bit dizzy when you're upright again. It's a relief to get a full breath of oxygen without the obstruction of him in your throat. He laughs quietly at the dazed look on your face, your teary eyes, and your saliva-coated lips.

"You liked that, hm? Think you needed it more than I did," he mocks.

You don't give him any indication either way. You're occupied with your vision coming back into complete focus.

"Now, face down ass up for me," he commands.

You go to move, but then pause and stare at him.

"In the car?" you ask uncertainly.

"Yes, in the car," he says, "It's cute how you ask that as if you have a choice."

"But- but why? I could make you cum if you lemme use my mouth a little more," you offer, but he shoots you down.

"I don't want your mouth. I pulled you off for a reason. I want a taste of that pussy before I cum. If you know how to give a blowjob like that, you must have something worthwhile between your legs," he says.

It's hard to fight off the heat creeping to your cheeks after hearing that. But you still don't move just yet.

"But someone could see... that's more obvious," you try to reason.

"Yeah? And what's anyone gonna do about it besides live with the knowledge that you're a slut?" he asks.

Just like that, you're really reminded of what this situation is. You flip over and pull down the clothing on your lower half to expose your cunt to him.

A whistle comes from behind you. You feel his hand come up to cup one of your ass cheeks. He drags his thumb up and down your folds, feeling the small amount of arousal that had collected there from giving him a blowjob. He dips the digit inside for a moment before pulling it out again. He just wanted to hear the sweet little noise you'd make. He wasn't disappointed by the whine he received.

"Are you on the pill?" he asks.

"Mhm," you hum.

"Clean?"

"Yes," you scoff.

Your attitude amuses him. It doesn't discourage him from rising to his knees behind you in the slightest. He balances himself on the seats before nudging his tip at your entrance and sliding in. The both of you moan and groan at the feeling.

Your nails claw at the seams of your seats as he sinks all the way in. He grabs your hips and makes sure you can't squirm away. He goes in until he bottoms out, completely wrapped in the warm wetness of your tight heat.

He doesn't give you time to adjust before he begins thrusting. He starts rocking right away, chasing his own pleasure like it's running from him. Your cheek rubs against the leather as he bumps you back and forth. You can tell the car is shaking from his movements, you just hope it's not too obvious to anyone who passes by. Though it wouldn't really matter. Even if they didn't see the car's motion, they'd surely spot the silhouette of the man in the backseat.

"Fuck," he whines, "You're tight. Think this might feel better than that mouth of yours."

You simply mewl in response. His cock was sliding deep, reaching all the little spots that didn't get as much attention as they needed. Your breathing turns to panting which only makes Naoya thrust harder.

"There you go, puppy. I knew you'd like it. This is what you're good for," he says as he continues pistoning himself inside you.

You try to hold in your shameful moan, but it slips out anyways. Your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut, rolling back behind the lids. From above, Naoya continues speaking. You're pretty sure he gets off to the sound of his own voice.

"I could've fucked you right in the middle of the street and made you thank me for it," he grunts, "You would've done it too, you little whore. Knew from the moment I saw you that you'd let me do anything I wanted."

You whimper because in a way, that was partially true. You gasp as you start to get closer. He smacks your ass hard while he continues rutting into you.

"Dumb slut. Not so concerned with people seeing now that you're about to cum, huh?" he taunts.

Shaking your head in agreement, you press your cheek further against the seat. You'd have preferred if you could at least maintain the story that he didn't make you cum, but it didn't seem like that was going to be the case. And honestly at this point, you felt too good to care.

He knows that he's getting close too. He can feel how his dick is pulsing with the need to empty his balls, fuck you full of his load.

He goes faster, gripping your hips strong enough to bruise. He's going so fast that it's like a blur. That's what pushes you over the edge. You clamp up on his cock which in turn causes ecstasy to spike through him and drag him to the finish line.

The two of you cum in tandem, you gushing on his cock and him stuffing you with his release. Even with your disdain for him, being fucked full of cum gives you the warm feeling of satisfaction. By the time he's finished, you're practically a puddle in your backseat.

He pulls out quickly, not caring to let you adjust to the emptiness as you would have preferred. He doesn't rub your back after or tell you that you did good. Doesn't let you curl up to his side or stroke your head. He simply pulls his pants up again and wipes the sweat from his brow.

He glances at your fucked out state. It brings him nearly as much satisfaction as his actual orgasm had, seeing how totally ruined you were.

Patting your ass, he scoots to the door and steps out.

"Have a good night, miss. Make sure you watch out for any pedestrians on your way home," he says, imitating a professional tone.

And with that, he’s gone, leaving you to scrape yourself back together.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Saw this somewhere and wanted to throw it your way, sorry if you’ve been asked this before but what do you think of the concept of Noah always having been an assistant (even before the first season)/never playing as a contestant would look like?

The thing about Noah as a contestant is that he's, for all intents and purposes, kind of useless. And by that I mean Noah as a character isn't important to the plot at all in the grand scheme of things. He's barely important from an episodic point of view either; Noah does very little throughout Total Drama in terms of story relevance, and just in general. (Lazy king 👑.)

So taking him out of the equation wouldn't really affect too much in the grand scheme of things, save for probably preventing his friendship with Owen and, from a fanon standpoint, the rest of team E-scope. He'd be pretty much the same person, just behind the camera instead of on it.

But that's kind of a boring answer, and not at all what you were looking for, right?

So, let's say that Noah lands himself a job working as the personal assistant for some hot-shot A-list celebrity through one of his many siblings' various contacts; is it nepotism? Probably. But who's Noah to look a gift horse in the mouth? A fairly easy job following some pretentious asshole around all day and grabbing him the occasional coffee sounds like a pretty sweet gig, especially with the salary and various benefits that come with the job description. So Noah takes the job without question.

And that's how he finds himself stuck in the middle of nowhere, Muskoka, on an undisclosed island owned by said A-lister whilst he films the first season of his new Reality TV show, Total Drama Island.

Being Chris' personal assistant was supposed to be an easy pay check. "Supposed to be" being the point of interest there; Noah didn't anticipate Chris being as sadistic or as childishly needy as he was. If he wasn't running around like a headless chicken trying to accommodate for Chris' oftentimes outlandish whims and fancies, he was stuck answering to the producers in the host's stead- and the producers were pissed with Chris more often than not for his frivolous use of the show's budget. Something about having a genius level IQ and enough snark to make grown men cry apparently made him qualified enough to deal with the industry big-wigs. Noah was far too overworked to question it.

So much for an easy pay check.

Noah's not bad at his job by any means. In his professional opinion, the whole show and Chris' career would be in the dumps without his personal input keeping everything afloat. That doesn't mean he doesn't loathe his job with every sleep-deprived inch of his being.

And, inevitably, Noah ends up spending a lot of time around the campers themselves. Mostly as a consequence of always having to remain "on set" so to speak, since Noah's pretty much contractually obligated to linger around Chris' vicinity and wait for his boss to assign him some menial task to do. Most of the campers are just as egocentric and insufferable as he'd first assumed- and honestly, what else would he expect from people who singed up for a Reality TV show?- but a select few turn out to be decent company; namely Owen and Eva (and Izzy, but Noah refuses to admit that the "Psycho Hose Beast" is actually bearable to be around).

He'd even go so far as to claim they were friends good acquaintances.

Of course, his job takes precedent over frivolous things like relationships, platonic or otherwise, so Noah doesn't exactly have the free time to hang out with them. Which is probably for the best considering if he did spend a lot of time around his friends acquaintances, the other contestants would have a solid enough foundation for accusations of foul play in the competition, and that's a headache Noah really doesn't want to deal with.

Consequently, Noah floats through the filming of Island, and later on Action, maintaining cordiality with his little group and cold indifference towards pretty much the rest of the cast. Not that he doesn't keep close tabs on the campers; of course he does, not only is Noah incredibly observant by nature, but he's also the one in charge of accommodating for these weirdos... plus, Chris is oddly invested in his "prize cast of ratings jewels", whatever that means. So Noah knows these people, probably more than some of them know themselves, thanks to a combined sixteen-ish weeks of observation and forced proximity.

In turn, the competitors know of Noah, though for the most part he's regarded as little more than a spectre on set- Chris' elusive personal assistant who the cast will occasionally see the barest glimpse of, usually hidden behind an impassive pair of mirrored sunglasses and, more often than not, rushing off to do whatever it is a PA does. Chris does get a little lazy in Action and on a few occasions does get Noah to make a "guest appearances" on screen- mostly just to deliver him a coffee and a gluten free muffin during the downtime of that day's challenge- but he's still practically non-existent to he majority of the cast.

Which is fine by him.

What isn't fine by him is the surprise addition of two people he knows nothing about, come the third season.

One of those contestants happens to know a lot about the cast, and a concerning amount of information about him. It's uncanny, just how much Sierra seems to know about everyone around her, even more so because of the way she practically worships the ground they walk on. Sure, Noah's encountered the odd super fan here and there- not fans of himself, of course, but in this time as Chris' assistant he's had to chase off more than enough rabid fans from trying to sneak their way onto the set of whatever show Chris was working on (or more accurately sic the on-scene security on them)- but Sierra's brand of crazy takes it to a whole new level. Noah doesn't like her on principle and is both incredibly vindicated and incredibly concerned when her stalkerish behaviour rears its ugly head. Not that he's allowed to do anything about it; the producers are adamant that Sierra's outlandish behaviour is entertaining enough for the audience to ignore the immorality, and given how much Chris has been allowed to get away with in the past Noah's inclined to begrudgingly agree.

And the other new contestant? The one who qualified for the apparently non-existent Total Drama Dirtbags (and Noah totally isn't salty about that show being an elaborate ruse that he spent countless sleepless nights working on)? Noah's just as concerned about his friends acquaintances ignorance to Alejandro's inherent sliminess as he is about Sierra's blatant disregard for others' privacy, but again it's not like he can do anything about it. He's not even supposed to be on the show, so any sort of interference would be a big no-no.

Oh, what's that? They want him on the show?

Fuck.

Turns out, Noah's brief appearances during Action (characterised by his usual level of sass and snide comments) really resonated with their audience; they like him for some inexplicable reason, and want to see more of "Noah, Chris McLean's mysterious personal assistant".

So he's pretty much forced into acting as a co-host of sorts, much like Chef had done for the first two seasons, all whilst carrying out his usual tasks. Is he happy about this? Not a chance in hell, and he lets the producers know exactly how he feels about the sudden change in his contract. Not that it changes anything.

And the best part? World Tour is a musical themed season. If they expect him to sing, they've got another thing coming.

But, as a small part of him chimes in, spending more time on camera would give Noah plenty of opportunities to spend time with his friends acquaintances. There's a non-zero chance that he could have fun, even if it's at the expense of his valued privacy.

His new status as part of the show does allow Noah some opportunities to skew the competition in the favour of his friends acquaint- no, screw it, his friends. That's one silver lining of the whole situation.

Better yet, he can tilt things out of Alejandro's favour, since the former Dirtbag seems to have a knack for manipulating the competition anyway- Noah might as well make things more challenging for him, as it seems this game is too easy for him thus far.

[smuttysabina]

A Month with Aespa (Ch 3): Salty and Sweet

(Giselle, Winter x Male Reader, 4k Words) Tags: Anal Sex, Some Frustration, Painal, Taking Your Frustrations Out On Idol Asshole, Awkward Dinner Conversations, Perhaps Regarding Anal Sex, Are You Seeing A Pattern Here?, Also You Technically Get Cucked, Some Writing Delays, Dramaaaaaa

Read Ch 1 Here! Read Ch 2 Here!

Rain whispers against the windows of the drafty corridor, silver droplets streaming down their clear surfaces until continuing on to puddle on the stones beneath. In eerie sympathy, another puddle spreads in the drafty hallway of your manor, steadily leaking from the crotch of the maid collapsed against the interior wall. Her plump breasts are utterly exposed, her nipples still raw and rigid from arousal; the tips oozing a faint trail of milk. The maids face is slack from exhaustion, but you can still make out the swelling of her mouth and cheeks from overuse; and smell the faintest hint of something heady... Mystery aside, it is obvious that she was to be the one who was supposed to have brought you breakfast, and soothed your morning's stiffness. With a resigned sigh, you briefly consider slaking your lusts upon her unconscious form, before deciding against it; it would be beneath you to use someone else's leavings (Not that you minded sharing, merely that you were looking for a more, attentive consort). Filled with a twined hunger, you stalk down to the warmth of the kitchens, where you will be able to find relief for both of your mortal needs. It seems that somebody has been enjoying your maids a bit too much...

Your dearly departed grandfather had designed his estate with intimacy in mind. The long, windowed hallways around the perimeter encouraged the mansion's inhabitants to roam and frolic in the heat; whilst when things grew colder, they would force the people into the interior rooms to seek warmth. And what more intimate circumstances could there be, than cuddling together for warmth before a roaring fire? The locus of this heat was of course, the kitchen; centrally located, it provided an easy excuse for the members of the estate to congregate. So that was where you decided to head; to banish the cold, to slake your hunger, and perhaps (most definitely) find some company. Your measured pace leaves you vulnerable to the chill, you are still dressed only in a night robe, but you could hardly demean yourself by giving in to such petty discomforts. You languidly wave a concerned looking maid towards the site of her fellow employee's mess, calmly ordering her to clean things up. You start with surprise however when a bedraggled looking Ningning lurches around the corner to the stairwell, her eyes bloodshot and face pale. She responds to your somewhat hurried greetings with a disgruntled grunt, obviously suffering from some inner torment. Ningning slouches off with the barest hint of the grace she had shown before, perhaps she was simply not a morning person?

The sight of the haughty diva did remind you of your current dissatisfying position; it had been several days since you met Karina in the showers, and since then the rest of them had been... distant. Winter had only grown colder along with the weather, while if anything Giselle's tongue had grown even crueler than before. Karina kept herself entombed within her room, opening her door only to accept her meals, while Ningning had grown strangely airy and annoyed. While you were indulgent of Aespa's eccentricities, their conduct was starting to become a touch, ungrateful. Perhaps one of them had been behind the "assault" upon the poor maid outside your room. You truly did not mind your maids being interrupted and enjoyed, they often did it to one another (you can hardly be expected to satisfy them all can you?); what stuck in your craw was that your breakfast had been so rudely stolen. Well there was only one way to find out, and it would provide the perfect excuse to strike a conversation with each of the girls on your own terms. But first, breakfast.

The delectable scent of the kitchen has your mouth watering even before you enter its controlled chaos. Maids scurry to and fro, preparing meals for the entire house, chopping and sautéing and boiling and steaming and baking all manner of delicacies. The room was almost uncomfortably stuffy, and maids therefore had more than enough bare skin on display to titillate even a celibate. At one point, the old man had even decreed the ladies cooked garbed only in an apron; but that scheme had been shelved due safety concerns (there had also been delays to his penchant for bending the head cook over and making furious love to her while she attempted to make complicated meals. They had an odd relationship, but she did manage to make sure that Grandfather never ejaculated in the porridge). Amidst all the hubbub, you are intrigued to find your frosty little paramour, Winter; dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, seated at a table, steadily devouring a stack of waffles. Bemused, you join her on the stool across from her; motioning to the staff that you would also enjoy what she is currently having, before turning your full attention to the idol. Winter gives you a chilly glance, before forking another glistening bite into her mouth, chewing blandly as she studiously avoids your eyes. It would be quite the turn if she was the culprit behind the mystery, but you had seen innocent sorts before engaging in... degenerate behavior (you never could figure out how that maid managed to get her entire arm inside that man...).

It would be untoward to simply interrogate Winter however, what manner of host would that make you? A disgraceful one, Grandmother would say. So you start things off by making the most delicate of small talk, gently inquiring after her health, and her stay at your residence. Winter mostly responds with awkward chewing, but she does manage to slip some affirmatives and hesitant nods into her response. Soon enough, your own waffles arrive, slathered with syrup, which you dig into with gusto. All the while you continue to kindly press at the idol, but judging by her hesitant answers you can only assume that she was not the one who dealt with your maid; she is far too delicate and distant. Syrup slicks across Winter's petite lips from an over-ambitious bite of waffles, making them glisten in a most tantalizing fashion... Oh my. Winter coyly notices your sudden change in attention, slowly cleaning her mess up with her dainty little tongue. Meekly, she leans forward, arching her back to thrust out her posterior, as she gives you a permissive glance behind her. Your eyes widen in surprise at such a direct proposition from the demure idol, wondering if you had misjudged her icy demeanor after all... But no, though her face was an archetype of warmth and invitation, Winter's eyes remained as cool as her name.

Ignoring the lust suffusing your lower body, you inquire in a bemused fashion (that was quite admittedly strain at your manners) the source of such an, unexpected, invitation. Forking yet another bite into her mouth, you are forced to wait patiently until Winter is finished chewing (which was laudable on her part), before she gives you an answer. Realizing her simple deception had failed, she shrugs and gives you an honest response. Put simply, she had noticed your rising desire, and had sought to direct them in a way favorable to her; pointedly, she didn't want you to ejaculate in her mouth, or upon her waffles. You blink, giving her a dubious look, surely she could not think that you would do something so depraved... (well perhaps, it was a vaguely enticing idea) Maybe Winter took the first night's light play too harshly, but one would think that an idol such as herself would be used to such activities! Judging by her mannerisms however, you sense that the girl would more likely than not put the bare minimum of effort into any joining. Which would severely hamper your enjoyment, as you craved the heat of intimacy this cold and dreary morning; and Winter was evidently going to be as icy and distant as possible. What a cunning idol, to deflect you so.

With a soft sigh you refuse her kindly offer gracefully, thanking her profusely for such a generous suggestion; perhaps another time? Winter's expressive mouth quirks up at her victory, and she triumphantly devours another bite of her breakfast; this round to her then. Upon finishing your own meal, you bid her farewell, and still in a foul mood, decide to interrogate (politely inquire of) the other three idols abroad in your domicile. Back into the chill of the hallways you stride, robe held tight about you, gleaning from the passing maids where exactly your quarries were hiding. The dear ladies always seemed to have an innate sense of the comings (in some cases, literally) and goings in our residence, seamlessly gossiping information as they chance upon one another. So after a somewhat brief discussion (and a vigorous fingering) with the lusty maid stationed outside of Ningning's room, you politely knock on the idol's door. Pained curses can be heard as someone loudly stumbles towards the entryway, the brittle sound of abused glassware accompanying them. The door is wrenched open several inches, and the rather unhappy and haggard face of Ningning is shoved into the gap.

The idol blinks up at you, eyes bloodshot, looking as if she had recently risen from the grave rather than an extremely comfortable bed (you would certainly know). You are taken aback by her deathly appearance, but upon realizing who you are, Ningning opens the door more fully, revealing that she is wearing naught but a sheer and dainty shift. Her hand hurriedly attempts to straighten out her unkempt hair, as she politely asks for the reason for your untimely visit. After listening for a few moments though, her mood quickly sours once more, answering your questions with a terse negative before slamming the door in your face. Somewhat glum at this abrupt rejection, you cast an inquiring eye at the nearby maid; exactly how much has she drank? She politely informs you that every night a bottle of whiskey has been consumed since Ningning had taken up residence in her room. You scowl, an entire bottle? No wonder the girl had been so sickly, you would have been too after dealing with a hangover brought about by such drinking (especially since Grandfather's plonk was notoriously over-refined, he was certainly running low on taste-buds near the end). Ruling Ningning out as the culprit, since she was unlikely to have been conscious until very recently, you move on to dear Karina's room. The luminous debutante had been much subdued of late, so perhaps this could serve as an opportunity to make amends...

Karina seems extremely flustered upon answering the door, the lack of her ordinary poise is quite intriguing, and certainly the most suspicious so far. She awkwardly refuses your offer for brunch, flushing as she inches the door closed; apologizing profusely the entire time. How very odd. But her maid cheerfully informs you that her mistress had not left her room since returning from dinner, so you count Karina out, leaving only... Giselle, who is not in her room, but is instead for some bizarre reason prancing about in the theatre (Of course you have a theatre, what sort of cultured man of your station would not?). So you march courageously across the cold and drafty length of the mansion to reach the place where the noblest of arts is performed; as well as more gauche activities as well. Grandfather was an avid supporter of the more salacious plays, often done entirely in the nude. What was the point of romances if one could not watch the starring roles engaging in passionate lovemaking? Grandmother had not entirely approved of such voyeurism, being somewhat of a traditionalist, she had much preferred to be onstage herself!

And it is upon such a well-trodden (and stained) stage you find Giselle, idly twirling and writhing as her breath steams in the cold air. She gives you a teasing look as you take a seat in the front row, her eyes gleaming maliciously as she notes your gloomy mood. Giselle pouts at you, what sort of host would bring such a negative air to her performance? You scowl slightly, no doubt confirming her suspicions, and forego the usual niceties by inquiring if she stopped by your room earlier this morning. Giselle beams as she cheerfully informs you that she had, and that both your breakfast as well as your maid had been quite delicious. She covers her mouth in an entirely unconvincing act of shock; oh dear, had her little mistake enraged you so? Giselle had assumed that she was allowed to enjoy whatever she liked in this mansion, including your morning meal. After all, it was only fair after you had enjoyed the rest of Aespa to such a degree... You grimace, your already foul demeanor growing worse by the minute, Giselle was doing an excellent job of needling you, perhaps she required some... training. The minx's eyebrows raise, judging by your attitude, you had evidently not exerted yourself much this morning. Was Winter not your liking, did you not bend her over the table in the kitchens and ravish that adorably innocent girl? She is ever so complacent, did you use that to your advantage when you took her, forcing her to engage in all sorts of depraved acts?

You are certainly feeling a dangerous urge to force Giselle to engage in all sorts of depraved acts; a little forcefulness would be forgivable in some cases... So you bluntly order the idol to strip for you, now. Giselle blinks, before demurely complying, languidly stripping out of her clothes until her body is bared fully to the cool air of the theatre. Tan nipples harden upon her modest yet shapely breasts, as goosebumps ripple down her taut belly; her hands stray shyly over her exposed crotch, hiding her sex from view. Giselle's discomfort raises your spirits somewhat, and you generously indicate for her to continue dancing. While her earlier performance had been a touch erotic, now her movements were downright lascivious; flexing and spinning to show off every angle of her delectable body. She pauses, posterior upraised, holes on full display as she glances back at you knowingly. Giselle can tell that you're unable to control your lusts, that you're going to take her like some perverted beast. You're going to ravish and despoil her nubile body until she is left broken and sobbing! Your member bulges at the thought of inflicting such debased acts upon Giselle, she certainly did deserve it after all; the mincing little bitch. She had ruined your morning, and was unabashedly mocking you while impinging upon your hospitality; a little payback was surely warranted. And if you were a touch rough with her, then well, she did deserve it, afterwards you would make it up to her... Wait.

That devious idol was goading you on, spurring you to go too far, so that when she was left wailing with crocodile tears you would face an unendurable guilt. In such an enfeebled state of mind, no doubt Giselle's honeyed tongue would convince you to do nearly anything in an attempt to redeem yourself for your sins. Her guile was truly impressive, so similar to Karina's sacrificial attitude, yet far more sleazy in its nature. Cunning, so very cunning. Ah well, sometimes the best way to deal with deceit was with direct action; and to be completely fair, she was quite literally asking for it at this point. With Giselle's poisonous entreaties slithering through your ears, you promptly remove your pants, and approach her gently swaying butt. Her permissive vitriol only increases in vulgarity when you grasp her hips, as she freely insults you for being such an ignoble brute; all while daintily spreading a cheek in welcome. So you blithely decide to derail her nefarious seduction by simply shoving your manhood into her anus, lubricated only with sweat. Giselle throws her head back and screams, even for an experienced idol, having something suddenly forced up your asshole is quite the surprise. Now her curses are quite devoid of salacious intent, as she spits and yowls in pain.

Giselle's anus feels absolutely delicious, devouring every inch of your manhood with ease, while still gripping you so tight it's almost agonizing. Though to say your thrusting was accomplished without difficulty would be a disservice to the lady in question, for her there was undoubtedly a great deal of discomfort as her entrance dragged along your length. She lets out a pained whine as she claws at the floor, unable to escape from her deserved punishment; her petite cheeks suffused with a rosy glow from the force of your coupling. Giselle was not the only one making noise however, your own groans of pleasure nearly matched her shrieks in volume. Her ass was amongst the tightest you had ever felt, far tighter than even Karina's pussy had been, and it's coils massaged your member in a most licentious manner. If you had not been so pent up, perhaps you would have lasted longer, but having gone for such a time without release, and subjected to such an intoxicating sensation, could you be blamed for finishing so soon? With a mighty growl you haul the teasing idol against your crotch, your balls emptying themselves into Giselle's guts as she writhes at the sudden warmth filling her belly. Every mighty spurt of your seed causes her to gasp anew, simpering and sobbing as her hips buck and shake. She moans pitifully in despair, no doubt still believing that you were under her devious spell; working overtime to shower you with guilt in your most vulnerable moment of triumph.

You slide your manhood out of the warm confines of Giselle's hole, as she continues to prattle on in a most woeful manner; your seed already starting to bubble out of her used ass. She looks back at you, expecting to see you wracked with despair at what you had wrought; only to find you staring back at her with bemusement. Giselle blinks, before rolling her eyes and letting out an annoyed sigh, "Well it was worth a try, and would you mind warning me before fucking my asshole? I would hate to make a mess all over the floor..." She lets out an awkward cough as she clambers to her feet, pointedly glancing at the door to the theatre; expecting a prompt dismissal now that her plan had failed so dismally. But one bad turn deserves another, and having Giselle endure a little painal was nowhere near enough to satisfy your bruised ego. So you politely ask her to clean you off, but the look of absolute disgust she gives you warns that she would not be gentle should she be forced to follow your instructions. Ah well, you would have to experience the heavenly bliss of Giselle's pussy some other time then; back into her rear you go.

The idol scowls as you motion her to get back onto the cold floor, laying flat on her stomach and kicking her feet in irritation. This time your entrance into her ass is much smoother, her hole well lubricated with cloying remains of your last visit. But unlike last time, Giselle isn't bothering to pretend that she is in distress, instead treating you with sassy indifference. Where once her pained squeals of pleasure serenaded you ears (accompanied by some truly titillating, if abusive, wordplay), now she simply acts as if your cock is not buried to the hilt in her guts. Giselle shoots you smug glances, yawning exaggeratingly and proclaiming how bored she is; and of course, insulting your love-making skills. The meaty slap of your sex grows louder as you put more force into your thrusts, her taught butt jiggling as you put your weight into it; driving your cock deeper inside of her. Your previous load froths out around your shaft, splattering onto your balls and coating her thighs with sticky droplets. Your still sensitive cock throbs with sensation as it explores the deeper reaches of Giselle's ass; it is difficult to simply not give in to your lusts and breed it endlessly. The increased violence of your coupling seems to have quieted Giselle's bitchy abuse however, who now seems more focused upon gasping for air as you push your entire weight onto her to steady your wildly pumping hips.

Giselle's pained breathing grows more shrill as you approach the crescendo, mechanically pounding away at her asshole as if it were a cheap toy. You howl as you climax, each thrust slamming deep into her guts as you spew ropes of semen inside of her. Giselle squirms beneath you, letting out a surprised squeak at the sudden heat pouring into her belly. Hot liquid paints your sack as they smack against her unused pussy, your balls pulsating as they empty themselves mindlessly into the infertile warmth of Giselle's ass. You collapse onto the idol, the both of you panting for air from the fierceness of your sex; the chill of the room now long banished by your exertions. After several minutes, you have composed yourself enough to unmount Giselle, allowing the distinctly squished-looking member of Aespa to stagger upright. She scowls at you as she rubs at her tender backside, "Ugh your seed feels absolutely revolting inside of me, couldn't you have just spent yourself in one of your maids instead? Asshole." Sniffing disdainfully, Giselle stalks (gingerly) out of the room, not bothering to collect her discarded clothes; and pointedly ignoring the fact that her asshole was burping semen down her thighs with every step.

With a tired groan you haul yourself into one of the chairs in the front-row, now thoroughly exhausted and drained, yet quite satisfied with yourself. You eye the puddle spreading across the stage balefully, the heady stink of it remarkably familiar to you... You wearily call for your maids to come in and help clean up the mess; resting your head back and closing your eyes as you hear them puttering around... One of them lets out a discrete cough as she approaches, causing you to blink awake; you had not even realized you had dozed off for a time. The maid courtesies, before politely inquiring if you required any cleaning. You wave in acquiesce, untroubled by the fact that the maid seems to be intent on using her sopping cunt to wash your cock off. She would no doubt suck you clean after she had doused it with her own juices; an indulgence which a good master could hardly complain about. And to be honest, having someone else put the work in was rather appreciated; and who doesn't enjoy having quivering breasts shoved into one's face? (Well I imagine that some degenerates would not, but their inferior opinions are hardly worth your attention)

That night around the dinner table, Aespa are far more animated than they had been before. Karina seemed almost her old self, Ningning had softened a bit, even Winter's attitude had perked up a bit, and Giselle was as gregarious as always. Though she spent much of the evening squirming in her chair, much to the curious glances of her groupmates. In a sociable mood, you playfully ask after her health, fully expecting an innuendo-laced retort from her. Instead, Giselle blandly replies, "But of course I am a bit uncomfortable, after you spent all morning violating my asshole." There is a moment of awkward silence before utter chaos descends upon the table; with Karina looking absolutely outraged, Ningning glaring furiously at Giselle, and Winter appearing quite relieved.

Giselle sends you a devious smirk, before mouthing, "Asshole"

Perhaps she was still a touch salty?

A/N Jesus this one took forever to write, it took me forever to properly write that anal scene, it just wasted away in my drafts. RIP. Well hopefully it was worth the wait lol!

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 15 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna felt safe at Bob's house. A few days there, and she was sleeping and eating better than she had in years. It all felt so easy. But for Bob, her presence was both a balm and a temptation that he didn't know how to handle.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, bruises on Anna's arm, adult language, masturbation, 18+

Length: 6200 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

On Wednesday morning, Anna woke up in some sort of warm cocoon. She didn't feel the drafty air on her face like she usually did when she slept on her mattress on the floor. She felt like she was being absorbed by some sort of soft, fancy bedding, and her pillow was moving slightly beneath her.

"Anna. We have to get ready for work."

She knew that voice intimately. It was sweet and sincere but laced with a bit of sleepiness she'd never witnessed before. She felt goosebumps on the back of her neck as she realized she must still be asleep and dreaming of Bob.

"Not yet," she mumbled. "I'm having a good dream."

Her pillow moved a little more as she tried her hardest to cling to the last threads of sleep. She didn't want to have to get up and leave this warmth behind. Especially not to go to work where Kevin could easily find her and make her life hell again.

"We have to get up."

Anna groaned and opened her eyes, and she instantly realized she wasn't in her bed, nor was she alone. She jolted, fingers grasping along what she thought was her pillow when in fact it was Bob's chest. With her hands braced on his shoulders, she tried to push herself off of him, and that's when she noticed he was smiling softly.

"What were you dreaming about?"

How was she supposed to answer that question? She was curled up on his chest, warmer and more comfortable than she ever remembered being in her life, and of course she'd been dreaming about him. It wasn't until that moment that she remembered why she was here, and then the smile that was forming on her own lips slipped away.

"We should get ready for work," she whispered, scrambling out of his bed. When she grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom, she glanced back at him with his hands propped behind his head, his eyes following her every move. 

Was she insane? She should have insisted on sleeping in the other room. The problem was that she wanted Bob so badly, and even though he knew everything now, she didn't want to hurt him. She could deal with hurting herself, but not him again. But all she was going to be able to think about for the rest of the day was snuggling with him, and then she was going to have to come back here again tonight. He would probably insist on that.

She got ready as quickly as she could, changing into her work outfit while she was in the bathroom and then braiding her hair. When she opened the door, Bob was standing there in his flight suit with the sleeves tied at the waist, making her heart skip around in her chest. His unshaven face and messy hair had her practically panting, dying to reach out for him. And then his eyes trailed down to the bruises on her arm, reminding her that she would need to wear her cardigan again all day.

"I'll make breakfast," he promised. "Just give me a couple minutes to shave."

"Okay."

She took some time to separate out her dirty laundry, knowing she would need to take care of that later, and then she went downstairs. She started poking around in the refrigerator, trying to see if there was something she could start making so he didn't have to do it. Then Bob was there again, right behind her. When she looked at him, his soft hair was perfect, and his face was smooth.

"Do you like scrambled eggs?" he asked, looking past her into the refrigerator.

"I like everything," she told him, wishing she could just kiss him like she wanted to. 

"I can make them fancy with some cheese," he said with a cute little grin. "Maybe tomorrow if we get up earlier, I can do omelettes."

Anna wasn't going to make it. How was she supposed to just be here with Bob and not touch him? He knew about Kevin, and he was still being so lovely, she wanted to scream. "That sounds great," she whispered. "But you have to let me do the dishes later."

He agreed, and soon Anna was eating a hot breakfast, something she hadn't had in a very long time. And that wasn't all, because after she took the dishes to the sink, Bob insisted on packing her a lunch. In his own khaki green lunchbox that said TOP GUN BOB on it and had a velcro enclosure at the top. When he went to hand it to her, she threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she breathed, inhaling his scent and remembering how warm he kept her all night.

He chuckled and said, "It's nothing special. Jess should be here soon to pick you up. Will you... text me if Kevin shows up?"

Anna wanted to ask him what he would do about it if Kevin did in fact show up, but she simply promised him that she would let him know. Then Jess pulled up, and Bob handed her his spare house key which was on a twenty sided die keychain. She smiled down at her palm before looking up at him. "Have a good day, Bob." 

"I'll pick you up later if Jess doesn't bring you back here first."

She nodded, took one last look at him in his flight suit, and then ran out to Jessica's car at the curb with her work bag and lunch. "Good morning," Anna sang in a cheery voice, making her friend laugh. 

"Girl. Do I even want to know why you're staying with Bob?"

Anna sighed as she looked out the window at the neighboring houses as Jessica started to drive. "Kevin's in town, and he bruised my arm, and he tracked me down at work, and then he also knows where I live. But Bob pushed him against the wall, and I thought he was going to punch him, and then he insisted I come stay with him where it's more secure, and now I'm going to figure out how to get my manuscript."

Jessica swerved slightly. "What?!"

Anna laughed softly. "It's all good." And she honestly believed it was. For now. 

--------------------------

"Tally! Coyote at five o'clock low!" 

Nat responded seamlessly to Bob's commands, immediately dipping down below the horizon to get Javy on missile lock. Bob loved these kinds of drills, because he was always the fastest WSO to catch on to the training schemes. And Nat always followed his instructions, making her the fastest pilot to respond. 

Honestly, he felt like he was on cloud nine right now. Waking up to Anna's body draped across his and her cheek resting over his heart was almost too good to be true. He didn't move for twenty minutes while she continued to doze, rather he used the time to count her freckles in the soft, early morning light. He could have gladly stayed there all day, and he thought she would have as well. However, she did seem a little startled when she woke up fully, but when he handed her the lunch he packed, she was back in his arms one last time.

It didn't really matter though. He wouldn't touch her without permission. As Nat soared past Javy, Bob made a face. Clearly he wasn't opposed to accepting Anna's touches though. He just wished this whole scenario made more sense to him. Clearly Anna and Kevin were over. She told him as much before, but now Bob had seen it with his own eyes. He was absolutely disgusted by the way Kevin yelled at her, but it just made him want her more. And the fact that Anna wanted to keep fighting made him feel like he needed her.

"Bob! High or low?" Nat shouted, and he had to scramble to locate Javy again. 

"High! Eight o'clock high, Phoenix!"

With one swift maneuver, she took him out, and when they landed, she wrapped him up in a hug. "You're unbeatable today. Nobody else stood a chance." She narrowed her eyes and added, "You have a look about you. Oh my god! You got laid again! Don't tell me it was Anna."

She looked both delighted and terrified, and Bob just rolled his eyes. "Can't I look happy without getting laid?"

"Hmm, I know I can't," she said with a smirk. "Go ahead and keep your secrets," she murmured before running off to harass Bradley.

As Bob started walking back to the lounge, he dug his phone out of his helmet bag and almost tripped when he saw that Anna sent him a selfie of her eating lunch an hour ago. She was all smiles with the sandwich he made in her hand, and his heart thudded in his chest as he read the text accompanying it.

Anna Webber: Thanks for making me the perfect lunch. And you know that particularly good dream I had last night? It was about you.

"Fuck," he whispered, feeling even more exhilarated by his text thread than he did from being in the air. He dropped his bag at his feet on the tarmac and quickly typed back to her. 

I can try to make you another perfect lunch tomorrow. And if you decide you want to share my bed again and have another particularly good dream tonight, you should tell me about it as soon as you wake up. Before you get out of bed. 

He hit send. He had nothing to lose. Kevin could eat shit for all he cared. He would have pounded him into the wall if Anna didn't stop him. Not that he wanted to resort to violence himself. He just couldn't stand it when Anna was in tears getting screamed at.

"You coming, man?" Mickey asked, waving his hand in front of Bob's face. "I have something so cool I want to show you for our campaign. Jess will probably hate it, but I think it's great."

Bob followed him to the lounge, but he kept his phone in his hand just in case Anna wrote back, and when she did, he stood up and completely ignored Mickey's rambling. 

Jess said she can drive me back to your house since we're both done at 4:30 today. And if you're going to keep insisting I sleep in your bed, then I'm going to keep insisting we share it. Besides, I always feel better when you're around.

"Man, what is with you?," Mickey asked as Bob wandered all the way to the other end of the lounge, running his fingers through his hair. "Almost nothing can distract you from D&D."

"It's Anna," he said quietly, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest.

"Yep, that'll do it then," Mickey muttered. "As soon as she gets divorced, you better propose."

Bob knew his friend was teasing him, but the thought alone left him staring out the window, imagining all of her books in his house and sharing a bed forever.

-----------------------------

Anna felt so good, it was incredible. She had a delicious sandwich for lunch, complete with ham, swiss cheese and some sort of fancy multi-grain bread with spicy mustard. And that wasn't even it, because Bob also made her a little container of fruit salad. He packed peanuts and ginger ale too. She wasn't starving for dinner at 5:00 like she usually was, but the closer Jessica got to Bob's house, the more excited Anna got.

"Do you know what time he usually gets home? Does Jake get home at the same time every day?"

"Hmm, well the weather's good, so I'm sure they didn't get out early," Jessica replied. "Bob usually stops in the locker room to shower and change out of his flight suit on days when they are in the air, so I would guess he would be home just before six?"

"Okay," Anna said, trying to calm her excitement. While her students took their quiz earlier, she had some time to ponder and also daydream. According to the conference for the National Neurological Physicians Association, Kevin would probably be in town through Tuesday. She knew well enough now to know that whatever she planned on doing next, she would have to share it with Bob. The very subject of her daydreams. The cozy man she snuggled up with all night. She wanted to cook him dinner, but she needed to get to his house early enough to surprise him.

When Jessica stopped to drop her off, Anna hugged her quickly before picking up her bag and heading up the walkway with the spare key in her hand. "Make good choices when it comes to Bob!" Jessica shouted as she rolled down the window. "And when it comes to Kevin, too! You know what? Just make good choices in general!"

Anna waved as she unlocked the front door and ducked inside, locking it behind her immediately just as Bob had instructed. She had less than an hour to get something started for dinner, so she tossed her bag aside and ran for the refrigerator. He had everything. More groceries than she'd seen in months. Fresh vegetables and fruit and different kinds of cheese. Everything.

She found a pack of ground beef, a jar of tomato sauce and some spaghetti. It wasn't going to be the fanciest thing in the world, but she had time to make it. While the water boiled, she ran upstairs to get her laundry and brought it down. The small laundry room was near the kitchen, so she was able to start browning the meat and check on it while she loaded the washing machine.

Anna was running back and forth when she saw Bob's truck pull up through the front window. "Shit," she groaned. He was a little earlier than she thought he would be. She stuffed the rest of her clothes inside and then turned to lean back against the washing machine while Bob walked inside.

"Anna?" he called out, and her heart skipped a beat. What if this kind of thing could be normal for her? She could save up enough money to buy her own car again, and she could come back to Bob's house after work and wait for him to get home. They could eat dinner together.

"I'm doing laundry!" she called out, and a few seconds later, he was in front of her, leaning into the room while he held both sides of the doorframe. He was wearing snug, black gym shorts, sneakers and a white undershirt, and he smelled clean like soap. His biceps flexed as he held on and smiled at her.

"Are you cooking dinner?" he asked, cheeks a little pink as he let go of the doorway and stepped inside. When she nodded, he said, "You didn't have to do that."

Before she could stop herself, her hand found the front of his shirt, and his eyes went wide. "I wanted to," she whispered, bunching the cotton fabric against her palm and tugging slightly. Bob closed the distance between them, bracing his hands on the washing machine on either side of her. He was big and warm, and she knew she needed to be the one to make the next move to get his body touching hers.

Anna let her hand trail up his abs to his chest and around the back of his neck, his cheeks deepening in color with each inch, but he didn't move away. Then she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him, her lips barely brushing his. The front of his body met hers, pressing her butt back against the washing machine. He felt strong and solid, and the slippery fabric of his shorts met her other hand as both of his went to her hips. This is what she wanted, and she would make herself better and better until Bob deemed her good enough for him. If that's what it took, she would figure out a way to do it.

When she pulled away slightly after a few seconds, Bob's lips followed hers until she was treated to a kiss that was a little needier. A little bit rough around the edges. She gasped his name as she inhaled the smell of his clean skin, and then she said, "Oh, shit. Dinner."

As soon as she ducked out of his grasp, Bob let her run from the room toward the kitchen. She grabbed the spatula and checked to make sure the ground beef hadn't burned, and he was right behind her. 

"I'm trying to make you spaghetti," she told him, reaching for the jar of sauce which she struggled to open. "But I guess I could use your help." She wanted his lips back on hers, but she didn't want to rush anything, so she simply handed the jar over to him when he held out his hand. With one quick twist of his wrist, the lid popped. "Show off," she muttered, earning a laugh as she dumped the sauce into a pan. "There should be enough for Suzanne, too. If you want to invite her over."

Bob just looked at her with a smile. "That's sweet. I'll take a plate over to her. I think I'd rather it just be the two of us here tonight."

"Okay," she told him. Being alone with Bob right now was definitely something she could get used to.

---------------------------------

It had been so long since anyone else cooked for Bob, so this was a welcome surprise. Anna was just moving her clothing to the dryer when the timer went off for the pasta. "I'll take care of it," he said, just as she hung up a particularly intriguing looking black bra in his laundry room to let it dry. It was made out of sheer lace, and he immediately wondered if he'd be able to see her freckles through the fabric.

One kiss. It was just one kiss, and he was already dizzy over her again. But it was more than just the kiss. It was also her hand pulling him closer and the way she whispered his name. Bob dragged himself from his thoughts and plated the food she had cooked. He set everything on the table along with ginger ales, and when he went to get her from the laundry room, he saw that the bra had some matching panties with it now.

"Food's ready," he said, voice coming out even deeper than usual. 

Anna followed him to the table and took the seat across from him. "You know, I'm sure it's fine if you want me out of your space. I highly doubt Kevin is going to come looking for me again, especially after you scared him off yesterday."

Bob gripped his fork a little tighter. "I can't make you stay here. But I want you to. I want to know you're safe."

Her brown eyes were soft as she picked up her own fork. "Okay," she said softly.

"Okay," he replied, already feeling better again. 

Dinner was pretty quiet, just a simple exchange of what happened to both of them that day at work. When he asked if she'd heard from Kevin at all, she assured him she had not. Then he asked if she knew how long she thought he would be in California.

"Yeah," she told him as she collected the dirty dishes from the table. She unlocked her phone and set it down in front of him. "He's giving a closing speech on Tuesday morning, so he's probably heading back to New Jersey later that day." Bob looked at the tab she had opened and saw Kevin's name listed under a few events for each day, including a three hour dinner reception on Sunday evening. He was a busy man. It seemed like he'd done well for himself with all of Anna's money, and Bob just fucking hated him. 

He set her phone aside. "I'll feel better when there's some more distance between you and him."

A cute little smile found her lips as she took the dishes away. Bob let her clean up, but he couldn't stop walking past the laundry room and looking inside. Even after she sat down to correct quizzes while he took some food over to Suzanne, the lacy set was still hanging in there. Even after Anna folded her laundry and started organizing it in neat piles on top of Bob's bedroom dresser, he knew those two pieces weren't with the rest.

He would have kept thinking about it, but then Anna yawned and turned to look at him. "I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm either sleeping in here with you again, or I'm sleeping in the other bedroom."

Bob studied her pretty face and her messy braid. "Should I get in bed and wait for you?" She nodded and bit her lip before scampering out of his room toward the bathroom. Then he had to change for bed while she showered, and he started getting hard as soon as he touched the elastic band of his boxer briefs. Anna and all of her things were all over his house, and she'd only been here for a little more than a day.

When he looked down at his flat abs and saw his cock bobbing to attention, he didn't think he was going to have time to jerk off. "No, no, no," he whispered. He tossed his gym shorts into his hamper and tried to walk it off, but it was no use. He felt like a teenager as he dove into bed as soon as he heard her turn the shower off. With his eyes squeezed closed, he lay there on his back under the covers, trying to think about something unsexy. Doing push ups, going to the dentist, buying bulk cat food at Costco for Suzanne. 

He was working up a mental image of Mickey throwing up in the Hard Deck parking lot when Anna breezed back into his bedroom with damp hair and a white tank top that left nothing to the imagination. Not that he couldn't vividly recall her naked body beneath his. And the sounds she made when he fucked her. Bob tossed his glasses onto his nightstand with a groan, hoping that if he couldn't see how cute she looked in those ugly flannel pants, maybe he would get soft again. 

But that didn't happen, and a few seconds later, Anna was slipping into bed with him just like last night. And then she linked her fingers with his again. When he turned off the lamp, she curled up next to him, and his fingers brushed against her bare skin. Her knee nudged along the top of his thigh; a few more inches and she was going to be able to feel him.

"Good night," she whispered into the darkness, and he could tell her face was near his. 

When he turned his head toward her and whispered, "Good night," she surprised him with a kiss. One that lingered. Her body was halfway on top of his, fingers combing lazily through his hair, and there was no way she couldn't feel how his cock was pressing shamelessly against her leg. When she didn't stop kissing him, he brought his hand up to rest on her back. She treated him to kiss after kiss, but she didn't take it any further. That was okay with him; this was more than enough.

Her lips brushed his one last time before she settled in with her cheek resting on his chest, and soon she was asleep while Bob held her, wondering if there was some way he could help her get her manuscript so she could finally leave Kevin behind.

----------------------------

As the week wore on, Anna spent her free moments thinking about Bob and also trying to figure out if there was a way to defeat Kevin. She wanted access to her writing, because she wanted to move on with her life. However, she was starting to come around to the idea of just letting Kevin have it so she could have Bob. She was still bleeding money to her lawyers, and even though she was staying at Bob's place, she still had to pay the astronomically high rent to her landlord, too.

If she had to still be married to Kevin, then there had to be some sort of benefit to it. On Friday at lunchtime, she was thinking about it while she sat between her friends and ate the beautiful sandwich that Bob packed for her. She could tell both of them wanted more information than she'd been sharing about her week at Bob's house. Jessica was practically vibrating every day on the drive to campus, but Anna knew she didn't want to pry.

But it was her other friend who said, "That's another nice looking sandwich you have today. It looks like Bob has been spoiling you."

"He sure has," Anna said with a dreamy sigh.

"Does that mean you're sleeping together?!" Jessica asked, her voice getting an octave higher at the end of the sentence.

Anna hummed and licked some mustard from her lip. "Define sleeping together."

"Fucking!" Jessica hissed. "Are you fucking?"

"No. But we are sleeping together," she replied with a smile.

"What does that mean?!"

"I think it means they are literally sleeping together," Advanced Calculus said as she dipped a carrot stick into the spicy hummus Bradley made. "Beer Boy said Bob looks like he won the lottery every morning, so I would assume that's why. And I would also assume that they are making out. Maybe a little under the clothing action going on?"

Anna was blushing furiously as her friend casually bit into the carrot stick, and Jessica nearly fell off the bench. "That's um.... well maybe just a tiny bit of the under the clothing part, but the rest is pretty accurate."

"Okay," Jessica said while slapping her own thigh. "You could have told me this when I drove you in every day this week! And I hope you know Bob loves you."

Anna smiled. She felt more confident than she had in years. She finally felt like she could let go of the one thing she thought she needed, because she found other things and other people that made a difference in her life. "That's convenient, because I'm in love with him, too. And I think... once I know Kevin is back in New Jersey and won't try to corner me again... I think I'm going to just finalize the divorce as is."

"Your manuscript!" both women gasped in unison.

Anna nodded. "I know, but I think I need to let go of it and just move on."

Neither of her friends mentioned it again after that, for which she was grateful. After she gave her afternoon lectures and started to pack up for the weekend, she got a text from Bob.

Bob Floyd: I'm on my way to pick you up. Pizza for dinner?

She wrote back and told him that was fine as long as he let her pay for it, and thirty minutes later, there was a soft knock on her office door. "It's Bob," he told her, and she threw the door open and pulled him inside by his khaki collar. 

He didn't hesitate or try to stop her as she kissed him with both hands in his hair before she whispered, "Hi, Bob."

He was all smiles after that, and his hand was at her lower back as she locked the door behind them and headed toward the elevator. He pulled her a little closer as she told him about her day and thanked him for making her lunch. 

"So I'll pay for the pizza. Did you order it already?"

"Yep," he replied as they held hands in the elevator. "It'll be ready in ten minutes."

But when they got there, she realized Bob had already put it on his credit card. "You're impossible," she told him as she shoved five bucks into the tip jar.

"I'm not going to apologize for buying us a pizza," he said casually, and it turned out to be one of the best pizzas Anna had ever had in her life.

They sat side by side on the couch with paper plates and napkins while they watched Pride & Prejudice. "New Jersey is supposed to have good pizza," she whispered in awe.

Bob just shrugged and said, "I think southern California might be superior."

"In every way," Anna whispered before she finished her crust. She loved it here. She loved her friends and her job. She loved Bob. She knew what she had to do now, and she knew it would be okay. "You know what else southern California has?"

"Enlighten me," he said as he wiped his hands with his napkin.

"A surplus of men in uniforms," she said, running her finger down his sleeve and along his name tag. "I didn't know how much I'd like these things." Bob was blushing as she kissed his cheek. "But I liked you way before I knew you were in the Navy." 

She was thinking of him as Sky Writing as he turned and kissed her, and once again, they ended the evening in his bed. And this time, there was a lot more touching under their clothing.

-------------------------------

Bob looked at Anna as she moaned in delight while she ate the soup he made for dinner on Saturday. It was pouring rain, and he didn't feel like going out to play Dungeons & Dragons. He wanted to stay inside where it was warm. Where Anna would end up in his arms after they cleaned up the kitchen.

"What time do you have to leave?" she asked him, and he thought he saw a little flash of sadness on her face. 

"In about a half an hour." He took the chance and added, "I don't have to go. I could stay here."

"No! Mickey and Jess will be devastated! She told me so much about her Barbarian on the drive to work yesterday, she'll never get over it if you skip tonight. Besides, I have something I can do to keep myself busy."

"Alright," Bob agreed. "But I probably won't be home before eleven, so you don't have to wait up."

He helped wash the dishes and went to search for the umbrella he hardly ever had to take out with him. He packed up his dice and character sheet and put his shoes on. When he found Anna again, she was curled up on the couch with one of his books. 

"You love poetry," he told her as he ran his thumb along the back of her hand. 

"I love some poetry," she whispered. "I love your poetry."

He wanted her to say she loved him. He thought she did. Everything was moving along now, but Kevin was still in California, and Bob wasn't sure exactly how to go about all of the details with Anna. So he simply said, "I'll be back in a little bit. Keep all the doors locked? Call me if you need me?"

"I will."

He took one last look at her freckles and her big, brown eyes, and then he ventured out into the wet night. He offered to pick Jessica up since she'd been driving Anna around all week, but she said she'd drive herself there. He was surprised she didn't want to pump him for all of the information related to him and Anna, but perhaps Anna had already told her? The idea of that made him a little warm. He wondered what she might have said. Obviously they had already had sex last month, but this time it felt exactly right when they touched and kissed each other.

God, Bob really hated Kevin. The bruises on Anna's arm were finally fading to yellow. And she didn't seem as worried now. It was obvious that she was comfortable in his house, and he wanted her there. He didn't know how he was going to make it through several hours of this campaign tonight when she was all snuggled up on his couch.

When he arrived and got ready to play, he thought maybe she had moved to his bed by now. He could picture her in those ugly pants, her nipples peaked against her cotton tank top. Her red hair impossibly dark. 

"I said you need to roll for initiative."

Bob looked up and quickly picked up his twenty sided die. He was distracted and rolling like shit tonight, and he kept relying on everyone else to bail him out of each round of fighting. He could barely even pay attention to the story, and that was usually his favorite part. Jessica had to keep poking him in the side when he was supposed to take his turn.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I'm thinking about Anna. I can't stop thinking about her," he muttered. "She's... probably already in bed, and being there with her as we fall asleep together is kind of my new favorite thing."

Jessica cleared her throat and loudly announced. "My stomach hurts. So bad. Can we stop a little early tonight?" 

She was literally the worst liar in existence. She was even worse than Bob. He was trying not to laugh as everyone nodded sympathetically at her as they started to pack up. "Thanks," he murmured, and she just winked at him as she adjusted her glasses.

"No problem. Go home and snuggle."

He drove carefully back home in the rain until he was passing through the deserted streets of his neighborhood. He parked right in front of Suzanne's car like he always did, and he killed the engine. Maybe he should just tell Anna how he felt, although he was sure she already knew. He didn't exactly need to hear the words back, but he wanted them to be out there. He didn't even need a title on whatever their relationship was, but he didn't want it to be nothing either.

Quickly, he dashed through the rain, shooed Sylvester inside his neighbor's front door before closing it, and then he unlocked his own door. The living room was dark unlike earlier, and at first he didn't hear anything.

"Anna?" he called out softly as the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. He froze when he realized he heard a voice coming from upstairs. Halfway up the steps, he realized it was her, and she sounded distraught. "Anna," he gasped, taking the steps two at a time until he was standing on the top landing.

She was definitely in his bedroom, and he almost tripped as he lunged for the door, pushing it open just in time to hear her moan his name.

Bob's jaw dropped open at the sight before him. Anna was spread out on the middle of his bed, red hair all over the place, and she was wearing nothing but that black bra and panty set he hadn't been able to stop thinking about. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight, hand tucked in the front of her underwear as she stroked her clit and turned her face until it was buried in his pillow. He watched her inhale deeply as his hand rested on his hard cock which was pressing against the fly of his jeans.

"Fuck," she grunted after thrashing around a little bit in his bed. She still hadn't seen him yet, but his gaze was fixed firmly on her body. "Fuck me, Bob," she moaned, and he stumbled forward. "Oh, god. I want you!"

Her back arched slightly off the bed as he took another step closer, unzipping his pants. He no longer had to wonder if he'd be able to see her freckles through the sheer fabric. He definitely could, which made the little black set even sexier, but he also wanted her naked. He wanted to be inside her. He watched as she came on her own fingers. 

"Anna," he groaned as his hand met his length, and her eyes snapped open as she yanked her hand back out of her panties.

"Oh my god!" she practically shrieked, face flushing pink. "Bob! You're back early!"

He nodded and watched her wide eyes as she realized he was stroking himself. "I wanted to come back home as soon as I left. I wanted to be with you. And now I want to fuck you."

"Oh," she sighed, getting up so she was kneeling in the middle of his bed, licking her lips like his most depraved fantasy. Her hair was a mess, and her nipples were hard peaks as she nodded and came crawling toward him. Her breath ghosted along the tip of his cock as it hung out of his jeans. She looked up at his face, licked at his precum and said, "That's exactly what I want you to do."

------------------------------

Get. It. Bobby. Leave no doubt in her mind that you love her, but get it, baby. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 16

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[sushirrrry]

FRONTLINES: COMING HOME || a part two of a harry styles x original character story.

full story, tomorrow.

summary: after being discharged from the hospital, Harry returns to Manchester haunted by the war but grounded by the letters and quiet devotion of Clare, the nurse who helped piece him back together. their relationship, born from each reunion that they hold so dear to themselves until they're able to see each other again—until their longing becomes impossible to deny, and love replaces what war tried to destroy.

READ "FRONTLINES" HERE.

_______________________________________________

May, 1943 - 3 Weeks After London - Manchester

The house had a hush to it that still startled him.

No men shouting over static radios, no bombs whistling from above or below or side to side, no engines humming like angry ghosts in the sky through clouds that wouldn’t give up. Only the sound of the kettle clicking off, the tick of the hallway clock, and his pencil scratching softly against paper in the front room as he viciously wrote.

He sat, half-curled sideways in the armchair by the window, blanket wrapped over one shoulder, letter perched on his knee. A candle flickered nearby, though the overhead light had long since been switched off. He preferred the quiet and the dim when he thought about writing to Clare.

Clare’s most recent letter rested on the arm of the chair; folded, unfolded, and folded again so many times the crease was near worn through.

Harry smiled faintly as he reread the way she’d described how her flat felt without him there — tiny, drafty, and full of too many books. Said she couldn’t look at a cup of tea lately without thinking of how he always asked for a second.

He didn’t even like tea that much. But she always brought it to him in a good mug.

He was in the middle of writing a sentence — I think about that night at the bar more than I should — when the hallway floor creaked.

His sister’s voice floated into the room like an announcement, amused and matter-of-fact: “It’s well past midnight, you know.”

Harry blinked up at her, not wanting to ignore her but always needing to get his thoughts down. Nora stood leaning in the doorway in her dressing gown, arms folded. Her dark hair, always too curly for its own good, was tied up in a loose braid against her back, and she gave him a look only older sisters could manage: part concern, part accusation, and mostly curiosity.

“Mum’s noticed,” she added, crossing her arms as she made her way over, “You’re hardly sleeping. Or when you do, it’s in that chair.”

Harry gave a low sigh, set the letter aside. “Just writing, Nor.”

“Every night?” She asked, a bit pushy in trying to get information from him. He already was quiet, but then he went to war. That changed him more than he’d like to admit; now, he was just secretive, like the one thing that he wanted for himself was just sitting between his own fingertips.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve got time to make up for, that’s all. Mum doesn’t need to worry.”

Nora’s eyes narrowed. She stepped further into the room, picked up the letter on the arm of the chair and glanced at the handwriting.

“Clare,” she read aloud, smiling as Harry tried to grab the letter back from her; a flush over his cheeks remembers words she mentioned, really only for his eyes. “So, this is why you can’t sleep, then.”

“Don’t start now.” Harry mumbled under his breath.

“Oh, come on. You’re out here smiling at her letters like some daft schoolboy. You’ve read that one a dozen times.”

“Eleven,” Harry muttered, earning a sharp jab to the shoulder.

“I knew something was going on. You’ve been out in the garden scribbling into the wind like you’re composing poetry.”

“I’m not writing poetry,” he said, a bit defensive. “I’m writing back. And she’s not just — she’s not…”

He trailed off, unsure of how to say what he meant. He wasn’t sure how to explain that in a time where everything had been stripped down to survival, Clare had shown up and seen him — not as a soldier, not as a body to medicate and stitch up, but as a man still holding his own guilt and softness in trembling hands.

Nora softened as she handed him back the letter. “You really like her.”

Harry nodded, voice low and raspy then. “She made it bearable in there. And it was never supposed to be more than talk to pass the hours spent in that hospital bed. But—”

“But now you’re smiling at paper like a lunatic,” she teased, cutting him off. Nora sat down on the armrest beside him, “Does Mum know?”

“She’s only asked if it was a girl I was writing," Harry licked his lips, "I didn’t answer.”

“She told me she hopes she’s pretty.”

Harry huffed a soft laugh. “She is. Beautiful. In that way where you don’t see it all at once—it’s hard to describe, but she’s one of a kind, I think.”

“My God, listen to you.” Nora nudged his shoulder. “You are writing poetry.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 34

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Postpartum depression; allusions to child abuse; perceived child abuse - read with care

A/N: I am so sorry it has taken me this long! The move has really done a number on my mental health and I've been struggling to write anything substantial. I've taken some serious liberties with Georgia weather. If you noticed, no you didn't. Lol I don't hate Rick. His mindset isn't the greatest at this point. We know that. Just making sure everyone is aware that I love our deputy. Post partum depression is a real thing and it sucks. This chapter has some really angsty, dark tones, and should be read with care, especially toward the end (beginning at “Oh,hey.” She greeted, patting the ground next to her). I did lots of research and sadly, what transpires is a real thing that people do for reasons that aren't necessary. Please try to give Carol and reader some grace given the circumstances. But if you're sensitive to anything dealing with making a child uncomfortable, you might want to skip this. It gets a little heavy. I would be happy to give you a summary of what is happening if you would rather skip the last few paragraphs (see above where to stop reading). Just message me.

I love you all! Thank you for your patience with me.

You weren’t sure when it happened, when the switch flipped or the dial turned. All you knew is that every single time your daughter cried, you wanted to break down and sob with her. When you held her to your breast, you couldn’t look at her. You left her with Lori or Carol more and more, the looks they gave you annoyingly understanding. When you would hand her off to Daryl and walk away, you couldn’t bear to see that expression of befuddled dismalness. 

“Postpartum depression.” Carol finally said one bitterly cold morning. She was changing Birdie with swift movements, eager to shield her from the drafty atmosphere of the warehouse. 

You had your back to her—your face in your hands—while you silently cried, two small bottles of breast milk sitting at your feet, still attached to the manual pumps. Sniffling, you glanced over your shoulder just as she placed the shifting blanketed bundle against her shoulder. “I hate my baby, Carol.” You whimpered. “That’s more than depression.”

The silver-haired lady shook her head. “Honey, I promise you don’t hate her.” 

“I don’t want anything to do with her.” You bit back with more vexation than you had intended. “I can’t stand it when she cries. I just want Daryl to keep her away from me.” When she tilted her lips with that gentle smile, it took all you had not to chuck one of the bottles at her. What was wrong with you? Could she be right? Were you depressed?

“I went through this, sweetheart. It will pass.” When she offered you little Birdie, you reeled. “You can’t keep avoiding her.” She was right and you hated it. With a huffing breath, you accepted your daughter, distributing her small weight across your arm for her head to rest in the crook of your elbow. “I have an idea.”

You heaved a sigh, not really interested in whatever it was that Carol was going to suggest. You had to stop taking your frustrations out on the woman. And Lori. And Daryl. And especially little Birdie. She was perfect and you knew in your heart of hearts that you could never truly harbor anything other than unrelenting love for her. Yes. Carol was right. You were definitely depressed. 

“What?” You finally queried. 

“What’re you two doin’ in here?” You heard Daryl’s boots crossing the concrete floor until they stopped just behind you. His lips pressed gently against the crown of your head. “Hey.” You said nothing. So much for not taking things out on your fiancé. 

“Daryl, right on time.” Carol beamed. 

“For what?” The confusion was evident in his tone.

“Y/N pumped some milk for the baby. It won’t keep unless we get more snow and can store it in the drifts.” She informed. “Why don’t you feed the baby?”

“Feed ‘er? Like with a bottle?”

“Unless you’re miraculously lactating, yes. With a bottle.” There was a hint of jocularity in her tone. You could almost feel his glare without turning. 

“I mean—yeah, okay.” Annoyance momentarily forgotten, you focused on the uncertainty in your partner’s voice. You didn’t miss the tremble. Neither did Carol. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Daryl.” She said encouragingly. 

“Ain’t me m’worried ‘bout.” The archer mumbled as he circled around you. He was hesitant in reaching for Birdie, but took her into his arms immediately when you sat up straighter and shifted her. The movement must have upset your daughter, her little limbs flailing as Daryl positioned her in the bend of his arm. “Ain’t no need for all that fussin’, lil Bird. You’re gonna get fed.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “By somebody. May not be me after I screw this up.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re better with her than you give yourself credit for.” It came out flat and harsh, your default setting as of late. Still, one look at the expression that decorated Daryl’s features, you found yourself ashamed. “You’re a great father.” You added, softer and with sincerity. 

Daryl held your gaze and, for a moment,—for the first time in a long time—it was uncomfortable. When he nodded and turned to Carol, you were able to exhale, though your stomach remained in knots. 

“Gimme the thing, I guess.” He held out a hand and looked down at his daughter, her little face reddening. Her mouth opened with the slightest squeak. She was two seconds from shrieking. “Keep your diaper on, lil’ girl. It’s comin’.” Daryl gingerly bounced his arm, Birdie’s features smoothing out for a moment, just long enough for Carol to hand over the bottle. 

You found yourself leaning forward, biting your lip as if ready to spring into applause when he accomplished the “impossible” task. When you caught his gaze, both of you looking up at the same time, you sat back and cleared your throat. When had things become so awkward between the two of you? It was almost unbearable. 

“Tilt her up just a little.” Carol instructed. “Touch the nipple to her lip, she’ll—there you go.”

You heard the soft snort of Daryl’s laugh and let your eyes travel from Birdie—now happily suckling away at the bottle—to your fiance. His eyes were soft but excited, sparkling in a way you’d never before seen. His lips were tilted upward, only the slightest fraction. Smiling suited him. You wished he’d do it more often. 

“Told ya that ya wasn’t gonna starve. Slow down. Ain’t no one gonna take it away.” He babbled, scrunching his nose with that smile still adorned. Was he even aware that he was lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of you? You didn’t think so. At that moment, no one else existed to him; just a father and his little bird. 

You only felt the smile on your own face when you looked over to find Carol watching not Daryl and Birdie but you. With a soft, knowing expression, she mouthed see? And see, you did. You nodded, tears stinging behind your eyes. The room was silent aside from Birdie’s gulps and breaths and squeaks, and for moment, you thought:

Everything’s gonna be just fine.

If only you knew just how wrong you were.

“We can’t have her crying like this!” Rick was swiping a hand roughly over his tired face, looking haggard. Things between him and Lori were not improving. They seemed to only be worsening. Even Daryl had called out the deputy’s behavior once or twice in the last two weeks. The archer was currently glaring daggers while he rubbed a fingerless-gloved hand over Birdie’s back through the sling that held her to your chest. 

The loss of the warehouse had been tough on everyone, but you and your baby were affected the most. Your mood swings were only growing worse, though less and less toward the little one in your arms and more toward the adults that were only trying to help you. In turn, Birdie remained in a constant state of inconsolable. Hershel had thrown around words like colic and had Daryl dosing out gas drops to the little one but nothing seemed to soothe her.

The cars had run out of gas, as well as Daryl’s bike. The archer had pushed the motorcycle along for a time before he declared that he couldn’t protect Birdie if he was too busy hauling a damn bike. He had hidden it under some brush, easy to be tracked back to later. It was Merle’s bike and you knew what it meant to him. However, Birdie meant more. Much, much more and he would crawl into hell and back for the little girl strapped to your front.

“She’s a baby, man. How else she s’posed to let us know she’s needin’ something?” Daryl snapped, his voice intentionally higher to be heard over your daughter’s cries. 

“Daryl, you know this isn’t safe! She’s gonna bring every walker for miles down on us!” Rick threw out an arm, gesturing broadly. “Or—or the living! You saw what they would do!”

“Ain’t much we can do! She ain’t hungry! She ain’t needin’ changed! She’s just pissed off an’ I ain’t far away from bein’ right there with ‘er!”

“Boys.” Lori admonished, squeezing your shoulder. When had you started to tremble? “All this negative energy isn’t helping.”

“She’s right.” Hershel agreed, adjusting his gloves. “Babies are incredibly intuitive.”

“We just need to find fuel—cars.” Rick sniffed, hands on his hips. “We’re sitting ducks like this.” His eyes met Daryl’s in a heated challenge.

After an intense staredown, it was surprisingly Daryl who backed down first but not without a menacing growl. Turning to place his body between you and Rick, he brushed his bare fingertips over Birdie’s hooded head and then across your jaw. “Y’want me to take ‘er for a bit?”

You shook your head even as the temptation beckoned you to acquiesce. “I don’t think jostling her would help right now.” A single tear trailed down your cheek. As much as it pained you to admit, Rick was right, but how could you coax your baby to stop her noises of discomfort when you had no idea what was ailing her? Daryl used his thumb to swipe away the moisture, his expression equal parts distress and sadness. He clearly felt as helpless as you did.

“S’take a break.” He said suddenly, ushering you to a nearby log. Lori was immediately lowering herself beside you with a great deal of difficulty given her round belly. You could sympathize with her struggle, having been there not so long ago yourself. Her hand came to rest on the back of your head with loving strokes meant to soothe your nerves.

“I think that’s a great idea.” She agreed, offering you a gentle smile when you searched out her gaze. After a moment, you nodded and began to remove Birdie from her sling. Carol appeared with an extra blanket to cover you and shield the baby from the cold as you tried to nurse her. Daryl was hovering, shifting from foot to foot with his fingers digging into the strap of his crossbow. As much as you loved the man, his nervous energy wasn’t helping things in the slightest. 

“Why don’t you go hunting?” You suggested, reveling in the relief when Birdie quickly latched and her wailing ceased. Her little hiccups around enthusiastic gulps remained heartbreaking. The past few days had seen you begin to settle though the fraying of your nerves lingered. At least you were now aware of how much you loved your daughter and that you wouldn’t change a single moment that brought her barreling into your life. 

Daryl quickly shook his head in refusal, his already white-knuckled grip on that strap growing impossibly tighter. “Can’t leave ya here like this.”

You bit back the urge to yell at him, make the demand that he go. He meant well. “Please?” He wrestled with indecision, his expression damn near crumbling before he skillfully schooled it with a sigh.

“Fine.” He huffed at the same time that he took a single step toward you. He seemed to think better of it and turned on a heel while stripping his weapon from his back. “Be back in a hour an’ we can move on.” You knew as well as he did that there was little to no game to satisfy the group’s hunger. He was only trying to placate you. The two of you needed time alone, needed to talk and work through the tension between you. 

With an inward sigh, you watched him disappear into the trees and shushed Birdie when she released your nipple and began to squirm and fuss. 

“So,” Lori began, “am I looking at the future Mrs. Dixon?” Her question caught you off guard, your eyes shooting wide even as you stared straight ahead. Only when she tapped the back of her hand against your arm did you acknowledge her and her request to take Birdie. Passing the baby off, you adjust your clothing and draped the extra blanket over your daughter.

“How did you—”

“He asked my advice.” Lori carefully arranged Birdie against the front of her shoulder, alternating between patting and rubbing the little one’s back. Tiny grunts and squeaks sounded from beneath the blanket, an audible passing of gas following close behind. The experienced mother turned toward where Hershel had sat to rest as well. “Maybe a touch of colic?” There was that word again. 

The older man hummed. “Could be. I’ll fetch the drops.” You felt bad watching him struggle to his feet from the forest floor, but couldn’t be persuaded to do so yourself. You were just too damn tired.

“What is colic?” You asked, your brow drawing inward. It was obviously not a danger to your baby, given Hershel’s lack of serious concern, but if something was hurting her, it was hurting you. The very thought of her pain had tears springing to your eyes.

“It just means that she’s uncomfortable. It might be the lack of protein in your diet. It could be gas. There’s no real explanation. She’s just—not feeling well. It’s nothing to worry about except she won’t be easily soothed for a while.” Her lips thinned into a sad smile. “It’s nothing and a lot all at once.”

“I’ll take her.” Carol offered whilst petting your hair as Lori had just a few moments prior. Extricating Birdie from Lori’s arms, she bounced the infant tenderly against her chest. “Y/N, will you come find me once you’ve finished up here?” Sporting a questioning look, you still nodded and watched her walk away after returning the gesture.

“He asked your advice?” You stared toward the empty space of Carol’s retreat for a moment longer before turning your attention to Lori. This time, her smile was genuine if not cheeky. 

“He did.”

“Hey—Hey, uh, can I ask ya somethin’?” 

She hadn’t really noticed Daryl approaching but that wasn’t surprising. He was a hunter and stealth was something in which he excelled. Lori paused in her stirring and tapped the spoon on the side of the kettle. The beans had yet to even begin to heat over the small fire inside the house, so she had a few minutes to spare.

“Of course.”

Daryl had changed so much over the course of the months he had been with the group, and she had you to thank for such a large part of that. And now, she had little Birdie to thank as well. The man was going to make an excellent father, despite his lack of confidence.Though she knew so little, she was aware he wrestled with unnamed demons, but you were there to help see him through it. He would be just fine. All three of you would.

“I, uh—well—” The archer rubbed at the back of his neck, something she noticed he did when he was uncomfortable. “Ain’t good at any’a this shit, so m’just gonna say it.” Lori raised her eyebrows when he paused to chew intently on the side of his thumb. “Wanna ask Y/N to, y’know—to marry me.” Her first instinct was to cheer, to celebrate his commitment, but thoughts of Rick—of Shane—trampled any immediate joy and ushered in skepticism. “You’re sure?”

Daryl scoffed. “Course m’sure! Lookit what she went through—what she just did for me. Why wouldn’t I wanna make ‘er my wife?” The confusion—the utter exasperation—on his face gave her pause but she continued.

“But do you love her?” She asked. Daryl wiped a hand down his face, ending with running the length of his index finger across his bottom lip. “It’s not a hard question, Daryl. Do you love her?” She didn’t realize—or maybe she did—how difficult it was for the man to admit something that deep to anyone but you. She wasn’t aware that he had said it before, had said it in the van, in the presence of the Greene’s and Carol, but whether or not they had heard was not something he had bothered to care about during that pivotal moment. 

Finally, Daryl sighed, his voice quiet. “I love ‘er. Yeah.”

Lori felt something in her chest release, a strong sense of relief and—if she were being honest—jealousy overwhelming her senses, making it impossible to speak for a moment. Gathering her bearings, she nodded and turned back to the pot, picking up the spoon to begin stirring. “Then you just ask her.” She sniffed, tilting her head just so in order to hide her tears from him. She was happy for you, compellingly so, but there was no denying the sadness that weighed on her own heart. Still, this wasn’t about her. This was about you—her friend. “Don’t rehearse lines or try to make it perfect. You just ask her. On the spot and from the heart.”

She heard the quiet hum from the side. It was the most straightforward form of acceptance toward her answer that she was bound to get from him. As his bootfalls receded into whispers on far away hardwood, she smiled.

Try or not, he was going to make it something that would mean the world to you.

You wiped away a tear and sniffled, consumed with a fresh wave of guilt for how you had been treating him as of late. He was handling your mood swings with grace, never lashing out, even if you did see him bite his tongue on more than one occasion. He had every right. Hormones or not, he deserved better than what you had been giving him.

“Thanks.” You whispered.

“So?”

You sniffled a second time, wiping at both of your eyes. “So what?”

Lori chuckled, her hands on either side of her belly. “Did you say yes?” 

You smiled and shook your head, recalling the moment to the forefront of your mind—hearing his tone, summoning the myriad of emotions you had experienced. It really was a Daryl Dixon proposal and it couldn’t have been more perfect. “I said yes.” You gave an indignant oomf as you were pulled against Lori, her arms squeezing as tightly as they could manage. “Wait, wait, wait.” You laughed, patting her back in an effort to coerce her into releasing her hold. When she let go, you sat back, expression light. “We’re keeping it quiet for now, making it official later.”

“Why?”

You shrugged. “A lot can happen in a short amount of time. He could change his mind.” Especially with these fucking mood changes. 

“You’re right.” She agreed. You shot her a look, almost as if you had been expecting her to disagree with you. “ A lot can change. We don’t know what’s going to happen even in the next few minutes.” She paused. “Who we might lose.” Leaning forward, she cupped your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Think about it.” You studied her for a moment, the sadness and apprehension radiating from your friend and forming a veil over you that was almost smothering. You nodded. “Good. Now go see what Carol wants. I think I need a nap.” She gave you an encouraging smile and didn’t move as you stood, looking over your shoulder at her before you disappeared to find the other woman and your daughter.

It wasn’t hard to do. Not at all. You just followed the loud exclamations of a disgruntled infant. As you approached, you could tell your daughter had just been given a fresh diaper and was in the process of being swaddled. The cold, flat ground beneath her couldn’t have been helping things. The weather was warming but at a slow rate Regardless, you had no idea what was coming next: what Carol would share with you and the disaster that would follow.

“Oh, hey.” She greeted, patting the ground next to her. The lack of her usual gentle tone and welcoming smile were your first clues that something was amiss. She sighed heavily, not meeting your eyes once you were cross-legged at her side. Her hand was splayed over the top of the blanket, gently rubbing circles over Birdie’s belly. “There’s something I want to tell you—advice, if I can even call it that.” She said solemnly. You weren’t sure where her thoughts were at that moment but it was somewhere dark, somewhere in a place she had deserted since the deaths of Ed and Sophia.

“What is it?” You needlessly adjusted the knit hat on Birdie’s head; pulled the hood of the tiny jumpsuit more snug around her little round face.

“Babies cry, Y/N. It’s how they tell us when they need something. It’s the only way they can tell us.” Why was she schooling you on something you had already learned? And in such a monotonous fashion? “I don’t want Rick to be right but there are dangers and few options if a herd follows the noise.” She sighed heavily, her shoulders held slumped under an invisible weight. “I don’t like it but it’s fact.”

“I know that, Carol.” 

“It’s just—” When you looked away from the baby, your gaze was immediately drawn to the lone tear straying from her closed eyes. “When Sophia was born, she was—she was such a quiet baby.” Her words came so softly, so full of melancholic nostalgia that you felt your own heart clench. Then, when her eyes opened, they were hard, her expression stern and twisted. “He gave me a break. Ed.” She didn’t even need to say his name. You knew. “A couple of weeks before the—old habits came back. The bruises, the screaming.” She was trembling, her hand leaving Birdie to curl into a fist on top of her knee.

“Carol, we don’t have to—”

“Sophia felt it.” She nodded, staring off to nowhere in particular. “That energy—she began to cry, she was so unsettled. Ed didn’t like it. Shut her up or I will, he would say.” She bent forward, her face crumbling as her hand slid up to twist into the front of her jacket. “I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t know how else to keep her safe.”

You waited her out, terrified of what she was about to tell you. When you said nothing, she inhaled deeply and released her hold on the coat, stroking the back of a knuckle over Birdie’s cheek.

“Y/N, I am going to show you something. I only ask that you please try not to think less of me.” Your mouth was moving but no sound emerging, your wide eyes watching her lean over your daughter, shushing the discontented cries. “I would never hurt your daughter, just as I would have never hurt my own.” Before you could speak, she was pinching Birdie’s little nose with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. The crying ceased but the flailing did not, her little limbs jerking.

“Carol!” You threw yourself forward and snatched her wrists, pulling them away from your daughter, throwing the other woman off balance and onto her hip. Carol caught herself, her palm shoving toward you in a desperate gesture for you to calm down. “What the fu—”

“Look!” She pleaded, her head jerking toward the now silent baby.

Birdie was still, her tiny blue eyes open and searching, stunned. She wasn’t crying, not at that moment. Your jaw was agape, your mind warring between anger and bewilderment; between betrayal and understanding.

“You only do it for a moment, not long enough to cause any harm.” Carol sat up, tears flowing down her cheeks, unchecked. “I couldn’t let Sophia cry. I did what I had to do.” She shook her head adamantly, her eyes closed tightly as if she were trying to jar the unpleasant memories loose and out of her mind. “I don’t regret it. I don’t. She was safe from him.”

“I don’t—Carol, I can’t do that.” You were crying openly now, picturing yourself denying your daughter precious breath. Even just one attempt would break you, split you open from the inside out.

“I’m not telling you that you have to, but Y/N,” she paused, gathering herself back up onto her knees at your side. She intentionally kept space between the two of you. “Rick—he’s trying to keep us safe. You saw what those monsters were going to do to her. You’ve seen what walkers can and will do. Just until we find a car. Until—”

Your face was in your hands now, Birdie’s crying having picked back up. “What if I—”

“Only a moment, Y/N. She will catch her breath. Eventually, it—it trains her.” Carol hesitantly touched your shoulder, and you broke, bowing over your little one with open sobs. Your body trembled from the force of your crying, any sound muffled by the blanket pressing into your face. “I’m so sorry. I just want her to be safe. I want her to have a chance.”

The two of you stayed that way for an uncertain amount of time, long enough for your sobs to drain away into hiccups and whimpers. Sitting up, you roughly wiped at your face, red and puffy eyes frozen on your screaming baby. How could you do what she was suggesting? How? What would Daryl think? “I need to talk to Daryl.”

Carol nodded, but her expression screamed uncertainty. “Maybe you should show him.” She suggested. “He can see that it’s not hurting her.”

“The man wouldn’t even wipe her ass because he was afraid of hurting her, Carol.”

“You’re right. Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have—I’m so sorry.”

She felt ashamed. You could see it all over her; her face, the way she began to curl in on herself. She was ashamed of something she was forced to do to keep her baby girl safe. And then she had lost Sophia. It was clear that Carol wasn’t proud of the way she had to ensure her child’s safety. It wasn’t a hack you go around bragging about at neighborhood get-togethers. It was survival.

“Show me what to do.”

Expression grim, Carol moved closer and instructed. The actions were so simple. It was the very idea itself that was so impossibly difficult. Pinching Birdie’s little nose, the baby gasped wetly through her mouth just as your hand was coming down to cover it. Your heart was seizing, vibrating painfully in your chest. Just as your fingertips touched her cheek—

“What the fuck are you doin’?!”

Daryl.

[lipglossanon]

Day 19

Kink: Blindfold

Pairing: Ghost!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blindfold, slight somno, cnc (cause reader thinks it’s a dream she’s into it but ya know lol), very short and reader centric, slight dirty talk, masturbation, nipple play, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, cum marking

Not proofread

The house is drafty and damp the first day you move in; hell, the entire first week. It doesn’t help that you decided to move in the middle of October. But beggars can’t be choosers. And it’s a house you inherited years ago from some aunt (or maybe cousin). 

It’s quaint; a little home off the main highway out of town, a little ways back in the woods away from prying eyes. Thankfully whoever lived here before renovated the absolute shit out of it, so you only have to move yourself in and you’re set.

The first few weeks has you passing out as soon as your head touches the pillow. Between moving and starting your new job, you’re exhausted enough to just crash out. You eventually get a better routine that’s not so linear. 

It’s also around this time that you notice odd bits of your things either going missing or misplaced. Your car keys are near the kitchen counter instead of by the door or your phone turns up on the living room couch instead of where you had it plugged in to charge. 

There’s also a strange sensation of being watched felt randomly, but it’s always in your bedroom and en suite bathroom. Sometimes, when you wake in the mornings still sleep addled, it feels like someone’s lying beside you, before it slowly dissipates. 

Those mornings your clothes are askew like you’ve been tossing and turning all night—nipples stiff and sore like they’ve been pinched and tugged repeatedly and your panties are plastered to your soaked cunt, pussy lips and swollen clit outlined through the wet fabric. 

Sliding your hand underneath your panties, you get yourself off in no time flat—that odd feeling of being watched turning you on even more. It’s strange, but you always shake it off by the time you shower and leave for work. 

Finally, a Saturday night rolls around that sees you relaxing in bed, mindlessly watching TV. You don’t mean to, but you drift to sleep. It’s the only explanation for the hazy quality of your room and the staticky screen. A pair of cold hands smooth their way up your neck to cover your eyes with a cloth. 

Heat thrums through your body, nipples peaking through your shirt. Your mystery lover must notice because his hands move from your temples down to slip under your shirt to cup your breasts, squeezing and groping the soft flesh. He lingers, playing with your nipples until you’re squeezing your thighs and whimpering. 

Ignoring your pleas for more, he squeezes your tits until the fat spills between his fingers. He groans next to your ear and you feel him press his hard cock against your hip. 

“Please,” you gasp out. “Touch me.”

Keeping one hand on your breast pinching your nipple, he trails cold fingers down your stomach to dip beneath your panties. He swipes through your soaked folds to rub your pudgy clit. 

Wasting no time, he slides his middle and ring finger into your sopping wet hole, palm clapping against your fat bud. Keening, you rock your hips in time with his fingers fucking into your cunt. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a hushed breath into the shell of your ear. 

He keeps teasing and plucking your nipples, groping your breasts greedily. He thrusts his fingers into your pussy a little rougher, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. Your orgasm winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each press of his cold digits into your gushing pussy. 

Before you can tumble over that ledge, he slides his fingers out of your clenching heat with a wet schlick. 

“Noo,” you whine, head tossing back and forth. 

Using both hands, he pushes you flat onto the bed, body weight settling over you. He’s unusually cold, but your skin feels so feverish with arousal it’s a welcome contrast. Sighing, you feel his cock prod at your cunt lips before notching at your hole. You moan as he pushes in, pussy eagerly sucking his cock into your fluttering walls. 

“Oh fuck,” you mewl, feeling his fingers rub and circle your clit. “God, right there.”

You catch a little bit off groan from above, but it all slips away under your own noises as he begins to fuck you hard and deep. The head of his cock rubs against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt perfectly, pushing you closer to climax with every rough grind against it. 

You reach up to take the blindfold off, realizing you’re unsure of who the man of your dreams even is, but a cold hand snags your wrists and presses them above your head. This angle has his pelvis grinding into your clit as he pounds your dripping pussy, making you cry out in pleasure. 

“I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck, oh, oh—“

Your voice cuts off with a gasping moan, pussy clamping down on the cock thrusting in and out of your hole so tightly he buries himself deep in your pulsing walls. You thrash and writhe underneath his cool body, but he doesn’t budge, cock splitting open your snug pussy until your orgasm leaves you boneless and breathless. 

He begins fucking you with fast shallow strokes of his dick, quietly groaning as you squeeze and milk his cock. It doesn’t take long for him to pull out and shoot his load across your swollen cunt, coating your clit and pussy lips in cum. Mewling, your hole squeezes down on nothing, weakly aroused by him marking you with his spend. 

Feeling abnormally tired now, you fall asleep before you can move to clean up. It’s not until you’re jolted awake by your phone going off that you realize you’re alone in bed, tv shut off, and weak morning light streaming through your window. Rubbing your eyes, you then shift a hand down to feel your body. Completely covered up and no mess to speak of; you laugh to yourself. 

“I need to buy a vibrator if I keep dreaming like that,” you rasp, climbing out of bed to head to the bathroom. 

You’re totally oblivious to the shadowy outline of a man drifting behind you, watching your every move such as he has everyday since you moved into his home. 

[sylusonychinus]

Episode 7: The Weight of a Name (HIS POV)

Series Masterlist

The city lights stretched endlessly before him, glittering like a thousand false promises. From the top floor of Onychinus, Sylus Qin sat alone in his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in his hand, though he barely took a sip. It wasn’t the alcohol that kept him awake tonight. It never was.

He leaned back against the couch, staring out at the neon skyline, but his mind wasn’t here. It was years away—buried in the past he never spoke of, hidden beneath the empire he’d built with blood and cunning.

Everything he had done—the casino, the auction house, the connections he’d forged with the most powerful and dangerous people in the world—had all been for one reason.

Her.

She didn’t remember him.

She didn’t remember the boy with no name, the boy she had saved.

But he remembered.

He could never forget.

Flashback

The orphanage had been cold that winter. It was always cold, but that year, the frost bit through their thin clothes like knives, turning their breaths into ghostly wisps in the dark.

He had no name back then, just a number. A faceless, nameless child among many, waiting for someone to take him away, to claim him. No one ever did.

No one, except her.

She had been small too, too young to take care of herself, let alone another orphan, but she had done it anyway. She had found him curled up in the corner of the drafty room where the weakest of them huddled together for warmth.

"You’re always alone," she had said one day, crouching beside him, her voice soft but certain. "You need a name. How will anyone remember you if you don’t have one?"

He had been too weak to answer. Too tired.

So she had given him one.

"Sylus," she had decided, her lips curving into a rare smile. "That’s what I’ll call you."

He didn’t know where she had heard it, or why she had chosen it, but from that day on, he was no longer just a nameless orphan. He was Sylus. And she—she had become his world.

She was the only warmth in that wretched place. The only person who ever looked at him like he was something more than just another forgotten child.

She was the one who fed him when he was too weak to move, sneaking scraps of bread under the thin blankets they shared. The one who held his hand when the older kids tried to take what little he had. The one who whispered stories to him at night, telling him about a future where they’d escape together, where they’d never be cold or hungry again.

But fate was cruel.

One day, she was gone.

Adopted. Taken.

And he—he was left behind, staring at the empty bed beside him, his fingers clenched so tightly around the thin sheet that his nails dug into his skin.

He never forgot the way she had looked back at him as they dragged her away. How her eyes had widened in panic, how she had reached for him, but the adults had been faster. Stronger.

"Sylus—!"

Her voice had been the last thing she had ever given him.

And he had never seen her again.

Present Day

Sylus exhaled slowly, pressing his thumb against the rim of his glass, the ice inside melting against his skin.

That was why he had done it. Why he had clawed his way up from the filth of his childhood to the top of this empire.

He had built the casino, the auction house, the underground network of power—not for greed, not for ambition, but for survival.

Because in this world, power was the only thing that mattered.

If he had been powerful back then, they never would have taken her from him.

If he had been powerful, she never would have had to leave.

And now… now she was back.

The girl who had once been his salvation was now standing in his world, staring at him like he was nothing more than a stranger.

She didn’t remember the nights they had spent huddled together under stolen blankets. She didn’t remember the whispered dreams, the promises of escape. She didn’t remember him.

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his silver hair.

What would she think if she knew? If she knew that everything he had done—every calculated move, every ruthless deal, every life he had ruined—had all been to make sure he would never be powerless again?

Would she hate him?

Would she look at him with the same horror that everyone else did?

His grip tightened around the glass. It didn’t matter.

She was here now.

And this time, no one would take her away.

Not even her own memory.

Taglist: @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @seris-the-amious @paninisstuff @mysticcollectionvoid @animegamerfox @mcdepressed290 @fries11 @placeholdddddd @madam8 @demon-master-zero @the-reaper472

[astrmastr]

Me after strategically placing a landmine inside your toilet so when you go for that morning poo you launch farther than Buzz Aldrin has ever dreamed

OH BOY TIME FOR MY MORNING POOP :DDDDD

hmmg

bit drafty in here today