#alright I’m done rambling now thank you for the ask!

[lovebugism]

Hi um, could you please maybe write something with Stevie and his agoraphobic girlfriend, who is worried she clings to him/depends on him too much for her own comfort and panics and tries to distance herself from him? (Also I adore your writing, you write for Steve so well, it hits me in the heart constantly)

thank u angel! i lovelovelove this request! — you worry steve thinks you're a burden, but really he just loves you (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of social anxiety, 1k)

Steve can tell when you’re out of the shower. The air starts to smell vaguely of fresh flowers and warm vanilla as wisps of steam travel down the hall. He sorts groceries in the kitchen and smiles to himself when he hears your bare feet pad closer, giddy with the thought of surprising you.

You freeze in the doorway at the sight of him, looking more scared than shocked. Wet hair drips onto the neck of your oversized sweatshirt — definitely his. “What are you…?” you trail off, wide eyes darting around the kitchen, now filled with brown paper bags and new groceries.

Steve grins, pink and lopsided, as he slides fresh milk into the door of the fridge. “Hey, babe,” he greets in a honeyed voice.

“Hi…” you waver, brows still pinched with a distant concern.

“Good shower?” he asks, just before a chuckle spills from his mouth. “You were in there for, like, thirty minutes.”

You force a laugh of your own. “Yeah, it was… It was… fine— What are you doing?”

Steve meets your screwed-up features with a brighter beam. He holds a loaf of bread in one hand and chips in the other. “I went grocery shopping,” he answers.

“Okay,” you nod, then shrink inside yourself again. “…Why?”

He shrugs and sets the items on the counter, rambling as he digs into another crumpling paper bag. “‘Cause I knew you’ve been meaning to do it and everything, so… I thought I’d make it a little easier on you.”

Your heart threatens to swell at the simple act of kindness. Your brain doesn’t let it, though. The mean thing can’t comprehend that he’s doing this because he loves you. Instead, it tells you he’s doing this because he thinks you can’t.

“Thank you,” you murmur sheepishly, wringing your clammy hands into a knot. “But, you know, I could’ve done it…”

Steve scoffs. “Of course, you could’ve! I just wanted to do something nice for you.” He puts boxes of something into the upper cabinets you usually have trouble reaching. With his back to you, he rambles. “And don’t worry about paying me back, alright? Consider this me making up for takeout the other night. I really did forget my wallet at home, babe, I swear.”

The memory makes him laugh now that he’s over being horrified about it. He thought about it for days, though — the way he patted at his jeans in search of something that wasn’t there, and how the excuse sounded like a lie as it fell from his lips. 

You didn’t think twice about it after it happened. You were more than happy to pay for your dinner that night, especially considering Steve never lets you pay for anything.

As his quiet chuckling fades, he realizes you hadn’t laughed about it at all. Not even the pity laugh you give when you don’t think something’s all that funny, but you don’t want to be rude. 

With a worried look pinching his features, Steve looks at you over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes go wide. “Hm?”

“What’s that look for, huh?”

“What look?” 

“That one,” he says with a quiet chuckle, pointing to the concerned frown scrunching your brows and swimming in your eyes. “You look upset about something.”

“No!” you blurt before you mean to. The last thing you want him to think is that you’re unhappy with him. So quieter and less convincingly, you waver, “No. I’m not… I’m not upset.”

Steve crosses his toned arms over his chest, looking less than swayed. “Did I… Did I do something? Should I not have bought the groceries— ‘Cause they were having a bunch of sales, you know— it wasn’t that expensive, I promise—”

“It’s not that,” you assure him firmly, before going suddenly shy all over again. “I just… I really could’ve done it, Steve.”

He nods, furrow-browed. “I know.”

You swallow hard. “I just don’t want you to think that you have to do all this stuff for me just because it’s… ‘cause it’s harder for me.”

Steve’s structured face goes lax with realization. He nods slowly to himself, chest wrenching because he understands it all now — why you look so pouty about the whole thing. Because you think you’re a burden.

His sneakers pad softly against the tile floor until they’re planted just ahead of your bare feet. Steve smiles down at you and smooths his palms over your sides. “I don’t feel like I have to do anything,” he promises with a faint laugh, squeezing gently at your hips. “I like doing these things for you… ‘Cause I like you and everything, I guess.”

You scrunch your nose to keep from smiling too big. “Well, that’s gross…” you mumble.

“Disgusting, huh?” Steve concurs with a lopsided grin before smacking a kiss to your mouth.

Your lips tingle for more of him when he pulls away. Your yearning hands twist at the hem of his shirt before he can step away from you completely. “At least let me help put them away,” you plead with sparkling eyes.

Steve’s face twists. “What do I look like to you?” he scoffs. “I’m not some kinda schmuck that makes his girl put up groceries! Go finish getting ready. Or lay down or something— I’m good in here.”

“I can help!” you protest, doing everything but stomping your foot.

“I know you can. Excuse me for wanting to pamper you.”

You make a faint grumbly noise of disdain but don’t press the issue any further.

“You can make it up to me later?” Steve offers with a plush pink grin. His softly calloused palms smooth over your shoulders, wide thumbs rubbing along your collarbones. “Movie date? At the Hawk? Next weekend?”

Your chest pinches with a momentary panic, but you know he’s doing everything right. 

The Hawk isn’t crazy crowded these days, and cinemas don’t usually call for a ton of human interaction. He’s giving you an entire week to prepare yourself for it, too. Steve’s learned all your little idiosyncrasies — for better or for worse.

“Try?” Steve presses at your silence.

You exhale a sharp breath through your nose to dispel the fleeting worry in your chest. You nod. “I’ll try.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 2

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you're not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Loki glowers at the people around him as you approach. You have to resist the urge to turn and run away. Thor helps in that. You know he won’t let you turn back. Not to mention the man who sent you. 

He looks over as Thor calls his name and slaps his arm, “told you, not very long at all.” 

“Mmm,” Loki narrows his eyes and his lips thin. He sends you a cursory sneer. “You came all this way for... Stark’s minion?” 

“I believe her title is Executive Assistant,” Thor corrects him. 

You give a helpless look. A pursing of your lips that must look painful. Loki doesn’t look at you again. His cheeks tauten and his eyes roll towards the ceiling. 

“Right, um, this isn’t very easy to say so... um, Mr...” You look at Thor and he just shrugs. “Loki, erm, alright. So the thing is--” 

“Oh, you know, there’s a cafe I’ve been wanting to try. Steve, you know Steve, he recommended it. Why don’t we sit down and discuss?” Thor claps your back and nudges his brother. You grimace and Loki looks less than impressed. 

“Be out with it.” 

“Oh brother, don’t be rude. Come. You could do with a bit of a treat. You’re in a foul mood.” Thor reproaches. 

“I wonder why that would be,” Loki hisses. 

“Well, as I was saying, I saw they have a special on. A turtle donut? Turtle on a donut? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he rambles and drags you both across the lobby. 

“It’s not... well, doesn’t matter,” you let the murmur drift off. 

You don’t have much of a choice, or the strength to resist him. You’re ushered out of Stark Tower and towards the cafe you pass on your way in. You stopped in once for one of their holiday lattes but you don’t often get the time to have coffee outside the stale breakroom brew. 

Loki shakes off his brother and follows behind. Thor lets you in first and holds the door. He makes his brother go ahead of him and you join the queue around the counter. 

“What would you like?” Thor asks. 

You bob up and down as you search the cafe. You flinch as you realise he’s talking to you. “Oh, I’m fine--” 

“I insist. Now please, coffee or tea? A late?” 

“Latte,” Loki corrects him. 

“Yes, that.” Thor laughs at himself. 

“Well, I’ll just have a small tea. That’s fine. Um...” you look up at the menu, “Earl Grey is fine.” 

“Black tea, large,” Loki starts before you’re even done speaking. “Since you’re being generous.” 

Thor grins and leans over to look inside the display case. “No sweets?” 

“No thanks.” You answer. Loki doesn’t acknowledge the question, instead glaring at those who stop to stare at his brother. Several lenses are aimed in Thor’s ambivalent direction. 

“May as well find a seat,” Thor stands as the barista motions him up to the cashier, “I’ll find you.” 

You glance over at Loki as he ignores you, rather pointedly as he lifts his nose. You shuffle away and go to an empty table in the corner. You sit against the wall and twiddle your fingers over the table.  

To your surprise, Loki sits across from you. You fidget as your eyes continue to wander around him, never landing on him. He sighs and you chew your lip. 

“Get on with it. I am not in the mood for socializing, especially not with... whatever you are.” 

You tilt your head and your mouth. Right, this is not going to be fun. He has the right idea of it though. It’s best to just get it over with. 

“Okay, uh, right, Loki, sir,” you twist your hand around your finger. “Prince?” 

He blinks dully. You nod, egging yourself on. 

“Mr. Stark sent me to tell you something. And I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you this but--” 

“Tea.” Thor booms as he drops into the chair next to his brother, nearly dropping his armload.  

He doles out the cups and gleefully unwraps his donut. You’re sweltering as you notice the audience behind him, entranced by not only his size but his fame. Loki’s cheeks pinch in irritation as he peeks over his shoulder. 

“So let me just get it done with. Um, you... you...” you frown and your eye brows dip down then pop up. You struggle to find the right way to say it. There really isn’t on. “You cannot stay on earth.” 

Loki spins back to you, his chair scraping on the floor, and Thor chokes on his mouthful of chocolate, pecan, and dough. Both of them make confused noises. 

“You’re being deported. I... I’m sorry.” 

“Deported? Who says I cannot stay in Midgard? Who would make me leave?” Loki scoffs. 

“It... it wasn’t my decision. I was only sent the paperwork and I tried to give it to Mr. Stark--” 

“No doubt he had a hand in it. How can this be? I am a refugee. It was to my understanding that the status guarantees me safe harbour.” He blusters. 

“Brother, please, don’t be angry at the little one. She is merely the harbinger.” Thor coaxes. 

“I’m sorry,” you begin, squirming as your body’s encased in flame, “I understand it’s not ideal but--” 

“You understand?! You understand nothing. My home was destroyed.” He snarls. “How is it I am to be dejected and my brother is free to stay?” 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I wasn’t... I didn’t...” 

“Brother, please, she cannot be held responsible--” 

“Don’t tell me who or what!” Loki shoves him away. “Curse this planet and curse Stark.” 

A green flash has you flattened against the back of your chair and your vision speckles. You blink as only an empty chair remains next to Thor. He shakes his head at it and takes another bite. He looks at you and shrugs. 

“Let him have his tantrum. We’ll simply have to try again.” He breaks off a piece of his donut, “you must try this. It doesn’t even taste like turtle. Much sweeter.” 

[krirebr]

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore. 

He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.

“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”

“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”

Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”

The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”

They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.” 

Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.

Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.” 

Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”

Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”

“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.

Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.

This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.

The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.

Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked. 

The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.

He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.

Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.

You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.” 

You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”

He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”

This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”

He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.” 

Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”

He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”

That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.

“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.

He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”

You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.

He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.

“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”

You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing. 

He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”

You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.

The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.

You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on. 

Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.

“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you? 

You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut. 

Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.

Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.

He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”

You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact. 

“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”

What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.

Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.

“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.  

“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”

He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”

You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t. 

You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on. 

When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on. 

When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it. 

As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.

After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”

God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.” 

He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”

You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.

Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?

You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered. 

And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.

You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”

Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”

His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @foulpersonahandsvoid

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

“Double denim, bold choice.”

I’m not, like, doing this on purpose, Billy huffs, leaning against the bathroom wall. Maybe it’s you.

“What’s me?”

Maybe it’s you choosing my outfits, maybe it’s not even me.

“What like my own regular dress up Barbie, Billy edition?”

Maybe.

Eddie squints in the mirror, initially thinks he’s going to go for some speedos or something but then figures that’s way too telling. Billy Hargrove is hot, sure, with his curls and his stupid little mustache and his fucking golden tanned biceps- He concentrates on a Dio tee shirt instead. Like really fucking tries to switch the plain white tee Billy is wearing but – nope. Nothing happens.

You look like you’re constipated.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “It’s not me. The outfit. Or if it is, it’s not me doing it like, consciously.”

I know it ain’t you, Billy pops the collar of the jacket, hunches his shoulders and eyes himself in the mirror, you wouldn’t pick this, I actually look good.

And he does, especially next to Eddie. Eddie’s still bruised to hell and walking like he’s a hundred and fifty years old. Eddie’s hair is a greasy mess and he’s got patchy stubble all over his face. Eddie is still rocking a hospital gown. Eddie knows he looks like shit, and on top of all that he's now actually offended, "this isn't exactly what I'd normally choose to wear Hargrove."

Eddie’s got strict instructions to be quick, and to press the call button right after so the nurse can put fresh dressings on him. Eddie promises himself to do instruction number two to make up for the fact that he's playing fast and loose with instruction number one.

The water just feels so good. Even if he has been standing too long and he's slumped against the wall, it feels so good to wash all this shit off him. The near death. The upside down. The smell of hospital. All of it. He could stand here all day, but he knows, physically, his body will let him down on that one sooner or later, so he gets on with it.

Is that a bar of soap?? On your hair??? Billy sounds beyond horrified.

“Shhhh man, let me enjoy being clean.”

Tell me this isn’t normally how you wash your hair.

“Alright, I won’t.”

When we get out of here that’s the first thing we are going to sort out. Your hair is a fixer upper but we can definitely do something with it.

Eddie sighs, “can we think about this another time, my hair is like, not my priority right now.”

Billy falls silent for all of two minutes, jesus Munson, where have you been hiding that?

“My dick is not up for discussion.”

Why is he looking at you like that?

Eddie desperately tries to ignore Billy, but when he’s actually having a conversation it’s fucking hard, “thanks Steve.”

“And I rescued your guitar too, I don’t think there’s anything left at the trailer, but I’m pretty sure Owen’s won’t let me in again anyway, one and done kind of deal, plus I think they're going to like, take it away? Maybe?-”

Does he usually ramble like this?

“-anyway, I saved everything I could. It's in my garage right now, and these are the books I brought in for now, Dustin said you really like this one-”

Who the fuck is Dustin? Isn’t that one of Max’s little twerps?

“-but if there’s any that you want, just ask. Or something different, they've reopened the library now.”

What has happened to him? Didn’t he used to be cool?

“Thanks Steve,” Eddie can feel his fucking eye twitching, trying to ignore Billy, “I really appreciate all this man, like, I can’t tell you how much.” He thinks he's talking too loud to try and drown out Billy, and then tries to speak normally. Knows he's being weird from how Steve looks at him.

Suck up.

Shut the fuck up, he’s doing a nice thing.

“You okay? You went a bit like, cross eyed there.”

“Fine, fine, just not a hundred percent yet, or whatever.”

“Right right,” Steve nods, “I’m going to go and get the kids, they’re in with Max-"

What does he mean, they’re with Max? The panic that radiates from Billy is almost palpable.

Eddie repeats the words before he can even think it through, "what do you mean, they're in with Max?"

Steve rubs his forehead, then runs his hands through his hair and sits down again, "right, sorry. I did mean to tell you about this-"

Make him get to the fucking point.

"-so she was going to be the fourth sacrifice, right? Well El managed to stop it, from wherever she was. And that was what like, weakened Vecna? Stopped his plan or whatever, and I swear she's fine, she's getting better already, like woke up almost right away once Vecna was dead, Lucas says - but, he still hurt her. Both arms and legs are broken and," Steve takes a deep breath, looks constipated for a second, "she can't see."

The sight of Chrissie's white eyes flash unavoidably in Eddie's head. The sound of the cracking of her bones.

What does all that even mean? What the fuck is Vecna? Sacrifice? Does he mean Henry-

"Shhhhh just shut up a minute-"

"Oh," Steve sits back surprised, "sorry." He looks like a kicked puppy, "sorry I didn't tell you sooner, it's just...been a lot lately," jesus Steve looks like he's going to cry. "Sorry, I know it wasn't really my decision but it felt like you've been through a lot the last few days and I didn't want to make it worse - shit. Sorry. I'll uhm, stop now."

"Sorry. No," Eddie rushes to explain, waving his hands at Steve, "not, not you. Just the...this stupid fucking voice in my head-"

You're stupid.

"-I just, got overwhelmed. I'm sorry. I," Eddie huffs, "are you sure she's alright?"

Steve brightens, "yeah, she's doing great, the doctors are amazed at how fast she's picking up. But then, she's so fucking stubborn."

That's my girl.

"So stubborn," Eddie agrees.

"El says it wasn't even all her, she said Max fought so hard, it was amazing," Steve looks so fond, so goddam proud of her, Eddie cant help but smile.

They end up sitting like that for a second, just smiling at each other softly.

Okay, so what the fuck is happening right now?

Eddie clears his throat, looks away, and Steve stands up again, "you sure you're ready for this?”

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, thanks for keeping them off my back until now, I really appreciate it, you know.”

“Yeah, they’re great, but they're...a lot. Don’t ever tell them I said that I like them.”

“Your secrets safe with me.”

In Eddie’s head, Billy makes barfing noises.

I want to go and see her.

The second this lot clear out, I swear we will, I'm allowed out of bed now, so there's no stopping us-

But then Dustin’s there, throwing himself at Eddie, and all the kids are chattering all over each other, and Billy stays quiet for a little while.

“Don’t worry about me, Hellfire will rise again! In fact, next time you guys are in, bring my DnD books and something to write with and I’ll start planning-”

“The nurse said nothing too strenuous,” Steve glowers at him, from his perch on the other side of the room.

“Stevie! Baby! It’s just a little creative thought, a little world building, a little planning, don’t you worry your pretty little head about little old me-”

Is Harrington blushing???

Eddie slides right over that and carries on because that is the dumbest shit he’s ever heard and Steve’s already hiding behind his jock sports fixtures magazine, or whatever the fuck it is he’s reading.

“So where’s the little super hero? Do I get to meet her?”

“El wanted to stay with Max, didn’t want to leave her alone.”

“Oh,” Eddie feels warm inside. That’s real good of her, “that’s real good of her.”

Part Three

[hoe4sports]

“A version of you“

Alessia Russo x reader

A/N: Teaser of potential series: I have a couple of ideas for a storyline with Alessia, reader and Lille Russo. It includes different pov’s; one with the reader as an adult and one with the reader as Lille. So I’m testing the waters with this one, please let me know if you think this is something that could be fun exploring further that you would want to read. No triggers <3

She was standing there. In the doorframe. With what was probably the most attractive dress you had ever seen. Her hair was down. Her makeup was neatly done, almost seductively. You had seen her a bunch of times, and you had babysat multiple times, but you had never seen her look this good. It took a second for you to snap yourself back into reality. “Please, come in!.” The blonde spoke. The way her lips move was mesmerising. You felt like you couldn’t think straight. She’s was just standing there in all her glory with the baby on her hip. The cutest little baby that you had ever met. She was such a good baby, never fussy.

You snapped yourself out of it as you stepped into her spacious apartment. It’s darker than the last time you came over, but that’s also logical considering it’s quite late. The lights are dimmed and there is soft music on in the background. Alessia closed the door behind you before heading towards the living room.

”She hasn’t been fed her porridge, so if she could have it in like, 15 minutes? Then whenever she gets grumpy, just pop her into bed. Im rambling, you already know the drill! I’m running a little late, so I’ll have to go. You have my number and Frida’s number so do not hesitate to call if you have questions. Concert will be over around 11, so I’m home around 12. Again, thank you so so much!”

You smiled and nodded as the baby was handed over to you. The little girl looked up at you with the biggest smile. You loved babysitting her, and she seemed to like having you around. She was hardly a baby anymore. Everyone called her “Lille”, which means “Little one” in Norwegian. Considering Lille was half Norwegian, it wasn’t surprising at all. Lille touched your nose as you popped her on your hip with mr.bunbun in her hand. Alessia leaned in and kissed Lille on the cheek before grabbing her handbag. “Alright, mommy is going now. Say bye-bye mommy” you said as you made a waving motion with your hand. Lille giggled and waved before babbling “Mama bye”. The look on Alessia’s face made her look like her heart melting, but with such an adorable baby; how could she not? You understood why she melted, Lille looked so much like her mama and you had just discovered that her mama was fairly attractive. “Alright girls, goodbye! Call me if anything!” And with that Alessia was headed out the door for “The eras tour.”

“Alright, Lille. Skal vi finne litt grøt kanskje?» you asked as Lille started smacking her lips together to pretend to eat while kicking her legs. “Mmmm” she said as she grinned. Alessia liked that you could speak Norwegian to her, it was a sneaky way of trying to let her daughter know the culture. But what is better than having a babysitter that speaks Norwegian? Well, I think we all know it.

[rogueddie]

Peppermint Heartache T | 734 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the tea he brings me without prompt when I’m sick

Eddie isn't sure the last time he was sick, but he's sure that it didn't feel like this.

"You sure you're ok, kid?" Wayne asks, hovering in his doorway.

"Yeah, 'm'kay," Eddie manages to mumble out. He struggles to raise an arm, giving him a weak thumbs up.

"Alright," Wayne relents, but Eddie can hear how little his attempt has done to reassure him. "I'll try to get home as early as I can. Make you some nice soup. Sound good?"

"Sounds great."

After he hears the door click shut behind Wayne, he's not sure how much time passes. He stays where he is, slipping in and out of a light doze.

The light knocking at the door startles him awake, though it's soft and quiet enough that it doesn't pound in his head.

He plans on ignoring them, but they knock again after waiting for a moment.

Pulling his bed sheets around him, tucking it up to his chin, he shuffles out. He squints at the light when he cracks the door open, frowning.

"Steve?"

"Hi Ed," he says, speaking softly. He raises the tupperware he's holding. "Heard you weren't feeling well so I made you some broth."

"Wayne sent you?" Eddie asks, stepping back so Steve can come inside.

"Yeah. He's really worried about you." Steve pauses, stepping closer and pressing his hand to Eddies forehead. "Do you have any, like, medicine? Some tylenol? You're too warm."

He tries to explain where it is, but he's interrupted by a yawn. He's not sure that Steve understands him for a moment, until he's being gently herded to the bathroom.

Steve quickly closes the toilet lid so Eddie can sit, before rooting through the bathroom cabinet.

"Aha!" He says, pulling out a bottle. He shakes it, frowning when only one tablet rattles inside it. "Damn. I'll need to grab you another bottle. Hopefully this one will be enough. Should I grab you a glass of-"

"No, it's fine," Eddie mutters, grabbing the tablet and swallowing it dry.

"Gross. Anyway, how are you feeling? Do you want some food now? Or, like, Wayne said you have chicken soup if you'd prefer that- I just... broth always makes me feel better when I'm sick. Or I could-"

"Steve. All I want to do is lay back down for a while. Maybe have some company, if you're not busy. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Steve sighs, smiling sheepishly. "Should we-"

Eddie is already up, shuffling back to his bed. He flops onto it, curling onto his side. He grumbles when Steve starts to tuck in the sheets, but makes no move to stop him.

He ends up completely cocooned, the only his face sticking out.

Steve sits on the floor, back to the wall. "Do you want me to be quiet?"

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Love the Buckley style rambling but, um... I don't know. I don't like being alone when I feel like this."

"No, I get that. I'm happy to sit here and make sure you're ok, don't worry. I'm comfortable."

"If you're sure..."

"I am."

With Steve sitting guard, it's easy to finally fall asleep. And, by the time he wakes back up, he's already starting to feel better. He feels well rested, at least.

He notices Steves absence immediately, finally crawling out his cocoon to go looking for him.

"What are you doing up?" Steve asks, when Eddie finally finds him in the kitchen. "Go, I'll be back in a moment, you need to rest."

Eddie, rolling his eyes, does what he asks. Though he does grumble complaints under his breath the whole way back.

"You couldn't wait five minutes," Steve continues, when he finally comes back to Eddies room, holding a steaming mug and bowl. "Here, I cooked your broth and made you some tea."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Wayne says hi, by the way. He's probably going to be late coming home, too, so I'm stuck here babysitting."

Eddies about to make a comment, when he finally gets a whiff of the tea. He takes a sip to confirm it.

"Is this peppermint?"

"Yeah. You said you like it."

"I didn't think you'd remember."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You can't keep doing this, Steve, I'll fall in love with you."

Steve laughs, ducking his head, cheeks flushing. When he looks up, smirking, a glint in his eyes, Eddie knows he's already doomed.

"Promise?"

[delulu-is-the-solulu-843]

“Workout” buddies

Abby Anderson x fem reader

Summary: you go the campus gym and can’t help but be distracted by the beautiful woman working out, she seems to be just as distracted as you are.

Warnings: smut, semi public sex, fingering, cursing,strangers to more?

-

You don’t want to admit the rarity at which you use the free campus gym. Sure you’ve used it once or twice before, but who has time to go to the gym? Apparently your new found gym crush does. You hated yourself for staring but how could you not, bulging biceps moving seamlessly with every dumbbell curl she did, her tight black sweat pants clinging to her muscular thighs and ass perfectly. You shamelessly checked her out from your place at the treadmill, as she did bicep curls In front of the full length mirror. Your eyes travelled up her body until her eyes met yours in the mirror.

You fell a small part of you die inside as your face flushes and you look away. You can’t believe you got caught staring, you risk taking another glance hoping she wouldn’t be to mad, but your met with her smirking at you through the mirror. You continue your run on the treadmill looking anywhere but her before you make a bigger fool of yourself.

This is how it went the whole time you move from different machine to different machine but somehow your eyes would always find her. She knew it too, she’d flex harder than necessarily, she’d smirk as you watched the way her muscles rippled under her skin, and she’d wait till you were looking at her to lift the bottom of her tank top to wipe the sweat from her forehead giving you a lovely view of her abs. You can’t help the gasp that leaves your lips. You could the moisture leaving your mouth and quickly going south.

You were getting ready to do deadlifts when the Greek goddess approached you.

“Want a spotter?” Her silky smooth voice asks

And you were happy you weren’t holding the bar yet because you would have surly dropped it.

“Uh yeah that’d be great thanks” you bumbled out

She nodded with a smile as she stood behind you. You could tell her eyes on you, you wiped your sweaty palms on your workout pants before you grabbed the bar.

You did four before you started to struggle. You got the bar upon the fifth one before you really started to struggle before you felt her front flush against your back and her strong hands holding your waist.

“It’s alright I got you” she her voice low against your ear

Your ass was tucked into her pelvis

“Just put it down slow” she guided you

And you slowly dropped the bar breathing heavy

“Good girl” she whispers into your ear

“U-uh thank you, for helping with that i um I’m done for today so I gonna hit the showers thanks again” you awkwardly ramble before rushing off towards the locker room.

You left Abby standing there smirking at your retreating form.

You just had to hurry up and shower then you could leave and forget that ever happened, you thought to yourself as you quickly opened your locker and grabbed your shower bag and towel. You could the wetness between your legs and the way your clit throbbed. You definitely had a date with your vibrator tonight.

You quickly showered and you were now in front of your locker, your towel still wrapped around you.

“I’ve e never seen you here before” a familiar voice speaks out and you jump whipping around with your hand to your chest over your rapidly beating heart

“Sorry” she says with a laugh “I didn’t mean to scare you” it’s the Greek goddess again and now you are fully convinced she is trying to kill you with how she has her muscles on display for your eyes to see. She wore nothing but a black sports bra and black boxers, her wet hair back in its signature braid.

“I don’t come here very often” you answer her question

“Hmm that’s a shame” she pushes off the lockers she leaning against and slowly makes her way to you until she’s in front of you

“I’m gonna miss having an audience” she teases with a little smirk

You blush while opening and closing your mouth trying to find something to say

Her raspy chuckle breaks the silence of the locker room

She moves closer to you until your back is pressed against the lockers and she’s right in front of you, she braces one hand on the locker by your head while the other lifts your chin so your meeting her stormy blue eyes.

She leans down and she’s a hairs length away from your lips, you can feel her breath on her face

“S’ok I was looking too” her voice is low

Your eyes flick down to her lips before meeting her eyes again, you decide to take it into your own hands and you surge forward your lips meeting hers.

It’s a hot and messy kiss, she has you pressed against the lockers and your holding onto her shoulder while your other hand is on the small of her back, trying to pull her even closer to you. Her tongue runs along the seam of your lips, her teeth nip at your bottom lip. When you moan her tongue goes into your mouth and explores when she can reach.

She breaks the kiss and you both catch your breath, your eyes meet hers and your knees almost give out at the look she gives you. Her eyes are dark, the blue irises barely visible around her blown pupils.

You feel her moves you towel and you feel her warm hand on your thigh

“This okay?” She asks as she kisses your jaw

You nod

“Use your words baby” she tells you as she nips at your neck

“Y-yes please” you breathe out

“Good girl” she mumbles against your neck as her fingers trail up your thigh to your wet core

She runs her fingers through your slit and groans at the slick she finds there

“Fuck your so wet, gonna have to be quick. Don’t want anyone to walk in” she tells you as she starts to circle your clit with her fingers.

You whimper and grab onto her arm, feeling the the muscles move under your hand just floods your center even more. She kisses and nips at your neck and her fingers move down to your hole.

She slowly fucks one finger into you savoring the way your velvety wet wall feel around her.

She adds a second finger and curls them hitting your sweet spot and you have to bite your lip to prevent the moan that wants to come out.

She sets a quick pace, her fingers fuck into you while her palm rubs against your clit. Your hips rock with every movement seeking the friction your body is begging for.

All that can be heard throughout the locker room was the squelch of your wet pussy, your quiet whimpers, and Abby’s breathing.

“Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well.” She praises and she feels your wall flutter around her fingers

She smirks as she kisses the marks she’s made on your neck

You could feel the coil getting ready to snap, she could feel how close your were with how your pussy was clenching her finger

“Let go for me baby, cum on my fingers”she tells you and you feels the coil snap

She kisses you and you moan into her mouth. Your back arches off of the lockers and your nails dig into her shoulder. She grunts into the kiss and slows down her movements helping you ride out your orgasm.

She breaks the kiss and kisses your forehead before she takes her fingers out of you. She licks your juices off of her fingers before she quickly gets dressed. You stay leaning against the lockers eyes closed and catching your breath after probably the best orgasm you’ve ever had. When you finally caught your breath and opened your eyes.

The Greek goddess had just finished getting dressed and left the locker room with a wink.

You were about to call out to her when others started to enter the locker room. You quickly get dressed and you’re about to leave when you noticed a piece of paper on the bench closest to her locker. You quickly grab it and read it as you leave.

(XXX)XXX-XXXX

Give me a call. Next time I won’t have to be so quick.

-Abby

[justporo]

Astarion doesn't know how to cook, but wants to make Tav a romantic dinner. He enlists the help of Gale and regrets it near instantly. Do with this what you like :3

My dear mushy, this is a wonderful prompt, so thank you so much for that. (I loved that it had me write another one of the companions!)

It is in fact so wonderful that it will turn into a short little two-part thingy (because it makes sense in my head and also I can split up the parts, so I can go to bed now, hihi)

So, have: Gale and Astarion pissing each other off in this part and find out if Tav actually does get her romantic dinner in the second part of:

A Night of... Shattered Glass and the Smell of Burning?

“Dinner? Oh Astarion, all these months on the road and all this time since we’ve come to Baldur’s Gate. And you only ask me now?”

“Not with you, you idiot, with Tav!”

Astarion was standing in the wizard’s study – in the place Gale had obtained after your joint adventure to stay a while longer in the city. The wizard was sitting behind his massive desk, Tara on his lap who purred excessively because of all the head scratches she received. And in front of the desk stood Astarion, arms crossed over his chest and an displeased expression on his face. His body was halfway turned towards the door as if he wanted to be ready to leave the room and this place – forever – whenever the need arose.

Gale grinned at the vampire’s uneasiness but didn’t say anything to soothe his former companion – he was relishing the moment way too much for that. So he opted to just stare at the elf and make him suffer a little while longer.

Astarion sighed in defeat and pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger before he let them stretch out, pressing into his closed eyes. “Gale, don’t make me regret I’ve come here, please”, Astarion pressed out from behind gritted teeth.

Tara stretched out on Gale’s lap, yawned deeply and jumped off her owner’s lap to saunter around the desk. Gale let her, keeping his gaze on the vampire: “No really, you have to give me at least this one moment in return, Astarion, just one teeny tiny moment of you coming to me for help. You’ve actually grown so much over just such a short span…”

Astarion zoned out while the wizard rambled on trying to have his superior moment of being sarcastic and sassy – Gods, it had been a horrible idea to come here. He felt the wizard’s cat stroke around his legs then, rubbing her head against his shins and looking up at him expectantly.

So, he bowed down to lift her up and started to pet her to which Tara responded with arching her back into the vampire’s careful touch and starting to purr loudly. At that a smile crept onto Astarion’s face. He’d always liked cats – fierce and beautiful creatures.

“…and I feel so honoured that you would ask me out of all people, Astarion – really!”, ended the wizard his sarcastic speech and was finally silent. Astarion rolled his eyes: “Now go and write it all into your journal and draw pink glittery hearts around it while kicking your little feet. Are you done now?” Gale lifted one finger and narrowed his eyes with raised eyebrows: “Allow me one more question.” Astarion groaned. “Does Tav know?”, the wizard asked.

“No”, hissed the vampire in response and stared angrily at Gale “and if you’re going to tell her, I am going to rip your godsdamned throat out.” Gale reacted with lifting his hands defensively: “Alright okay, I’m done. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Some of the tension left Astarion’s body. “So will you help me or not?”, he asked while focusing on the cat in his arms instead of the person he was asking something off – openly committing to wanting help, talking about a weakness – and may it be something as inconsequential as this – was not something he had learned awfully well to accept; perhaps he never really would.

Gale’s gaze softened a little and he stood up from behind the desk to walk around it and leaning against it in a relaxed pose. He crossed his arms over his chest: “So… come again, what exactly is it exactly that you’re planning?”

Finally, Astarion lifted his gaze to look at the wizard. His eyes was full of suspicion after Gale had at first opted to tease him about a genuine demand. And it had already cost him an enormous amount of pride to swallow to actually come over and voice his request for help. The wizard sighed: “Okay listen, I’m sorry, I was a dick about this – it’s just… I wouldn’t have expected this from you, is all…”

Astarion didn’t say anything in response, his reluctancy had not yet left him. And so an awkward kind of silence stretched between the two men – unable or unwilling to be more open and sincere; at least for the time being.

“Listen”, Gale started again “I’ll help you, I promise. But you have to tell me what you want to do or else I don’t know how.”

Astarion looked down again at the purring cat in his arms. After a few heartbeats he sighed and said: “In a few weeks, it will be six months since… Tav and I are official. And I thought after all the peril she, I mean we all, but she especially has been put through and after everything she’s done for me…” The vampire’s words trailed off and he threw Gale a glance. There were no more words needed in this instance, Gale had been there beside him and Tav when they had walked into Cazador Szarr’s lair.

The wizard felt his throat close up at the memory – as much in dread, as he remembered, as in compassion for his… friend.

“So”, Gale coughed and readjusted his position against his giant wooden desk, before he went on in a more animated manner, “you thought a nice romantic dinner would be a nice opportunity to show her a little bit of your gratefulness and also celebrate your love.” “I see we are finally on the same page, my wizard partner in crime”, Astarion replied then cheerfully – thankful for the change in mood.

“And the problem is that it’s been a while, naturally, since you had the pleasure in the kitchen”, Gale went on. Astarion cleared his throat: “To be honest, even before… let’s just say food had just always come on a plate.”

“Hah, and now it always comes from a neck, right?”, Gale tried to crack a joke and failed miserably. The vampire looked ready to leave once more: “Please leave the jokes to me, Gale. Else I’m leaving – and taking the cat.”

Gale let his head fall back until he was facing the ceiling. “This won’t be easy”, he whispered under his breath. Then he lifted his hands as he let himself look at the vampire once more that had started cooing at Tara in his arms – making little kissy faces at the cat that was stretching out one of his paws as if in a gentle caress of the elf’s face.

“Let’s just get to the point. What did you have in mind then?”, said the wizard and made a few steps towards Astarion how was now stroking Tara’s face with a single finger as if she was a baby. Only when Gale was almost in front of him did he notice that the wizard had asked him another question.

The vampire gave another sigh and then shortly bent down to set down the animal which protested softly but then just kept stroking around his legs. “I thought you could teach me some stuff. Show me to make some dishes so I can prepare the dinner for Tav myself…” “Yes okay, but what does she like – I mean, back on the road we all made do with what we could get our hands on, but if you want to surprise her with something shouldn’t it be something to impress her?”, Gale interrupted, immediately getting into planning mode. His head was already turning on how to get organised and starting. “Well, Gale, from what I’ve heard the last time you wanted to impress a woman it didn’t go all too well, didn’t it? Maybe tone it down a little”, the vampire bit out. But a sparkle had entered his red eyes, nonetheless, at the thought of actually pulling this surprise off.

Gale though was back at looking at the ceiling, cursing whatever had put this flatulated vampire in his path. “Alright”, Gale sighed, “first thing we have to settle is that we can’t go for each other’s throats all the time – VERBALLY, verbally”, he exclaimed with raised eyebrows and pointed a finger at Astarion when the vampire had started smirking at him in a kind of way.

“I didn’t start – at least this time”, the vampire shot back. “Astarion”, Gale drawled annoyedly in a tone that might’ve been used many a time towards his cat – which did actually look up at her owner and cocked her head at him.

“Fine”, Astarion agreed in the same tone. “So, let’s figure out the desired menu first, shall we?”, Gale said to put them back on track. “What’s Tav’s favourite food, what dishes does she like – sweet, savoury?”

Do that Astarion put a hand to his chin and started to think. His brows furrowed and his gaze was suddenly miles away: “Her favourite thing are strawberries by far, but that does only work for dessert. Maybe with something chocolate-y, she really does have a knack for sweet stuff.” At that point Gale opened his mouth to crack another joke but shut it immediately when he realised how genuine Astarion had become all of a sudden.”

“She likes hearty foods – nothing needlessly complicated or pretentious. And she always goes on about how she’d love to have more fish but that it’s so complicated to prepare sometimes, hmm.” Astarion was still lost in his thoughts and kept rambling on about every last detail he could remember about what might work and what they had to avoid.

Gale’s face split into a huge, warm grin, bewildered by Astarion and how much he knew about these small little details about his soulmate and how much genuine care and love shone in his eyes as he kept talking about her.

Gale put out his hand to lay on Astarion’s shoulder who was still somewhere else, still talking. At the light gesture the elf flinched and shock filled his eyes for a short moment before he realised is was only the wizard. “Second rule, don’t just touch me”, he hissed at the man who was still smiling warmly at his friend behaving like a feral street cat.

“Agreed. Let’s just get to work, Astarion. I’ll make a chef out of you in no time. Let’s go.” And with these final words Gale went off towards his kitchen.

Astarion expressed his doubts in the wizard’s self-impression but followed closely behind.

[pedroshotwifey]

*looks around and slides money on the table* 💵

Frankie Morales and number 10

I apologize to Frankie because he’s a sweet polite broad bean who’s respectful and always asks. I…would like him not to. 👀

Reader: plus size female (because I’m in full self-indulgent delulu mode)

Also I’m kinda not sorry because side why else would you have the title of the p**** eating king Morales? Huh? Huh? 😵 Sir. 👀

Anyway. I’m gonna stop rambling now. Thank you. 🥰

*Snatches money and stuffs it into pocket*

Yeah, alright. I got the goods. (I fucking love this.)

Hope you enjoy your face sitting with the p**** eating king! 😉

Rating: Explicit

W/C: 1.2k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!plus size!reader

A Real Man

“What the fuck do you mean you’ve never sat on someone’s face before?” 

You wince at the words coming out of Frankie’s mouth. Was it really that big of a deal? 

The two of you are sitting in bed, facing the TV that Frankie just paused. Well, it’s not like the two of you were really watching it anyway. You’d started talking halfway through the movie, and you’re not really sure how you got to this point in the conversation, but here you are.

“I-I don’t know. I just…haven’t.” You avoid his gaze as your cheeks heat, unsure of why you feel so ashamed to have admitted that. Maybe it was more of a common thing than you had thought. 

“But you’ve been in relationships before?” Frankie says it like a question, but he knows that you have. 

“Well, yeah, but. I don’t know, we just didn’t do it!” You don’t know why you’re getting frustrated with this. 

Frankie huffs a laugh and shakes his head. 

“What kind of an idiot wouldn’t offer themselves up to a goddess like you?” 

“You haven’t!” you point out. It’s a bit unfair of you since the two of you have only been officially dating for a couple of weeks and haven’t done too much sexual exploration yet. You’ve known him for much longer though, having grown up with him, and you’re not going to deny hearing…rumors of his skills. 

He gives you a pointed look, knowing that you know that’s an unfair accusation. You groan and put your hands over your face.

“My last boyfriend offered, but he seemed like he didn’t really want to. So I told him I would suffocate him, and he agreed with me.” It’s muffled through your hands, and the last part is near incomprehensible with how quietly you say it. 

“He what?” Frankie sits up a bit, and you peek at him through your fingers. “Honey, I hate to tell you, but that boy was a fucking idiot.” 

You sigh and shake your head. Like you didn’t know that already. 

“Take your clothes off.” 

Your hands fall from your face as you jolt up. 

“What? No!” 

“Yes. You’re going to sit on my face so I can show you what it’s like to be with a real man.” 

“Frankie, no, I–” 

“Clothes. Off. Now.” 

You gulp at the way his eyes darken and his voice deepens. Deciding it’s better just to listen to what he says, you slide down off the bed and start to tug off your clothes with shaky hands. You glance at Frankie as you push your pants down, watching the way he hungrily licks his bottom lip as you unveil more and more skin. 

You stop once you’re down to your bra and panties, another protest on the tip of your tongue. But Frankie’s quick, and he knows your antics. 

“Keep going. I don’t want to hear it.” 

You purse your lips but undo your bra all the same, tossing it to the side and revealing your breasts to your boyfriend. You can feel the wetness between your legs as you peel your panties off, making your face flush again. 

“C’mere.” 

It’s not a request, and your body responds to it before you can think about it. You stop in front of him, his hands coming to settle on your plush hips. His eyes drag up the length of you, slowing as they pass your heavy breasts. 

“Fucking gorgeos, amor.” 

He starts to pull you back onto the bed with him, leading you to climb over him as he lays down. You stop at his waist, feeling the way his bulge presses up against the fabric of his sweats. 

“C’mon, baby. All the way up.” 

You swallow but follow his instruction, trying and failing to avoid his lust fueled gaze. You stop again right at his chest, and he suddenly wraps his arms around your thick thighs to pull you to his face, making you fall over him and plant your hands on the bed above his head. 

“Frankie, be careful!” you scold, sitting back up on your knees. You look down at him, seeing his pupils completely blown. 

“Take a seat hermosa,” he instructs, completely ignoring your outburst. 

You start to lower yourself down, hovering just over his mouth. You’re about to ask him one more time if he’s sure, and then he pulls you all the way down, making you yelp as your pussy comes into contact with his unrelenting mouth. 

He immediately gets to work on licking stripes up and down your cunt, and you scream out his name. He’s eaten you before while you were on your back, but holy fuck. It didn’t feel like this. 

He groans into you as he slips his tongue inside your weeping hole, licking up all that he can. Your hand threads through his curls as your hips jolt involuntarily at the feeling. Your head is already starting to go blank as a pressure builds in your abdomen. 

His tongue fucks in and out of you as he simultaneously slurps up your juices. You moan obscenely, tugging on his hair as you ride his face. He whimpers at the pull, and you already know his hips are bucking up into nothing. 

He’s fucking feral, licking and fucking and groaning and whimpering. After a moment, he pulls his tongue back and shifts to take your clit between his full lips, sucking harshly. Your legs begin to tremble as your orgasm gets closer, and Frankie holds you even closer, his fingers leaving indents on your thighs as he squeezes your flesh. His tongue flicks over the swollen bud, and you’re done for. 

“Oh, fuck, Frankie!” you cry out as you come on him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You’re vaguely aware of the way you’re clenching his hair in a way that has got to be painful, but you don’t have enough control to release your grip. 

He keeps moving through your orgasm, letting go of your clit to trail back to your hole, drinking everything up as he moans. Your body tenses and shakes violently as you focus solely on the pleasure of it. 

You’re panting as you come down, your body leaning back over his, weak from the force of the orgasm he just gave you. You feel his grip loosen on your thighs, and you take the opportunity to roll off of him and lay down on your back beside him. 

You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, breathing heavy as you look at eachother. You trade a shaky laugh, completely blissed out from whatever the fuck that was. 

“Thank you baby,” you say, unsure if you can find the words to explain to him how mind-blowing that was. 

“Shit, thank you,” Frankie responds. 

“It wasn’t too much then?” you ask, doubt creeping back into your mind despite what just transpired. 

“It was fucking perfect baby. I can prove how much I liked it if you really need.” He sounds almost bashful at this admission, and you’re confused for a second before you look down and see the dark stain in his pants. 

You laugh at him, almost impressed that he managed to come untouched. 

“No, I believe you.”

*****

Here’s the link to the prompt list if anyone else would like to request 🫶

[gojoidyll]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 17 | then what is special

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

"Thank you so much!"

Y/n was as giddy as ever as she held the necklace in her hands before turning to Sukuna with the brightest eyes she could muster, "help me put it on?!"

"If you will stop squirming," he grumbled.

It was her birthday. Anyone who fell under Sukuna's domain knows that, and as such, it will be considered a holiday worth celebrating.

"It's so pretty!!!"

She kept admiring the jewelry in the mirror when Sukuna finally clasped the necklace around her neck.

She kept looking at Sukuna for his approval. And he could only smirk in return. He was the one who picked it out, after all.

"Thank you so much, Sukuna!"

For y/n, she never imagined that she would be thankful to the king of curses, but apparently she was in her past life. She desperately wants to talk to someone about it. But she could never bring up her worries to anyone. Not even to the strongest. Though, she was thankful that he was walking with her now...

The night breeze felt good against his face as he walked next to you, but, truth be told, he couldn’t focus on the how peaceful the walk was or on anything else for that matter. All he could think about was you. Usually he would still be at the school, or he would be on a mission, his time seemingly dedicated to the jujutsu world as a whole. And yet, he couldn’t help but to carve out a piece (a large chunk) of his time for you.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

She was smiling up at him as she easily kept in stride (though, he was purposefully walking slower for her).

“For inviting me out, of course! That office was getting way too stuffy for me.”

She couldn’t deny the way her cheeks started to warm, how her heart felt incredibly full and the way it started to beat just a tad bit faster.

“I- I’m glad.”

“Really?”

She nodded, “you’re the strongest…everyone relies on you. And… I guess…I… I wanted you to rely on me too,, so you wouldn’t feel like you had to do everything on your own,” she spoke slow as she tried to find the right words. Her mouth moving on its own as she couldn’t stop herself from saying what she truly felt, “I mean, I’m not saying you couldn’t handle it, I just- well, you know, I wanted you to know that someone cares and that-,” she started to babble. Her words picking up in pace. And, god, she knew she was rambling, but she wanted to get her point across without him misunderstanding anything.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so cute.”

When she had looked up at him, her eyes widened when he had clasped both of her cheeks in his hands, his fingers lightly squeezing them together as she brought her hands up ro grip at his wrists, “Gsojsho.”

He laughed when she tried to say his name between her smushed lips. His eyes shining at the thought when he had done this to her in one of their past lives together. She whined out his name again and even tried to hit him in the stomach, but her weak hits didn’t even phase him when he finally let go of her cheeks, “alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone. So let’s get to your place, ok? It’s already late.”

She rubbed her cheeks, they were already starting to feel sore with how roughly he was pulling at them. (He actually wasn’t pulling all that hard, she’s just sensitive.) And soon enough, the walk to her apartment was short lived, but at least it wasn’t awkward. Gojo was good at keeping up small talk and she was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. She was glad.

“You want to come in, right? And maybe have a drink?”

And that was how her night was spent. Gojo was sitting on her couch and she was sitting next to him as the TV played some random movie and the two of them talked endlessly about anything and everything. Until the past lives topic came up.

“So, do you really believe this past life business?”

Gojo asked the question so simply as he looked at her, and she shrugged, “a little. It would explain so much but I am also a little scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Well, just how many lives did I live? Was I always alone?”

“You said that you thought I was there.”

“Yeah, I think it was you, I also think we were together…”

“How many lives do you think you lived?”

“Too many to count. Though, sometimes I feel like it's just one continuous life with multiple endings."

“Do you think we were together in all of them,” Gojo asked, his tone was a bit hopeful.

He could see how she reddened at his words before she calmed herself down. Her fingers lightly playing with the hm of her shirt, her eyes not being able to meet his own (he had taken off his blindfold when he sat down on her couch).

“No…”

He tilted his head to the side. He was acting curious, nonchalant even, but his heart was running rampant. His mind was a mess. He couldn’t deny how jittery he was. Did she not want to be with him in every single life she had?

“No, because then what would make this life special?”

infinity taglist | some say "no blogs found"

@whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix @zeniiis @rin1802 @mrowwww @kenstarsworld @bubera974 @littleplantofdeath @fangirl-332 @thaliadoesthings @hellsingalucard18 @tamaki-simp @obsessedwithfanfiction @babygivertyrant @carvelcakes @itzmeme @nervouschocolatecat @aspiring-bookworm @babyorphanstastegood @lilacskyly @ilovethegold @mythicalsongbird

[komoboko]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

ft: Giyu tomioka and Muichiro Tokito ・mui implied platonic but can be read as romantic

I never wrote for giyu so I hope this is alright ! Also this was just a ramble about them and their hair mmnmjmjn

# giyu !! ☆

While GIYU can’t say he doesn’t know how to do his hair, the boy just doesn’t know how to do it properly. After Sabito and Makomo’s death he stopped putting real time into himself. He’ll do the bare minimum to get himself through the day. In his opinion it’s just “the thought that counts” even though you both know not much thought goes into it at all.

It isn’t until you drag him into your bathroom to actually take care of his hair that it comes back into the picture. He’s heard from Mitsuri and whisper of other female slayers about the pain of dealing with “a disaster of a bad hair day.” Tomioka can only give you a look as if it was a silent apology that you were going to have to deal with his “disaster” when it came to the glob of hair on his head.

Giyu shifts in his chair as his eyes stay focused onto the ground. He can hear how you search for different supplies, different brushes and combs that would fit his hair. His mind reminisces on the whispers he heard from girls gossiping about their own experiences as now the guilt sets in.

“..I’m sorry”

Your eyes turn towards the male who seemed to stay perfectly still in the chair you dragged him to. “Giyu? Did you say something?” You ask the black haired male.

He hesitates for a moment before slowly shaking his head. His body still facing away from you as the only thing moving was his head. “I said.. thank you.” You can only shrug off the doubt that clouded his voice.

Much to his surprise, the feeling of his hair being properly washed is something he wouldn’t imagine he expected to like so much. He couldn’t tell if it was the actually feeling of cleansing his hair, or if It was your fingers that glided and ran through his hair with so much patience. His shoulders slouched as the tense feeling in his body was no longer presence. A sigh would escape his lips as his eyes slowly closed embracing himself in the comfort fully.

While you may of only done this once, it’s a moment that quickly jumps to Tomioka’s favorites. The moment brought a feeling of so much intimacy that he wasn’t expecting. For a moment he felt like he could breathe, the burdens of his comrades who have long pasted on, the burdens of serving as a hashira, the burdens of life for a moment fell from his shoulders. The moment was just between the two of you an everlasting peace that lasted for such a short time but felt so long. Something he needed much more than he can express.

It won’t be a surprise when he sheepishly comes back to you after you both finished your mission for the day. Mumbling something about “the demons put up a decent fight. Unfortunately it messed my hair up greatly. Would you mind.. helping me fix it.” You can’t help but give a cheesy smile before bringing him back to the bathroom where it all started.

# Muichiro !! ☆

Poor poor Gyomei who unknowingly got roped into helping MUICHIRO learn how to do almost a boy thing properly while he attempts to regain his memories. While Gyomei shouldn’t be underestimated for his teaching skills as he trained Muichiro “back into a boy” as he puts it. Once it came to tackling his hair, is the line Gyomei wouldn’t cross.

You’ve heard rumors about his hair. That it was “more tangled than one could imagine” or, “so natty that it was unfixable.” You’ve never believed them of course but you couldn’t help but be curious about them. You only stared back at the boys hair while you could expect he was staring off into space like usual.

Like you expected, the rumors were false. What surprised you were how far off they really were. The comb ran through his hair, while you did encounter other issues with it, it was way easier than you imagined.

Moving the comb through Muichiro’s hair, you can only admire how much smoother it was compared to all the small rumors spread across the corps. You couldn’t help but wonder why his hair smelled so strange, not that it was bad but oddly familiar.

“What do you use for your hair mui?” you mutter. Silence falls upon the room for a moment until Muichiro collects himself as he snaps out of his thoughts.

“Mitsuri showed me how she does her own hair, so I use the same products as her.” he replies softly.

Oh, so that explains the smell. Your face goes blank for a moment before a soft chuckle escapes your lips at the new found information. You open your eyes once more to see Muichiro face properly in the mirror, a small smile creeping up onto his lips.

Muichiro secretly like when you style his hair. He doesn’t voice his opinion directly but you can tell by his actions and expressions he likes it. His favorite style is anything that includes something half up and half down. He thinks it makes him look cool. Though he still very open to try anything as long as your styling his hair.

He tends to drift back towards you whenever he feels the need to get his hair done. He’ll shuffle towards your direction with a comb or another style in his mind for his hair. While he think he just enjoys getting his hair done, Muichiro just enjoys having some peace for a moment and spending time around you.

[theerurishipper]

Superbat Week Day 4: Undercover

For @superbatweek2024

Just as Clark flies into the Batcave, he can hear the telltale signs of Alfred’s disapproval, directed at the only person foolish enough to invoke them constantly. The subtle inflections in Alfred’s voice, and the dry, sardonic tone indicates to Clark that Bruce has done something reckless, though not exceptionally so. Alfred would not have held back otherwise.

“What did you need me for, Bruce?”

The man in question lifts one eyebrow upon his arrival. “You’re late.”

“Nice to see you too.”

Bruce grunts, and turns to Alfred, who picks up a fancy suit, handing it to Clark with not a small amount of disapproval, though it is not directed at him. Clark can only stare bemusedly at the fancy suit that probably costs more than his entire salary. “If this is your way of telling me— again— that you don’t like the suits I own, I’m sorry to tell you that this is not going to change my mind.”

“Ah, I suppose it was worth a shot, sir,” remarks Alfred, the very picture of sarcasm.

“It’s not a commentary on your fashion choices,” Bruce responds, still typing away at his computer. “It’s a bodyguard uniform.”

Clark stares at the sleek, shiny fabric. “And you’re giving this to me because…?”

“You’re now Bruce Wayne’s official new bodyguard. Congratulations.”

--

“I can’t believe you just sprung this on me without asking me if I would agree!” Clark huffs, even as Alfred makes final adjustments to the suit he’s now wearing.

“Are you saying no?”

“…No…”

“Then I don’t see a problem. Besides, I checked your schedule, and you seem to be free enough to assist me.”

Clark blinks. “You what?” Beside him, Alfred sighs as he adjusts Clark’s sleeves.

“I see that our previous talks about boundaries have entered through one ear and escaped through the other already, Master Bruce.”

“I don’t remember any such talk.”

“As I said,” Alfred intones, waving a dismissive hand towards Bruce, who responds with a childish pout. Or as he would call it, a dignified silence.

“Aw, it’s alright, Alfred,” Clark consoles. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of sweet, actually.”

Alfred directs his eyes to stare down Clark judgementally. “You both certainly are made for each other.”

“Thank you.”

The details of the case are simple enough. Bruce Wayne is being targeted by a fellow competitor, a man by the name of Maxwell Steele, who wants him gone. Batman is currently looking into this competitor to find out why. Bruce is to be meeting with this competitor in an hour, and wants Clark to tag along as a lie detector posing as his bodyguard.

Clark can’t say he’s displeased with the idea, or the thought of helping Bruce out in this way. It’s even kind of exciting. He’s only ever seen this happen in movies.

“You’re a superhero, Clark. You can fly and shoot lasers from your eyes.”

“But I always preferred the secret agents over the bombastic superheroes,” Clark responds, grinning at his reflection in the mirror. “And now I get to be one for real! It’s cool.”

“If that is what ‘floats your boat,’ Master Clark.”

Clark grins, and slips on the shades the Bruce hands him. “So, do I look the part?” he asks, and listens with great satisfaction to the uptick in Bruce’s heart rate.

“…Yes, you do.”

Clark grins. This just might be fun after all.

--

Maxwell Steele is a man who is very much not upending the stereotypes this evening. He is as suspicious looking and sleazy as one would expect when they think of an evil businessman. Clark feels like he is way more excited than he should be; after all, he is standing right before someone who is trying his hardest to kill Bruce.

The man in question is rambling about his latest business ventures, while Bruce sits before him pretending to be someone who is only pretending to be interested. Clark finds it almost baffling how well Bruce can embody the spirit of the character he puts on.

“And, of course, we intend to finalize our dealings, of course—”

“I just have one question,” Bruce interrupts, leaning forward. “Your company has come under fire— several times, in fact— for your alleged involvement with some of the more… notorious criminals of Gotham. I must admit, I find the idea of doing business with someone involved in those kind of affairs rather frightening. Wouldn’t you think so too?”

Steele gives his sincerest effort to put on an expression of affront. As is, he just looks nervous and guilty. “Mr. Wayne,” he sputters, “I must tell you that everything you have ever heard regarding that is unsubstantiated!”

Lie.

“I would never support criminals in such a manner—”

Lie.

Steele leans back in his chair, and takes a deep breath.

“— and I have always tried to use my wealth to deal with them.”

Truth.

Clark frowns. That can’t be right.

“Honestly, Mr. Wayne, I take offense to your assumptions about me! Why, certainly you must have experience with having the vultures assume the worst of you. The most uncharitable tabloids are always looking for something to invent to disparage the characters of good men, and—”

“Yes, yes, I understand, Mr. Steele,” Bruce interrupts. “Thank you for meeting with me. We will get back to you with further details.”

Once the man leaves, and Bruce returns to his office, Clark closes the door behind them with a grin. “Who’s gonna tell him that being accused of sleeping around and being accused of colluding with criminal masterminds aren’t exactly in the same ballpark?”

Bruce grunts. “If he doesn’t know that by now, then no one’s ever going to be able to change his mind.” He levels Clark with a look. “What did you learn?”

“Well, he’s definitely lying about almost everything. But he did seem to be telling the truth when he mentioned that he was dealing with the villains, even though I don’t quite buy what he said.”

Bruce taps his finger on his chin, deep in thought. “Dealing with the villains… perhaps his phrasing is where we need to look. He’s making some sort of deal with one of them.”

“To kill you?”

“Possibly.” He looks back at Clark, eyes steely and focused. “I will pay him a secret visit tonight, and see what I can find regarding any unsavoury dealings. Maybe then—”

As it turns out, Bruce doesn’t even need to go looking for the trouble. The trouble just comes to find him. Clark throws himself over Bruce, rolling him across the shiny floor of his office as fire shoots in through the now shattered windows. Clark lands over Bruce’s body, and they watch as Firefly comes barrelling in through the window, spraying pieces of glass everywhere. Clark surreptitiously blows away some of the stray pieces before they can hurt Bruce.

“I gotta thank you, Wayne,” Firefly goads. “I just got a massive payday for trying to get rid of you. It’s almost too easy to make money these days, huh? Where’s the challenge?”

Clark rises to his feet. If he finds a way to get Bruce out of here, Batman can come and clean up this mess. But it wouldn’t do to break his cover, either…

“Get back, Mr. Wayne,” Clark growls, putting on a deep, intimidating voice. Behind him, Bruce does an excellent impression of a cowering puppy. Clark reaches out a hand as though shielding him. “I’ll protect you.”

Firefly bursts into laughter. “That’s rich. You think you can take me on? With what, your dopey sunglasses?”

You’d be surprised, Clark almost says. But he doesn’t. Because he’s a bodyguard, and they aren’t really supposed to quip around. That’s what the movies say.

Instead, Clark jumps for Bruce as Firefly unleashes another spray of fire. He shoves himself over Bruce, and then pushes him towards the window. “You’re toast, you asshole!” rages Firefly, flying towards him, flamethrowers at the ready.

In the three seconds it takes for Firefly to reach him, Clark takes the time to observe the crowd gathering outside the building, watching with bated breath. He watches Bruce’s expression twist into one of utter exasperation, the look of fear falling off his face once he is sure that Firefly is focused on Clark completely. And he watches the wires connected to the tank on Firefly’s back sway with the force of his flight.

As Firefly shoots towards him, Clark grabs onto the wire, pulling Firefly with it before the man can use his flamethrowers. Using the one on the left, Clark deftly spins the man around and around, wrapping him up in his own weapon. And then he knocks him out with a solid right hook.

Clark secures Firefly to Bruce’s fancy desk, which is bolted into the ground, making it a convenient restraint. With Firefly taken care of, Clark turns back to Bruce.

Only to find him teetering on the edge of his own building, hanging on to the edge of his destroyed wall. People are screaming, outside, and Clark just gives Bruce a judgemental look, knowing that no one can see him. “Don’t you dare.”

Bruce, for his part, just gives him an expression of utmost satisfaction. “Whoops,” he says, completely deadpan, before he lets his fingers go lax, starting his descent towards the pavement below.

Clark doesn’t even think twice. Grabbing Firefly’s flamethrower— the one connected to the wire on his right— he jumps after Bruce, and grabs him by the waist. Bruce, steady heartbeat belying that he is quite unconcerned despite the expression of fake terror on his face, turns to face him as they hang midair, and wraps his arms around his neck.

“My hero!” he simpers, loud enough for people to hear, and then he kisses him. And despite the sheer audacity of the man, Clark lets him, because he really does feel like he deserves it today.

--

“Hey, listen to this,” Clark says, laughing. “Bruce Wayne seduces new bodyguard after near death experience. Bruce, you’re famous again!”

“Very funny,” Bruce grumbles. “Of course they’d report on that instead of on Maxwell Steele’s arrest.”

“I guess being arrested for colluding with Firefly isn’t juicy enough for the Gotham Gazette.”

“Hm.”

Clark lets Bruce type at his computer a while longer, happy to just sit there and soak up the feeling of satisfaction of a job well done.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Bruce finally says, cutting through the silence. “How did you manage to speak in such a… different voice?”

Clark grins. “Extremely precise muscle control.” He lets his voice drop lower into the deep, silky baritone he’d adopted for his role. “Do you like it, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce turns to face him, and Clark grins. He speeds off, and returns dressed in the suit, just in time for Bruce to give him a once-over. “I suppose I do,” Bruce replies.

“Which does remind me,” Clark vocalizes, slipping the shades onto his face. “We haven’t yet discussed the terms of my payment.”

“How much would you like?”

Clark stands, and stalks over to Bruce, keeping a serious, emotionless expression on his face. He rests his hands on the armrests of Bruce’s chair, and leans into Bruce’s space until their lips are only a few inches apart. “I believe,” he rumbles, “that we can come to some other arrangement.”

Bruce licks his lips, otherwise expressionless. But his hands come up to run all over Clark’s chest, over the muscles of his arm, around his neck. They come up to his face to trace around his eyes, or rather, around the shades covering them.

“So do I.”

Clark just grins, and kisses him. Being disguised as a bodyguard really did have its perks, even if it was only for a day. He got to have the whole movie experience, down to getting with a hot love interest in the end. It doesn’t get much better than that.

---

Read on AO3

[charliemwrites]

I humbly request Gaz being a soft dom with Researcher. 🥺

Oh hmmmmm yes let’s see……

The two of them are in the researcher’s bed because let’s be honest, it’s wayyyy better than a barrack. They’ve been on a Science binge all day - all week, really. This is the first that Gaz has been able to pull them away from their work bench in hours.

They’re mumbling about not being done yet, needing to put the finishing touches on a design - and Gaz is letting them ramble. He’s listening, of course. Or, well, listening for the stutters and pauses when his lips and tongue and teeth find a good spot on their neck. They are slowly but surely melting into him, all insistence on work fading off into happy hums.

“We can get back to it tomorrow, chickadee,” he murmurs when they’ve run out of steam. “I want to spend time with you tonight. Think you can make a little time for me?”

“Of course,” they breathe, nuzzling at his cheek to get proper kisses. “All the time you want.”

“All the time I want, eh?” He chuckles. “Sure you can spare that much?”

“Mhmm.”

“So sweet for me,” he smiles against their cheek. “You’ll be good and patient, won’t you?”

“Mhmm”

He rewards them with slow, lingering touches through their shirt and pants, lets them grind absently against him while he licks into their mouth. They deserve worship and a chance to turn their brilliant brain off. The best way to do that is make them wait, make the building ecstasy the only thing they have room for.

“Ky, I wanna…. I’m so close….” They gasp.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, playing with their nipples. “Can you be good and wait just a little longer? You’re doing so well, I know you can, baby.”

They whine, high pitched, but nod and grip at him tighter, clenching down and writhing, making him see stars.

“I’m gonna count you down, alright?”

The moan. They simultaneously love and hate countdowns and he knows it.

“5…. C’mon, darlin’ arch your back”

They shudder and squeeze their eyes closed.

“4, looks at me? Cmon, I wanna see your pretty dazed eyes.”

They flutter their eyes open but they can’t focus their vision, pupils blown out.

“3… so close, love, you’re holding on so well. That’s it, let me hold you here…”

They whimper his name between their teeth, trembling and desperate, flushed everywhere.

“2…. Can you ask nicely? You sound so lovely when you say-“

“Please, Ky, please, wanna cum for you!”

“That’s my love. Well done, so lovely.”

He holds them there just a moment longer, just to see them desperately holding back for him.

“1 - cum for me, baby. That’s it, ride it out.”

Their eyes roll back in their head as they squeeze down, milking his cock, screaming as they cum in overwhelming waves. Hes not far behind, burying deep within and cumming only a few rough thrusts later.

As they catch their breaths, he leaves absent kisses all over their face and shaking hands.

“Alright, darlin’? Didn’t make you wait too long?”

“It was perfect,” they sigh. High praise indeed considering the ‘statistical impossibility of perfection. “You’re perfect. Thank you, Ky.”

“No need to thank me, love. I should thank you for being so good. Im so proud of you.”

They hum and snuggle in. He’ll have to get them up before they doze off too much… but for now he could use a break too.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hi! I hope your okay! I was just wondering if I could get an angst with happy ending m!readerxhotch. No worries if not! Thank you!!

Hiya, it's not romantic or anything, more of a familial bond between the two but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: homophobic parents, getting kicked out because of homophobic parents

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, wiping your eyes quickly before looking up. “I, er, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Hotch immediately frowns, seeing his intern at his door, soaking wet, eyes rimmed red. He wordlessly moves out of the way, ushering the younger man in. He had about a million questions to ask. ‘A time and a place,’ He reminded himself gently. 

“How about you set your bag down, take your shoes off, and try and warm up in the shower?” He says, giving you a small smile. “I’ll find you some clothes to change into and I’ll put what you’re wearing in the wash.”

You looked at him before giving a small nod. “Y-yeah, thank you.”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to thank me,” Hotch gave a small smile. “When you’ve done that, we’ll talk, alright?” You nod. That seemed like a good plan. 

You take your shoes off, placing your bag on top - not wanting to get your boss’ floor too wet - and followed him upstairs. 

“Jack’s asleep right now, but he sleeps like a log,” Hotch’s lips curl upwards slightly, “Fresh towels are in the cupboard, help yourself. Use whatever you need to.” 

And with that, you gave an awkward nod and Hotch made his way to the guest bedroom. 

You showered quickly, using the first shampoo and conditioner (separate bottles, not 2in1) as well as the first bar of soap you saw. 

A quiet knock on the door drew you out of your thoughts, “(Y/N)? Can I come in? I’ve got some clothes,”

“Oh, er, yeah,” You answer. The door opens quietly, there’s a gentle sound.

“Alright, I’ll be downstairs, okay? I’ll put the kettle on.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

Thanking the heavens to feel warm with your skin no longer sticky, you stepped out, wrapping a towel around your waist. There was nothing worse than rain making your skin itch. You looked at the clothes Hotch had piled up for you, they were probably going to be a little big, but the pants had drawstrings, so it wasn’t exactly the end of the world. 

You made your way downstairs once dressed, feet padding softly against the carpet. When you enter, Hotch turns to you, two cups of tea in hand. “Perfect timing.” He places, the cups on the table. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He sits first, you follow suite.

“I’m sorry,” You say. “I, er, I didn’t know what else to do. Sorry for bothering you at home, in practically the middle of the night-“

“(Y/N), you’re absolutely fine,” Hotch gives a smile. “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to be able to reach out… But, I do have a question, if that’s alright?”

Nodding, you quickly answer, “Yeah, I, er,  I thought you might have a question or two.”

“Okay, and obviously you don’t have to answer them, not if you don’t want to.” He pauses for a moment, “What happened?”

You take a moment, watching the light dance off the tea. “I… I’m not really all that sure.” You swallow. “My parents and I got into an argument.”

Hotch nods slowly. He knew you were still at college, living with your parents in order to save up money. “Okay…”

“I, er, sort of… might have been kicked out.” You say, cupping the hot beverage in your hands. “It’s sort of a bit hazy. I just know that they yelled, I yelled, and I think they told me to, and I quote: ‘get the fuck out and stay out’,”

Hotch frowns, eyes darting over your face as he took the information in. “If you don’t mind my asking, what brought this on?”

“I told them- well, I didn’t tell them, they found out – but that part’s not all that important right now. I’m rambling a little, sorry.” You pause, taking a small breath. “They found out I was gay.”

You watch as Hotch’s frown deepens. “I’m sorry that’s how they reacted. That’s not fair on you.” He pauses. “How are you feeling about it all?”

“Um, well, I was flustered, I guess?” You said.

“And now?”

“Done.” You gave a shrug, “I don’t think I can be bothered to care. It’s probably the sleep deprivation, lack of coffee, or even adrenaline, but I can’t- I can’t seem to get myself to care right now.”

You pause to scratch the back of your head, risking a sip of your tea and burning your tongue in the process, but you carry on. “Like, I know I should care. I really should. Because if they’re serious about it, then right now, I’m technically homeless.” You look back at Hotch. “But all I can think about is the report you wanted me to finish… It’s not finished, by the way.”

“(Y/N), right now, I don’t care about the report, okay? Don’t worry about the report. But here’s what we’re going to do, tomorrow morning, I’m going to drop Jack off at Jessica’s, and I’m going to drive you home.” Hotch says, “I’ll go in with you and we’ll pack up some things, okay? Essentials for a few days or things you don’t feel like you can live without.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to drive me-”

“(Y/N), don’t even bother trying to argue it.” You snap your jaw shut and give another nod. “Good. But, for now, try to relax, drink your tea, alright? The guest bedroom’s all made up for you.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble,”

“No, Hotch. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

[ozarkthedog]

summary: while having a private moment with your boss, the ceo unexpectedly drops by… or so you think.

pairings: Boss!Layla El-Faouly x afab intern!reader x CEO!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Alt Universe. slight dubcon but reader is willing. power imbalance. free use. f/f -> f/m. established relationship (layla x reader). oral sex (fem receiving). fingering. sex in a private office. dirty talk. praise kink. cum feeding. cream pie.

word count: 3.8k 😅

author’s note: if a fic could come to life, i'd choose this one. thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta'ing and the mental support. i haven't written a fic this long in a while. hope you enjoy. 💙

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

“I have the paperwork all ready for you to sign, Ms. El-Faouly.”

Your boss, Layla, peers up at you with her deep brown eyes from behind her monitor. “Hey, one second. I’ve got to finish this email real quick.” She sends you a soft smile in return before nodding to the right towards a big stack of papers sitting messily on her desk.

Layla had one of the corner offices and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite spot in the entire building. It floods with sunlight all day long and it’s got a great view of the city. Layla was also another reason why it was your favorite.

“How was your day?” She asks, typing as you place the paperwork on top of the stack.

She’s wearing that dark gray, silk blouse and skirt combo you helped her pick out last week during a night out on the town. You told her it made her look powerful and inviting as you got down on your knees for her later that same evening. 

“It’s going alright.” You sigh, drawing imaginary patterns on the corner of her desk.

Layla clicks send on the email and turns her attention to you. She leans her elbows on the edge of her desk with a pensive brow. You can see her brain working on ways to fix your problems before you even tell her. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Nothing is wrong, I swear.” You raise your hands, shaking your head while the gorgeous woman looks you over quizzically.

Stretching your arms over her desk, you grasp her hands, giving them a squeeze. “Honestly, I’m fine. I just..”

 “What is it?” she asks, tucking a few strands of her wild curls behind her ear. She leads you around her desk by your clenched hands and pins your chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Tell me.”

Your eyes dance around the room, landing everywhere but on her. She gives your chin a slight shake and forces your eyes back to hers.

You take a deep breath. “Am I doing a good job?” 

Layla’s heart sinks. “Of course you are. Why on earth-”

“It’s just, it’s so much work.” You cut her off, spilling your worries now that the dam has been broken. “I hate not being able to get everything to you on time. Not to mention there’s so much paperwork. No one ever says thank you but they’ll definitely yell when you’ve done something wrong. I don’t know if I’m doing things right-”

“C’mere, baby.” She ceases your ramble and pulls you down into her lap and into a searing kiss that makes your head swirl.

Tender, yet fierce lips encompass your own, stealing your gasps with fond affection as she winds her arms around your waist and maneuvers you into the position she wants. 

You settle into the pose, kneeling over her lap with your legs on the outsides of her thighs, the cushion of her expensive chair a grateful soft bedding as she forms you to her body. 

“Should we really be doing this?” You ask between broken, breathless kisses. It was after 5pm, so it was less likely anyone would walk in on you and her. Still, hesitation nestled in your belly.  

“Everyone is gone for the night.” She confirms before lewdly dragging her tongue along the seam of your lips. “There’s no need to worry about them.”

Layla presses her forehead against yours sensing your apprehension. She searches your timid eyes for a moment trying to find the right words to express her gratitude.

“You’re doing a wonderful job. I’ve gotten no complaints from anyone. So if they have an issue, they haven’t told anyone,” she says, holding your gaze. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you more about how lucky I am to have you. My life has been so much better since you started working here.”

She holds your face, rubbing her thumb along the apple of your cheek. “In more ways than one.” She winks, playfully.

“Layla!” You gasp, lightly swatting her on the chest.

She sends you a look you know all too well. The raised eyebrow and slightly parted lips mean trouble is coming. In a good way.

“Oh, baby, you don’t know what you started.” Her hands tickle your ribs in a flash making your eyes bug as you try to keep your giggles at bay. You squirm incessantly in her lap, wishing you could break free but she had a strong hold around your waist.

Your skirt slid up your thighs in the process of all your wriggling, no longer hiding your want for her as your panties are noticeably soaked through.

“Oh, baby, you really are desperate for me.” She coos, eyes growing soft as she feigns a pout. “Poor baby.”

She skillfully undoes the pearly buttons on your white, flower-patterned blouse, sliding the thin material off your shoulders and onto the floor. Soft, warm hands palm your breasts, feeling your heartbeat beneath your skin before she makes you gasp by wickedly pinching your sensitive nipples.

She teases her fingers down further then and along the soaked cloth of your panties, drawing light circles over your throbbing, hidden clit. You whimper into her chocolate curls, a soft pathetic mewl, begging her for more as you perch wearily in her lap. 

“What do you say?” she asks with a sharp tongue and pointed stare. 

She weaves her arm around your hips, smoothing a palm over the curve of your ass and dragging your panties down in the process before seeking out your aching warmth once more. A well-manicured finger teases down the slick, puffy seam of you from behind, teasing and torturing you until she’s satisfied. She loves breaking you into little pieces and putting you back together. 

“Please-” You gasp as your hips buck on their own accord, chasing her fingers for relief. “Please, Layla.”

The older woman’s painted lips tug into a sly smile, “That’s my good girl.”

Your world is consumed. Her brunette curls smell of lavender and spice. They tickle your cheek and senses as she plays your body like a well tuned piano. Her hold on you is immense. There’s never any doubt that she doesn’t adore you.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Layla coos, grasping the back of your neck with her free hand as her other cups your searing mound. You jolt from the touch but do as she says, meeting her soft yet stoic expression with watery eyes.

She pins you with a firm stare as she slowly presses two fingers into your soaked core. You know better than to turn your gaze from her but your eyes flutter as she finally grants you the sweet relief you’ve been begging for.

“That’s my good girl,” Layla praises as she fills you to the hilt, knuckles grazing your puckered hole and claiming every inch of your cunt.

Deft fingers glide with prowess as a steady, toe curling rhythm is set. Your body trembles as a  foggy bliss rolls into your mind. Your knees shake, desperately meeting her thrusts, wanting nothing more than to come around her fingers.

“You take what I give you, sweet girl.” Layla coos, nudging her nose against your cheek. She doesn’t like it when you get greedy. “You know that.”

One of your hands clutches the back of her chair while the other has her blouse in a death grip. A scolding is in your future but you could care less as you rock back onto her fingers chasing the pleasure she’s finally allowing.  

Something heavy in your gut twists. The knot Layla began tying when she first got you onto her lap starts tightening. Your muscles ache, ready to collapse under the pressure when she gives you the word.

Just then, a quick succession of knocks rap on her door.

Your head whips up as Layla’s fingers go still. Ice courses through your veins freezing the searing wildfire that burns in your abdomen. You knew it was stupid to try anything at work. Besides the occasionally secretive kiss, you both kept things to a dull roar. No one knew about your relationship and you wanted it to stay that way.

“Shh. Be still.” Layla whispers, unfazed, as she cups her free hand along your jaw. “You trust me. Right?”

You nod in her tender hold, hips pressing just a bit harder into her palm. “Good girl.”

“Who is it?” Layla calls out. Your body jolts as her fingers begin moving again and you send her a bewildered look.

“Marc,” a gruff voice sounds from the other side of the door. 

Shit — it was the CEO. 

Marc Spector built this company from the ground up. He and Layla had been working together since almost the beginning. They explicitly trusted and respected one another even when they didn’t meet eye to eye. 

You’d met Marc only once. It was a brief interaction as one of your coworkers showed you around on your first day. He was personable and made you feel welcome even though you were a lowly intern.

You thought he was handsome and could kill someone with his smile. His jet black quiff would curl on humid days when he forgot to gel it. It made you admire him even more for some reason. 

“Come in.” She answers while holding your worried gaze with her own unwavering one. 

Your heart jumps into your throat. “Layla, what’re doin-” you hiss, squirming to get free from her arms again.

“Remember your safe word.” she says, quickly just before Marc walks in.

“Layla, I was wonderin-” Marc starts as he steps into the office and instantly cuts himself off at the lewd display. 

You can’t breathe. Shame and embarrassment flood your system. If the floor could open up, you’d gladly jump in. 

Marc stands in awe. You couldn’t turn to face him but you spy his reflection in the darkened window and that’s more than enough. You don't know how you could ever look him in the eye after this.

“What’s this now?” He ponders, intrigue shaping his words as he steps closer, tapping his knuckles on Layla’s oversized desk.

“I was just rewarding her for doing such a good job,” Layla responds like she doesn’t have you propped in her lap with her fingers buried deep inside your cunt. 

You see Marc nod in the reflection and take another step closer. Your body burns like red hot coals as you feel his eyes on your body mainly where Layla’s fingers slowly thrust into your shiny, slick opening.

“That right?” Marc questions with a curious tone as he rubs a hand along his rough five o’clock shadow.  

“She’s so attentive and such a hard worker.” Layla praises, finally looking in your direction. “I had to show how much I appreciate her.”

Marc chuckles. It’s a deep huff of laughter that rumbles from his chest and it makes your insides melt. “Is she any good at helping relieve some stress?” he asks pensively while looking at your holes like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“She most certainly is,” Layla smirks, raising a sculpted brow before sliding a finger under your chin, tipping your face in toward her. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your heart drops into your stomach. 

You’d been with Layla since the first day you started working, shared any and all free time together along with the inner workings of your bedroom. Explored each other’s bodies freely and with such passion. Falling to Layla’s feet came naturally to you and she made you feel complete; loved even.

You trusted her to push your limits whenever the time came but you didn’t think you’d ever be in this situation.

“Why don’t you show him how much you love being employed here, baby.” She dubiously insists, slowly nodding her head for you to comply.

You finally gather the courage to look over your shoulder. 

Butterflies flutter wildly in your belly as you take in the devilishly handsome man. His hair is mused, like he’d been running a hand through it all day and his button up shirt is loose at the collar, exposing a column of tan skin with two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up exposing his muscular forearms. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

A nervous chortle bubbles up your throat at the nickname. Your insides turn to jelly; and your brain to mush. Your core can’t help but clench as the older man takes you in with a ravenous gaze.

“Oh, she likes that.” Layla quips upon feeling your pussy clamp down on her fingers. 

“Does she now?” Marc croons, stepping up right behind you. He smooths his hands along the shape of you. His warmth feels good against your skin and you can’t help but moan when Layla curls her fingers along that spongy spot that makes you feel lightheaded.

“Damn, that’s a pretty pussy.” He drawls, crouching down behind your bent form. With your ass in the air, you already felt so exposed and now the owner of the company was getting a front row view of the most private parts of you. 

Sticky, wet noises fill the room as Layla splays her fingers deep inside your velvet channel. You bite your lip to keep your moans at bay. So overstimulated and heated, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Want a taste?’ Layla asks, jogging you from your stupor. 

Marc grunts in response. You look back in time to watch Layla feeding him her shiny, cream coated fingers. The debauched noise he makes while he licks and sucks her fingers clean has your heart falling into your lower half. 

You meet his lust filled gaze as he stands. Layla’s fingers leave his lips with a pop, and he palms his hard length through his dark slacks. “You gonna show me how good you are at serving your superiors?”

A nervous whimper escapes from your throat at his question.

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, lapping at some of your fallen cream as he pulls his cock out and gives it a languid tug. You watch dumbstruck as he pumps his length, from the obscenely thick base that’s littered with dark wiry hairs to a bulbous, desert blush tip that weeps in his hand after every twist.

“Is that a yes, sweetheart?” he questions. 

A smirk lifts the corners of his mouth at your stupefied gaze. Marc raises a hand and grasps the back of your neck, moving your head in a crude up-down motion. “This is how you say, yes.” 

Another deep chuckle burrows into your brain and makes you go even more dumb.

Fire ignites in your belly and races up your body, making your face burn. Your mouth bobs open and closed like a fish, wanting to answer him but you can’t even form the simplest word. 

“She tends to go a bit brain dead when she gets overwhelmed.” Layla thankfully answers for you. 

She thumbs your cheek. “But that pretty pussy of hers makes up for it.”

“You don’t say…” Marc quips before tapping his tip on your soaked folds. Your slick drips down your inner thighs showing that you would indeed make up for your lack of communication.

He notches the thick head past your dripping opening before slowly sinking into your cunt. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out, pressing his full length all the way and grinding the cut of his hips against your ass. 

“God damn.” Marc grits, hissing through his teeth at the way you squeeze him.

You whimper from the immense stretch. It feels like his cock is burrowing a new space inside your body. “Layla. Too much–” You gasp, having never felt so full before. “So. Big.”

She cups her hands around your face, hushing your cries. “I know, baby. I know.” 

Marc’s hips never falter. He plunges into your heat with an unyielding, merciless pace, pushing slick and cream from between your folds, making your belly twist in pleasurable pain.

His strong hands knead your fleshy hips, pulling you back on every brute shove, forcing you to take every inch he gives. “Such a good girl. Doin’ just what we say.” 

Your core clenches that much tighter knowing you’re making them happy. “You love it don’t you, pretty girl?” His heavy balls slap against your exposed clit making you mewl and writhe in the combined hold they had on you.

Sticky, sweet bliss drowns your senses. You’re a wanton mess. A plaything between two beautiful gods as they have their fun..

You whine when Marc slows his rhythm, canting his hips so his cock stays buried deep. “I thought you were one of the best.” Marc sighs with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing with the movement. “But it seems you’re not as attentive as I thought.”

Your brow furrows as you look at him over your shoulder.

“I think it’s time to show your Boss how much you appreciate her.”

Marc moves quickly, dragging you out of Layla’s arms and down onto your knees in front of her spread legs. Layla quirks a brow at him.

“What? I wanted to see how attentive she really was.” Marc says, talking about you like you weren’t speared open on his heavy cock.

Layla pulls her dress up over her legs and spreads her thighs. Her panties looked much like your own, wet, sticky, and just begging to be removed.

“Go on. Show her how much you love being on your knees for her.” Marc commands. With a snap of his hips, he jolts your bones and forces your head between Layla’s thighs. “Eat your boss’s cunt.”

Heat flames your face at his words when a familiar hand curves around your jaw. Layla pulls her panties to the side and leads you gently, well as gently as she can while you’re being plowed from behind, to her slick folds. 

She sighs as your tongue licks a long stripe from her weeping opening to her clit. You flick the tiny nub, drawing tight circles for a brief moment before sliding down her folds. You lap hungrily at her slit, freely licking into her tight hole and sliding your tongue in and out from her heat.

“There you go.” Layla coos down at you with a smile. She scratches her nails along your scalp making you purr against her clit. She grinds her cunt against your mouth, chasing her pleasure. Nothing made you happier than making Layla feel good. Your core throbs when she gasps and fucks her mound onto your tongue.

A rough, grating moan crawls from Marc’s chest as your cunt quivers and milks his length. “Such a good girl letting us use you like this.” He grits, slamming his hips harder into your ass and knocking your face steadily into Layla’s cunt. “Like you were made for it.”

Your core spasms at his words. You did love being on your knees for them. At their beck and call, wanting to be of service however they needed.

Marc lays his body along your spine, pressing his clothed chest against your bare back, and nuzzles his curved nose along your cheek. A large hand slinks around your hip and notches nimble fingers against your clit, swirling tight circles around the throbbing nub. “Wanna know all the pretty noises you make when you come.”

“Oh, they’re just the sweetest.” Layla moans, breathlessly as your lips lock around her clit. You suckle the tiny nub until 

she’s digging her fingers into your hair, writhing and gasping. 

Marc groans at the sight of his business partner unfurling with pleasure. His breath is hot in your ear and he crowds you even more, leaving no chance of escape.

“Come on, girl. Be good and come for us.” Marc commands, shifting his hips until his throbbing tip grazes that hidden spot behind your clit.

With Layla humping your face and Marc sheathing his cock further inside you with every shove, you’re pushed to the edge before you can even think. Your cream coated lips fall open with a feverish wail as your body locks tight. 

Your muscles shake uncontrollably as you careen off the edge. Your soaked core clenches like a fist, forcing Marc’s pace to stutter and drag him along with you. He lets loose a dark roar when his balls draw up and he fucks your trembling core to the brim with his thick seed.

His cock twitches between your folds, pumping you full with every last drop. “God damn, you weren’t kidding. She more than made up for going all dumb eariler.” He slowly eases from your core with a hiss and tucks his half hard length back into his slacks.

Your head is still reeling from the powerful orgasm and Marc’s compliment makes you just that much more lightheaded. Thank goodness you were already on the ground. 

“Oh you’re making such a mess.” Layla gasps when she sees the thick river of white that runs down your thighs. Your knees ache from being on the hard carpet for so long but the pain is forgotten as the pair crowds over you.

You whine as Layla and Marc drag their fingers through the hot stickiness and press them into your mouth. 

You gag heavily around the two sets of fingers, tears pricking your eyes as they cover your tongue in the combined spend. “Good girl. Clean up the mess you made.” Marc nods slowly, heavy lidded with a deep moan of satisfaction as you choke and sputter while Layla proudly smiles down at you. “Did so well for me; for us.”

She shares a curious look with Marc before turning her gaze back to you and thumbs the last bit of white into your mouth.

“Might need to borrow her again sometime soon.” Marc comments as they help you onto your feet. “You know how stressed I can get.”

Your legs are shaky, like a newborn doe, as Layla brushes down your crumpled skirt while Marc helps you back into your blouse, securely buttoning you up. 

“We’ll see about that.” Layla responds as she gathers you into her arms and sits back down on her chair, tucking your sleepy head under her chin. 

“I’ll see you ‘round the office, sweetheart.” He raises a hand and tenderly grazes your dewy temple with his knuckles. 

As he sees himself out, he winks at Layla and she smirks before he shuts the door leaving the two of you in peaceful silence. 

As you relax in Layla’s arms, burrowing yourself into her safe warmth, you notice through sleepy eyes that her monitor is still on. The email she was typing when you dropped off the paperwork lights up the screen.

𝚃𝙾: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 (𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚌)

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: 𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 - 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙻𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚊 𝙴𝚕-𝙵𝚊𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚢

𝙲𝙵𝙾 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚌

*evil laughter* they were in cahoots the entire time!

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

[the-golden-comet]

🌸✨OC Questionnaire Tag +bonus Character Voice✨🌺

Thank you for this tag @mysticstarlightduck here, a character voice tag here, more questions from @ominous-feychild here and @fantasy-things-and-such here✨

My questions:

How good is your sleep schedule?

Do you have any siblings? If so, how good is your relationship?

What was the toughest time you had to endure while growing up?

What was the worst day of your life?

What's your worst nightmare?

If a monster asked you your worst nightmare, what would you tell it and why?

"What's your relationship with your family like?"

"Do you have any hobbies? if so, what ones?"

"Do you dream often? what about?"

"What is the one thing you would not wish on your greatest adversary?

And answering the questions With this voice:

"(sighs, done with life) Alright, what did you do now?"

Guess who has the perfect OC to answer these? That’s right: Come on out, Tyr:

From In The Realm Of Giants

Sucks. Getting jostled around in a jar isn’t the most comfortable sleeping space. Go figure, right? (Glares up at Tav)

No. I’m an only child. Mom died when I was five, and Dad’s been overprotective of his only son. Heh….probably should’ve listened in hindsight…

Right after Mom died, we were grieving. Dad grieved a long, long time. He was so paranoid he’d lose me too, that he didn’t let me outside our cottage home for a year. I had to really fight hard to show him that I can be worthy of leadership, that I’m okay, and he doesn’t need to smother me. I passed all the trials and he still sees me as this defenseless child. I’m twenty-two now; I don’t need to have him breathing down my neck.

Losing my mother. How Dad sat me down, tears welled in his eyes, choking out that Mom wasn’t coming back. I felt lost…confused….angry. D-damn it….

(Glares up at the giant from inside the jar) I dunno, Tav. What IS my worst nightmare?

(still glaring, words dripping with venomous sarcasm) OH GEE, I DON’T KNOW, GUSTAV. What WOULD I tell you?

I love my dad and my village. Yeah, he can be a bit overbearing at times, but I can see why. I’m a rebellious little shit, and I caused a lot of trouble for him. And the village…I would die to protect my people. Oh Dad, I’m sorry….I hope everyone’s doing alright….

Besides not getting eaten by a giant? I did my trainings to get all my marks. I guess you can call those hobbies….? I passed my archery test for the Mark of the Snake, led a successful pack hunt for my Mark of the Wolf, and passed the fishing trial for my Mark of the Bear

Usually it’s nightmares about getting eaten alive….being abducted by this dumbass didn’t help that—H-HEY! Don’t jostle the jar!! Fucker, you did that on purpose!! I see you snickering!!

(Glaring up at Gustav so intensely the sun couldn’t burn him to the same degree)

G: …..Huh? What? I wasn’t paying attention. 🤷‍♂️

Whew! I’ll leave these same questions for anyone else who wants to answer, as little or as many as you want in any order! ✨

Tagging (no pressure): @finickyfelix , @illarian-rambling , @saturnine-saturneight , @rivenantiqnerd , @noxxytocin , @pixies-love-envy , @honeybewrites , @drchenquill , @theaistired , @aintgonnatakethis , @willtheweaver , @autism-purgatory , @gioiaalbanoart , @alinacapellabooks , @fortunatetragedy , @theverumproject , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @wyked-ao3 , @addicted2coke-theothercoke , @paeliae-occasionally , @sunglasses-in-the-bentley , @jev-urisk , @thatuselesshuman , @lychhiker-writes +open tag! ✨