#ghost deserves to be hugged from every angle

[ghouljams]

just imagining soap and love being close and like those bsfs that are attached at the hip or very affectionate, just imagining making soap catch her and acting like shes gonna kiss his cheek but just takes a hugeass CHOMP at his cheek

You are feeding into my Ghost/Love/Soap trio thoughts in an unhealthy way but God Ghost deserves all the love in the world he deserves them. Here's the biting part of Ghost's "No kissing, no biting, no bitching" rule.

Ghost honestly didn't know what he was expecting when he introduced you and Soap. Honestly he hadn't really planned on introducing you to anyone but certain stabbings made that a little tricky. This was good though, you two got along well. Maybe too well. Your excitement for seeing Soap was almost rivaling the excitement you showed upon seeing him. Although maybe that was partially a reflection of his own feelings.

Whatever the reason was, he could feel you light up when you spotted Soap. Ghost himself didn't bother stifling his smile, letting you drop his hand to run at the poor guy. At least Soap seemed to have the good sense to hold his arms out when you jumped. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he lifts you into a more comfortable hold. Ghost shakes his head, watching him pat your back amicably.

"Price says we gotta- Hey," Ghost grabs the back of your head and pulls it back just as your teeth replace your lips against Soap's cheek, "No, no biting." You whine, for some reason Soap whines.

"But look how sad he is," You tell Ghost, Soap nods.

"Yeah, look how sad I am."

"Jesus Christ." Ghost pinches the bridge of his nose, "He's not sad, he's half charmed, now no biting, either of you."

"Just right now or-"

"The whole time," Ghost glares at you, you shut your mouth quickly.

"The whole time what?" Soap frowns, finally catching on that there this might not be a courtesy call.

"Price wants us keeping an eye on you while he and Gaz talk to the witch." There's a long moment where Ghost thinks Soap might object, before a smile spreads over his face. His growing excitement does not bode well for Ghost's sanity.

Later Ghost finds himself on the couch at the bottom of a dog pile. Soap's thrown a leg over his, head on his shoulder while his fingers lace between Ghost's. Your legs are similarly settled across his lap, arms wrapped around him to cuddle close, at least Ghost managed to get an arm around your shoulders before it was pinned by your koala hugging. Your fingers just graze Soap's arm, soft contact acknowledging his presence.

"I can't believe you've never seen this movie," You mumble, tucking your head under Ghost's chin.

"'Scuse my for not seein' every movie of the last 40 years." Soap rolls his eyes, cuddles a little closer.

"Dude it's fucking Jaws."

"Ghost hasn't seen it either," Soap counters.

"Yeah but Simon was living under a rock, you were out doing-" You wave your hand, "-whatever it is you do." Soap hums, catches your waving hand with his free one.

"I wasn't under a rock, I-" Ghost stops, eyes wide watching the screen, "Bloody hell, it's eatin' that poor fuck."

"You know the actual jaws animatronic was in the shop for most of the filming? That's why you don't see it until you see it." Ghost doesn't know who you're talking to, if you're talking to either of them. He's never been this warm before. Soap's internal sunshine and your tethers blazing on either side of him, tangling over him, it feels like all the tension in his body is trying to unwind.

He's not sure what will happen if it does? Will he fall apart if his bindings come loose? He doesn't think so. Not with how tightly he's held right now. New bindings from people that would happily put him back together.

"I forgot you're a horror junkie," Soap grumbles, earning a quiet laugh from you.

"Don't tell Simon that, he'll think I only like him for the mask."

"It's a nice mask." Soap agrees.

"Would you two stop talking and watch the damn movie," Ghost cuts in, the cuddling is enough, he doesn't think he could handle the lead up to both of you talking about him.

[fushipurro]

All That I Wanna Hear

☆ Synopsis: It's halloween night in 2018 and while you're home enjoying a good horror movie to pass the time, you get a text from someone claiming to be your long deceased husband. Your current partner isn't all that thrilled once he finds out, but soon the night turns into more than ghosts and goblins.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, f!reader, fluff/smut/angst all in one, breeding kink, creampie, praise kink, oral sex, established relationships, pet names, threesome, anal, foreplay, slight hurt/comfort, shameless smut, porn with plot, i meme a lot in this, toji and satoru bicker a LOT

☆ Word Count: 5.5k

unknown sender daddy long dick just landed in shinjuku baby, where you at, mama?

you excuse me?

unknown sender shit doll, you didn't change your number, did ya? it's toji.

you that's a sick joke, asshole

you at first thought it was just some kids having fun. it's halloween, right? the time for pranking others even if the "joke" is downright cruel.

hell, even satoru was playing into it when you got a notification of 10 million yen being added to your bank account on top of at least 500 missed calls from the same man and more coming.

he's supposed to be out chaperoning some of his students for some halloween fun in shinjuku. his group consisting of your two kids megumi and tsumiki along with a few others you've come to love like your own from their school.

you offered to come along with them to enjoy the festivities, but satoru insisted that you stayed home, all bundled up on the couch watching all your favorite movies and what not. a "well deserved break" he called it.

over the years he's done similar things ever since you first met him twelve years ago when life as you knew it completely shattered into a million pieces. instead of your husband coming home, you were greeted by a grim reaper clad in white hair and a school uniform.

before even attempting to respond to the flurry of notifications, yet another call from said reaper came blaring through with their face front and center. your own throat felt like it was closing in on you, desperate and grasping for air as every emotion fought to escape you. you picked up the phone, finally hitting that green button and instantly hearing the frantic voice of the man on the other end.

"you're home, right? stay where you are, i'm coming over right away."

"what's going on satoru? are the kids okay? what's with the money, the calls, the texts─"

"everyone's fine, just stay put! i'm almost there!"

your phone buzzed in your hand with a new message, a selfie image from the unknown sender with the caption "proof enough, sweetheart?"

sure enough, it was like looking at a ghost. a man with hair as dark as his surroundings, the piercing green eyes, the scar over his lip. not to mention the awkward angle the photo was taken at like he wasn't sure what he was doing or where to look when he took the photo. whatever phone he was using was nothing close to the old nokia he had in the past buried in your nightstand and it showed.

"...what the fuck?"

you could hear satoru asking, "what's wrong?" from the speaker of your device.

"there's no way, right? you're supposed to be dead??" you choked out, tears falling from your eyes onto the phone screen. this was a sick joke, right? there's no way your husband is alive after being dead for twelve long and grueling years, it's just not possible.

...right?

satoru burst through the front door to your home, "y/n!? where are you?!" he breezed to the living room hoping you were there, and sure enough you were.

he stood in the doorway panting, finally seeing your eyes lift to meet his with tears streaming down your face. "this is a prank, right? he's dead! i don't like this, it's not funny. . ."

he sped towards you, throwing your phone to the other end of the couch and pulling you in for a hug. there was no way he could lie to you, he saw it himself already while he was out with his students.

is it wrong for satoru to want to hide the fact that your dead husband somehow is now revived? 100%. he didn't like toji one bit especially not after almost losing his own life to him and surviving from the miracle of reverse cursed technique. he also hated how broken you became after toji died, because he killed him. he caused your pain. it was because of those actions that you were left alone to shoulder the weight of two kids in a cramped decrepit apartment you hoped to move out of someday soon at the time. satoru did not want to ever see that happen again to you after you finally allowed yourself to try and love again.

you aren't a sorcerer.

you aren't a killer.

you didn't deserve this.

toji kept a lot hidden from you about the jujutsu world and the many horrors in it, especially the acts he once committed. he changed for you as much as he could since the time he locked you down with a ring to the day he died. he forwent killing others and used his hands only to love and support life as best as he could.

he had no regrets over falling in love with you, but he also struggled to find his place in the world again. everything he believed he knew and did best centered around taking the lives of others and without that, he wasn't anything. but he had you, and the kids, and that gave him every reason to try.

when confronted about the impossible task of killing a girl being guarded by the one and only satoru gojo, he knew it wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world. toji also knew that he was the only one capable of doing it with the right methods and plenty of patience. the rewards he'd reap afterwards would be enough to coast through life in the way that you deserve and with functional appliances and hot water in the shower. even if it meant bloodying his hands one final time, it was always for your sake and yours alone.

satoru had no chance to even open his mouth before a deep voice familiar to both of you sounded from the front door he didn't bother to lock in his haste to get here. not that any lock or door could ever hope to stop the being that is toji fushiguro.

"daddy's home~, where's my angel at?"

"how the fuck did you find her?" he turned to face the man with a hostile glare.

toji scoffed, walking over to the couch, ignoring satoru in the process as he cupped your tear-stained chin to meet the smile always reserved for you.

"missed ya, sweetheart," he slowly admired all your features intently. twelve years is a long time and while you're still young, you're not immune to signs of aging. however, you can now say it's cute that you both carry the same small creases around your eyes. the idea of growing old with your soulmate and actually getting to is a miracle in and of itself.

seeing him once again like this made you sob mercilessly, if you could call whatever you were doing before that. the sheer force of many emotions overtakes your body. you're grasping his body and face praying your hands don't slip through like ghosts on TV. "toji, how are you alive? i buried you myself!"

"haven't a clue, but i couldn't care less about the reason. i'm back now and i'm not leaving you ever again."

he hooked his hands under your arms and pulled you up off the cushions and into a tight hug, one you've missed after the many years of sleepless nights in a bed far too big for one person.

sure, they were seldomly spent with satoru, more so as of late. he was there for you when no one else was or could be. you hated him at first, but you grew to understand everything that happened and he helped you learn to love again. you hated too that toji had done something so stupid that cost him everything, but you understand why and came to terms with it.

he shot a glare at satoru who was kneeling on the couch with his fists clenched and a sour expression. "you can go now, kid. my wife and i have some catching up to do."

"i'm not going anywhere." he hissed.

"i wasn't asking." toji growled in response. he leaned down to meet your lips, instantly making your body shiver. saliva coating your lips like gloss with a flavor that made long dormant senses come alive like flowers beneath a tundra.

it was like a dream, i mean, how else could your dead husband be kissing you again? yeah, cursed techniques can be crazy sometimes, given what you learned from satoru, but raising the dead? it was nigh impossible tampering with life in such a way.

there is no other way you could explain this. here before you is a man that looks like toji, sounds like toji, acts like toji, tastes like toji. everything about him is the toji you knew and you swear you can feel your soul humming for him like a human beacon.

one kiss wasn't enough. it never is with toji and you never used to complain about it. they start soft and supple and quickly turn into bites and feverish grabs, yearning for more. but the circumstances now are different than before. "t-toji, wait─"

"what's wrong, baby?" he interjected, "you know how much i missed ya?"

satoru shoved his hand in between the two of you, infinity protecting him from the possibility of toji's saliva getting on his perfect skin. "you've been dead for a long time, in case you forgot. people can move on with their lives."

"what are implying?" he narrowed his eyes at the man. "you been touching my wife in my absence?" toji got his answer when he saw your flustered gaze. "sweetheart, he did tell you how i died, right?"

"yes, but it's not like that, toji." you sighed, stepping away from the men and returning to your spot on the couch, resting your face to your palms. "satoru showed up out of the blue that day telling me exactly what happened. about everything, including the job you hid from me."

"yeah and she punched me too." satoru chimed in, making toji chuckle with pride.

"eventually, i forgave him, yes. it killed me that you went and died over some stupid pride. it's not like either of you are perfect people though, no one is, and i get that." your voice was cracking with grief and anger you haven't expressed since that day. "i just wish you would've talked to me instead of deciding for yourself what you thought was best. . ."

toji seated himself at your side, rubbing his hand on your back in an attempt to comfort you like he always used to. "i'm sorry, y/n. i never planned on dying that day and leaving you, i was stupid and i know it."

"i know... it was hard though- and satoru has been very kind in helping our family out after it all."

toji shot a look to the man keeping himself quiet to not disrupt the moment, but this time it wasn't one of anger. satoru returned his look with his own troubled expression.

"he took megumi and tsumiki in like they were his own kids, paid our debts, bought this house for us. he's even their teacher now, training and keeping them safe. oh you would be so proud of how they turned out, toji."

much to satoru's dismay, toji pulled you into his lap with your back to his chest. large hands resting on your stomach with his head in the crook of your neck delivering soft kisses to calm your relentless sobs of grief.

toji wouldn't say so right now, but he's the reason satoru came to you in the first place. he wasn't expecting much when asked what his final words were, but when regret washed over him over his choices, toji had one final hope to ensure you had the life you deserve.

"i'm home, sweetheart. m'not going anywhere ever again."

toji wasn't much of a jealous person. even after twelve years apart from you and another man filling the void, he only had himself to blame for leaving you and everyone else behind.

satoru on the other hand felt differently, but his jealousy wasn't about pride or broken promises. it was about you and sustaining your happiness.

the man you loved who got himself killed now walking back into your life by some blessing from above. the life of someone satoru has grown to love and care for. he never asked you for much in return, only that you'd give him a chance and you your own to love again beyond toji. at first it was merely about making things right for someone who didn't deserve the situation they were placed in, but it never stays like that. it always grows into something more. if you water and care for a plant, it will grow and bloom, as simple as that.

and just like with toji, it's never stops with one kiss. like a cactus waiting for a monsoon to drown it or the golden light of day to feed it. his soft kisses soon turned into bites, his breath fanning your neck behind your ears and his fingers kneading into the plush of your waist and working up to your chest.

"toji, w-what are you doing?" you blushed, squirming from not only the tongue striping your ear but the boner poking your back through the fabric.

"shh," he coos, "just lemme show you how much i missed ya, okay?"

"huh?" satoru groaned.

calloused hands began pushing back the hem of your shirt as he found his way in around your breasts.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"the fuck does it look like, brat?" toji hissed at the man. "gonna make love to my wife, right mama?" he said, moving his hand inside your shorts and over your mound, toying with the sticky fabric. a husky snicker filled your ears, "so wet for me already. can't wait to taste your pretty pussy again."

"fuck! toji~," you leaned into his touch, digging your nails into his thighs to balance yourself as he slithered his rough digit between your folds, gathering slick around his finger tip to work himself inside.

"so tight for me. fuck, i missed this. has he even been treating you properly?" he smirked at satoru.

the white haired man had enough sitting with on the sidelines, scooting in front of you blatantly ignoring the scowling husband.

"why don't we show him how i treat you, princess?"

oh how toji wanted to put him in his place, but then he thought about the fun you might have with both of your love interests filling you up. toji died, time passed, he gets it. but now, you have the chance to indulge yourself in something you never would've done before.

a mischievous grin tugged his scar upwards. he leaned back, propping his hips up to adjust himself and bouncing your body up onto his lap, back against his chest.

satoru took the invitation and closed the gap between you, muffling your moans with his tongue against yours while circling your chest with his hands.

you're toji's after all. your rings still nestled on your finger unmoving after all these years. what's the harm in some temporary enjoyment to celebrate his return?

from your mouth, satoru leaned down to tongue the buds on your chest after removing your top. toji took advantage of your now free opening to kiss you, slipping another finger inside your cunt and scissoring your walls open.

"you have the prettiest tits, princess. no competition, even from jackass back there." his voice humming against your nipple that sent shockwaves straight to your heart and other areas (read: pussy) that made your body flutter.

you were already in shambles, threatening to come apart. your whole body felt like it was on fire thanks to their onslaught of attention. toji's voice filled your ears, nibbling the lobe as he spoke, "you wanna cum, sweetheart? i can feel this pussy just begging for it."

you nodded your head as best you could, "y-yes fuck─ please." with a quick circle of his thumb to your pearl and a bite from satoru, your body unraveled turning your vision white. your body slunk further back against toji's as you settled from the high.

"that's my good girl." he praised, his voice like honey over your ears, "can't wait to feel you clenching around my dick again."

"please please daddy, i need you." you whined as he took his fingers out leaving you feeling void.

his deep laugh only made you shiver and perk up more, "so eager for me? always so good f'me, baby." he raised his fingers up to his mouth, admiring the clear dew before cleaning them off in his mouth. "best taste in the world right here."

satoru slid his head between your thighs, kissing your pearl and jolting your body in the process, "don't forget that i'm here, princess. lemme clean you up a bit."

"fuck, 'toru~," you mewled as he licked a straight stripe up your slit. his tongue savoring the taste before toji lifted your body up and placed you down on all fours on the cushions.

"uh uh, pretty boy," toji teased, "this pussy belonged to me first and will stay that way. but thanks for keeping it warm for me."

you heard toji unbuckling himself, cock springing free right up against your entrance making you squeal out in response. turning your head around, you could see the precum adorning the tip of his overwhelming size.

yup, definitely toji.

"why don't i fill up this mouth of yours then, beautiful?" satoru purred as he kneeled in front of you, freeing his own bulging length from his pants.

both of the men pushed their way into your holes at the same time, a guttural groan leaving you as you adjusted to toji's monstrous size. it worked in favor for satoru, the vibration making him throw his head back.

"shit─ almost like the day we first fucked." he flashed an arrogant smile to the man across from him, "the so-called 'strongest' falling short to a monkey like me?"

satoru returned toji's remark with a cocky look of his own, "so scary~, want me to hollow purple your ass again? that did the job last time."

so long as he wasn't distracted trying to throw hands, toji kept his pace was slow and sensual. savoring every moment he was connected to your body. his grip was sure to leave bruises later on your hips but you welcomed them proudly since it meant you had him again.

satoru had his hand at the back of your head, bobbing you evenly over his cock whispering, "you're so pretty, doin' so well for us."

the cock in your mouth was the first to show signs of his incoming release, now evident by his pace turning sloppy before ultimately releasing his seed as pure and white as his hair all over your tongue and throat.

he groaned deeply, cupping your cheek to admire his handiwork with soft eyes. "prettiest girl in the world."

your praise was interrupted by yet another challenge from behind, "look at that, he cums fast too." toji sneered. his eyes fell to the circle of cream glossing his own length.

"least i actually can." he shrugged in response, only taunting him further. "did you lose your touch in the afterlife, old man?"

"tsk." he clicked his tongue. with satoru out of your mouth, he flipped you so your back was against the cushions.

"toji!" you yelped in surprise.

"sorry sweetheart, but you know how i much i love seeing your pretty face when i fuck you full."

toji entered himself back into you, hips rutting at a faster more rough pace to chase his high. his breathing turned heavy with low grunts in between.

satoru leaned down, peppering kisses across your cock drunk face seeing stars. "hang in there, beautiful, you're doing so well."

with a few harsh thrusts, toji had shimmied himself as deep as he could inside. "want me to give you another baby? give megs and tsumi a new sibling?" you nodded furiously despite not being totally aware what he was even saying through the blood rush in your ears. "yeah? daddy can do that for you, my love. can't fucking wait to see you swollen again now that i'm home."

when you love someone as much as toji, almost anything they say sounds like a good idea when he says it so sweetly to you ten inches deep. you're even more willing to indulge in his antics now after all this time without him. you truly missed such moments, more than you know.

he hasn't even seen his kids yet, oh how shocked they're gonna be when they come home to the literal ghost in the house. inside your womb however was anything but ectoplasm from some spirit. thick ropes of cum shot out, burying you with warmth from the inside and out.

"thaaattt's it... fuck baby─milk me dry." he moaned pleasingly, leaning down to bite into your soft flesh as you screamed his name harmoniously until nothing else could sound.

after a pregnant pause, he finally pulled out, attempting to stuff his seed back inside you before satoru lifted you up onto your knees with your back close to his chest. "c'mere princess, you don't need that stuff in you." as he rubbed his length along your folds, he snaked his arms around your waist and chest to keep you up, leaning into your ear whispering, "only mine," as he smirked at toji's discontented face.

toji ignored him as he took your cheeks into his hand, kissing you oh so sweetly and full of love. you greedily kissed him back, a few tears falling from your eyes whether from satoru pushing up into you or toji's return to you, who knows. both, really. either way, you're beyond happy feeling your heart beating again like it last did twelve years ago. he wiped your tears with gentle kisses, "i love you, y/n, so fucking much."

he wasn't much with words of affirmation, especially in endearing ways. toji cared more about showing his love to you in small acts or teasing. but when your bodies are pressed together, be it through making love or holding each other to sleep, that's when you hear the words come straight from his heart and into yours.

"i love you─ahh too, j-jiji." you smiled blissfully, trying your best to get the words out as satoru's cock thrusted into your sweet spot over and over.

there were plenty of times satoru wanted to interject. as much as he disliked toji, this is the man you had chosen to love before and never stopped loving. despite his own feelings, your feelings are what matter most. that being said, when the moment's over, he's reminding you about the spot in your heart reserved for the honored one.

"if you want another baby, y/n, i'll give you one." he grinned, upping his pace. his balls made a splatter sound with each thrust thanks to all the cum and slick present. "i'm sure we can make the prettiest baby together."

"is that how it is? this is my wife we're talking about, pretty boy." he leaned forward to cup your cheek, trailing his fingers to the back of your head.

"is your memory falling short too, old man?" his voice becoming disheveled, "she's had several years without you to move on."

the hand twined within your hair urged you downwards. toji's hardened cock angry at the tip was begging for attention. before he could do anything, he turned your face up to meet his gaze.

"what's your surname, sweetheart?"

"fushiguro?" you responded, slightly puzzled given your headspace.

"not gojo, huh?" he lined his tip up against your lips, ever so softly saying "i'm glad," before impaling your parted mouth, thrusting deep into your throat. his face conveyed a victorious smile beamed right at satoru.

any attempt at moaning were muffled, or more accurately gagged. your voice straining with pleasure as you were being fucked in both ends. again. toji's girth was much harder to accommodate but all his gentle praises and cooing helped relax you. the burning in your jaw worth it just for this moment. it gave satoru some extra enjoyment on his end when every praise had you vice gripping his length.

satoru couldn't compete in raw size against toji. not to say that he's by any means below average, but toji's heavenly restriction keeps him above the already exemplary sizes. he does however have one secret technique only for his bloodline.

limitless.

simply activating his ability allows himself to essentially become a human vibrator. literally. through infinity, he can expand and retract the distance between your velvet walls and his shaft at any speed he desires. it does take some effort and obviously self-control, but this is a man with an endless pool of cursed energy.

domain expansion: infinite pleasure.

the two continued their race to cum, you had no choice but to be the first, followed closely behind by the other two. your body trembling at the mercy of their cocks pumping you full.

"fast enough for ya, gojo?" he scoffed, tilting your head up to his with a finger swiping prodding your lips, "open." you obliged, sticking your tongue out like a panting dog after swallowing his essence entirely. "good girl." he smiled.

you couldn't help but whine at the loss of satoru when he pulled out, but it finally gave you a chance to catch your breath. "can you guys stop bickering for one second. at this point, you two need to be the ones fucking like some good old hate sex."

the two men chuckled, "sorry sweetheart, but you're doing so well taking us." toji purred, rubbing his digits under your jaw like he was petting a cat.

"aww, don't tell me you're tired of us now?" satoru pouted. "toji's one of the few people that actually can put up a good fight with me and with you as our prize. . ." his voice trailed off as he pulled you away from the older man's grasp to kiss you. ". . .it only makes it more enjoyable."

"don't either of you get any bright ideas that leave me to grieve again, you hear me? i mean it."

toji hooked his arms under yours and pulled up onto his lap holding you at your waist with one hand and the other keeping your face in his neck. "i think we can agree to that, can't we, 'toru?"

"yeah, jiji," he replied mockingly while inching forward, "i think for the princess here, we can keep things neutral." his voice had a tone of mischief to it.

"what are you two doin─hey!" you yelped in surprise. toji had lifted you up onto his cock, sitting you down balls deep against your lips all the while satoru's tip rubbed between your ass.

"one more baby, i know you can do it." toji cooed with his voice just as full of shit as satoru's. "you want us to see eye to eye, don't you?" he smirked.

honestly... what the hell? why not?

your mind is so far gone with pleasure to care. all you want is to love and be loved by your two sacred treasures.

"god, fuck." you groaned as satoru worked his way in, agonizingly slow. toji kept himself still but the pressure of warming them both is downright insane. tears welled up which were quickly swiped away thanks to toji. he leaned forward, kissing you through it, humming into each other's mouths in ecstasy.

"ready, princess?" you nodded your head as best as you could with your shaky body.

"try and keep up if you can, pretty boy." you glared at toji with a hiss of disapproval. "i know i know, m'sorry. lemme put a sweeter face on you now, okay?"

toji moved his arms back under yours, this time hugging your chest to his in a tight bear grip as he rutted his hips into you. every time he pushed in, satoru pulled out. repeating as they set the pace while you raked lines down toji's back.

you were reduced to nothing but babbling nonsense, crying out jiji toru jiji toru and other incoherent swears. drool spilling from your mouth despite toji's best efforts to keep it occupied with his own. he eventually dropped his head to your shoulder, biting into marks he previously made. satoru pulled himself closer, opting to rest his head on the opposite side of toji and his arms coiled around your waist.

you were unable to hold out for long before coming undone but they didn't cease their own chase. despite their disheveled breaths and all the obscenities they growled, they continued on pumping. the rhythm they set soon fell apart and after a few harsh thrusts, the two pushed up deep inside you at the same moment washing you over in a second orgasm before the first even had a chance to settle.

"fuck... y'er so warm y/n. can't take it anymore, gotta cum sweetheart. take every last bit of us, you hear me? show us how good you are."

the best you could manage was a muffled "mphm" with haphazard nods as you clenched around them equally in force. the eruption of warm seed soon followed, coating your insides and spilling out with your arousal.

they finally pulled out after what felt like an eternity followed by the jungle juice of cum, slick, and sweat dripping further out from your body. you collapsed onto toji's sweat coated chest gasping for air. satoru couldn't help himself from doing the same onto your back.

"not bad, old man. i can see why she loves you so much."

"yeah?" a genuine smile crossed toji's face from his words, "you did fine yourself too, brat. may have to keep you around for her joy."

"you couldn't stop me even if you tried, i only take orders from our princess." he chuckled.

toji brushed his hand over your head, pushing strands behind your ears and admiring your beautiful fucked face.

"i am going to order you to get your ass off of us and go start a bath before she falls asleep for good."

"fine, fine." satoru groaned before pushing himself off the two of you, kissing you once before walking off to the bathroom.

"now then. . ." toji's eyes wandered to the empty slot on his finger. "did you bury me with my wedding band, love?"

with a groggy hum, you turned upwards to his face. "i thought about it but no, i still have it. i kept it with the intention of giving it to megumi someday if he ever wanted to get married to always keep you in our thoughts."

"guess he's gonna have to pick something else," he smiled. "death is one thing that will never separate us and even if it could, i would marry you again and again, as many times as it takes in every lifetime. we're bound to each other forever."

"jiji~," you sniffled. "i love you so much. welcome home... my sweet husband."

"i love you too, my precious wife." he kissed your crown, sighing peacefully before lifting you up into his arms. "time to get cleaned off before the kids get home, right?"

one perk to this nice house gifted to you is the master bathroom featuring a large enough tub perfect for the three of you to relax in. perfectly nestling you between your two loves as they took turns scrubbing and kissing every inch of you before bothering with themselves.

"i can't believe you tried to bribe me to not see my 'dead' husband, 'toru." you pouted.

he threw his hands up defensively, "hey you know we have history, princess. i didn't want to let you go that easily without a fight."

"well i'm not giving up either of you so you two better learn to get along and fast. i love you both too much."

"aww~, you're too cute, y/n. love you too."

toji barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "just don't forget your manners, she's first and foremost my wife." satoru rolled his eyes teasingly at the man before pulling you away from him into his arms.

after soaking for a good while, the three of you stepped out. satoru changed back into his clothes from earlier and as for toji, well you never could part with the majority of his favorites. each article still carrying trace amounts of his scent that bring you peace every time you're upset or need a reminder of him.

once dressed, you curled up once more on the couch to resume a movie from earlier, tucked in a blanket up in toji's arms with satoru close by.

the front door opened followed by a resounding "we're home!" followed by the footsteps of the whole group.

"hey mom, have you heard from goj─DAD?!" megumi had entered the living room first and immediately dropped his bag to the ground.

"megumi?" tsumiki followed in after, equally as shocked before the rest of the group arrived.

toji looked softly at megumi and tsumiki first, taking in how much they've grown with a smile and a stray tear glossing his eye.

"how are you even here?!" megumi said with an appalled expression.

toji shrugged, "beats me, guess even heaven couldn't keep me from seeing my family again in life." he smirked.

"welcome home, kids!" you smiled happily to the group, unable to move away from toji's lap to greet them better after the fucking you just went through. "come sit with us, tell us about your evening!"

megumi and tsumiki came over first, hugging toji again like they too needed to confirm it was truly him and not some apparition.

"so who are the rest of ya?" toji questioned, his eyes panning to the group that wandered over.

the pink haired boy spoke first, "i'm yuji itadori! megumi's boyfriend."

next was a chestnut haired girl, "nobara kugisaki, these guys' best friend."

lastly was a familiar name and face that earned a questionable hum from the older man when she approached, "maki zenin, nobara's girlfriend."

his eyes narrowed slightly, "zenin?"

"don't count her out just yet, gramps." satoru chimed in from the other side of the couch. "your cousin here is just like you, just not nearly as old."

"says the brat with white hair. i don't see any grays on my head just yet."

"well if your back isn't hurting then you can take over maki's training from now on. you're the best choice for her to learn from, her twin as well."

toji glanced her over, as if assessing her prowess, eventually giving a satisfactory nod. "sure, but don't think you'll pull me away from y/n that easily." he moved his mouth right up against your ear, "we've got twelve years of catching up to do, don't we?"

"oh toji," you laughed. "you'll have me every single day and night now. no more stupid missions for you."

"anything for you, sweetheart." he purred, pulling the blanket up over your tired form that clung to him tightly.

you did your best to try and stay awake to enjoy your time with everyone, but thanks to toji caressing your body softly, you fell deeply asleep. when the next morning arrived and you woke up with not only satoru at your side, but toji as well, you wept with pure hearted joy that none of this was a dream or a cruel prank. simply, the love of your life finally coming home.

home sweet home once again.

☆ Notes: the idea came to me when i was trying to sleep the other night and ended up making me stay up an extra hour giggling with all the ideas i was getting for it. i hope it's not been done before but either way i was so excited to write this, i had so much fun!! writing satoru more than usual was a bit tricky for me since i'm only used to toji brainrot, but we'll get there.

also if you wanna see a bad edit i made that inspired this whole thing, peep this link

[fridaynightfriendship]

ruv | can you even be this guy's friend? let's find out

- here’s the one where you do the impossible and pry loose some of that personality from the big icy guy in the hat.

- calling ruv guarded is somehow both an understatement and inaccurate. he’s not out here about to start sharing his deepest feelings and thoughts, but a lot of that is mostly because if he doesn’t care about you, he just doesn’t bother? having traits?

- he will be prickly, and he will be cold, and sometimes he might cross the line into straight-up being rude. it’s a near-fool’s task to step into the inner circle that, canonically, is only populated by sarvente, but you’re patient. you’re so, so patient. and maybe a fool, too?

- don’t give him things, tbh. ruv is a hard-wired hitman and guy on the lam, and so closed off that offering him a snack or a drink will do Absolutely Nothing. he Will Not Accept and he might even think you an eye-roll deserving kind of naive, if he doesn’t just slap the offending object out of your hand.

- what might work is, over a very long period, you microdose him on your presence. despite the earth-shattering baritone, ruv is very quiet and given to listening to things. the best thing to do is to talk to him - at him, even - without expecting a response. little anecdotes; light musings.

- (he’s a cat but like the worst one in the world honestly. this process is excruciating)

- after you’ve been very patient - brief visits where you hang on the outskirts of the church, moving slightly closer in the tiniest increments every single time - you might have made enough of an impression on the tall spook that he might deign to respond to you.

- it’ll be an easy question that does it. the weather lately’s been very pretty, don’t you think?

- “it’s snow.” his voice is low and gravelly, and not even paired with eye contact. he’s staring off into space. “there is nothing special about it.”

- a milestone! Ruvyzat Is Unimpressed By Snow. groundbreaking

- you collect the tiniest pieces of ruv over months, maybe years if you’re dedicated. favorite color? “pink. purple.” does he like hot chocolate? “no.” he can do knife tricks, right? “yes.” no further elaboration.

- get the guy used to your chatter, and then sometimes, just ghost right in to his space and spend your visit in silence. how comfortable your silence with a person is a good indicator of how comfy you are with each other.

- ruv’s shoulders might drop, just a little, as he leans against a wall. he does have a knife, today, and he does twirl it between his fingers at an angle where you can see it. is it related to your interest in it? who knows?

- day 384832483: during a bitter winter, when your jacket is just a bit too thin to be comfortable and you’re honestly about to head home, ruv crosses the gap between you in one (1) step and, with a “you’ll freeze. here,” drops his jacket right onto your head.

- maybe it’s not complete devotion, and absolutely it’s not a fixation. but you’ve done what ruv doesn’t expect anyone else in the world to do, and that is prove yourself trustworthy.

- he’ll repay that trust tenfold, too! you need a guy killed? he’ll kill a guy for you. where is the guy you need killed. tell him.

- you might only want a hug from time to time, or maybe even to hear him sing, but at this point he’s willing to go the extra mile to murder.

- he. he’s getting the hang of it

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Red Flags

Warnings: Serial killers, breaking and entering, torture, manipulation and broken bones AN: Huge thank you to @9layerdevilfoodcake and the lovely Carissa for bouncing some ideas and beta reading this while I was struggling!

AO3

Michael had enough. He was tired and hungry, getting nothing more than delirious in this forest. He stood on shaky legs, not caring about the blood of the goat he just killed. He didn’t know where he was going, just letting his feet carry him to wherever they pleased. He no longer cared about the destination. His surroundings faded into nothingness, until a familiar white-picket fence came into view. He finally focused on his surroundings, immediately starting to sob when he recognised where he was. His childhood home, his grandmother’s house. His body must have craved the familiarity and the warm embrace that only she could provide. But like every other mother figure in his life, she was dead, and he blamed himself. With bleary eyes he pushed open the squeaky gate. The smell of roses made the memories rapidly flash through his mind. With a deep breath, he opened the door.

The house had been untouched for years. Dust and cobwebs everywhere. He thought of his grandmother watching the house fall into this state of decay. Watching.

He felt the eyes of the house next door on him. He refused to look out the window. He didn’t want to see the looks of disgust and pity. He wiped his eyes and stood a little straighter. This was his house now. He could do whatever he wanted here. No one to answer to, no more deadlines and most of all, no more older blonde woman dictating his life. ////

He stared at himself in the mirror. The stubble and lack of sleep seemed to age him. His hair was no longer perfectly styled, it was wild and uneven. The more he looked at himself the more his face began to morph into the women in his life. He hated it. He didn’t want to look like the woman that threw him out at his lowest. Or the woman who, even in her death, could not accept him as hers. He carried the ghosts of next door with him, and he’d do anything to alleviate himself of that burden. He could only change his appearance for so long. Hair dye would eventually fade; contacts would need to be removed and he wasn’t willing to put himself under the knife.

The smell of blood on his clothes pulled him out of his thoughts. The mirror reflected the decrepit house he was in, turning his nose in disgust. With the last of his strength, he mustered a tiny bit of magic, using a spell to clean the house. He walked through the house as it returned to it’s former glory, remembering his own attempts at interior design when he was younger, looking up the beams and archways where he would nail his ‘gifts’ to his grandmother. Times were simpler then. He shook his head of the nostalgia, hoping the plumbing was still working; he needed a nice hot shower.

//// None of the clothes in the closet fit him anymore, he didn’t realise how much he had grown. For now, a towel was the best he could do until his other clothes were out the dryer. He spent his time scouring the house for legal documents, anything that entitled him to some money and the deeds of the house. He needed to get this all under his name, just in case his grandmother used that stupid medium to undermine him. He tugged open the last drawer. Bingo. Everything he needed conveniently placed in one place. Money, a will and the deeds of the house. He would need to go to whatever legal office to get it sorted. The dryer still had time to go. With a big sigh, he sat on the couch. The one that faced the ‘other’ house. He gave a smile to those still watching him. He must have looked demented by the reactions he got from them. The exhaustion and hunger were catching up to him, succumbing to sleep on the couch.

////

It was morning when he woke up. He let his towel fall with a big stretch. Thus was his house; he could do anything. Even walking around naked. He kept the blinds and curtains that faced that house open. Let them watch. He pulled his warm clothes on. The detergent brought back memories, he’d buy a new scent when the time came. He grabbed some cash and whatever documents he needed for the day, venturing out into the big bad world.

////

Humanity deserved to perish simply for the time it took at the bank. The manger was an old lady, greying blonde hair and a pair of ill-fitting glasses. Michael thought she was extremely rude and didn’t hide his distaste when he spoke to her. She asked far too many questions for such a simple procedure. “Young man, aren’t you far too young to be accessing these funds?” she asked, looking over her glasses. “I can’t control when my entire family dies now can I,” he spat back, sick of her already. She continued to look him up and down as she typed away. Printing something off, she slipped a booklet of paperwork to him. “Everything has been approved, your card should arrive in the next few days. Can I do anything else for you?” “I’d like to take out some cash.” “How much?” “$500.” She paused, “what are you planning on doing with that?” Michael was getting beyond irritated, his jaw clenched, and he rubbed his temples. “There’s no need to be so rude young man,” she huffed. Michael gave her a sarcastic smile before snatching the money and walking out of the bank. The world would be better off without her. He’d deal with her soon. ////

Michael returned home with numerous bags of clothing and food. He would learn how to cook for himself, takeout was not sustainable. The pantry was stocked with basic essentials, but most of it was stocked with candy and other snacks. No one could stop him from indulging in his gluttony now.

His wardrobe was full of blacks and reds, the perfect colours for him. He was most looking forward to the black jumpsuit. It stood out to him in the store, a style he had never tried before. His fingers drifted over the seams when he tried it on, turning and admiring the various angles in the mirror. He looked up to the clock through the mirror, it was almost 5pm, if he didn’t leave now, he would miss her leaving. ////

Michael waited for the old bank manager to leave. Biding his time in the shadows. He watched her as she said her goodbyes in her shrill voice, then as she walked to her car. Michael stalked behind her, waiting for her to get in. As she got comfortable, she dropped something by her foot pedals. When she reached down to grab it, Michael took the opportunity to get in the car and lock the doors. He smiled at her when she screamed. The parking lot was empty, no one would hear her. “Shhh,” Michael put a finger to his lips, the other hand held up a gun. It was one of Constance’s that she had hidden in the house. The woman suddenly stopped, her shaking hands on the wheel. “You’re going to drive, and I’m going to give you directions,” he said, his tone left no space to argue. She nodded, tears in her eyes, hoping he would let her go eventually.

////

They pulled up outside the murder house. Michael got out first, taking the keys from the ignition. The woman stayed in the car, still shaking. She wasn’t given much time to think, Michael dragged her out of the car and up the steps, his hand over her mouth. Her legs flailed around, heels falling off and feet dragging on the ground. Sill, Michael paid her no mind, not even as she thumped down the stairs when he threw her into the basement.

He felt eyes on him again as he went into the kitchen, looking for something sharp. When he got to the basement door, it was blocked by none other than Dr. Harmon himself. “You don’t have to do this kind, you know you’re better than this,” he tried to convince Michael. “You didn’t have to cheat on your wife, now here we all are, miserable in the same fucking house,” Michael spat back. “He didn’t give Harmon a chance to respond, teleporting into the basement where the woman cowered in the corner.

“Please, I’m sorry if I did something, there’s other ways to solve this,” she cried. “I need to get home to my grandkids,” she tried to appeal to his softer side. He continued to stalk towards her, ignoring her and inspecting the sharp knife. “You’re far too old to still be this rude. I think that it’s a habit that can’t be solved anymore,” Michael replied, sounding disappointed. The woman couldn’t back away any further, stuck to the wall. Michael got down to her level, wiping away her tears. “You have grandkids?” She rapidly nodded, hoping he changed his mind. “I had a grandma too. Looked just like you,” he took a blonde hair and sniffed it, it didn’t smell like her. “At least she had basic manners. And, she wouldn’t be caught dead in this hideous number,” he pointed out. He had to give Constance credit where it was due. “Do you want to know what happened to my grandma?” he whispered in her ear. She was too shaky to respond. “I killed her too,” he whispered again, this time his voice cracked a little; remembering the day he found her dead in this very house. Even if she was a ghost, she could have at least spared him a hug. His eyes began to well up. The woman took this as an opportunity to reach out, placing her hand on her face. He snapped back to her, taking her hand in his. “But no one can ever replace her,” his voice still shaking. He felt like a little boy again. He could feel the pity from the woman. She wasn’t scared of him anymore and he didn’t like that. He was no longer a child. He had a greater purpose. Without hesitation, Michael sliced her throat, letting himself be covered in her blood. He looked at his reflection in the knife. Maybe this was the look for him, covered in blood. He licked his fingers, tasting the liquid. “I’ll save the heart for later,” he thought to himself, before ripping it out and making use of one of the fridges. This was one way to pass the time and maybe, it would finally get his father’s attention. //// A car was found on a random highway. In it was the mangled corpse of the owner, and a simple letter signed by ‘the Alpha’. This marked the beginning of a new wave of violence in southern California. A serial killer was on the prowl. The victim profile was quite strange. Typically, killers would choose young women. However, this killer liked older blonde women, usually grandmothers or mothers. It scared you regardless, worried that one day the preference might change. You worried for your co-workers too, many of them fitting the description. The thought that you might have even interacted with the culprit made your skin crawl. ////

Things would inevitably go wrong if one were fuelled by bloodlust alone. Michael had broken into the wrong house. The woman that pissed him off at the supermarket lived a few doors down. Regardless, he was curious as to who lived here. The home was so different to what he was used to. The interior design choices were not the standard ‘live, laugh, love’ and farmhouse kitchen with seashell bathrooms. This house was nice, it had a younger feel to it, the heels by the door further proof of his theory. He quietly made his way up the stairs, looking into every room and taking it all in. He finally found the occupied room. The dark-haired woman was fast asleep in her bed. Comfortably sank into her pillows. He adjusted the blinds a little so he could see better. The way the moonlight reflected off her face took his breath away. His fingers twitched, he wanted to take her home this instant. He could take care of her, he knew he could. He liked a challenge however, he wanted her to come to him. He didn’t know how long he stood and stared at her, only leaving once she stared to stir. He’d be back. ////

Michael’s heart was jumping out of his chest when he arrived back to the murder house. The residents were surprised he didn’t come home with another victim or even a drop of blood on him. His face was flush and he was in deep thought. Luckily for the residents, souls were not congesting the house, as Michael would make sure to burn the new souls as soon as he could. He whispered nonsense to himself as he made his way up to the attic. His trance was interrupted by his foot hitting a box. Had it always been there? He slowly took the lid off, finding an old camcorder and lots of tape. Was he living in the movie ‘sinister’? He was the scariest thing in this house, no ghoul could ever top him.

The box gave him something to do for the rest of the night. Returning with some snacks and in his pyjamas. The entertainment didn’t last long. It was just shitty home movies from former residents. It got worse when they’d come forward and explain them. He turned his face in disgust at the last one; a homemade sex tape. He gagged before turning it off. The sun was rising, telling him to go to bed. As he put the camcorder way, he had a genius idea.

////

You felt weird when you woke up. It was as if someone had been watching you. Your blinds were slightly open, and your bedroom door ajar. Had someone been in? As you walked through the house, something just seemed a little off. Things were ever so slightly out of place. There even seemed to be less fruit juice this morning than you were sure you had last night. Maybe it was the paranoia of the current situation getting to you. You sighed and shook your head before going to get ready for the day.

////

You hated working in the family and wills sector of the legal profession. You were hoping to make the move to fashion law soon, just waiting for the right opportunity. You really weren’t made for the requests of dead people and their bickering relatives.

You greeted one of the partners. Ms Grace everyone called her. She was your mento and a mother figure to you out here in the big bad legal world. Hopefully, she’d give you a good reference when you left. “New client for you today, just… entire dead family,” she whispered the last bit, making a cutting gesture with her hand. “That sounds horrible.” She nodded, before letting you set up for the day. ////

It was afternoon before said client showed up. Your office phone rang informing you of his arrival. A tall, blond man sat in the waiting room; his eyes widened in recognition when he saw you. You decided to ignore it. “Hello, are you Mr. Langdon?” “I am.” “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, in Y/N and I’ll be taking your case,” you held your hand out for him to shake. It was comfortably warm. “Please, call me Michael.” You nodded and smiled, before leading him to your office. “Any refreshments before we get started?” He shook his head. From the outside, his case looked simple However, the deaths in his family left a convoluted mess, but you were sure Mr Langdon would get what he wanted. He was the only legal and living heir after all. You chatted away as you printed off and filled out the relevant forms. The conversation came easy. It had been a while since someone had caused butterflies in your stomach.   You weren’t unprofessional however, keeping it professional with clients. When all was done for the session, you saw him out and waved him off. The interaction with him had left you a little flush. The receptionist giving you a knowing look.

////

This was totally unplanned. Michael wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. He thought that maybe his father had a hand in this, a reward for his hard work. He made his way back home, keeping the packet you gave him close, it still faintly smelled of you. He sat on the couch facing the other house. Images of you occupying his mind. It all got too much, lazily stroking himself to the thought of you that afternoon. ////

He left the house again, camcorder in hand. He pressed record as soon as he got inside your house. Filming every little detail leading up to your room. Even filming himself waving in the hallway mirror, as if he were recording and innocent home video.

He slowly opened your door. You accidently left the lamp on that night, giving him the perfect lighting. He zoomed in on your face before getting closer. Your duvet was blocking the view, reaching forward to carefully move it a little. Running his thumb over your lips and getting it on camera. He groaned at the softness. His fingers skimmed over your face, neck and collarbones. He watched as your nose crinkled a little at the touch. Cute. His evening plans were abruptly cut short when your phone began to ring. At this hour? Who was it? You began to stir at the invasive sound. Michael didn’t have time to run, transmuting out the house as fast as he could.

////

In his free time, Michael indulged in all that his family would disapprove of. And nothing could vex Constance Langdon more than her shitty grandson doing all types of drugs. He liked the feeling weed gave him. It helped him relax after the adrenaline rush of a kill. Sometimes, the murder house had a horrible stench of weed and rotting flesh, prompting the residents to keep the windows open. He even tried other things, like Acid and MD. He didn’t like the restlessness they gave him. He especially hated when his face would morph in the mirror, turning him into the people he hated the most. He wondered what it would be like to get high with you. He wanted to melt into you just like he did the floor when the THC finally got him. If he couldn’t get to you that night, he would replay the tapes on the big screen and jack off, wishing you were there. The residents of the house watched in disgust and horror. They may have done terrible things but surely, they weren’t this bad.

////

Mr Langdon’s case had successfully ended, he had gotten what he wanted. You bumped into him a week later, on your lunch break. “Oh? Y/N? so nice to see you,” he stood in the line at your favourite coffee shop. “Like wise,” you smiled up at him. “Would you like anything? I insist. It’s the least I can do.” You tried to reject his kindness but didn’t want to hold up the line, giving him your order. You both sat at a quiet table, waiting for your drinks and pastry. “I don’t usually see my clients on lunch breaks.” “Former client,” he pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. You watched him add five packets of sugar and wondered why he didn’t just get a sweeter drink. Your conversation continued, with your shoes constantly touching under the table. It felt very childish, but maybe you were missing the playfulness in life. Your phone alarm went off, indicating you had to get back to work. As your phone was unlocked, Michael took it and tapped his number in, leaving you at the table with a wink.

////

These interactions led to casual dates. The murders began to slow down, making you feel a little safer. With this in mind, you accepted Michael’s invitation when he invited you over. You were nervous as you waited for him to open the door. The evening breeze did little to distract you from the feeling of being watched. Michael opened the door and you sighed in relief. “You look… beautiful,” he stuttered. “Not too bad yourself,” you smiled back.

He moved aside to let you in, leading you to where he had set up. “I didn’t know you could cook.” “I’m a man of many talents.” He looked out the window, making sure the other house was watching. They looked nervous, hoping you would leave in one piece. They watched you laugh and talk. This could not have been the same boy that had terrorised so many. He was confident, suave, and personable. Worlds away from the awkward, nervous cry baby of a serial killer that they had become used to. He cleaned up well, even tidying up his wild hair. They wondered how long it would last. How long would it take for you to see the real him? They hoped you got out before it got to that state. The time flew by, and you both seemed to get closer by the second. You didn’t notice until your noses were touching, conversation halting. He seemed to be waiting for something, almost hesitant. You took the initiative and captured his lips. All of his hesitation melted away, his hand reaching around you and pulling you closer. The kiss got more heated, indicating that it would lead to something else. However, luck was not on your side. You phone ringing and interrupting you. Michael wanted to smash that phone; this was the second time it had stopped him. You apologised before picking up. Michael watched your expression change and brows knit in annoyance. You put the phone down, apologising. “I’m so sorry Michael, but I’m going to have to go, I’ve been called into work tomorrow and this is an important client, I hope you can understand.” “Of course, I’m sure you’re busy and I won’t keep you. Do you want me to drop you off?” He didn’t know why he asked that question, he didn’t have a car. “Oh thank you so much for understanding, and the offer. I drove here myself so there’s no need to worry about that,” you smiled at him. Michael helped you with your belongings, leading you out the door. You turned to thank him again, before he leaned down to give you another kiss, causing you to blush. He walked you to your car, taking in the interior. He waved you off with a smile. He knew you’d be back soon. ////

Michael shut the door behind him. He thought the night was a success. He opened the cupboard and pulled out your jacket. He hid it away, so you’d forget about it. The designer logo stood out to him. He buried his face in the fur, taking in all of it. Your scent, your warmth, everything. He had been so close to you. He wanted to watch the tapes with this in hand, for that he would have to venture next door. He wasn’t prepared to finally come face to face with his grandmother, looking down on him, cigarette in hand. “Michael fucking Langdon,” her southern drawl was harsh. He hadn’t been spoken to like that in years. He gulped as he watched her slowly walk down the stairs. “Why haven’t you grown out of that terrible habit of yours. You just have to destroy pretty things.” She stopped at the step just above him, still looking down. She gently stroked his face like she used to when he was a child, and he leaned into the touch. The peace was disturbed by a loud slap echoing through the house. Michael’s face turned to the side. He held his cheek, slowly turning to the woman with bleary eyes. “You have some nerve coming back to this house with that attitude of yours, clearly the ‘Church’ didn’t teach you any manners” Michael was trying to find his voice, to finally face the woman that he blamed for half of his problems. “And now look at you, that poor girl doesn’t even know the half of it.” She snatched the coat away from him. “Look at this Michael, this is Prada. And did you see the car she drove? What makes you think you deserve her? Look at yourself,” she gestured towards him. “Hair unkempt, Jobless, all you eat is candy and human flesh. What are you going to when she finds out the truth?” Michael hadn’t actually thought about that. He had neglected himself and his appearance for a while now. Did it really matter that much?

////

“Look, Y/N, all I’m saying is that you can do better. Look at you, you’re beautiful and well dressed and have such a good job. And him, well… he’s a little scruffy and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have a car,” Ms Grace did not approve of your relationship with Michael. She thought you could do better. “I see where you’re coming from but he’s charming. Although I do agree he could clean up a little better. I’ve seen him all dressed up and he looks so good. I just don’t understand why he chooses to look like… that most of the time,” the last bit was more meant for yourself. Your conversation was interrupted by Kevin, a colleague from another office. “He should take a page out of Kevin’s book,” Ms Grace pointed out. Kevin raised a brow at the conversation he had just become a part of. He too was on a lawyer salary, a well-dressed man that anyone would swoon for. “Who’s ‘he’?” “Y/Ns …. Boyfriend?” Ms Grace replied. “Nothing to concern yourself too much with Kevin, you know what Ms Grace is like,” you interjected. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. He must be something to reach those high standards of yours,” he pointed out. “Oh he’s something alright,” Ms Grace muttered. You huffed at the conversation. You didn’t think you were a superficial person, but your colleagues thought otherwise. //// Michael had heard enough. Sometimes he would scry into your workplace, just to check on you, to see if you thought of him as much as he did. The conversation reinforced Constance’s criticisms from the other day. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious in a while. He was not one to idle, immediately finding a hair stylist with an availability. He wanted a transformation that would floor you. With that in mind, he headed to ‘Gallants’. //// The hairstylist was truly annoying, yet he seemed to have magic in his hands. The final reveal shocked Michael also. The confidence he had at Hawthorne seemed to return. He held his head just a little higher as he walked out. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, people stopping to stare at the angelic looking man that strutted down the street. On his way to his next destination, he stopped at the sight of a certain symbol. An inverted cross. His feet had a mind of their own, leading him inside. His scar began to tingle. The congregation turned to stare at the man that had just walked in. They knew. It had to be. The high priestess getting on her knees before him. He could get used to this. //// He reached his final destination for the day. He didn’t usually kill men, but if they got in his way, he didn’t care who he killed. He waited for Kevin to come home. He was going to kill him here. He wasn’t worth the effort of taking him all the way to the murder house. Michael didn’t even give the man a chance to scream. Getting rid of him with a snap of his fingers. //// The murder house watched Michael carefully curate his image the next few months. An entire new wardrobe, his old clothes dumped in the murder house. They watched the elaborate skincare ritual every morning. Carefully peeling away masks and applying serums. How very American Psycho of him. You loved the new look. You made sure everyone in the office new you’d made the right choice. Michael loved the new attention, but he made sure you knew he only had eyes for you. He even planned on offering you a better job in Kineros’ legal team, just so he could keep you close and get you out of the sector you complained about so often. //// A strange thing happened one night. Michael took the camcorder down into the basement with him, setting the lens to record his newest victim. After he was done, he burned the footage onto a disk. What was he up to? //// You were on autopilot as you opened your door. You felt numb. Ms Grace had become another victim to ‘the Alpha’ along with one of your neighbours. You spent the entire day in police interviews, trying to make sense on the situation. As you walked into the house, you stepped on something. A thick envelope, labelled only with your name. You picked it up with shaky hands and opened it. In it was just an unlabelled disc and a sticky note saying ‘love from the Alpha’. It made your blood run cold. This had to be a joke. Some was messing with you; it could be the only explanation. You ran to your DVD player, you had to see what was on the disc, you hoped it was some shitty quality movie ripped from the internet. The video came on, starting in a dark room. The camera turned to a woman tied up, it zoomed in on her face and you immediately recognised her as Ms Grace. Your eyes widened and you felt ill, running to the bathroom to be sick. It was still playing when you came back, changing to a different video. It was dark again but it all seemed so familiar. The camera panned up and you gasped, your hands covering your face. It was a video of you, sleeping in your own home. You no longer felt safe here. You quickly took the disc out and grabbed your essentials, running to your car. As you pulled out your street, you had no idea what turn to take. Turning right would lead to the police station, you could submit the disc and ask for protection. However, they rarely did anything about stalking cases, and the disc had your finger prints all-over it. A left turn would lead to Michael. You felt safe around him and you were sure he could offer you comfort at this time. The beeping behind you made you make your decision. //// You pulled up outside Michael’s house. You rapidly knocked on the door, there was no answer. No light was on in the house. You prayed to whoever that would listen that he didn’t have any other plans for the night. As you lost hope and looked around, your eyes fell to the imposing structure next door. You remembered a conversation where he had said he was restoring the home. A light was on. With a deep breath, you ran up the steps, repeating your previous actions and hoping for a response. A shocked Michael opened the door. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and sobbing. You didn’t notice the feral look he had going on. Hair dishevelled and blood-stained clothes. He gently put the knife down and wrapped his arms around you, cooing and shushing you. Telling you to calm down and it would all be okay. He was glad you were wearing a dark colour; you hadn’t noticed the stickiness of his hands and the stain they left. He gently moved you into the house, shutting the door. He used his magic to shut the basement door too. Your face was still buried in his arm as he walked you up the stairs. You should have paid attention to your strange surroundings. The ghosts of the house looked at you with the greatest of pity, wishing they could do something.

He sat you down on the bed, kneeling before you and taking your hands in his. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?” he asked gently, wiping your eyes. You sniffled and calmed your breathing, trying not to freak out again as you explained the situation to him. “I… I think he’s after me,” you whispered. “Who’s ‘he?” “The Alpha, he’s after me, I know it.” Michael paused, you must have seen the DVD. He had to stop himself from laughing. “Why do you think that hmm?” his thumb stroked your cheek. “Three people I know have died and then I got this DVD in the mail,” you paused, “It… it’s a video of Ms Grace tied up and then one of me sleeping,” you began to cry again. Michael sat on the bed next to you, pulling you in for a hug, you buried your face into him again, taking in his scent and trying to calm down. “You’re the only person I feel safe around,” you mumbled. Michael smiled into your hair. He had you exactly where he wanted. ////

You decided to wash your face after you had calmed down. Wetting a towel with cold water, you placed it on your eyes in an attempt to de-puff them. The ghosts thought this was the perfect opportunity to warn you about your possible doom. Vivienne pulled open the shower curtain behind you. Revealing a bathtub full of ice and another victim placed in it. However, their plan didn’t seem to work. You didn’t even look back at the sound, having walked out the bathroom just in-time. Michael was sitting on the bad, waiting for you. He had changed into more casual clothing and was rolling a joint. “It might help you calm down,” he smiled up at you, twisting the end off. You sat back on the bed and joined him, relaxing into the headboard. The conversation was casual and mundane, something you really needed right now. Between the sound of his voice and the passing of the joint, you had no idea how much time had passed. All you knew at this moment was that you wanted to be as close to him as possible. Hands began to wander, and your lips met for a heated kiss, you ended up straddling him. You let yourself be lost in the haze, not knowing exactly when your clothes came off, just that you enjoyed the feel of his skin on yours. You lifted your hips, moving to finally having him inside you, to be as close as you could be. You waited a little, resting your forehead on his shoulder as you got used to his size and took it all in. The feeling of his hands rubbing up and down your spine was blissful. His hands finally rested on your hips, gripping them and encouraging you to finally move. You complied, taking your time. You moved away from his shoulder. He took the opportunity to leave marks all over your breasts. It just felt so good. You could feel that you wouldn’t last much longer, your movements becoming sloppier. Michael rested his hand on your throat, his face morphed into something a lot more vicious than you were used to. It must have rang some alarm bells, but you weren’t listening. His grip on your neck tightened, and his hips began to thrust up, meeting your movements. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his grip tightened once more, causing the coil in your belly to snap. Your legs shook, walls pulsing around him as he followed not long after. He pulled you into a deep kiss by your neck, slowly moving you off him and onto the bed. You lay there catching your breath, staring into his eyes. Just for that brief moment, nothing else mattered, forgetting about the serial killer that was on the hunt somewhere. You got closer to him and got comfortable, your head resting on his chest, being lulled by his heartbeat. “I was thinking,” he started. “Hmm?” you mumbled back, enjoying the vibration of his speech. “Maybe you should take a break from work for a while and stay with me for a bit, just until things calm down,” he suggested. At that moment in time, the combined high of weed and sex made it seem like a genius idea. Surely it was the most obvious solution? “Yeah it’s a good idea,” you yawned. The exhaustion caught up to you, your heavy eyes falling shut. Michael squeezed you just a little tighter and smirked up at the residents that had surrounded you. Their looks of pity towards you were something else. Michael buried his face into your hair, turning off the lights around him. It was the most blissful sleep he had had in years.

////

You woke up sometime the next afternoon. Michael was nowhere to be seen. After using (the now empty) bathroom, you ventured through the house. It looked different. It looked complete in a way. The tarp, random cans of paint and building materials that you were sure where there last night, were gone. It was as if it had been transformed overnight. The strangest thing was how familiar the décor and interior looked. It looked like a bigger version of your own home. It felt familiar yet uncomfortably so. Quite frankly, it looked like your dream home, styled as if it was going to featured in Architectural Digest. You knew it didn’t look like this last night, nothing close to it. Then you thought back to the wardrobe upstairs, the one you had sleepily pulled your current clothing out of. It was full of your own clothing. Clothing that you didn’t bring with you. Did Michael do this while you were asleep? When did he get the time? You scoured the house for your car keys and purse. Only finding pieces of familiar décor instead. Your stomach got the better of you, heading to the kitchen and hopefully finding something to eat. The pantry was stocked full of your favourites, pulling out a box of your favourite cereal. It was at this moment you were sure that all the pieces were taken from your home. One of the cereal bowls had the same chip that yours had. The nervousness and paranoia of last night began to seep back into you, your face visibly twisted in those emotions. As you mindlessly ate your cereal, the basement door creaked open. You stopped mid chew to look. You quickly swallowed and slowly walked towards it. Telling yourself that there was nothing to fear, and that you were just going to shut it. You heard a thud as you reached the door. Maybe Michael was down there and needed some help or something. You slowly walked down the steps, being careful not to make any noise. Your hand covered your mouth to stop your scream and prevent you from vomiting from the smell. The image forever burned into your memory. There was blood everywhere. Michael had his back turned to you, you were sure he hadn’t sensed your presence yet. You slowly backed away, trying to be quiet and not alert him. You let out a shaky breath when you were back in the hallway. You didn’t care about finding your things now, you had to get out of here. The front door wouldn’t budge open, the backdoor was no different. None of the window’s downstairs would open either. You then remember one of the windows was cracked open in the room you were sleeping in. You may injure yourself, but it looked like your only way out. You pushed the window up even further, making enough room for you to jump out. You hoisted one leg over the ledge, looking out for your landing spot. You prepared yourself to move the other leg, but it wouldn’t budge. You tugged at it a few times before looking back. Those blue, rage filled eyes were staring back at you, holding your leg, and preventing you from getting out. “Get. Back. In.,” he said, through clenched teeth. You shook your head, looking away from him. You didn’t want to think about who’s blood he was covered in. “Please let me go,” you whispered, hoping he’d take mercy on you somehow. His grip just got tighter. You mustered up all your strength, kicking him off you. He let go of your leg, it gave you enough time to jump. You felt the wind rush around you as you fell. You hit the ground a lot harder than you thought. Your head ricocheted off the ground painfully. You ignored the crunch your legs made. Everything hurt so bad, the pain wouldn’t even let you scream. You knew you had calculated your fall right. The ghosts thought you did too, all watching with various shocked expressions. You tried to move and look around you and stay awake. You could only look up. Through your darkening vision, the last thing you saw was Michael leaning out the window, smiling down at you. The cat had caught the canary.

////

You groaned in pain as you opened your eyes.

The light was blinding, difficult to adjust to.

Where were you? Why were you here? How long had it been?

As you looked around, the room looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Oh? You’re finally awake, It’s been a few days, I missed seeing your eyes” a male voice spoke from beside you.

You slowly turned your head to the voice.

The man looked familiar; you raked your brain to figure out who it was.

He placed his hand on your cheek, you hissed and flinched as he stroked scabby and bruised skin. “Look at you. If you had stayed inside, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”

His eyes finally met yours and everything came rushing back.

A feeling of dread overtook you. You tried to shuffle away from him, but something was preventing you from moving.

You tried to figure out what it was. Looking yourself over, noticing the blanket was bulky.

You momentarily forgot about the predator in the room, pulling the blanket away and revealing your legs, both in casts.

One of the casts had been signed, ‘get well soon, Love, your Alpha’.

You wanted to sob, but you knew any sudden movements would be painful.

Michael rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket back over you, tucking you in.

“If you’re good, you’ll get your painkillers. If you’re bad…,” he leaned over you, putting his weight on your legs, “I’ll cut them off next time,” he grinned.

He got onto the other side of the bed, holding you close to him, squeezing you just a little too tight, and giving your forehead a kiss.

Not even the apocalypse could get you out of his grasp now, he’d kill you both before anything tried to take you from him. Wherever you were, that was his sanctuary. Even if it meant eternal torment in the pits of hell, it didn’t matter, as long as it was with you.

[intheticklecloset]

I Need You (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Yes, I totally agree! Writing about this cute anxious boy made me so happy! Thank you for the request! Enjoy! ^^

~

I need you.

The words were typed, the cursor blinking at the end of the text. His finger hovered over the send button hesitantly. Amajiki sighed and let the phone fall to his lap. He stared at the blue sky dotted with clouds. He missed Mirio. Ever since the battle that had rescued the girl Eri, he’d been away from the campus and his friends more often.

Tamaki understood; he really did. It couldn’t be an easy thing to lose your quirk, especially when you were in the hero course and so close to going pro after graduation. But Mirio had bounced back from that with ease, and he spent time with Eri on the campus quite often nowadays. Amajiki was happy he’d been able to recover as much as possible, but still…he wished he’d come around more.

He glanced down at his darkening screen, tapping it once to light it back up.

I need you.

Did he? Or was that just his crippling anxiety telling him he couldn’t do anything on his own? Tamaki shook his head. No. It wasn’t a bad thing that he wanted to see Mirio so much. They’d been friends for years, after all.

Mustering up the one second of courage needed to send the text, Amajiki tapped the arrow to let it fly away to his friend, then set his phone back in his lap and let out another sigh. ‘Need’ was a strong word, he thought. I should have said ‘I miss you’ or ‘I want to see you, let’s hang out soon’ or something more normal. That makes me sound clingy. I should send a follow-up text—

His phone buzzed. Amajiki looked down at the screen. Mirio had replied.

Where are you? I’m on my way.

What, now? Tamaki couldn’t help but smile a little, relieved, as he told his friend where he was and then sat back to wait. Within minutes, his blonde friend was calling his name. Amajiki pulled his bag off of the seat beside him on the bench to make room, and just like that, he was no longer alone.

“Hey, Tamaki,” Mirio said brightly, smiling as always. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“That text kind of made it sound like I was in trouble, huh?” Amajiki ducked his head. “Sorry. I’m not in any danger.”

“I know. If you were you would have called me.” Mirio made himself comfortable. “But I know you, dude. It probably took you ten minutes to send me that. So what’s up?”

Amajiki glanced away, embarrassed. “I just…I miss you, that’s all. It’s really nothing.” Suddenly he felt stupid for making Mirio come all the way out here for this. “You’re not around as much, so I…”

“Oh. Man, I’m sorry,” Mirio replied quietly. “I know I’ve been kind of preoccupied with Eri, trying to figure out a way to get my quirk back.”

“I’m still really sorry about that.”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

“If I could have stopped those villains faster, maybe I could have helped—”

“There was nothing you could have done.” Mirio turned in his seat so he was facing his friend. “Tamaki, I would have lost my quirk whether you were there or not. You did your part keeping those guys at bay, and that’s more than good enough for me. For everyone. You did great. Don’t beat yourself up over something you should be proud of.” When Amajiki said nothing in reply, the blonde threw his arms around him and squeezed. “Don’t forget, I may be the sun, but you’re the Suneater! You’re going to be even greater than me one day. You already are, in a lot of ways.”

“I am?” Amajiki turned his head as much as possible to look at Mirio. “Seriously? I don’t think so.”

“Well I do,” Mirio countered, “so you should believe me since I’m your best friend, right? I’m never wrong.”

“I mean…you are sometimes.”

“But not about this.”

Amajiki let himself relax as Mirio squeezed him tighter, already feeling leagues better for being this close to his friend. But being this close also reminded him of something else he’d been missing. Something Mirio had taken away with him.

“H-Hey,” he murmured, so quietly the blonde barely heard him. “Could you…um. Do you think…is it okay if…?”

He felt Mirio smile before he heard it in his voice. “You want me to tickle you?”

Amajiki cringed, mostly at himself. “Don’t say it so casually like that.”

“Why not? It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.” Mirio let one of his hands trail down his anxious friend’s side. “I’m more than happy to make you happy, Tamaki.”

Amajiki shuddered instinctively, but smiled nonetheless. This was a part of him he kept hidden from everyone but his best friend – this love for tickling. He enjoyed the way it made him smile and giggle and laugh even when that voice of doubt was telling him he didn’t deserve to. It was like a big “screw you” to his anxiety, and he enjoyed it immensely, especially with someone he trusted.

“I d-don’t deseherve you,” he managed, grinning as Mirio pulled him in closer, wrapping his arms around his torso under Tamaki’s arms, holding him in place while pressing his fingers into his ribs.

“Sure you do!” Mirio replied. “Now come on and let me hear a giggle from you, since I can’t see your smile from this angle.”

Amajiki started to protest, but the slightest increase in wiggling into his ribs made him break instantly. “N-Nehehehehehehehe!”

“There we go! That’s more like it. Are you okay like this? Are you comfortable?”

“Yehehehehes.”

“Good. Just relax.” Mirio settled in again, keeping his friend in gentle giggles as he spoke. “I’m sorry, man. I know I’ve kind of been ghosting you and Nejire lately. I really didn’t mean to. I’ve just been distracted.”

“I-It’s okahahahahahay.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve got to do better. You’re my best friends.” Mirio suddenly darted down to Tamaki’s stomach, making the usually quiet boy let out a shriek of laughter. “And you are way overdue for some serious tickling!”

“Mirio! Ahahahahahahahahahaha!” Amajiki squirmed helplessly in his friend’s grip, beaming and laughing all the while. “Thahahahahahat reheheheheally tickles!”

“And? I don’t hear you complaining about it,” Mirio teased. He chuckled. “Having fun?”

“Yohohohohohohou’re so mehehehehean,” Amajiki whined, but of course, he was lying.

“Why? Because I’m reminding you that you like it so much? You like it so much I think you missed this more than you missed me.”

“Thahahahahahahat’s not truhuhuhue!”

“I know. But it sure is fun to tease you about it.” Mirio wrapped one leg around Amajiki’s waist to hold him even more still while digging relentlessly into his stomach. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”

“Mihihihihihihihihirio!” Amajiki tossed his head back and laughed freely, wishing he could squirm but also grateful he couldn’t, grateful he was forced to stay put and feel it, feel how the playful touches made his face light up in a bright smile when not ten minutes ago he was feeling dark and depressed. “Gahahahahahahahaha! S-Stahahahahahahahaha!”

“Stop?” Mirio teased, reaching one hand down to squeeze at a thigh. “Already? But we haven’t gotten to the best part yet!”

“AIEEE!!” Tamaki shrieked, his laughter growing louder by the second. He waved his arms frantically. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“Come on, you know how this goes.” Mirio kept squeezing, enjoying how his normally quiet friend couldn’t help but be loud now. “Tell me how awesome you are. Brag about yourself. Go on.”

“I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!!”

“Sure you can. Come on, Tamaki~” The blonde teased right into his friend’s ear. “You’d better start talking~”

“B-BUHUHUHUHUHUHUT--!!”

“But you haven’t had enough yet? That’s okay! I’ll tickle you as long as you want. After all, I’ve got all the time in the world nowadays!”

Amajiki gave up trying to protest and simply laughed, squirming every now and then but ultimately just enjoying himself, enjoying this moment with his best friend. He lasted a few more minutes before finally tapping out.

“OKAHAHAHAHAY, OKAY, STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! MIRIO!!”

“You know what you gotta do to get out of this.”

“I DOHOHOHOHOHON’T WANT TO!!”

“That’s fine. I’ll just keep tickling you, then!”

Amajiki blushed, flustered beyond belief, but also ready to call it good for now. He bit back a whine before giving in to Mirio’s demands. “I-I’M AN AHAHAHAHAWESOHOHOME H-HEHERO!! I HAHAHAHAHAVE A WHOLE F-FUHUHUHUTURE AHEHEHEHEAD OF ME!!”

Mirio grabbed onto both of his thighs now, kneading deeply. “And?”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAND I AM THE SUHUHUHUHUNEHEHEHEATER!!” Amajiki shrieked, nearly falling off the bench in his attempts to get away from the intense sensations, laughing hysterically. “MIRIO, STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Grinning, Mirio did as he was asked and stopped, helping his friend sit back upright on the bench while he caught his breath. The blonde watched him for a few moments before laughing himself. “You may be the Suneater,” he said, “but man, seeing you smile like that sure makes me feel warm inside.”

Amajiki let out a tired chuckle. “Cheesy.”

“But true.” Mirio nudged him. “Sorry I haven’t been around to help you out like this. I’ll do better, I promise.”

“It wasn’t just this that I missed. It’s you, Mirio.” Tamaki turned to look at him. “I hate not having you around. I need you.”

Mirio reached forward to wrap him in a giant hug. “I need you, too. Don’t you forget that.”

“I won’t.”

“But let’s be real here – you definitely missed the tickling more.”

Amajiki smiled, willing to go along with his friend’s teasing if that’s what he wanted. All that mattered to him was that he was here. “Definitely.”

[clonewarslover55]

I always feel bad for the pilots, cause more often than not, the majority of them end up shot down. Could I request a sort of angsty smut with my husband Oddball, where his S/O was worried when he went off on a mission and is so glad that he's safe?

Welcome home

Oddball X Fem!Reader //SMUT//

Absolutely!! I completely agree about the pilots, they all definitely deserve more love.

Warnings: worry, crying, smut, ?Glad you’re alive sex?(It means it's desperate fucking) unprotetced sex! Be safe!!

You paced around your Coruscant home, slowly wearing a path into the floor. You rub your hands together nervously, checking the chrono every few seconds. Oddball should have been home hours ago!

Your lover was a clone pilot, a job that didn’t have the best survival rates. This caused you to worry about him, a lot. Especially when he was late. You loved your pilot dearly and you’d hate it if anything happened to him. You sighed, aggressively wiping the tears that gathered in the corner of your eyes.

You sat down on your couch with a huff, resting your elbows on your knees. “Oh Oddball.” You whispered to yourself. You hoped he was okay and was just late, held up by some briefing or something. You doubted that though…...Your mind suddenly came up with many horrid possibilities.

A sob tore from your throat, the worry too much for your tear ducts to handle. You rested your face in your hands, your thoughts running wild. There were so many possibilities. Oddball could be dead in a field on some backwater shithole and you’d have no idea.

You blindly grabbed your holopad. You were about to message one of Oddball’s closest brothers. Hopefully he would have some answers.

The door to your apartment whooshed open before you could even type out the message. A clone pilot stepping through the doorway. “Oddball!” You shouted, running to your lover immediately.

He caught you when you ran into his arms, quickly pulling you into a tight hug. “I-I thought the worst!” You stuttered out the words between tears of relief, hugging his armored body even tighter.

“I know…….I know.” He muttered, pressing his nose into your hairline. “I’m sorry.” You sniffed aggressively, watching as your tears left streaks on his worn armor. “I.....Good.” You smiled against your tears, Oddball smiling back.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then to your cheeks. He kissed your tears away, his arms still tight around your waist. You sniffled some more, Oddball instantly making you feel better.

“Let's get you out of this armor.” You spoke softly, Oddball pressing another kiss to your lips. You had been away from one another for weeks, so the tension in the room was very prominent.

Oddball followed you into the bedroom, his hand holding yours tightly. Once in the bedroom you both worked quickly to remove his armor, Oddball pressing a kiss any skin he could reach on you while doing so. You did the same, kissing each spot the armor sat on once it was removed.

Once he was just in his blacks he was on you, his lips attacking yours. Oh how you’ve missed him. You moaned against his lips, both of you working off one another's clothes. The kiss was desperate and messy, but it felt incredible. The fire of desire you had for one another burning hot.

Oddball had both of you naked in record time. He was never one to waste time, so before you knew it you were on the bed with Oddball on top of you. You chuckled against your pilot lovers lips, he just made you so happy.

“What’s so funny?” He spoke, his voice raspy with lust. “I just….I love you....” He smiled at your words, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled against his lips, your nails raking along his muscular shoulders teasingly. He shivered, deepening the flaming kiss.

His tongue wrestled with yours, one of his hands sliding down your thigh to grip it. His other hand went between your bodies, gently running a finger along your slit. You were already soaked, your walls aching for him.

“Just fuck me Oddball. Please.” You whined out the plea before he could finger you, “I’ve missed you and your cock so much.” He groaned at your words, his cock twitching. Oddball was one to follow orders thankfully.

He gently rubbed the head of his cock against your slit before slowly pushing in, his lips attacking your exposed neck while he did so. You moaned loudly, your velvety walls gripping him tightly.

You both let out gasps of relief once he was fully sheathed within you. He didn’t move for a moment, just basking in the feel of you. His cock filled you perfectly, the stretch only burning for a second. Once you were adjusted he began to slowly pump his hips, a groan ripping from both of your throats.

“It's been too long, baby.” He spoke the words between slow and deep thrusts. “I know.” you moaned out the words, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. He kissed you again, his tongue quickly invading your mouth.

Oddball picked up his pace, your legs wrapping around his waist so you could pull him even deeper. You gasped when he angled his hips a certain way, his cock scraping against that sweet spot deep inside of you.

He knew he had found it by the way your noises changed, a smirk pulling at his lips. He pulled his mouth from yours, his lips going back to your neck. Oddball loved to mark you, leaving love bites for everyone to see.

One of his hands held his weight above you, the other moving between your legs to tease your clit. His pace got rougher as he played with your clit, the pleasure making you see stars.

You cried his name as he brought you to the edge, his moans getting louder as well. You tightened around him like a vise before you came, Oddball growling at the feeling. He fucked you through your orgasm, bringing himself to the edge.

He groaned out your name as he came, his cum filling you to the brim. He panted, his hips bucking slightly as he rode out his orgasm. He stayed inside of you as you both basked in your afterglows, nuzzling his face into your neck. Oddball pressed soft kisses to your hot skin, relaxing your tingling body.

Both of you felt drained once the afterglow wore off, his arms shaking a bit as they held up his weight. He pulled out and collapsed beside you, yawning as he relaxed even more.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome home.” He smiled at that, his eyes heavily lidded.

Taglist: @leias-left-hair-bun @iamassbutkingofhell @catsnkooks @azem-thefourteenth @colorfulloverbatturkey @blueberrybubblesandboba @ahsokatano-thetogruta @jedi-mando @peacefulwizardfox @hounding-around @julyzaa @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @strangebroadwaykinks @jedi-nila-rhyn @fyrepen33 @mistflyer1102 @kamino-mermaid @cherry-cokes-world @cherry-cokes-posts @darmanfi @silverinkandstardust @chewychewyque @majorshiraharu @ravenpuff01 @808tsuika @commanderrivercc-3628 @captainrexstan @girlvader @ct7567329 @just-some-girl-92 @valkyrieofthehighfae @my-awakened-ghost @escapedthesarlacc @katethecrazy @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @lightning-wolffe @dominhoe-squad @qui-gon-jinn-and-tonic

Also! @501fettish you seemed to have enjoyed my last Oddball work! So here is a tag!

If you’d like to be added to my taglist the link is on my masterlist! 

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Coffee - T. Holland

Okay, I know I have requests but this song came on at work the other day and I felt super emotional and I had to write. The use of Tom was very last minute because I had no actual person in mind for the fic, and there are very little actual defining characteristics so you can imagine it to be absolutely anybody you want!

This has broken me, so I apologize in case it has the same affect.

TW: This story contains mentions of cancer, allusions to death, mentions of death, sadness, angst, allusion to suicide, a character with cancer, and all round sadness about death.

If this content may trigger you in any way possible, please do not engage with this fic. Your personal safety and wellness is important so please take care of yourself, my lovies.

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17. Please do not copy, translate or share outside of the boundaries of tumblr without my permission. Please do not steal my work and market it as your own. Basically, don’t be a dick. Also, the above gif does not belong to me. Credit to @thollandgifs

Also, sorry the format is shit. I write on my phone so it’s hella bad.

Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed. I'll make a cup of coffee for your head. It'll get you up and going out of bed.

While his life stood still, hers moved. Most days he could barely move without the nausea taking over. His head pounding, body exhausted and weak beyond recognition. She had established a routine the minute she could. She made sure he had his morning coffee everyday. Whenever his eyes opened, she would be right by his side with his favourite beverage, bringing him breakfast and a warm, loving smile to entice him to get out of bed. She understood on days that his body fought him more than it already was - she was compassionate and considerate. On those days she would help him prop himself in a comfortable position, switch on whatever show they were watching at the time and curl up next to him with her work beside her.

His heart was often overwhelmed with the care she provided him. They were well into the fourth year of their life together, and he had no doubt in his mind that he would love her until his last days. He often solemnly thought of the ring he still had hidden in his drawer of their shared cabinet. He had made a vow to pop the question if he ever recovered, but the thought of that day never coming simply tore another piece from his already dwindling soul.

He would often sit in his chair, or on the bed in their small, studio apartment, watching her flutter around the house in a graceful way only she could. He had memorized her every move when she conducted the most mundane activity. The way she poured a glass of water, the way she tapped her fingers against her thigh to the tune of a theme song, the way she always made his coffee to pure perfection - in a way that nobody else had been able to do.

He had so much love for her, that he was terrified of it slipping away at any moment.

Yeah, I don't wanna fall asleep, I don't wanna pass away. I been thinking of our future 'cause I'll never see those days.

He was 24, and she was 25. They had already planned a life together. They had steady jobs, an intense and passionate love, names picked out for future children, dinner at his parents house every Sunday, lunch with her parents every Wednesday.

He just knew that he had done something to deserve such a fate. At first he was angry, terrified of the possibility of his soul leaving this earth, but as time went on, his self-deprivation grew. Apparently it was common for people in his situation. The fear of dying was clouded by a justification that this was meant to be. He had done something terrible in a past life, and karma was giving him the painful ending he deserved... but he despised the thought, because Y/N didn’t deserve to watch her boyfriend meet his end in this way.

He had thought of near every scenario in his life in which he hurt somebody - cheating on his girlfriend in his first year of college, letting Y/N down time after time, only for her to forgive him. The hurt he caused his parents when he was a teenager and full of such hate for the world. But now, all he could do was pray for forgiveness. He had hope that there was some way he could make it out of this, but he was losing hope rapidly.

Even as he sat with his love on their bed, watching re-runs of How I Met Your Mother, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander.

“When I’m gone,” his voice was croaky, his throat dry and scratchy. “Please tell me you will find somebody else.” He fumbled around to grab her hand, winching as he caught her head snapping towards his in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t turn to see the expression on her face. “You’re so young, so full of life. Your life is going to be so beautiful.”

Her hand was pulled from his, and he steeled what was left of his nerves to get ready for whatever tongue lashing she had planned, but instead he felt the bed dip further beside him, her hands framing his sullen face on each side and softly turning his gaze to meet her own.

“Don’t you say things like that, Tom.” He forced his eyes to stare into her own. His eyes seemed as if they were always ready to release tears, and the intensity of the hurt in her own made his pool unconsciously. “There is no somebody else when the other half of my soul is already with me. I don’t need anybody else because you’re not going anywhere.”

Her thumb brushed away the tear that slipped from his chocolate orbs, ignoring the dark circles underneath that made his face seem further sunken than it was.

“You don’t know that,” he sniffed heavily, dropping his eyes down to his lap. His fingers unconsciously toyed with the bracelet she had given him years ago. A soft, black, faux-leather band. An unfit symbol charm dangled close to the strap, reminding him of her favourite line from her favourite book/movie - the perks of being a wallflower. He had gone wuth her when she got the titular floral piece tattooed on her forearm. She was so happy that day. “One day you’re gonna be in a nice house, a ring on your finger, watching your husband dote over your little baby and you will be at peace in the way I know you crave. I just... I know that will never be me, who slips a ring onto your hand, or waits for you at the end of the aisle. I won’t be the one who holds your hand when you meet your baby, or the one who can give you the life you deserve - the one you want.”

His eyes snapped up to meet her own when he heard her breath grow shaky, but the action caused his brain to lose its equilibrium and he had to close his eyes for a moment. He hated doing so. Every time his eyes were shut, it was a moment that he lost of memorizing every line, curve, angle of her body. He opened his eyes again when able, and he was met with her own eyes as red rimmed as his, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

“Don’t you every talk like that, Thomas Stanley. You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to be the one to do all of those things because you’re going to make it and we are going to love each other until the end of our time, together. I’ll fucking Romeo and Juliet this shit if I have to,” her dark joke was met with a wet laugh from them both, before her face melted back into seriousness. “I’m never gonna need another person, Tommy. I have you, and I will have you forever.”

“You make every day a blessing, my love.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over hers as he gathered the strength in his lead arms to pull her into a hug. “You make hell feel like a summers day, and I cherish every moment I have left with you.”

My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings. Happy you were mine, it sucks that it's all ending

Their days continued on for another three weeks, the same routine of morning coffee and testing the boundaries of his own fatigue. Three weeks without the dreaded conversation arising again, until she woke to find him staring into the ceiling with such an intense and thoughtful gaze. She knew instantly what was on his mind, and she could feel her heart breaking into more little pieces.

“Tommy?” Her melodic tone was soft, snapping him from his nightmarish reprieve. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing honey. Thinking about us... when we were young and full of life,” he snorted into the dark room, Y/N’s soft laugh pushed through her nose and he felt her smile against his neck. “Just, thinking about how sorry I am for all of this. I’m sorry that I’ve turned your life upside down, that we have changed so much.”

He felt weaker. His body was fighting to hold on, and he felt that they both knew that. He was being eaten up from the inside out, but he couldn’t bear to leave. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t leave her alone. He needed her, he loved her. He wanted to be her husband and give her everything she wanted in life. He wanted to live, for her.

“I would change everything if it meant I could be here with you,” her voice was heavy, riddled with sleep. Neither of them get much rest anymore. He is always up and down, and she frets too much to sleep through his late night jolts and retches. “You’re worth every minute of every day, Tom. You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not like you chose to have Can-“

“Don’t say it, baby, please?” He pled, silencing her before she could say the word. He hadn’t once uttered it since the day he found out. She had relayed the information to their families, holding his hand the entire time as he sat motionless. “Makes it more real than my emo ramblings.” His laugh was humorless, but he didn’t intend it to be so.

She apologised softly, snuggling closer to him. She knew how much he loved the feel of her body on his, how the intimacy of the comfort made him feel warm. Back when he could handle the weight, she would sometimes wake up curled on top of his chest because he had sought her out in his sleep.

“I would do anything for you, Tommy. I would give up everything I have just to see you smile. You’re the other half of my soul, my infinity.”

He felt a tear slip down his cheek. Her words always had that affect on him, but he loved the way she could send his heart beating with no effort. He loved her. So intensely.

“Sing to me, please?” A request he had let loose so many times before. He adored her voice, and the soft melodies that fell from her lips and lulled him to sleep.

She obliged with a smile on her face, and let the words tumble into his pale skin.

“If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do...”

Soon you'll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me

Two more months passed. His doctors were satisfied, stating that he was slowly improving. His body was beginning to regain strength. He had begun to grow more hopeful, slowly but surely.

Until there was no chance for hope left.

Y/N made his morning coffee, but when she went to rest it on his bedside, he could barely breathe.

Her fingers dialed emergency services faster than she thought possible, her voice cracking as she sung to him over and over, hands cradling his head in her lap as he whispered his love for her.

The coffee went cold as the red and blue lights approached.

Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed. I'll make a cup of coffee for your head. It'll get you up and going out of bed

Tag list: @starshonerose @snookiebrookie @another-lonely-heart @mantlereid

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[eddiesfaerie]

Long Sleeves (part 2)

Summary: Pushed to its absolute limits; a retelling of the past 4 months of you and Charlie’s complicated relationship (13.5k words, i dont know what to say other than im so sorry)

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, major angst, annoying fluff, mentions of divorce, affairs, age gap (between Charlie and reader, previously implied), nudes, phone sex, PIV sex, daddy kink, some size kink, pain kink(?), rough (and angry and sad) sex, dom and sub themes, spanking, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), i also mention christmas a lot at the beginning which isn't really a warning but i know not everyone celebrates it!

Part 1

A/N: for those of you who are not a fan of d*ddy kink but who may still want to read this; i only use it between the time stamps of Christmas Eve to March, following the March timestamp there will be no mention or use of that word! just thought i’d mention cause the ending is cathartic!

LATE DECEMBER - APARTMENT

With Henry and Nicole staying in LA until after the holidays, Charlie would be alone with you until he left again.

And he didn’t leave your apartment once in the meantime.

Making up for lost time, is what you could call it.

The hours, days, spent in between sheets, on countertops, on couches, in the shower. Like he was trying to mark your apartment with his scent, make sure you never forgot him when he would leave again for LA in a few days.

You would remember him everywhere.

The way your knees bruised on the tile floor of your shower. The welts on your ass from his harsh hand. The bite marks on your shoulders, the bruises littering your neck, stomach, anywhere he could reach.

You would remember him everywhere.

The thousands of ‘good girls’ he praised you with and the thousand and one ‘fucking sluts’ he punished you with. Charlie was coming to know your insides and outs better than you could at this point, it was a certain level of familiarity you were happy with him reaching. He was becoming more and more comfortable around you.

You could tell not just because of the frequent sex, the hard fucking, but because of how he was opening up to you about the divorce. About what was really going on down in LA, what was happening with Henry, what had been happening (or more so, not happening) with Nicole for nearly the past year. 

He told you about how she ignored him, refused to have sex with him, even touch him. How he had found solace in a one time affair with their stage director, how he just missed feeling needed, feeling wanted by the only person who was supposed to fulfill that innate human desire.

He told you everything he could think of, every little detail. He was tired of hiding, holding it in.

He realized he would have to tell you when he would get a random call from his lawyer or from Nicole herself, when he would talk to Henry. When he yelled through the phone or hung up crying, slamming his device against the wall, nearly breaking it.

He knew he would have to explain it to you, he owed it to you.

You deserved to know, especially now that he was involving you in this to some degree. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to involve you but he needed you more than he needed anyone else right now. More than he was ready to admit perhaps, just how much he truly needed you.

And that’s why going back to LA would be the hardest thing he’s done all week.

He stood at the door, dressed, suitcase packed, heart lurching, thumping low in his chest with dread, resent, fear, and some feeling he couldn’t fucking name.

Lo-

“I wish you could come.” He says instead, the saddest smile you’ve seen adorning his perfect lips. You smile back, just as sadly. You know there was absolutely no reason for you to go to LA with him, to spend Christmas with Nicole and Henry and whatever extended family would be there as well. It would never happen, never work. At least, not right now. Not like this.

The divorce proceedings were on break till after the holidays, both in and against Charlie’s favour. It meant not giving Henry two Christmases, one last normal one. But it also meant pretending, indulging in that… façade that him and Nicole have been keeping up for too fucking long now.

The deed would be done sometime in February, maybe March, Charlie couldn’t remember. He tried not to think about it too much. Think about losing everything-

“I know. But you’ll enjoy yourself. Henry will be happy.” You remind him, letting him hold you so, so tightly. His vice grip, digging into you, trying to anchor himself to you.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you alone during fucking Christmas.” You laugh.

“I’m going home to see my parents, I won’t be alone, Charlie.” He nods his head, hearing the words you’re saying but he still can’t stop the guilt from creeping up on him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s abandoning you. He won’t abandon you, like everyone’s abandoned him. He just hoped you wouldn’t abandon him either.

Charlie presses his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pressing your body against his. Your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’ll call you this time, I promise. Every night… I’ll call.”

“Okay.” You giggle, believing him.

His hand sneaks its way up your jaw, gripping your cheeks gently but angling your face for you to meet his dark, dark eyes. You know that look, so familiar now. You feel the pressure start to rise inside you, heat pooling in the very pit of your stomach.

“You’ll be good for me?” You nod immediately, fervently.

“Yes, Charlie.”

“If I ask you to send me pictures, what’ll you do?”

“S-send you pictures.” Breathless, your voice sounds so breathless. Your eyelids threatening to close but you keep them on him, always.

“That’s my good girl.” He growls, tilting your face all the way to his lips, a kiss, a seal of approval. You moan against his lips, letting your eyelids flutter shut, imagining yourself in all those new lingerie sets he’s bought you over the last week.

Your early Christmas presents, he had told you.

“The… the taxis waiting out front.” You say against his lips, not wanting him to leave just yet, but also not wanting him to leave you high and dry before getting on a plane set for across the country for at least another week, probably longer. Charlie ignores you, shoving his tongue down your throat, his grip on your jaw moving down to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, fingers ghosting over bruised skin, enough to make you fall further into his chest, gripping his perfectly ironed shirt, ruining it.

He pulls away all too soon, no doubt doing this to you on purpose. It was 7am and you were already whimpering into his parted lips.

“I-I’ll miss you.” You admit, heart crashing into your ribs. 

You hadn’t meant to say it but he was making your brain foggy, your thoughts were jumbled together and you just let it slip past your lips. Charlie stares at you, red lips swollen like petals, cheeks matching, hair perfectly in place with your help nothing but fifteen minutes earlier. It feels like a lifetime has passed before he says anything back to you. The taxi honks outside on the curb.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you more.”

CHRISTMAS EVE - UPSTATE NEW YORK

It was relieving to be away from the city, surrounded by more wilderness, more foliage, more trees, more animals. A literal breath of fresh air that wasn’t tainted by sewage and the ever present scent of smoke coming from somewhere or someone.

You loved coming up here. Escaping. You hadn’t been back home since last Christmas. You moved away when you were quite young, the relationship you had with your parents was complicated, clashing personalities, it was difficult to understand each other when you were younger but there was clarity that came with age. They finally respected you, and you finally respected them as well, understanding them better.

You think spending so much time with Charlie and Henry gave you an insight into parenthood that you had never been privy too beforehand. You were thankful for that, not only did you appreciate your parents more, but now parenthood had many more benefits that you had never considered before. Magical, rewarding, fulfilling.

Charlie kind of made you feel that way too.

It was still awkward at times with your parents, that was unavoidable. No siblings around meant all eyes were on you. They were asking for too many details, prying too deep and you just never felt comfortable indulging in yourself this much. But you always came prepared, it was the holidays after all, things always got weird.

After Christmas Eve dinner, your parents invited you out on a walk with them around their little town. They did this every night apparently, just walking together, talking. It was cute, endearing. You declined their offer, however. Thankfully you weren’t sixteen anymore, and your parents didn’t press you any further to come along with them like they used to.

They’d be back in thirty minutes.

That gave you thirty minutes to call Charlie. Just as he instructed.

Earlier this evening, as your parents were beginning to prepare dinner, Charlie’s family was just finishing lunch out in California. A perfect time for a perfect distraction, or intrusion. 

You had packed a few sets of the new lingerie Charlie had bought you, not knowing what he would want to see on you or how often you should switch it up. You nearly brought all of them but didn’t want to take up too much space in your luggage and be suspicious.

You put one on that you thought Charlie was particularly fond of, a skimpy little number that revealed more skin than hid, it’s colour complimenting your skin like it was made for you, made to hug your figure in all the right places. You forgot that Charlie had such a visual mind sometimes, he knew exactly what you would look good in.

Nervous and a bit shaky, you tucked yourself away into your childhood bedroom to take your pictures for Charlie. You felt like a teenager again.

Charlie was not pleased with the timing of your pictures, seeing as he was surrounded by family and innocently looked at his phone only to get a glimpse of your beautiful fucking body, all the blood going from his head straight to his cock. He nearly fainted. His cheeks lit up like Nicole’s Christmas tree and he stumbled from his chair. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be more occupied with paying attention to Henry than to notice him sprint to the bathroom to scold you over text.

That was hours ago. Charlie had told you to call him exactly at 11pm eastern time. That was only 8pm where he was but he said it worked out perfectly so you didn’t argue. You just waited patiently on your bed, number dialed on your phone and ready to call, all the clock head to do was strike eleven.

Finally, the clocks ding around the house, your thumb flies across your screen and you hold the phone up to your ear, worrying the flesh of your lip between your teeth. It rings once, twice, three times before you can hear his breath on the other end. It already sounds heavy.

“H-hi Charlie.”

“What are you wearing.” His voice is strained, maybe he’s already holding himself in his hand.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” You twist your fingers together nervously. Charlie grunts on the other end, a frustrated sound.

“I f-fucking told you, no pleasantries. I-it’ll only make us miss each other more-” You stayed quiet. You knew he was right, but you already missed him so much and hearing his voice was making it worse. You felt your lip tremble, you missed his arms, his warmth, his-

“Are you fucking pouting right now?” His voice was firm, sturdy, and annoyed.

“No, Charlie.” A lie.

“Good, now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I’m wearing your favourite, the one from earlier. I’m barely covered.”

“Oh I know baby, your tits looked so fhuuuucking good in those pictures you sent me.” The fluctuation in his voice was rising and falling randomly, you could picture his hand wrapped tightly around his angry cock, the head flushed red, precum dribbling out the top, just begging to be licked. He tasted so good…

“A-are you touching yourself?”

“No, you didn’t tell me to.”

“G-good girl, you’re so fucking good to me, you know that?” You pictured his chest, the way he flushes right in the center, between his pecs. The way the red splotches climb up, up, up his neck and onto his cheeks and up to the peaks of his ears. You thought about the heavy rise and fall of his chest as well, how fucking wide he is, how much bigger than you he is. You audibly moaned.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Y-you.”

“Be specific- fuck.”

“Um, your- your cock. How big it is, how big you are. How it feels when you stretch me out, when you go so deep I feel you in my stomach-”

“Keep going baby, I’m… I’m so f-UHcking close.”

“I think about the first time, a-a lot. How it felt the first time you split me open- fuck Charlie you’re so big I never think you’re going to fit but I always take it, I-”

“Yeah, yeah you always take me like the good little girl you are, such a good fucking slut for me, taking my cock in that tight fucking pussy.” He sneers, you can tell he’s talking from behind clenched teeth and you moan again, loudly. Your brain short circuits, what comes out next, comes from the deepest part of you.

“Oh Daddy,-”

“What did you just call me?”

Fuck.

You hadn’t really meant to say it, you were just so caught up in the moment, the feeling, the sound of him that you completely lost your inhibitions and let it slip out. You expected him to just end the call now.

“Charlie I’m so sorry-” He cuts you off with a firm call of your name.

“I asked you a question. What… did you call me?” Your stomach flips and your insides threaten to spill past your lips and onto your floor.

“Daddy.” You say so quietly you’re not sure he even heard you.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Daddy.” Frustration laces your voice as you project the word throughout the entire upper floor of the house. He definitely hears it that time. You think you hear Charlie moan on the other end but you don’t want to be too hopeful.

“You wanna call me Daddy? Hmm? You want me to be your fucking Daddy, is that it?”

“N-no…” You’re not sure what he’s getting at, but you feel like he’s just going to torment you.

“Don’t fucking lie to me you little slut.” His breathing picks up again, his voice booming, heavy breaths between every few words. You can hear the slick of his hand as it moves quickly over his length.

“Yes! Yes I- I want you to…”

“Say it.”

“I want you to be my Daddy.” Charlie moans loudly again, his hand somehow moving faster. You can tell he’s close. You can’t believe he likes this. You love it.

“Yeah, I’ll be your fucking Daddy. You better fucking call me that non stop when I get back to you, my sweet little girl.” You moan this time, squeezing your thighs together, feeling your arousal trail slightly down onto your thigh. You were so distracted you hadn’t realized you’d completely soaked through your underwear.

“I will, Daddy.”

“Fuck, I’m-”

Confidence surged you. You still couldn’t believe he liked this but you finally gave in, feeding his desires. When you spoke, your voice was filled with something wicked, sickeningly sweet and most of all, evil.

“Are you going to cum for me, Daddy? Make a mess for me?”

You felt like you hadn’t even finished your sentence before a loud moan punched through your phone and into your ear. You moaned as well just from his release, feeling it in your mind and in your chest, squeezing your thighs again for any sort of friction. Charlie continued to moan through his release, you pictured his silky cum painting his taut abdomen and his beautiful chest. You imagined it blending in with his moles and freckles, you pictured yourself rubbing your hands through it, massaging it into his skin before licking it all up. 

He wouldn’t even have to ask, you would just do it.

“Y-you’re fucking perfect… you fucking angel.” He’s so breathless, completely spent and wasted from your voice alone. You felt so hot. You needed to relieve yourself but you didn’t know if you should ask for permission or not. Before you could even debate it, Charlie spoke again.

“Go to bed, wouldn’t want Santa catching you up like this.” You laughed softly at his comment. Static on the other end. He said your name as if to check if you were still there.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

The line went dead.

JANUARY - BROOKLYN

You had sent Charlie pictures nearly every night after that. And you two called each other every other night as well.

He asked it of you and you couldn’t say no to your Charlie. It was a bit tricky while you were still staying with your parents, he would simply text you and you would have to scurry off to your room or the bathroom and snap as many flattering pictures of yourself as you could. You tried to make it seem less suspicious by drinking tons of water and just blaming it on your bladder.

But the new year had finally come, and you were now back home in your apartment. Charlie would be returning tonight and you were counting down the hours until you saw his taxi pull up on the curb side. You distracted yourself until then.

At around 7pm, you got an unexpected call from Charlie.

“Hi.” You felt like your smile was audible through the phone.

“Hey,” Charlie chuckled darkly, his voice always sounding deeper and richer through the receiver. “I just got in. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?”

Us? He didn’t mean….

“It’s just me and Henry, Nicole’s uh, staying in LA until further notice. If you’re busy or if you can’t that’s-”

“I would love to,” The fact that Charlie would ask you to spend dinner with him and Henry warmed your heart beyond comprehension. Your weeks of loneliness suddenly dissolving into the background and becoming nothing more than a distant memory, a distant feeling. “but is Henry okay with it?”

“Of course he’s okay with it. He’s actually been talking about you quite a bit. I think he might have missed you more than I did,” Charlie choked a bit on his last words, “not that I didn’t miss you, I just meant that he, you know, Henry was-”

“It’s okay, Charlie I understood what you meant.” You giggle, finding his slight awkwardness endearing. How was it that you both were having incredible phone sex for the past two weeks and now you both sounded like teenagers calling their crush?

“So, you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Charlie groans at your suggestive tone.

“Don’t start now.” His voice stern, unwavering. You laugh again, more mischievous this time. You test the waters, not stepping in enough to drown... just yet.

“I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that okay, Daddy?” You hear rustling on the other end of the phone and then Charlie cursing a low ‘fuck!’. You think you hear Henry’s voice too, followed by more of Charlie’s now muffled voice.

“Ten minutes is fine.”

//

Henry had bombarded you at the door, he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs and hugged himself tightly to you. It took everything in you not to cry, you knelt down so you could hug him back.

“I missed you.” He dug his cheek into your shoulder. This kid was the sweetest, he would melt your heart every time.

“I missed you too, Henry. How was LA? How was Christmas? Tell me everything!”

Henry grabbed your hand and dragged you into the living room where all his new toys were laid out, ready for him to play with. As he was pulling you there, Charlie emerged from around the doorway like an angel himself. Your eyes met and you felt as if you were moving in slow motion, and not being dragged at top speed by his child.

“Hi.” You greet, almost shyly. Unsure of how to act around him with Henry present.

“Hi.” Charlie repeats, grabbing your free hand for the briefest moment, giving it a tight squeeze until it's pulled out of his grasp by Henry.

You’re not sure how long you spent playing on the floor with Henry, him retelling you the events of the last two or three weeks while Charlie sat on the couch, glancing at the two of you every now and then. You tried not to think about the position you were in, kneeling on the floor, carpet digging into your knees, Charlie sitting tall above you on the couch, looking down at you from between his parted knees. It looked like such a natural position for him, almost like he was too comfortable like this, too familiar with it. You wanted to-

The doorbell rang, making both you and Henry jump from the sharp noise.

“Henry would you like to go pay the pizza guy?” Charlie asked, already pulling his wallet from the pocket in his pants.

“Yes!” Henry shouted, jumping up from the carpet, whisking the crisp bills from his dad’s hands and running to the door to answer it. Charlie figured he had a minute or less before Henry came back.

He lifted himself from the couch, taking your jaw into his hand and bringing you to stand with him. He crashed his lips into yours, violently shoving his tongue down your throat and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to spill through your lips and into his awaiting mouth. His hands had a deadly grip on your waist and on your jaw, you only wished he would ease up because you didn’t want Henry to wonder why you both looked so flustered.

“I can’t wait until tonight.” He said against your lips, his hand on your jaw moving to trail down your throat.

“W-what’s tonight?”

“I got it!” Henry came rushing back into the living room but not before Charlie pushed himself away from you and let go of your throat and waist. It looked like nothing had happened.

“Let’s go set it up in the dining room.” Henry stomped his foot in retaliation, whining slightly.

“Nooo, Dad, can we please watch a movie with pizza?”

“Henry, we have a guest-”

“Please!”

“What movie do you want to watch?” You asked, budding in, trying to stop a tantrum in its tracks. Henry’s eyes lit up and he glanced between you and his dad.

“Have you ever seen ‘Frozen’?” You actually had, but he didn’t need to know that. You gasped.

“I haven’t!” You glanced over at Charlie. His eyes were dark but an innocent smirk pulled at his lips.

He was thinking about how this just meant it would take longer before he could finally fuck you again, a two hour movie cockblock. It had been over two weeks since he had felt your body against his, nothing to satiate him but the sound of your voice and some mediocre photos. Charlie thinks he should show you how to take some really good ones sometime soon. Not that yours didn’t most definitely do the trick, he just thinks he likes the idea of directing you, positioning you...

But Charlie was also thinking about how he found it very sweet, very heartwarming to watch you bond with Henry. He loved watching you have such a good time with him and treat him like a person, not just a child. And he could tell that Henry really liked spending time with you too. Not just from how much he talked about you when you weren’t around, but the smile that lit up his face when you came over or when he went over to your place.

It was getting harder and harder to get Henry to smile like that.

You all sat down on the couch, little wooden fold up tables in front of your seat to hold your plate of pizza slices. Henry sitting between you and Charlie, of course.

Henry sang along passionately to almost every song, sometimes with bites of pizza in his mouth and Charlie would scold him for it, afraid he would choke but Henry ignored his dad’s requests, just continuing to belt out along with the characters on screen.

As the movie progressed and neared the end, you could feel Charlie getting more and more sleepy on his side of the couch. He would rearrange his sitting position every now and then and his eyes would close for minutes at a time. He looked so soft with his arms folded across his chest, his eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks, his lips coming to rest in the softest little pout. You nudge Henry gently and he turns to look up at you.

“Looks like your dad’s asleep.” You giggle, pointing to Charlie. Henry immediately jumps on him, startling Charlie awake.

“Dad I can’t believe you fell asleep again!” Henry pouts, grabbing Charlie’s face between his hands and shaking him from side to side. Charlie grabs his son’s little hands to stop his efforts, sitting himself up straighter on the couch and hugging Henry to his chest.

“Mmm’wasn’t sleeping.” Henry rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you go get your daddy a blanket so he can get comfy for the rest of the movie.” You wink at Henry, sending him searching upstairs for the perfect blanket for his dad.

Charlie groans and drops his head on the back of the couch, his hand draping across is as well, coming to rest on the very tip of your shoulder. He wraps his fingers along your muscles, squeezing the flesh into his palm, tightly.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?” Daddy.

His head lifts from the couch to glare at you, his stare deadly, shooting right to the deepest parts of you. Why were you teasing him like this?

“Dad is the dinosaur one okay?” Henry calls from up the stairs, slowly making his way down and back to the couch.

“It’s perfect, Henry. Thank you.” Charlie takes the blanket from Henry and kisses the top of his forehead before he settles back on the couch, cuddling up next to his dad.

You unpause the movie, admiring the two of them every now and then, watching Henry becoming more and more sleepy as the film nears its end. As the credits roll, Charlie removes the blanket from around himself and moves it to wrap around Henry.

“I’m going to go tuck him in.” Charlie whispers to you. You nod sweetly at the two of them. Charlie carries Henry in his arms towards the stairs before Henry grumbles, calling out your name to you back on the couch.

“Will you come too?”

You look to Charlie for guidance, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries. You’ve never been in the upstairs part of their apartment, you’ve never seen the rest of their place, Henry’s room, Charlie’s room, their bathroom. You’d never seen any of it and it all felt incredibly intimate and incredibly wrong in some way. You didn’t want to accidentally see something you shouldn’t. But Charlie just smiles back at you and nods his head gently.

“Of course, Henry.” You follow them up the stairs, smiling at Henry who smiles that shiny little kid smile at you before laying his head back down on Charlie’s shoulder, resting his eyes again.

Henry’s bedroom is exactly like you imagined it would be. Colourful blue walls, vibrant comic book patterned bed sheets, toys absolutely everywhere yet Charlie avoids them like their place on the floor has meaning, like he’s ingrained it into his mind from stepping on them too many times, muscle memory. You stay in the doorway, leaning on the door frame watching them, not wanting to intrude.

Charlie carefully lowers Henry onto his bed, tucking him in the covers and kissing his forehead. He says sweet words to his son, lulling him further to sleep and Henry smiles dopily back at him, whispering a quiet ‘love you, dad.’

Charlie turns around to face you, he flicks his head in the direction of the stairway mouthing the word ‘go’ to you, you nod and head down the stairs, waiting for him in the living room. You decide to settle yourself at the foot of the couch, sitting on your knees, feeling the burn of the carpet again and waiting for your Charlie.

He descends the stairs slowly, achingly slowly. Making you wait for it, making you feel the weight in his steps, his foot pressing into the wood, applying his weight until he shifts down another step before finally, finally, making his way to you.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, you try not to let your mouth hang open as you gaze up at him, this beautiful man. Sometimes, when you look at him, you wonder if whatever god or gods were out there made him like this on purpose. Sent him here looking the way he does to taunt you, to test you. Test your strength, your will to defy him when you know there is no humanly way possible to deny this man of what he wants. And what he wants is you. Why would you say no? How could you?

After observing you on the floor below him, Charlie seats himself down on the couch like before, knees spread, looking down at you. You scoot closer to him, hoping he doesn’t tell you to stop. His hand comes to rest on his knee before he pats it.

“Lay your head down on me.” His voice rumbles in his chest. You think you feel it through the floorboards, through your knees, up your spine and in the pit of your stomach. You listen and scoot closer, resting your head on his bony knee, nuzzling it with your cheek and looking up at him through thick lashes. You continue looking at him as you press a tender kiss as well, just for fun.

The lights are dim in the living room, the time ticking closer to midnight, Henry asleep upstairs. You both had to be quiet, you both knew this. Charlie’s hand comes to brush against your cheekbone, he trails his index finger all along the valleys of your face and then moving into your hair, gripping the back of it into a fist before relaxing again, bringing his hand back to hold your cheek.

“I’ve missed this.” He says so quietly. You nod, biting your lip.

“Me too.” You say, eagerness beginning to fill your voice. You adjust your position, coming to lean further into him, closer to his crotch where you can tell he needs you. Charlie hums contentedly.

“Mhmmm. Tell me what exactly you missed. Who you missed.” You let your hand glide over his knee, over his muscular thigh and towards his crotch, feather light touches along the fabric of his pants. You could feel how hard he was, it seemed painful.

“You. I missed your cock too... Daddy.”

There it was. He found what he was looking for. His hand found its way into a fist again in your hair, tugging it tightly, his head falling back against the couch as you pressed your lips over his covered cock, straining in his pants.

“You can do better than that,” he groaned, voice almost as strained as his cock yet still so forceful, “show Daddy how much you really missed him.”

You whimper at his tone, your voices both so hushed, rasped and desperate, spurring each other on much quicker than usual. Your hands, shaky with desire, reached up for his belt, grasping the cold metal into your hands and unbuckling it as quickly as you could. Only when you got to his zipper, did Charlie stop you with a light tap to your cheek.

“Teeth.” He scolded. You nodded.

You brought the zipper in between your teeth, biting down on the tiny piece of metal and slowly dragging it down over the hill his cock was creating in his pants. The heat radiating from his body was palpable, you could feel it coming onto your face the lower you dragged the zipper and the more he was revealed to you. You could also smell him, that smell that was undeniably Charlie; musky, earthy, a hit of fabric detergent and just the natural smell of his skin, like almonds in the summer. It made you dizzy, drunk off of him already.

You hadn’t even gotten him in your mouth yet.

You nuzzled your face into his clothed crotch, feeling his hard member pressing into your cheek, you could feel it pulsing, you could feel him wanting, waiting for the moment your mouth would take his length as far back as you could. You whimpered at the thought.

“You like it? You like my cock?”

“Yeah, I love it.”

“Then show me with that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” He sneered, pulling harder on your hair. You hummed and smiled, you felt giddy, maybe you really were drunk. You nuzzled your face into his crotch one more time before bringing both of your hands up to his waist, letting your fingertips dance around his beautiful skin that lay revealed to you above the waistband, you lean up, up, up pressing the softest, delicatest kisses to his skin.

Charlie groaned, pressing on the back of your head, pushing your face further into his tummy. You left more and more kisses before you gave him a tentative bite, not letting your teeth sink in too much before you lave your tongue over the abused flesh.

“Fuck that feels- fucking good.” Charlie moaned, looking down at the new mark that would only darken itself by tomorrow as more blood rushes to the affected area. It was placed beautifully next to his hip bone. You think it looked pretty. So did he.

You finally let your fingertips dip into his waistband but not before latching your teeth onto the stretchy fabric as well, aiding your fingers in removing them. You dragged it down, down, down his skin, just until his cock sprang free and laid heavy on his lower stomach. Charlie hissed, his hips bucking slightly from the sudden freedom.

He has the prettiest cock you think you’d ever seen. You never get used to seeing it, taking it in your mouth or your cunt. The stretch is always so painfully good, you’ve come to crave it. And going without it for the past however many weeks has made you near delirious for it. You stick your tongue out and run it all along the underside right to the very tip, where a shiny, pearly bead of precum has just begun to spill over. You hum as you lick it up, eyes nearly rolling back into your head.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” Charlie grits from behind clenched teeth. You look up at him innocently, you notice that he’s clenching and unclenching his jaw like clockwork, his eyes look glassy and his cheeks are a few shades darker. He already looks so disheveled, so perfect like this.

“I can’t help it… it’s so pretty.”

“You think Daddy has a pretty cock?” You nod your head, humming, which you can’t seem to stop doing tonight, he just has you feeling so content, so safe. You don't think you could be like this with anyone else. You trace your fingers along his length, watching it bob from the slightest of touches, even Charlie tries to bite back his groans.

“Can-can I kiss it?”

“Please.” You lower your head towards his length, pressing your lips so softly onto his red angry head, giving little kitten licks in between kisses which has Charlie gripping your hair like a vice, afraid you’ll float away. You like the way his stomach flexes in response to your touch, like his body is bracing himself for the tidal wave of pleasure that’s bound to hit at any moment.

You finally take the spongy pink head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before letting a few inches fall past your lips as well. Charlie’s tummy flexes even more, the v shaped muscle becoming more and more prominent and you moan onto his cock. His free hand that had been clenched into a fist comes to hold one side of your head and the other comes to meet it. He holds your head in his hands and forces you to take more of him, but not all of it just yet. You start bobbing your head up and down on his length, his hands helping you find his ideal speed.

“Fuck yes, oh my god, j-just like that-” Charlie moans your name, his fingernails digging into your scalp making you moan on his cock again, only making him dig deeper, pressing your head further down his length, forcing you to take him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Gonna let Daddy f-fuck that pretty little whore mouth of yours?” You let your jaw go slack more than it already has and do your best to nod with his cock half way down your throat, tears already beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes. Charlie starts lifting his hips off the couch slightly, all the while moving your head further up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat as far as it’ll go without you making obscenely loud gagging noises.

His son was asleep right upstairs, after all.

You let your eyes roll back into your head, letting Charlie take control and just fuck his cock into your mouth like you know he needs to, like he knows you need it too. It’s been too fucking long. Too fucking long since he’s had you like this. At his disposal, his little plaything to do whatever he pleases with. And you fucking love it.

The cool, sharp metal of his unzipped zipper digs into your jaw and occasionally your neck, biting into your skin and scratching your skin when Charlie lifts his hips up particularly high but you don’t care. In fact, you welcome the pain, embracing it as a mark of Charlie’s rough loving. You hope it draws blood.

“Fuck, your mouth i-is so fucking perfect, so warm... I don’t-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his eyes screw shut and you can feel his cock growing impossibly harder. He looks down at you, his face twisted in absolute pleasure as he loses himself in your tight little mouth. He pulls you off his cock with all of his strength. A trail of saliva connecting your spit swollen lips to the head of his cock. You start pumping him quickly with your fist.

“No-no wait I don’t…”

“I want it Charlie, please,” Charlie throws his head back, moaning your name, “cum in my mouth... please.”

You nearly whine that last part. Charlie grabs your hair and tugs it, shaking your head a bit.

“I want to fuck you, I don’t wanna cum yet- FUCK!” You hadn’t stopped your hand movements, your fist moving faster over his cock while he fights his release.

“You can fuck me tomorrow.” You say quickly before attaching your lips around the head of his cock, sucking on it until you feel his thighs, abdomen, hands, mind and soul tense up before he bites back his guttural moans, letting them rumble through his chest like thunder passing, before spilling himself onto your tongue. You moan as it lands, letting it slide down your throat as you taste him, taste all of him until he’s completely drained.

You look up at him through heavy lashes, coated thick in tears that have streamed down your cheeks. Chest heaving, abdomen pulled taught, cheeks incredibly flushed, lips swollen, eyes heavy and tired. Completely spent. He looked so beautiful, your Charlie. So beautiful like this.

“S-show me.” His hand reaches for your jaw, pinching your cheeks to force your jaw and mouth open. You stick your tongue to show him. All gone, you swallowed all of his cum, for him.

“Good girl.” He whispered, patting your cheek affectionately. You smiled sweetly at him, coming up with your hands resting your weight on his thighs, pressing your swollen lips to his. As you extend your knees to stand, you feel the ache in the joints, the bruises already present, no doubt. You loved the pain. Your lips glide effortlessly across each other, so tired, so worn out but always wanting.

“Stay, please.” He says against your lips. You shake your head, no. It was a simple answer. A simple predicament.

“Henry.” 

You pull back to look into Charlie’s eyes, he pulls you into his lap and he winces as you apply just a bit too much weight onto the base of his cock. You look into his eyes, already so sad at the idea of you leaving. But Henry would ask too many questions in the morning.

Why is the nice lady from next door still here, Dad?

Did she stay the night, Dad?

Did she sleep in your bed, Dad?

You and Mom’s bed, Dad?

“I know, I know.” Charlie says, defeated. He presses you into his chest, hugging you to him tightly, tighter than you were expecting. It was a hopeful thought. He understood why it couldn’t happen, couldn’t work. Maybe he just wanted you to entertain the idea for a minute with him. Maybe it would happen one day.

“I really did miss you.” He whispers into your hair, cradling the back of your head with his large, warm hand, pressing you further into the nook of his neck.

“I did too. I really missed you too, Charlie.”

MARCH - BROOKLYN

Charlie was currently back from his third visit to Los Angeles, hunting burroughs for the perfect new home for himself and for Henry. Maybe for you as well, but Charlie didn’t like to dwell on that for too long, he couldn’t allow himself such hopeful thoughts, he would only be let down. 

Would you really want to move in with him? Was that moving too quickly? Would you think he was insane? Crazy? Obsessed? The truth was, he is all of those things; insane, crazy, obsessed with you. He couldn’t help it, no. Not when it came to you.

He would always be desperate for your affection, your attention.

Things were escalating with the divroce. Nicole and Charlie had turned bitter, viscous, backstabbing, conniving. Both fighting for a child who has no intention of hurting anyone, certainly not his mother or father.

Henry had no idea what weight his actions or words held, no idea what it meant when someone came over to observe him and his dad, or him and his mom. When they sent someone out to New York to watch him there, sometimes you would be over too. They asked you so many questions, he didn’t understand why. Why were strangers suddenly so involved in every little thing his parents did? Were they in trouble? Were they bad people? Was he a bad kid? Did they hate him?

Henry pouts as you hold his hand, walking up the driveway to the new apartment Charlie was almost one hundred percent decided on renting. It was in more of a family oriented neighbourhood, still close to his school. Somehow, it had a decent sized backyard (which you had never heard of in New York, even Brooklyn), three bedrooms, an office, a beautiful kitchen, it was basically perfect in Charlie’s eyes.

The first time he visited it back in February, he sent you dozens of pictures and little videos when he had gone alone. He quickly booked another appointment for you to go and look at him with it so he could get your opinion. He made it very clear how important your opinion was to him on this matter, he was always asking you questions about the apartment, even bringing it up randomly. He would scroll through the pictures he had taken, scrutinizing every detail and ask you about it.

Do you think the backyard is big enough?

What if I end up getting Henry a dog? Would there be enough space for that?

Do you really like the kitchen? Be honest.

What about the office room? Do I really need that? Is that too much?

What about the guest bedroom?

You wonder if he was so invested in your opinion because he trusted you, or because he wanted you to move in with them. Neither of you had ever spoken about it before, never had that conversation. And even if you did, Henry would always have the final say. If he didn’t want you living with them, well, that was that. You couldn’t argue with Henry, not when his childhood and upbringing was in question. Especially after this divorce. Charlie would do anything for him. Even if it meant risking you.

//

Charlie ended up getting the house he had been eyeing for nearly a month.

Him and Henry would restart here, no painful memories embedded in the walls, in the flooring, in the holes in the walls, the slammed door frames, the windows that threatened to shatter from all the screaming and crying. None of that was here, it would never be here. None of that would happen again.

Charlie hadn’t asked you to move in.

And you hadn’t necessarily been waiting on him asking either.

You were already coming over pretty frequently. And not just on account of Charlie, Henry still loved seeing you and hanging out with you. You still babysat him when things at the theatre ran late. 

When Nicole moved to LA, Charlie was thrown full force into his work. Forced to recast, rework, and rewrite so many things that she had just left hanging. You watched Henry those nights, stayed until Charlie got home and then took the subway back to your place, next to their now vacant apartment.

You were so lonely those nights you couldn’t sleepover at Charlie’s. You missed his warmth. You hadn’t realized just how much comfort you got knowing he was just next door, just beyond a thick wall. You could have touched it and felt his presence radiating through. But now, nothing. It was cold, dark, empty, meaningless.

And because Charlie had been so overworked for the past few months, the stress was starting to get to him. The constant obstacles and backtracking in the theatre production. The random calls from Nicole, his lawyer, the random flights down to LA, the weeks Henry spent away from him, the nights he lost himself in you, using you as an outlet. You let him, you liked it when he took it out on you, you liked how rough he would get, all that pent up anger being pounded out into your hot cunt. You loved it. Loved when he got mad, frustrated. You were always there for him. You would always be there for him, you hoped he knew that.

But what you didn’t love, was when he started neglecting you.

He would go days sometimes without calling you, so much as even texting you. You would get no word from him for a couple of days and sometimes you would just randomly piece together that he was in LA and he just forgot to tell you. You tried to not let it upset you, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the stress of the divorce, the potential of losing Henry, his whole life hanging by a thread. It really wasn’t his fault that he just forgot to mention it to you.

Sometimes he would lash out at you, a small comment or action rubbing him the wrong way and he would erupt, say something he didn’t mean or just walk out on you. Times when things go heated, you tried your best to keep you composure for his sake. He didn’t need you being upset at him too on top of everything else, so you kept it in, for Charlie.

Sometimes he would lash out before you two went out with his theatre friends. He would smile and hug everyone, but kept somewhat of a distance from you. Barely speaking to you, barely including you in the conversation unless someone else asked you a question or directly addressed you. What did you look like to them? Friends? Friends with benefits? Did you look like his whore? The babysitter that he was secretly fucking?

You kind of were.

You drank a lot that night. He fucked you when you got back to his new place. He fell asleep quickly after. You pulled on your long sleeve shirt and nice dress pants that you had been wearing that night after laying next to his warm, sleeping body for thirty minutes, debating, thinking, worrying, dying inside.

You stood up and walked to the door, you looked back to find him watching you. You nervously tugged at your sleeves, staring back at him until he turned around, pushing his face into the pillow, as if silently willing you to leave. You left. You called a taxi and left. You didn’t sleep that night.

//

You think it was because he told you he was going to Los Angeles again.

Maybe he mentioned Nicole? His lawyer? Something about Henry? The theatre? 

You couldn’t remember what started all of this yelling, smashing. You were over at the new place, helping Charlie organize some things for Henry before he came back with him the next time he went out to LA again, which was in a few days.

Charlie was pissed and this time, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold your calm resolve for him.

“Charlie if you just need some space from me tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings, I understand.” You decide to try and change the subject, maybe just cutting to the chase. Offering him what you think he wants, alone time. Time away from you, from everything. There’s no way he doesn’t need a break.

You hated how quickly you would give everything up for him. You would do anything for him, anything he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, eyes squinting in confusion. You sigh, running a hand down your face, your patience was running thin and you didn’t want to accidentally set him off.

“Everytime you see me you manage to get frustrated or mad about something. I just don’t want to give you more problems than you already have. I know you’ve been really stressed.”

“Elaborate, please.” His voice was clipped as he put his hands on his hips, stopping what he was doing and turning to you, seemingly giving you more attention than he had in weeks. You huff, not sure how to explain this to him.

“Charlie I-”

“No, what the fuck are you trying to say? That if I fucking ended things you would just leave? No questions asked?” His voice boomed, echoing off the newly painted walls, shaking the frames of yours and Henry’s dinosaur paintings from all those months ago. 

He takes a step closer to you, you take one back, then another just for good measure. Your back hits the wall and you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you can with him staring at you with those eyes. Those fucking eyes. They still managed to twinkle even when he was angry.

“I- I would… for Henry. You put Henry first, I put Henry first. If he wanted me gone-”

“He doesn’t fucking want you gone, you know that.” Charlie scoffed, walking closer to you, his face red in frustration, maybe anger. He says your name, it's never sounded so sad.

“Why are you lying to me?” He’s a step away from you now, chest heaving with laboured breaths. He’s trying to compose himself, you can tell. Trying to stay calm but his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m not, I w-wouldn’t lie to you, Charlie.”

“You would leave me?” You nod your head, lip trembling, tears burning, stinging in your eyes, your breathing becoming heavy too. Was this it?

“If that’s what you wanted, if you want me to leave I would.”

“Why? Why would you do something so fucking stupid?” His lip is also trembling, you feel like he’s about to spit in your face, yell at you for being such an idiotic little girl. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, this was so fucked. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like when he got frustrated, you resented the fact that you did.

You couldn’t think straight, the words leaving your mouth didn’t feel your own, like you were speaking some other language, possessed by a foreign being.

“Be-because…” Bile rising in your throat, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Fucking why? Tell me why!” He was yelling, his face in yours and his voice breaking.

“Because I… because I love-”

And then Charlie was kissing you.

Charlie was kissing you.

His tongue swiped into your mouth like he was trying to strangle you with it. His hands came to your cheeks and pressed your body flush against his and the wall, sandwiched between the two. He was hard, you could feel his cock pressing into your stomach as he rolled his hips into you, you moaned into his mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.

“Don’t say it… don’t- fucking say it.” He said against your lips, voice so hush, so quiet and scared.

“Why? Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not fucking afraid of you.” He says, confused, angry, lips rough on your own. He keeps trying to kiss you, you don’t want to push him away but you try, you push on his tough chest, his heart beating wildly in its cage.

“Yes you are. You keep pushing me away.” You cry, hiccupping on a ragged sob that leaves your chest, as you ironically try to push him away from you. Charlie tries to kiss you through it, trying to suffocate you.

“I’m not.” He fights.

“You are.”

“I’m not-” You push, harder this time. He stumbles back, lips already swollen, his eyes are wet, glossy too. Like yours.

“You are!” You yell, voice breaking, choking on your tears. “Don’t act like you haven’t been treating me differently for the past month.”

When Charlie says nothing, you continue.

“You don’t call me, you don’t text me, I only come over to babysit Henry when he’s here and when he’s in LA you just fuck me and then get mad about something and leave. When we go out you don’t look at me, you don’t touch me-” Your voice falters, you’re not sure you can go on with the way the sobs wrack through your chest and into the rest of your body. You feel weak, like you might collapse into the ground. You wish you would, you wish the floor would just swallow you up and you could disappear.

Charlie sees red. His fists shake, clenched into fists at his side after you’ve pushed him away. His palms burn to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should listen to what you’re saying, let you talk, remind him how much he’s been hurting you. He knows what he’s doing, he’s not stupid.

He wasn’t trying to push you away, he definitely wasn’t doing it on purpose. But he was sabotaging himself, sabotaging everything because he felt he didn’t deserve you. He was a bad father, a selfish person for wanting to take Henry away from his mother, for wanting Henry to himself, a bad person for hating Nicole, a woman he once loved.

Love.

It was all because of love wasn’t it? Charlie wants to laugh at the thought. Wants to laugh and scream and yell and hit something at the thought of stupid fucking love. Was he really becoming that nihilistic already?

Would he come to hate you like how he hates Nicole? Would you come to hate him the way he hates himself? The way Henry probably hates him? The way his parents hated him-

His knees hit a hard surface, blistering, blinding pain shooting up his legs. He’s collapsed onto the floor before he’s even aware of it. Unaware of the sobs that push and pull at his lungs, forcing his chest to heave in the oxygen before choking it back out along with spit and tears. 

He’s crying. You’re crying. Fuck, how did it come to this. This was all too familiar. He feels numb.

How could he love you when love was the scariest thing? When love was the most frightening emotion he had ever experienced. Everything that’s happened to him for the past two fucking years was because of love. Love would ruin everything. It always did. But he couldn’t…. he couldn’t lose-

“Y-you… you can’t- leave me.” He chokes, hands planted shakily on the floor, holding his upper body up, his arms weak.

You… you’ve never seen Charlie like this. And honestly? It scares you. Sure, you’ve heard him yell, scream, cry at Nicole, his lawyer over the phone. But this was different. This was visceral, burning desire, regret, shame, embarrassment… this was everything coming crashing down around him at once.

Fuck.

This is what you’ve been trying to avoid over the past month. That’s why you’ve tiptoed around him, letting him get angry, letting him yell, letting him ignore you, use you, fuck you and ask for nothing in return. You were avoiding this.

But maybe you had just prolonged the explosion? Let enough gas build up before it eventually burst into flames.

Eventually…

You had definitely made this worse, by ignoring it you’ve let it fester, let it rise and rise and rise, just pushing down the lid for your own sake. Maybe it was both of your own faults? You don’t know, you don’t care. This was bound to happen at some point. And it just so happened to be today. All you really care about is Charlie.

You kneel down on the floor in front of him, resting your palm on the floor like he has, letting your pinky finger graze against his. The slightest of touch as to not scare him off. He flinches, his head still hung low, eyes screwed shut.

You place your hand on top of his, feeling his burning skin, testing the waters. He doesn’t pull back so you continue your efforts. You intertwine your fingers with his, slowly, slowly lifting his hand up off the ground and closer to you. He still doesn’t look up. You keep moving his hand until it’s on your chest, covering your left breast. Only then does he look up, searching your eyes.

He feels it then. That same thing he felt the first time… the first time he had you. Your beating heart, pumping wildly in your chest just like his was. Did you know? Did you know what you did to him? Did you know how much he needed you, how much he thinks of you? Did you know that he… that he-

“I won’t.” You say, cutting him off mid thought. His hand clutches onto you through the fabric of your shirt, trying to reach through you and grab your heart into his hands. He wants to pull it from you, keep it for himself and lock it away, make sure you never fucking leave him. He was so selfish.

“I won’t leave you Charlie.” You say again when he says nothing, just watching his hand twist into the fabric of your shirt, tugging it strangely until he’s rid you of it. He places his hand back on your chest, feeling your heart better now through the barrier of only your flesh.

“I…. I’m sorry.” “You said you wouldn’t lie to me?” It feels like the first thing he’s said in hours, his voice rough around the edges, gooey in the middle. His post-yelling voice, you knew it too well.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then why… why would you even say that? That you would leave me?”

“Because if that’s what you wanted, what you needed… I would do it. I would do anything you wanted, anything for you, Charlie.”

“Why?” He couldn’t understand. There was no fathamobale reason as to why he would deserve such devotion. Especially from you. 

You’re quiet, unsure of how to answer him. This was the same back and forth you both had before he exploded, when you almost told him you… that you lo-

“I-I don’t know how to answer… you told me not to say it.” You whimper, tears spilling from your eyes again. His hand comes to hold your cheek, thumb swiping away the tear. You nuzzle into his hand, kissing his palm. You stay there for a moment, resting your face in his palm, feeling his warmth radiating from his hands, letting a silence wash over the two of you. It was sort of peaceful. A chaotic peace.

“Charlie, I-”

“Don’t... don’t say it.” You cry some more, tears spilling. His hand moves to your throat, squeezing gently, you find it oddly comforting.

“But I want to, I want to say it, please.” You grab the wrist of the hand holding your throat, squeezing his flesh, asking.

“No.”

“Charlie-”

“I said no.” He grabs your jaw, shaking you from side to side a little. You whimper, eyes screwing shut, pushing more tears past the precipice. He pulls you into his lap, you’re putty in his hands, letting him move you however he needs to move you. He holds you in his arms, your legs wrap around his waist and his legs bring him to stand up somehow, his strength always shocking you.

“You can’t say it... you can’t leave.” He continues, you sniffle, hiding your face in his neck, grabbing onto his hair as he carries you somewhere through the apartment, up some stairs…

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I’m- sorry.” You hiccup and cry into his neck, wetting the skin. You press your lips over the newly wet skin, feeling his heartbeat flutter underneath, teeth grazing the thin flesh.

Suddenly he’s lowering you down, down, down until you come in contact with a soft surface, his mattress. Charlie crawls on top of you, you let him rest between your thighs, keeping your legs up high on his waist.

“Don’t ever fucking leave me.” You shake your head from side to side in agreement with him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. His hand trails down the length of your body roughly, burning your flesh in its unforgiving path. You’re left only in your jeans since he removed your shirt when you were still downstairs.

“I won’t, I-I didn’t mean-” You can barely form a proper sentence, choking on your own tears and sadness that wrack through your mind and body. Charlie’s hand in already palming your sex through the thick denim you wear, you whimper, trying to squeeze your thighs together but his body blocks them.

“Stop talking.” He barely gets out the words before he’s pressing his lips to yours again, letting his lips glide against your wobbly and swollen ones. You breathe each other in, letting your tongues dance across one anothers as you gasp and cry into his mouth. It’s all teeth and all tongue, it’s messy, clumsy, desperate, burning. You don’t care, he doesn’t either when your teeth clack against each other, nibbling on lips, biting sometimes.

Charlie flips you over underneath him so that you face the sheets, sliding down your body and roughly tugging down your jeans along with your underwear in one swift motion. You gasp as your wet cunt comes in contact with the cool air of the darkening day. Charlie stands on his knees behind you, pulling your ass up higher, higher, higher until he’s satisfied. His cheeks are warm, his ears pink at the peaks. Before either of you even have time to think, his hand comes down harshly onto your right ass cheek, you cry out, gripping the sheets by your head.

“Ch-Charlie!” You gasp, earning you another smack to your other cheek. You push your head down into the covers, trying to muffle your cries and moans as he keeps going.

His smacks you again, and again, and again and again until you’re a sobbing mess in the sheets. Words, languages lost to you in your muddled brain. A pool of spit near your mouth soaked into the white fabric, only a wet spot remaining to show for evidence of your euphoria. You can feel the imprint of his hand on your ass, you know it's burning red, you know the skin is raised and puffy. You fucking love it.

Charlie’s chest is heaving, breaths labored as he takes it all out on you like he knows you need it, knows you love it. He does too; love it and need it. The way your ass gets so much brighter, how big the imprint he’s left on you is. How fucking perfect you are for him... He’s pulling off his shirt before he knows it, shedding his pants too until he’s in nothing but his underwear. You’ve stayed exactly where you are, not daring to move a muscle since he hasn’t instructed you otherwise.

“So now you listen.” Charlie mutters to himself, it's barely audible to you since the blood is coursing so loudly through your veins, through your ears. You’re buzzing.

Charlie pushes you back down on the mattress so you lay completely flat. He pulls your jeans and underwear down the rest of your legs until you lay there bare before him. He inhales sharply at the sight of you. He could see the way you glisten for him, he could feel it on his hand when he had spanked you, your arousal having begun to trail down the tops of your thighs, he moaned at the sight.

His hand comes flying down, this time spanking you roughly on your pussy causing you to lurch forward into the sheets, crying out his name pathetically again. He leans over you, keeping his hand clutched tightly around your cunt, feeling your juices seep between his fingers, you moan and try to press back into his hand but he just slaps it again, your eyes screwing shut. He’s nearly got his entire weight on top of you, his hot breath fanning across your cheek as he comes close to your face.

“You’re so fucking wet for me… you want it that badly?” You nod your head vigorously.

“Yes! Yes, Charlie I want you, I-I need you so badly, please.”

“Hmmm, what do you need?”

“Anything, y-your fingers…”

“Where”

“... in me, in me please.” You’re completely desperate, your crying and sobbing from earlier making you especially weak to his ways, his voice, his body. God, he could do anything to you, and you would let him, you would beg him, you would thank him.

Slowly, Charlie sinks one thick finger into your soaking cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pumps it slowly, in and out, in and out of you. You try and push your hips back to meet the small thrust of his finger but he keeps you pinned down.

Charlie could feel you clenching around his single digit and he groaned next to your ear, nibbling on the soft lobe as he continued his ministrations. You whined, withered underneath the weight of his body, his hot chest pressing into your back, pressing you into the mattress. 

“Charlie, please I-”

“What? You need more? You need more from me?”

“Please.” Charlie draws his index finger out of you before joining it with his middle one, probing your entrance teasingly, swirling his fingers around it but never going in.

“Fuck-”

“Do you think you deserve it?” He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you, your pussy, none of it. He was only projecting his worthlessness onto you. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t.

“N-no.” You say, tears welling in your eyes from a multitude of things. Overstimulation being one of them. You tried to get your hips to stop pressing into his hand but it was so hard when the temptation was right there.

“No… you don’t.” He kisses the tears that slip from your eye, pressing a finger to your mouth and you gladly take it in, laving your tongue around his salty, rough skin. His two fingers at your entrance finally push in deeper, causing you to cry out around his finger that was in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips.

Then he starts pumping, quickly, and you can’t stop the way your hips push into his hand, trying to meet him halfway through his thrusts, needing more so badly. You moan around his fingers, he echoes your moans back into your ear. You can feel his cock filling out, getting harder and harder against the back of your legs where it still lays confined in his underwear.

All too quickly he pulls his fingers from you and spanks your pussy again, you choke on a cry around the finger that’s still in your mouth. You’re already wrecked, and he’s nowhere near done with you.

“You only get to cum on my cock, understand?” You nod your head with vigour, eyes trying to meet his from where he’s positioned, behind you yet over top of you. You can feel him moving around, pulling his fingers from your mouth and his underwear off as best as he can without moving too far away from you.

“I understand, Charlie.” You cry, the tears unrelenting at this point, beyond your control.

Fuck, what weas he doing? Why was he doing this now?

What other way did he really have though, to show you what you mean to him? Definitely not words, no. No matter how much he writes for the theatre, words could never come close to describing what he feels for you, what he needs from you, wants from you, what he wants to give to you, tell you, provide you. None of it, no language would do.

Nothing would come closer to his body on you, in you, moving in tandem with you, hearts so close together that he loses sense of himself and just feels you wrapped so tightly around him in every sense. That’s the only way he could show you, the only way he could tell you.

He grabs his cock in his hand, pumping himself slowly and rests his head on your shoulder, groaning into your skin at the sensation. “Beg.” He spits, his lips moving against your flesh. He rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds and you yelp, pressing your hips back but he anticipated it, drawing his hips back, away from you.

“Charlie, please I-I need you so badly, I’ve never wanted… anything else but you, I just- please, I need you so bad, I-I, l...love-”

“I told you not to fucking say it.” He grits from behind clenched teeth, slapping your ass harshly and you let a sob leave your lips. The burn was so good.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t help it-” You whine, fists bunching up the sheets with a grip so deadly your skin is turning white. He lets his head drop to your shoulder again, his own eyes screwing shut, trying to will his own tears away as he continues to run his cock along your pleading entrance, collecting whatever arousal has seeped out of you.

“Fuuuck, perfect little pussy... so desperate for my cock, isn’t it?” He mutters, almost to himself as he watches the way his cock moves between your glistening folds. Unashamed, you keep crying, moaning at the feeling of his big cock so close to where you need him most, nodding your head.

“Please, Charlie I need you inside m- fuck, just put it in, please-”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him press in with the tip, letting the spongy head break through your folds and slightly dip into your entrance. Your fists clench and unclench against the sheets. With a sharp ‘fuck’ Charlie presses the rest of his long, thick cock into you, both of you moaning and breathing in one another.

He lets his cock sit in you, coming to interlock his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head, elongating both of your bodies but mostly yours, from how much longer his body is. Only then does he start snapping his hips into yours, letting his thrusts punch out your moans and cries from your chest.

At this angle, he’s hitting places inside of you so deep you never thought you could fathom, filling you up to the brim, you swear you can feel him in your stomach, punching your guts into your throat with every violent thrust.

You moan his name without relent, it’s the only thing you could possibly ever know. Charliecharliecharliecharliecharlie to infinity. You never wanted to know anything else, no other thought suddenly as interesting as him. He was the only thing that mattered. The way his cock filled you was dizzying, mind-numbing, and bone-shattering.

“You always need me so badly, you could never leave me, never leave this cock. Desperate little slut.” Charlie groans, head resting on your back as his powerful thrusts push you up the bed. He latches a hand around one of your hips, trying to keep you pinned down.

“You would never fucking leave me, you’d never fucking do it.” He continues, maybe to himself. You can feel him nuzzling his face into the skin on your shoulder, kissing and biting the skin, leaving a mark in his wake like he always does.

“I won’t, Charlie- I won’t, I promise.” You hiccup, his thrusts unrelenting in their assault. You could feel your release building, that bright white feeling rising inside of you. The only sounds in the room were your breathy moans, Charlie’s growls and the loud slap of skin on skin, his hips colliding with your ass every time.

“Dont ever say that s-shit again- dont ever fucking leave me. Don’t - ever. Fucking. Leave.” He growled, biting your shoulder and punctuating his words with harsher thrusts, fucking into you.

“I’m s-sorry Charlie-” You’re cut off by a sensation on your back. Hot, wet, slippery. Charlie sniffles. 

He’s crying, burning holes into your flesh as they land on your back. Your own eyes well up all over again. The pleasure of his cock deep, deep, deep inside you and the emotions flowing through both of you was overwhelming, overstimulating, your mind was going blank, you felt like you would black out.

You hear it then, his quiet cries, the way his chest shakes as he finally lets it go, lets it out. And then he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grabbing one of your ankles and one side of your hip, flipping you over quickly, hiking your legs back up around his waist and continuing his punishing, relentless pace. You moan embarrassingly loudly as you watch the way his stomach flexes into you, the way his chest tightens and constricts, the flush that spreads from in between his marvelous pecs to his cheeks, his dark wet eyes, the red that fills them, the way his eyelashes clump together, making them look longer, darker, the dark halo of hair that frames his face. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was beyond you at this point, you couldn’t stop what was already put into motion.

“Oh, Charlie…” You cry, chest arching into his, your nails scraping his biceps. He moans at the pain, dropping his forehead to yours. You’ve never heard him moan like this, never seen him cry like this, never seen him so lost and completely gone in you.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if you would regret it tomorrow.

Or five minutes from now.

Or immediately afterwards.

It was the truth, your truth. His truth. It was the only thing you could ever possibly know.

“I love you.” You cry, burning tears streaming down your cheeks. Charlie’s eyes meet yours, lost, delirious, shocked.

“You… y-you can’t.” He doesn’t tell you to stop this time. Doesn’t tell you to shut up, doesn’t tell you how dumb and pathetic it is to love him. You love him.

“I do, Charlie I-I do. Fuck, I love you so fucking much.” You whine, nails biting the skin on his back. His hips never stop, he’s fucking common sense and all things rational out of your mind. All you know is him. All you ever want to know is him, Charlie.

His chin wobbles, moans escape past his lips as he refuses to stop fucking you, his cock so fucking hard it hurts him, almost more than this. Almost more than the chant that has started to leave your lips, the floodgates have been opened and you can’t stop your confession now.

“I love you, I love you- shit, Charlie I love you, I love you so much, I love your fucking cock, fuck!” You couldn't stop, you felt like you could never stop at this point. You never wanted to stop saying it, never wanted to stop telling him. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“You’re… you’re not real… you’re- fuck, too fucking good for m-me.” Charlie gasps, his hips speeding up, his cock growing harder somehow. You feel him pulse inside of you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth hanging agape, no sound being emitted from you. Charlie moves his lips down to your exposed throat, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin before wrapping a firm hand around it, not squeezing too tight.

“Yours.” You manage to choke out, gripping onto his wrist that's at your throat with all the strength you had with your body gone pleasure weak. Charlie moans your name, it makes you cry more.

“I’m yours, Charlie.” You manage to say more clearly, using all your willpower to look him in the eyes. His eyes are blown black, the dark circles underneath them so, so pigmented. You could feel the crescendo building, he was about to break. His lips were glossy, spit slicked and roughly bitten.

“You’re mine.” He confirms, more to himself than to you. He just… he felt like he could never be sure enough. Like he would never believe that you were his. That you were in love with him.

You nod your head, hands interlocking behind his head, gripping tightly into his hair.

“I’m yours, yours.” You keen, hips rolling into his as you both neared your release. His hand around your throat keeps you pinned in place as his fucks you into the mattress, moaning, groaning, crying your name. The slight added pressure makes you see stars, your pussy flutters around his cock and your back arches, pressing your chest into his but Charlie keeps you exactly where you are, your body convulsing as you cum, cum, cum around his cock, screaming his name.

“M’gonna cum, gonna f-fucking cum s-so deep inside, fill you up-”

“Please, Charlie.” You whine, dumb from the high that he continues to fuck you through, tears stained on the skin of your cheeks. You tug on his hair roughly, meeting his thrusts with a roll of your hips and that sends Charlie over the edge.

“Fhuuuck-” He lifts his head slightly, to look at you better as he splits you open one final time, his cock stilling in the deepest parts of you before he cums so fucking deep inside your pussy with the most guttural moan.

He fucks his cum back in to you until it’s seeping back out onto his cock. He groans so loudly you feel it in your bones. His hands wrap around your upper body, holding you tightly as he spins to lay on the mattress, holding your body to his chest, his cock still nestled deep inside of you.

Charlie gives you a small thrust, pushing and mixing his cum with yours one final time. You gasp and cling to him, your nails digging slightly into his muscular pec at the sensation, the delicious burn. You feel so incredibly full, so full of your Charlie. You love him.

“I lo-”

“I love you.”

Your heart must have stopped beating, your lungs, forgotten their functionality, your brain short circuited, your limbs incapacitated.

You looked up at him with those big, shiny wet eyes. You looked like a fawn, lost on the side of the road who just found someone who could help them. Someone kind, someone gentle, honest, safe, warm. Someone worth loving. He was worth loving. Charlie was worth loving.

But you already knew that.

He said it again, so low in the dark room, the dark night, eclipsed with spilled feelings and sweat, tears too. So many fucking tears. His voice so low it almost didn’t register, the deep vibrato rumbling your insides and warming you up all over again. 

He said it with you curled up on his chest, he said it again when you moved up his body to press your face into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips to his bruised skin, he said it as tears spilled from your eyes. He would say it as you fell asleep on him in the deadly hours of the night and again in the morning when you woke. He would remind you constantly, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it in. Not anymore.

He would tell you he loves you a million and one times from then on, until you didn’t want to hear it from him anymore. 

tag list! @morby @shesakillerkween @gamingaquarius​ 

[pleasantanathema]

Helloo!!! Congrats on over 2,000 you deserve it 🥳🥳 Can you please gift us an Enji drabble with prompts 6 &35, I can't get enough of that man and you write him so well 🤤♥️♥️♥️

A/N: Enji + Bruises = Very horny author. I’m so pleased you enjoy how I write Endeavor, he’s definitely my number one muse from bnha.

Endeavor: “I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin,” “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”

           The hand on your shoulder was weighty and sweltering, squeezing your skin between the heated lines of his palm. The feeling of his touch was stark and foreign, so hot you worried your skin would bubble and sear under the heft of his fingers. At first, you had expected the contact to be brief, for your boss saunter away to another table at the charity event, but he and his touch lingered behind you, his immense size and heat dwarfing you from where he stood. But soon he leaned down, broad hand sweeping from your shoulder to your neck, fingers leaving unseen fissures in their wake as your hair stood on end.

           “I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin,” it was a whisper, the hot wind of hades ghosting across your too sensitive skin, a jolt of excitement and trepidation crawling down your spine. He’d never spoken so wantonly to you before, going so far as to whisper his hotel room number into the shell of your ear before finally leaving from where he stood sentry behind you. You felt burned, like his hand print was etched into your skin, and it had you following within his path before your instincts could awaken and tell you otherwise.

           Endeavor was a man who never spoke in code. He was blunt, stern, always in control, saying whatever he pleased and taking whatever he desired. Before tonight, he had never seen so much of your supple skin upon display, gleaming under the dim light of chandeliers and dewy from the excess humidity that swirled within the yellow haze of laughter and champagne. He decided he wanted you the moment he saw you. Your skin looked pure and untouched, the slope of your neck begging to be hugged by his giant fist.

           And you came to him, willing and bright eyed, standing before him as he opened the door to his room. On your bare feet, you barely met the middle of his chest, which allowed him to close the door from above your head. He stepped towards you, cupping your chin and craning your neck back to look at him and meet his eyes. Underneath the crimson and orange tinted flames, you found icy blue irises. His pupils were dark and dilated in the dim light, and you wondered for a moment if they were filled with lust or bewilderment.

           Quickly the flames vanished, leaving only his naked, ruggedly scarred face before you.

           “I’m going to do very bad things to you, little girl.”

           Your mouth fell agape at his words. Your mind was screaming at you to respond enthusiastically, but you stayed quiet, too paralyzed in fear from his immense size and power. If you said one wrong thing, he could easily discard you, hurt you, even. But there was tenderness in his touch upon your skin. His thumb left your jaw, dipping between your parted lips. He placed a soft pressure against your lower lip, testing to see how you’d react to his touch. You didn’t flinch, but you felt foolish with your hands against your sides. You chose to indulge him, placing your hands against his chest. For a moment, he thought you would push him back, but instead you enclosed your fingers in the fabric of his shirt and held him in place.

           Abruptly, Enji wrapped a firm hand around your upper arm, his fingers nearly overlapping as his hand enveloped you. He pulled your body up and onto your toes as he placed a searing kiss against your mouth.

           You were almost blinded by the heat, his mouth like molten cavern ready to devour you. A small, shocked sound came from your throat, a mixture of a gasp and a moan. His forwardness excited you, and rapidly you fell into his kiss, moving your lips against his hungrily. He angled your mouth how he wanted with the hand on your cheek, pulling you deeper into him.

             A hasty tongue snaked into your mouth, toying with your own before pinning it in a subtle act of domination. He was unbearably hot. You felt intense waves fan over your body from the warmth of his mouth, sweat beginning to bead at the nape of your neck. Still, you pulled him towards you, back arching into his kiss as you dared to slip your own tongue into his mouth. He broke away from your lips, letting you fall back to your heels.

           But you didn’t want to be pushed away, you clung to him, nails digging into his chest between the buttons of his dress shirt. He moaned at the contact, grinning as your kitten-sharp claws marked his skin.

           “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.” He chuckled, capturing your wrists and encouraging you to play with the fire before you, to tease the flaming god and see if you get burned.

           “I don’t either,” you smirked, “I’m ready for those bruises you promised, sir.”

           He was purposeful with every suck of his lips, every tug of his teeth, pinch of his fingers, heavy press of his palm. Every dark bruise bloomed just for him, in places only he could see. Endeavor always did love spoiling young, pretty things.

[mxnrly]

belong, changkyun

angst, fluff !

I did what it had to be done😔✋🏻 @ckyunoirs this one's for you!

second part of hidden

[part 1] 

The night after watching that video was a nightmare itself. The girl didn’t need to sleep to have a tremendous nightmare. She was already living in it.

Stretching herself, she noticed she slept with her last night clothes, smudged makeup across her face making her feel dirty. With a loud and painful sigh, she got off the bed, going straight to the shower. Being surrounded with the steam, she couldn’t do more than to cry her eyes out. She never thought he’d ever do that! All she could ask was… Why?

After a couple minutes, she got out of the bathroom, dressed in comfy clothes, ready to stay at home for the couple days. Being glad that it was Saturday, so she could gain some strength to go to school Monday morning. Laying on the couch, after she brushed her hair, the sound of the TV was ringing on her ears. Some kind of white noise was the only thing getting through her senses, because all her mind was thinking about was him. Changkyun, her best friend of years. She never thought he could be such a dick.

No thing could draw her out of the tiring thoughts. Being so done with the sensation it gave her, she decided it was better to take a walk, after all, it’s not that she was hungry or anything, in fact, she just wanted to throw out until death pitied her and could take her soul.

As the day passed by, she didn’t even take a look at her phone. Last night it went dead, and she didn’t want to charge it. If people were looking for her, they knew where she was.

All Saturday and Sunday morning, she became a ghost. Staying all day at home, not eating at all, barely waking up, she felt like shit and above all, Changkyun didn't even try to contact her, which hurt even more.

It was night already. She thought it was time to charge her phone or she couldn't get the alarm set and wake her up for school. Sighing for the thousand time in the day, she heard a knock on the door. With a bubbling stomach, she went there to look through the peephole.

The surprise and confusion was evident on her face.

“I know you're there.” the boy on the other side spoke, sending chills through her body.

“Then you might know the answer. Go away.” her throat was sore from all the weekend without talking. Damn, she didn't have had a glass of water in all this time.

“Please… Let me explain everything.”

“So, if you did know what you did wrong. Why didn't you come sooner?” she said this time, face pressed on the door.

A sigh from his lips echoed. “I fucked up. I'm sorry… please let me talk to you…” approaching to the door, he put a hand on it, whispering gently pleads.

She didn't wanted to let him in, but a part of her was still soft hearing his voice after all this time. Hating herself at some point, she opened the door, looking at the guy in front of her with tears in his eyes.

“Five minutes. That's all I give you. Then, get lost.”

_________________

“Please, I know it was a mistake, I didn't want to say it but I did! I was pressured and I felt it was the right thing to do but after a few seconds of realizing what I just said I-” his voice broke a little. “I left the place. It felt so wrong being there. I was heading straight to your apartment but before I could even get in the car, this girl appeared showing me the video they took. It was all over the media in a matter of seconds and…”

Taking a deep breath he looked into her eyes. Kneeling, he didn't know what to do! Begging? Crying his heart out? What could he do so she forgave him?

“I know I don't deserve you. We've always been friends, you've always been with me…”

“And still it wasn't enough for you to respect me. To respect us!” Her voice was higher, more stronger than when she first spoke. She was sitting on the couch, while he was kneeling in the middle of the living room.

“I'm sorry…” His words were full of pain, regret, anger at himself.

When the incident happened, he thought he was being smug. He thought he was being cool, but he broke the heart of the only person who loved him by who he was…

“I need to be honest with you now.” Changkyun stood, whipping his tears while taking a deep breath. “I always told you that I didn't want to make our relationship public… But the reality is… that I'm scared of what will happen between us. I thought I was being careful with our relationship… I thought I was doing the right thing…”

“You thought wrong because even still you managed to hurt me,” her words were full of rage, she wanted to yell at him, hit him, make him suffer just like she did. “let me tell you something…”

Standing up, she got closer to where he was, just enough so they could feel the others breath. “You think you did something coming here, crying as if you were a hopeless princess, kneeling like this was some kind of drama, and guess what? that doesn't change anything.” Crossing her arms, she stared deeply into his eyes, throwing daggers of hate into him. “That doesn't change a fucking thing, because if I forgive you now, I'll still be in your shadow, hidden from everyone, again! You think I deserve that?”

Rising her voice, she could see him lowering his head, just enough so he could see the floor, but also her expressions from the same angle. “I deserve someone who isn't afraid of taking my hand in public, someone who I can take with my parents, someone who shares the things they love with me!” Breathing heavily, she stepped forward, rising a finger at his chest just enough so she could touch him.

“I deserve that, but, with you… I just belong behind your back, covered in your shadow.” Her voice lowered, just enough so she could hear him. His eyes were full of tears again, but it didn't move a single piece from her. “Unless you can walk with me in the spotlight, I think we should break up for good.”

__________________

Monday morning, nothing much changed. Last night was something she had in mind, circling annoyingly, making her remember every tiny detail of it.

Changing up in fresh clothes and tying her hair up, she was ready to leave the apartment. Taking an apple, she thought maybe she could start eating something after all the emotional trips she had been through.

Still, his last words echoed in her head.

“I'll change for you. I promise.” before he said good night and left the room. After she said they should break up, he acted as if he didn't hear that part, so that left an uneasy feeling. Hoping she could get through it, now her only thing in mind was to arrive at school in time.

Getting inside after a good ten minutes walking, she noticed every person in the corridor was whispering at seeing her. She felt the pang on her heart, but shoved it aside and walked to her classroom.

In the middle of the walking, someone grabbed her hand, making the whispering turn into gasps. The girl, taken aback by the act, looked at her side, not believing what was happening.

The person stopped her from walking, while clearing his throat, smiling at her way.

“Everyone listen to me!” Changkyun yelled while taking both her hands in his. “I know about that video of me denying my love for my best friend but…” he stopped for a while and smiled even brighter. “the reality is, that I love her, and I want to apologize for my words, I was an idiot and she deserves better but… I hope she still forgives me.” he said while taking one of her hands, pressing the back of her hand on his lips.

“What are you doing?” she asked on a loud whisper, not knowing how to act.

He, keeping his smile, took off her hand from his lips, standing even closer until they were face to face. “You said that you belonged to my shadow and I don't want you there.” before she could reply, his lips crashed onto hers, her ears couldn't hear anything else as all her senses were focused on the warm sensation.

His lips were pressed on a way she never felt before. It was intimate and sweet. His left hand went through her arm until her face, deepening the act. After a couple of seconds, they parted. She breathed, flashing a smile she was fighting back since he held her hand.

“I don't want you to believe you belong hidden.” taking a strand of her hair on his hand, he placed it behind her ear. “You belong in the spotlight… You belong by my side.”

Her smile turned bigger while both hugged in the middle of the corridor, being surrounded by a lot of noise from the people who were happy, but also from the people that disagreed.

But that wasn't important anymore, because finally, after all the tears, after all the worry, all the school was a witness that she now belonged with him. By his side.

[calcifermovesthecastle]

SO SEEING AS HOW I SEEN THAT POST (the story one) I AM HERE TO ASK FOR A DOM GYRO X FEM READER dear god thank you for existing

Yes so sorry this took me so long I’ve been so stressed lately

Warnings: Pregnancy mentions, cursing. 

Word Count: 1500

18+

“Are you going to invite me in, or am I going to have to just stand here and watch you bathe without me?” Gyro grinned, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. 

“Who ever said you needed to ask your wife, who you married, to share a bath in the bathtub that is in your house, that you bought?” You closed your eyes and stretched out. The tub was easily big enough for three people. 

“Nyo ho ho! I love you better when you’re pregnant.” Gyro grinned, stepping into the room. “You’re more willing to just do what I tell you to.” 

“Oh, fuck off, Gyro. Now you can’t join me.” You opened your eyes, glaring at him, a smile eventually breaking through your annoyed façade. He laughed and undressed- always a pleasant sight to see- and slid into the water, snaking his arms around you and pressing his hands against your tummy. 

“What do you think, doll? Girl or boy?” 

“I dunno. I hope it’s a girl.” You tilted your head back and grinned at him. He groaned, tossing his head back. 

“Noo! It’ll look just like you, act just like you, and have your garbage attitude, and I only want to deal with the you you.”  

“Oh hush. You love me and you know it.” You grinned again and pecked his cheek, and he leaned into it, tightening his arms around you. 

“Ah, you caught me. Red handed. No matter what.” 

You sat in a comfortable silence with him for a while, appreciating the way he massaged your tender muscles. After a while, he grabbed your shampoo, pouring a generous amount into his hands and massaging your scalp. You groaned, pleased with his ministrations, your brow relaxing as he pressed his fingers into your scalp. 

“Christ, that feels good.” 

“I will be expecting you to return the favor.” There was a smile in his voice, but his voice was soft nonetheless, telling you that he really didn’t mind either way. You couldn’t help but tease him.  

“There’s always some ulterior motive with you, isn’t there?” 

“My goods and services don’t come for free, Doll.” He pulled your head back into the water carefully, rinsing the soap out of your hair. You opened your eyes to look at him, and he grinned at you. His grill wasn’t in tonight, and seeing his teeth bare was always strange, but enticing. 

“If you lean down and give me a kiss on the lips I might be inclined to return the favor. 

“Oh ho ho, is that so?” His green eyes glinted, and he leaned down until his mouth just barely ghosted over yours. “How are you expecting to do that?” 

“If you kiss me like I just asked you to, maybe I’d show you.” 

 You nipped at his bottom lip. “You know how impatient I am right now.” 

He grinned once more before pressing his lips firmly into yours, quickly taking control of the situation. you groaned softly into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into yours, one hand gripping at your hair and pushing you deeper into the kiss. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek, mouth working against his until you came away breathless. 

“Jesus, you’re always so intoxicating,” His lips caught yours again, hungrier this time, and when he pulled away again, you were left pleasantly fuzzy. 

“Gyro, would you be a dear and sit on the edge of the tub for me?” 

“Oh, you’re making me get out? Is that what you had in mind the whole time?” He tsked, but indulged you, sliding up until he was seated on the ledge, his back against the tile. You grinned at him, resting your head on his inner thigh. He stared at you, annoyed for a minute, before sighing, rubbing his face with his hand. “Christ, I can’t stay mad at you when you’re looking at me like that.” 

“I was waiting for you to say something like that.” You reached a hand up and grasped his cock, pumping it slowly in your hand. He hissed through his teeth. “I expect your words to be nice when my mouth is about to be nice to you.” 

“Fuck, dolcezza. Se è quello che avevi in ​​mente, le mie parole saranno le più gentili che tu abbia mai sentito.“ He watched you, biting his lip when your lips sealed around his tip and you swiped your tongue along his slit.

You took him fully in your mouth, then, closing your eyes and relaxing your throat so his whole length would be inside you. His breath hitched in his throat, and he began murmuring curse words in Italian when you started bobbing your head. 

“F-Fuck, you always treat me so well, Dolcezza. What did I ever do to deserve you? Jesus!” 

You placed your hands on his thighs, opening your eyes and meeting his. He looked down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up in understanding. You were ready to give up control. 

“You let me know if it becomes too much, okay?” 

You tapped his thigh with your hand twice to let him know you understood, and he took a deep breath, gripping the hair at the back of your head before bucking his hips into your mouth at break neck speed. 

He marveled in the cute squeaks and little gags you made, The way your throat bulged every time he thrust in, the way your fingers dug into his thighs. Your eyes slipped closed for a millisecond, before you opened them and locked onto his gaze, just the way he liked. 

He slowed his pace when your eyes started to glaze over and your grip on his legs slackened, and pulled himself from your mouth with a wet pop. 

“Too much, Doll?” He rubbed your back while you coughed, saliva and precum dripping from your lips. You shook your head, your voice hoarse. 

“N-no, I’m okay.” You wiped the tears from your eyes with trembling hands. 

“Come here.” He beckoned you up to where he sat, and you obliged, leaning your head against his shoulder as you straddled him. It was a little difficult, with the way your stomach was swelling, but you managed. He stood, lifting you in his arms, and you held on for dear life. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” 

You nodded, your head still leaned against his shoulder. He lifted your hips just enough so that he could catch the head of his cock on your entrance, and slid in with little resistance with the help of your slick and the bath water. 

You let out a quiet moan when he bottomed out inside of you, burying your face in the crook of his neck when he started to move. 

“Fuck, Gyro,” Your voice was quiet, and he let out a breath, speeding up ever so slightly. 

“Doll,” He murmured, pressing his cheek into the top of your head. You lifted your head, and he caught your lips in a kiss once again. You moaned into his mouth when he angled his hips and hit a spot inside of you that sent electricity to the very edges of your being and made you clench around him. 

“Are you close already?” He laughed softly, kissing your forehead. You flushed, grinding your hips down against him. He sucked in a breath, speeding up until all you were able to do was cling to him and beg him for more, finally clenching around him once again and spilling your release. 

The way you milked his cock had him cumming as well, and he cursed softly as he spilled inside you. He pulled away from you ever so slightly, cock still twitching inside of you. You leaned back against the wall, shivering. 

Silently, he set you back down in the tub, draining the bath and turning the shower on. You hugged him from behind, your eyes closed, feeling pleasantly tired after you had come down from your high.

“Here, doll, let me clean you up.” He grabbed a washcloth, kneeling to wipe off the cum dripping down your thighs. you weaved your hands into his hair, your legs trembling. 

“You always know how to make me feel so good,” Your murmured softly. He grinned up at you, kissing your stomach and leaning his cheek against it, grinning when he felt the baby kick. 

“Well, it’s way past your bedtime.” He stood, washing himself off with his soap, turning the water off and wrapping the both of you up in towels. 

Once you were dried, and he had stood over you as you drank the hot tea he made, He pulled you against him in bed, pressing kisses into your hair. You nuzzled against him, relishing in his warmth and closeness as you drifted off to sleep. 

Yes, Gyro always knew how to make you feel appreciated. In whatever way you needed. And he was always true to his word. He was yours and yours alone, and you were gladly his. 

[abruisedmuse]

Fire Like Sin

Written for @fateandluminary​ 

Prompt Request: Jurdan- “Horns”- Bryce Fox 

I basically listened to this song on repeat until I stopped typing. 

WARNING NSFW CONTENT BELOW

                   ******************************************************

Cardan strode into the heady club, smoke swirling around him as he moved passed the hoard of desire-driven patrons. This was madness, utter madness. If they were going to make a break for it, it was the only way.

The first time he watched her wrapped that damned silken leg around the silvered pole as she spun round and round. Her hair cascading down to the stage and two makeshift horns styled atop her head, he had become entranced. Then her bronzed eyes locked on to his. From the moment they made contact on that fateful evening she had damned the very air he breathed. It was like the black mark on his soul had a match with the then stranger. The first month of her dancing he watched her in an obsessive annoyance as she had called it. He recognized the anger and fury roiling in her. The cold as ice blood and stone heart too. Cardan knew it so well because he was the same on the inside. Just a pit of blackness using his tongue, liquor, and sex to get through his fucked up life. Until her.

Several months ago, Jude Duarte cornered him in a private room saved for the higher paying customers. They argued, voices hoarse as screaming at each other. Over a patron who touched her in a way that made Cardan’s blood boil. He had no grounds to step in. He should have let her make the mistake, yet he couldn’t help it. The youngest Greenbriar chose to express it as Jude being property to not be touched. That she belonged to the Hollow, to his brother Balekin. Until she paid off her debt. And no one was to touch her less they pay for it. Locke was a dirty patron Cardan knew didn’t pay it. Jude raised her hand, striking him across the cheek. Every fiber of being filled with heat and lust. It was then Cardan realized he was insane. The smart thing would’ve been to get Balekin. He did no such thing. She was his tinder, and he, her flint.

Cardan gripped her arm, then the flint struck against tinder, igniting the sparks that led to burning flames. Crushing his mouth onto hers, bruising those lips he’s dreamed of since he first saw them. those smooth lush lips and the teeth behind them that grazed and pulled on his own. She never backed away. Only pushing into him further and further. He could taste the want and desperation on her as her tongue rolled around his. The need to feel alive. They were alone and he opened the way for Jude to get everything she needed. At that time it meant nothing. He meant nothing. Cardan didn’t care how or when she wanted him. All he knew was she was a tempting sin that he couldn’t resist. Horns like a devil, mouth as wicked as one too. He would sell his darkened soul to this she-devil if only to experience this high again and again.

He was undone. Forever.

Now he sits in the same leather seat that started this all. The very same that begun his fascination with her. When all he did was pleasure himself to wicked thoughts of her body and his. To bringing those dreams to life where they both used each other's bodies purely for distraction. The feelings, the deep-seated affection, and love came after. Until Balekin found out and Cardan was attacked brutally by him. Struck repeatedly till his bones screamed in agony for sleeping with his brother’s prized dancer. Balekin tripled her debt to a price even Cardan couldn’t pay off. Cardan was stuck in the hospital for a week as he and Jude discussed plans to leave Insmire behind and for good. Jude wanted to kill the bastard for what he did to Cardan. His face swollen and bloodied so badly she hardly recognized the devastatingly handsome features underneath. Cardan said no. He didn’t want his brother’s death on her hands nor did he want them to be running all their lives. Cardan had enough money for them to leave Elfhame and the city of Insmoor behind. To live on a new continent where the name Greenbriar was just another name.

On the outside, he looked calm and ready for this. To bolt like hell when her dance was done. On the inside he felt the burning rise of bile, his stomach churning and anxiousness rippling through his veins. After this, they would be freed from a hellish paradise to a heavenly one. Cardan was sure after the grueling and horrid things he and Jude have done in their lives that neither deserves such a thing. They didn’t care, They were sneaking their way out to freedom. Lights turned low as the deep red lights shined on the black curtain before him. The bass began to fill the room vibrating within his chest. Cardan had to stifle the grin when he heard the song play. Horns, the one he played for her in his apartment claiming it reminded him of her. Of how it described the way she burst into miserable life, She laughed crawling on top over his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Cardan shook away from the pleasurable memory. This wasn’t the time to reminisce he needed to keep alert and focused. Hell, he hadn’t even touched his wine, only ordering for show. The curtains pulled apart and there his wonderfully wicked lady stood. Her last and final dance, she was to make a show of it. As the bass thundered around them, Cardan only saw her, as he knew she did the same. Mother above the costume choice, Jude truly took the song and magnified it. Hair darkened by the light fell in long waves, except for those horns of hers styled upward with a slight edge. Desperately he longed to grip her hair of horns and fuck her ruthlessly. That would come later when they were safely away.

She sauntered down the shimmering black catwalk in eight-inch heels that melded from red to black and red again. His darkened gaze followed up from her accentuated legs to barely-there garment hugging on her hips, showing off the curves of her ass and hips for all the world to see. Her breasts generously spilling over from the center of the bra, if one could call it that. Both pieces black with a glittering crimson throughout. Good. She kept it as practical as she could without raising too much attention. Jude’s lips were of the deepest scarlet, and eyelids covered in the darkest of blacks. Her gaze met Cardan’s as is if to speak one single word.

Soon.

Yes, soon they would be away from abusive family and men who leered at Jude while she moved her body in tantalizing ways. Wishing to eat her alive. What these men didn’t know, was Jude would do the same and leave their corpses in her wake. In minutes they would be away from here and the grimy streets of Insmoor City. Jude reached up to the top of her pole and begun her dance.

Her legs spread wide, for her audience. The whistles came and so did the money being thrown to the stage as he wrapped her legs around the pole, arching her back upward. Her palms trailing up the expanse of her body grasping her breasts in the movement. Winking and blowing kisses at no one in particular. She was making it difficult for him to focus. With the way, she grasped at her soft mounds. The same way Cardan did when he plowed into her and Jude’s leg wrapped around him. His mouth hot on her neck. He shook his head once more watching with wanton intensity. Listening to people around him shouting at her to remove more. He fought the envy roiling inside him at the demanding, pleading requests. Cardan watched her glide round and round on the pole like it was a slide. She gripped the metal once more flinging her body around and curling herself inward before slipping to the stage. On all fours she crawled towards him, eyes sharp and glowing like a predator hunting her prey.

Cardan leaned back in the cushioned, worn leather as Jude climbed on to him in a sensual fluid motion. Her hands sliding up his thighs, reaching in between palming at his half-hard cock. His hands steadied on her hips, the tips of his fingers pressing into her ass, Jude rolled her hips tipping her head back simultaneously against him. Winding her fingers through his thick onyx locks angling his head where she could run her hot mouth and fire breaths over his neck and to his lobe.

“Do me and my two horns give you a little bit?” that lustful wickedness pouring out of her, her fingers dropped back down stroking his length over his slacks, “I guess so.”

“Fuck Jude,” he growled.

She kept grinding her hips over his, As she pl toyed with his hair. Nails raking along his hairline as if he was another customer, "Did you do it?”

He resisted every urge in his body screaming at him to claim her mouth, bury himself in her witnessing Jude turn into a mess of keen moans and panting breaths. Give these people a real show. It wasn't beneath him to do so. His brother's cronies were in the shadows and leaving held priority.

"Out like a light," the scorching touch of his palms splayed on her bareback, sliding to the nape of her neck. Jude lifted a leg in front of him, twisting around her back against his solid frame. Cardan pulled Jude flush to him. Nose brushing along her shoulder replacing the path with his mouth then his teeth, nipping at her exposed his flesh, "The ghost said he gave enough for him to be out cold for 8-10 hours, " he murmured into her ear, "By then we will be gone."

Jude turned to face him. A smirk on her rouge colored lips resolve and excitement dancing in her eyes at the unknowing future, gone the face of a broken exotic dancer who lost everything and everyone. Cardan pretended to whisper sultry nothings in her ear. She giggled perfectly playing the part of a flirty dancer.

"Good. I'm done dancing," Jude slipped her hand in his, tugging up him from his seat, "Ready?"

"My dearest Jude, lead the way."

He followed her like he was another drunk patron, paying for extra services. They maneuvered through the crowd and no one paid the pair no mind. Slipping past a waitress with a tray of drinks in her hand, Jude pulled Cardan onto her in a small alcove. Her eyes searched his. A moment of sincerity crossed onto her features.

"Card, if he finds us. I won't hesitate to kill him," it wasn't a threat, but a promise.

"I know. Let's hope he doesn't," he knew she would. If not for the determination in her tone, but the fact she swore it daily, "Shall we?"

Bracing an arm on the door, the other curling around her waist. His mouth meeting hers in a hungry kiss, teeth, and tongues clashing, acting the way a drunk patron would if she was going to take him. Jude reached for the knob, twisting it, while Cardan kept her close, and together they slipped through the doorway into the cool night air.

                            ******************************************************

Available on ao3

would anyone be interested to see this continue??

taglist: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @clockworkgraystairs​ @hizqueen4life​ @b00kworm​ @negativenesta​ @sjm-things​ @whataboutmyfries​ @justgiu12​

If you’d like to be added to my taglist let me know!

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part four-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot.

Six sets of eyes darted between me and Fury. A different emotion flashing in each one. The eyes that concerned me most stared right back into mine, unblinking and silent.

"You're a Romanoff? Like- like Nats sister?" Banner barely managed to stutter it out. I knew his eyes held a deep sadness, but I didn't look away from the man that witnessed her death, the man that carries it every second of the day.

Tilting my head in the doctors direction I answer him steadily. "Romanoff. Like Natashas daughter."

The typically docile man slams his fits on the table, standing fast enough to send his chair flying into the wall. "No. Fury how dare you come in here- how dare you bring her up like this. Nat couldn't have children. Why are you really here?" The doctors voice rose with every sentence he ground out, his voice dropping an octave with each heaving breath he took. The other team members shock soon gave way to concern as they look to their green friend. Bucky and Fury both angling their bodies slightly in-front of mine.

I finally broke connection with Clint to look at Banner. "Doc you need to cool down. You might be Banner and Hulk, but don't let the rage control you."

Before Banner can reply I glance around the group and address them. "If you don't believe me, or Fury, or even Wanda.. ask Clint." My eyes find his again. "Hawky, you've been silent this whole meeting, studying me since you walked in here." I tilt my head and squint my eyes in curiosity. "You knew Nat better than anyone in the world. Do you think I'm lying?"

The room collectively held their breath. Besides Banner who was still trying to reign Hulks rage back in.

Clints pain was written across his face, yet his eyes held questions, held the hurt of not knowing this piece of Natasha. "You're not lying sweetie. The second I saw you, I thought I was looking at Natasha fifteen years ago." His breath hitched and he cleared his throat, apparently he wasn't finished. "You look so much like her, I've been trying to figure out how it was possible. Why she never told me." He shakes his head, the smallest hint of a smile gracing his lips for a moment as he huffs out a laugh. "Man, you even sound like her you know? Same fire, same wit. I see it in your eyes."

Banner has effectively calmed himself back down, having gone to retrieve his chair that he is now slumped over in.

Clint clears his throat loudly, all trace of sadness hidden for the moment. "Hm unfortunately I can also see Stark in you too. You've got his sass and wise cracking attitude it seems." He smirks as he says this, making the somber mood dissipate.

"Thankfully that's not all I got from him, also have a killer mind and good music taste if I do say so myself." Seeing Fury's nod the room chuckles a bit remembering the two Avengers they lost not too long ago.

Banner seems to have shut down, barely getting out his question. "If you're your Nats daughter, why all the secrecy about your identity?"

This prompted Sam to add on to what Banner said. "I don't understand that either. You spent years with Tony and he never said a word to anyone, he cared for you just as Fury seems to. Nat obviously knew of your existence. So why spend years working alone, knowing all of us yet never allowing us the same to you."

Fury took over from there.

"When Natasha was fifteen, she secretly gave birth to a baby girl. That little girl was left outside a hospital with only a name. At this time, Natasha wasn't on SHIELDS radar, so the baby was lost to the world." Fury sets his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, before he starts a slow walk around the room, ever the drama king.

"A few years later Natasha is pulled from the fire and becomes our top agent. We learned of the baby and spent weeks tracking her down. We found this tiny, red headed girl in the middle of nowhere Romania. I adopted her."

An authoritative glance around the room kept the occupants attention as I took sip of water, hiding the stuttering of my heart. Buckys eyes strayed to my chest for a moment, then my face. His curiosity and concern ran deep with the watery depths of his eyes. As I met his gaze all I could think of was how sad it was to have those eyes not recognize me.

I turn back to Fury as he continues, still feeling Buckys gaze.

"You see, Natasha wanted to protect her child, save her from the torment she herself was about to go through. So she gave her up. And it almost destroyed her. When Natasha came to SHIELD Ali was only five, she asked me to make sure her daughter was safe, that she was happy." He looked to me for a moment before pressing on.

"Natasha has seen the darkest parts of this world, and she didn't believe she would be a good enough mother. She didn't believe she deserved the love of her daughter. Ali met her mother only once, the moment Natasha looked into her eyes, as her baby ran forward and hugged her legs, she couldn't bare to put her in the line of danger. Natasha knew what her life had become, so she entrusted me."

Fury came over and swiped my glass, chugging my water, chuckling quietly as I roll my eyes at him. "Natasha had made a lot of enemies at that point. She wanted me to raise Ali in a safe environment, nurture her joy and her mind, and she wanted her to be trained to protect herself. Natasha oversaw everyone who had access to her: teachers, trainers, guards. She had to approve all of them. She told them what to teach her and scared them to death if they even looked at Ali wrong. Her top priority was keeping her out of the public eye and unknown to her mother's enemies and past. So she was deemed classified."

My breath hitches the tiniest bit at this. I never knew she watched over me to that extent. All these years she had been there, in the shadows of my life, the mother I always wanted and never knew I truly had, in our own little way.

I stop that dangerous line of thought before my eyes can mist over, not paying attention to the sharp eyes set upon me.

"Once Stark found out, the sneaky bastard, Natasha about strangled him to the grave. But he convinced her, he said that her daughter had the makings of greatness, but her mind needed nurtured as well as her spirit and body. He told her that Ali was combat ready, but she needed his guidance and his friendship to thrive. Natasha eventually relented. Ali was raised by two unqualified men and the ghost of her mother. Hidden away until she was old enough to fight this worlds battles."

Clints piercing gaze swept across my features then up to Fury. "Was she ever going to tell us?"

Fury looked to me, giving me a silent nod when he saw my clenched jaw and closed expression. He knew this was a touchy subject. "Natasha decided to bring Ali into the open, she wanted to introduce her to you all, to herself officially. After years of watching her train and grow, years of reading her mission logs, and then finding out about her year of taming the super soldier-" at this Fury sends me a glare, this was in fact a touchy subject for him as well. I gave him a small smile and a shrug, wanting him to continue. "-Natasha decided she was ready for the team."

He looked to Clint now. "Then the snap happened." At that everyone turned to look at you.

[tangledstarlight]

good, bad or the space between (maybe i’m all three)

i just got a lot of thoughts and feelings about luke implying (twice) that he’s possibly going to hell??? and like i’m not sure what this is, i started it at 3am once and it got out of hand and also doesn’t really have a conclusion?? but okay.

luke thinks he’s a bad person, then he starts thinking about fate and destiny and soulmates and his thoughts spiral from there. but alex and reggie are there to try and help slow them down.

trigger warnings!! swearing, mentions of death (cos they’re ghosts) 

also on ao3

The thing is, Luke didn’t think he was a bad person. Not really.

He’s never killed someone, never gone out of his way to hurt someone, never purposely broken the law. But he’s also never gone out of his way to be a good person either. His homework was always handed in late, he never hesitated to jump into a fight if someone else started it, he definitely stole a candy bar from the corner shop when he was ten and never told anyone.

He’d always sort of considered himself neutral. That he’d have time to work on being a better person (because he was seventeen and dying really wasn’t high on his list of worries) after the band got signed and they were touring the world.

And then they’d died and became ghosts.

And suddenly everything that he’d been putting off – thanking bars who gave them a chance, dropping a few dollars into donation buckets, going home, talking to his mom, his dad, making things right – was off the table. He’d missed his chance.

There’s a moment, a brief few seconds after they first land back in the studio and Julie is running, screaming, from them, where he thinks maybe being not a good person but not a bad person in life means you end up as a ghost forever.

But then he looks over at Alex and at Reggie and they’re the best people he knows. They don’t have a bad bone between them, they’re always kind and polite and caring and just good people. If anyone deserves to go to a happy peaceful afterlife it would be Alex and Reggie.

That starts a second brief moment of panic in Luke’s brain. Because did he rob them of a peaceful afterlife as well as being responsible for robbing them of life? The street dogs had been his idea after all, he’d said they were probably fine, he’d lead them right into death.

The thought haunts him, pokes at him, follows him around until someone mentions the idea of unfinished business and he lets out a breath.

He might have been indirectly responsible for their deaths but at least he wasn’t the reason they were ghosts. It was a small comfort.

Small, because while Luke is pretty sure he deserves this limbo, in between, half-life that they’ve been dumped in, he doesn’t think Alex and Reggie do. They suffered and survived so much in life, they shouldn’t have to deal with more pain in the after. And he’d give anything to change it.

But they were still dead and it was still partly his fault and they still don’t know what their unfinished business is and now there was Julie.

Julie with her voice of an angle and warm smile and afterlife saving hugs and understanding eyes when he tells her that he misses his mom. Julie, who makes him want to live and to be a good person. But he’s already dead and honestly, does being a good person in your afterlife even make a difference?

She makes him feel more alive now that he’s dead then he did when he was alive which is just. It’s not something he really wants to get into because this was all just going to end badly anyway. Right?

Because he’s dead. He can’t change that. And being here, with Julie, being with her every chance he gets, Luke is pretty sure that’s selfish of him. They’re going to – hopefully – move on one day and the boys will go somewhere better and he’ll go – wherever it is people like him go and Julie will be left alone.

A good person wouldn’t fall in love with someone they knew was going to be hurt in the end, would they? Surely a good person would stop it now, when it was new and undefined and still unspoken. They’d stop it before it just ended in heartbreak and pain. Luke didn’t mind taking on all that pain but Julie didn’t deserve any of it.

They were the ones who fell into her life, he was the one who’d gotten them killed, so Luke should be the one to take on all the fallout.

But he was selfish. He wasn’t a good person, and maybe it made him a bad person. But all he wanted to do was spend every second he could get with her. Even though he knew it was just going to end badly. He couldn’t stop himself.

A part of him, a small, selfish, clinging to any little bit of hope, part him wondered if soulmates were real. If maybe, just maybe this wasn’t destined to be a tragedy like so much else in his life.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” The question falls from his mouth before he can stop it. They’re at the beach, outside what used to be Reggie’s house and Alex has just finished rambling about Willie with this hopeless little smile on his face and he can hear the waves crashing and, if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend this is twenty-five years ago.

“What, like ‘there’s only one person in the world for you’ kind of soulmates?” Alex asks, head tilting to look at him and Luke shrugs, Reggie propping his head up on his hands as he rolls over in the sand.

“Yeah. And like, fate and destiny and all that shit,” because he’s been thinking about it a lot lately.

Luke had never really given fate or destiny much thought before. When they were alive that is (just another one of the things he’d put off because there was supposed to be more time). But now he was dead and a ghost and well, it gave him a lot of time to think about things he hadn’t before.

They were kind of cool concepts, fate and destiny and soulmates, something he could make a song out of one day maybe, but he’d never really considered them real. Because if he did, then he had to think about how it was his fate to die at seventeen, and how he was never destined to make it big with his band, and how maybe he needed to die to find his soulmate twenty-five years later and how there might be some big powerful entity out in the world just waiting for him to slip up and ruin everything.

He was pretty good at ruining things and peoples lives. If he was to have a superpower, Luke thinks that would be it.

“I don’t know, never really thought about it.” Alex frowns like this has opened a door to thoughts he’d never considered before and Luke bites his lip, because the last thing he wanted was to send Alex on a thought spiral. Because of course he has, because Luke is good at doing the wrong thing.

“I hope it’s real,” Reggie buts in before Luke can come up with something to say to Alex, and both of them turn to look at him with surprise.” I just think it’s nice, y’know? That there’s someone out there for everyone, that there’s someone out there who will get you, even if you don’t get yourself. And it sucks that maybe we’ve missed that, being, y’know, dead,” now Reggie is frowning, fingers of one hand digging into the sand and from the corner of his eye Luke can see Alex open his mouth about to say something when Reggie looks up at them, a smile on his face.

“But maybe we didn’t miss it. Maybe we had to die, y’know? Like it was part of some bigger plan. We had to die because someone knew that Julie would need us and that Alex had to meet Willie and that the 90’s just weren’t the right time for us. And that all this is fucking fate and it’ll make sense one day. Better than thinking we died eating street dogs for no reason, anyway.”

Alex seems to be caught on the way Reggie has pointed out Willie specifically for him, and if it was any of time Luke would probably tease him for the way his cheeks had gone pink. Seeming to notice it too, Reggie directs his attention to Luke, giving their drummer a chance to wrangle his thoughts.

“Do you? Believe in it all, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Luke shrugs, brows furrowing as he looks out at the sea and the horizon and the sky that’s slowly turning purple as the sun sets. “I think if soulmates are real then Julie’s probably mine.”

When he doesn’t get any response to his declaration he pulls his eyes away from the horizon to find Reggie nodding at him and Alex raising an eyebrow like what he hasn’t just said is absurd or wrong. Don’t they get it? Frowning, Luke tries again.

“Which is bad, y’know? Because she’s– well she’s Julie. And she deserves like, the fucking best and I just ruin everything. All I’ve got is my music, the stuff I can write and even Bobby took that from me so, I mean, I’ve not even really got that. Plus I’m like, the whole reason we died and probably part of why we’re stuck here as ghosts and honestly if soulmates are real then someone is being really shitty to Julie by making me hers. I know I’d be the luckiest guy in the world but – being stuck with me? Pretty fucked up. It’s not like I’m a good person or anything, y’know?”

Alex is gaping at him now, head shaking slowly and Reggie has gone unnaturally still, hands full of sand curling into fists. Luke just frowns, not sure what’s wrong with them.

“That’s – okay, yeah no,” Alex starts, mouth opening and closing a few times as he tries to come up with something. “So much of what you just said is so wrong I don’t– I don’t even know where to start.”

“Luke. You’re not the reason we died. You know that, right?” Reggie asks and oh.

Luke had thought they’d known. The street dogs were his idea, he’d not stopped them when Alex had pointed out they tasted funny, he’d not gotten them help quick enough after the first time Reggie threw up.

“It was my idea to get street dogs that night. I basically walked us right into it.”

“No.”

And Luke has never heard Reggie sounds so sure of something then that single little word.

“You didn’t kill us man, the battery acid soaked hotdogs and pickles killed us. The food that we all ate willingly. You didn’t force it down our throats.” Reggie looks pained as he says it, like he’s reliving the moment all over again, but his eyes are focused solely on Luke’s and it takes him a moment to realise that he’s in pain because of what Luke’s been thinking, not because of their painful deaths.

“None of this is your fault. If any of us are to blame for dying and being ghosts and all the other shit then it’s like, it’s equal blame on all three of us. Though the guy who sold us the food is probably the one really at fault here,” Alex muttered the last part, lips pulling into a small grimace.

“But–” Luke starts, only to be cut off by Alex smacking a hand over his mouth and okay. Kinda rude.

“Nuh uh, no more talking from you until it’s positive things.”

“Dude, it’s shit. We died, it was shit. We almost died again, even more shit. But we didn’t,” Reggie snaps his fingers in Luke’s face, as if to punctuate his point, “And yeah, we don’t really get this whole ghost existence thing, and apparently no one else does either, we’re clearly special like that. But that doesn't mean it’s a bad thing. It’s our second chance.”

“You deserve a second chance at life just as much as we do,” Alex says, hand still covering Luke’s mouth even as he looks him right in the eyes and he really hates how they both seem to know exactly what he’s been thinking.

Even if he still thinks they’re wrong. Because Luke, what did he ever do in life that made him worthy of a second chance? Of getting to still be with his best friends, his family? Or getting to meet Julie? Of getting a chance to finally touch his dream?

“Do you think we don’t deserve a second chance?” Reggie asks and Luke can feel his eyes widen even as he shakes his head quickly, a muffled ‘no’ making it past Alex’s hand and he’s seconds away from turning into a five year old and licking it when Alex finally takes it away.

“What!? No! Of course you guys deserve this! After all the crap that you put up with when you were alive the universe owed you a second chance. You two deserve like, the gold standard of an afterlife.” Why don’t they understand that?

“Then why is it so hard for you to understand that we think the same about you? That you deserve a gold standard afterlife too. With us. With Julie.” Reggie has grabbed his hands, Luke’s not sure when he did that. Or when Alex moved so he was sitting so close their legs were pressed together, no space between them.

“I– I don’t–” Luke tries to to say something, anything. But he doesn’t have an answer, he doesn’t know why.

Because he’s always thought of himself as not being a bad person, but not being a good person, of being neutral and thinking he’d have time to figure it all out later. And now he’s head and his best friends are holding him and telling him he’s not guilty of second hand murder and–

He lets out a shuddering breath, shoulder shrugging helplessly as he looks between them both.

“I’m not to blame?” Idly, from a far away point in his mind, he noticed how small his voice sounds. How it could almost get lost in the crashing of waves.

“No. Not for anything that happened to us.” Reggie squeezes his hands.

“But I’m not– I– I didn’t do anything in life that made me a good person. I fucked up so much stuff, my parents I–” he trailed off, eyes going a little unfocused.

“We were seventeen Luke. We were kids, and we were meant to have like, a whole lifetime to fix the stuff we broke. You didn’t do anything worse than me and Reg, which means you deserve to be happy just as much as we do.”

Luke nods at the words, lets them settle in his mind. Tries to absorb what they’re saying. Tries to believe it the same way they seem to. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to, but he can at least try.

[utterlyinevitable]

‘Of all the lies I have ever lived, my favorite was you and I” Ethan x MC. ❤️ love your writing!!

thank you so much!🥰  i hope i did the request justice 🙈

For All The Lies

Word Count: 1.4k Warning: lil bit of angst Summary: This takes place two years after OH2. 

(art by @juliaraeart) ________________________________________

They sat around the fire of the large Cape Cod backyard at Harper’s engagement party. Becca had come as Bryce’s plus one, the surgeon wanting to spend as much time as possible with her while she was briefly back in town. A lot had changed since she accepted a research fellowship across the pond, an easier departure for her since Edenbrook had to make staffing cuts because of a budget shortfall. Becca consciously made the choice to leave the comfort she came to know for an opportunity of a lifetime and subsequently save another person's job.  

She hadn’t seen or spoken to Ethan Ramsey since she accepted a research fellowship. That was two years ago. 

Becca walked into the evening garden party on Bryce’s arm, her petite diamond still shining under the fairy lights. The moment Aurora saw the pair, Becca immediately let go and jogged over to her friend enveloping her in a hug. The two girls had kept in touch over the last few years, even setting up a free movement research programme between their two hospitals.

“What, no hug for me? I thought you loved me,” Bryce pouted at his two friends. 

The women chuckled and opened their arms letting him into the group hug. 

“That’s what I’m talking about. I miss being surrounded by beautiful women.” Ever since Becca left and residency ended last year the usual gang of doctors had spread out all over the globe, leaving Bryce with just one ally at Edenbrook - Elijah.    

One of the attendings waved Bryce over, leaving the two diagnosticians to talk. 

“How was your flight?” 

“Not bad. I’m not jet-lagged at all if I’m honest. Bryce is making sure I don’t pass out any time soon though,” she chuckled before quickly changing the topic, “I can’t believe Dr. Emery’s getting married.” 

Aurora looked directly into Becca’s eyes and said, “Believe me I never thought I’d see the day.” Harper Emery, like all Emery’s, was completely career orientated. Her career had been her longest and only love for as long as Aurora could remember. That’s why when she announced her engagement to the family they all thought it was an April Fools joke. “I’m happy she’s happy.” 

“Me too. Anyone special in your life?” Becca wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Definitely not. I’ll settle down when I’m retired.” 

There was a call for all family members to gather on the balcony for a photo with the happy couple. Aurora gave her friend and sorry smile as she departed. 

Becca timidly made her way over to the bar to grab a glass of champagne. She looked up at the stars shining in the sky and carefully took in her surroundings. She wondered if her own wedding would be as grand and glamorous as this reception. As if thinking the thoughts of her future while in Boston was a charm that summoned ghosts of her past, she heard a gruff clear of a throat from behind her. 

His velvety baritone voice cooed, “Dr. Lao.”

She couldn’t help the smirk that perked at her lips when she heard her name on his tongue - it was a Pavlovian response. 

Rebecca Lao turned around to see Ethan Ramsey apprehensively standing a few feet away, dressed head to toe in his trusty black tux. 

“Dr. Ramsey,” she uttered back. 

In a space of over 300 people they still had such a hold over one another - for time stood still and Ethan and Becca were the only people permitted to move. In the distance a new song began to play from the orchestra.  

Ethan held out his hand, “For old times?”  

Without a second thought she took hold and with a small smile agreed, “For old times.”

The pair planted themselves in a corner of the laid out wooden dance floor and away from the commotion of rambunctious party-goers and attention of others who could misconstrue their embrace. Ethan had his hands respectfully on her waist, while she had her right hand draped over his shoulder and left securely on his chest. 

They swayed back and forth for a labored moment before either of them spoke. 

“Let me see,” Ethan nodded to the jewelry affixed to his chest. For a moment Becca completely forgot about her reality. Hesitantly she lifted her hand and placed it into Ethan’s waiting one. With intrigue and precision he rotated it back and forth, letting the silver diamond catch the light at each angle. “It’s decent,” he nodded in approval.  

“Not too shabby,” she agreed, staring at their interlocked hands. “Doesn’t get in the way and not as distracting.” 

Becca knew she never wanted to make a show of her relationship status, especially in her line of work where she’s constantly using her hands and needing to pull gloves on and off. Anything bigger than 2 carats was too much in her mind. She mindfully thanked her fiance for once again knowing her and her needs better than she herself did.  

“You’ve always been a magpie.” Ethan smirked as he remembered all the times she would get distracted by shiny objects in a shop window, on a screen or even the reflective glare of light.  

She rolled her eyes. 

“How.. have you been?” they weren’t the words he wanted to say but they were the ones their situation called for. He had no right to demand any personal information from her. Hell, he didn’t even deserve the privilege of her company but here she was in his arms after all this time.  

“Busy,” she said with absolutely no humor. “I now know why you preferred a solitary life.” 

Ethan’s face fell with the unintentional sting.  

He pulled his lips back up and pridefully told her, “I read your book.”  

Shock was evident all over Becca’s features. She knew her book was published globally and as an avid reader of all medical journals he was bound to read it. Still, it shook her that after all this time he was still paying attention. “What’d you think? Not as boring as yours, huh.”  

“Satisfactory,” she saw a flicker of mischief dance around his irises. “For a first time author.”  

Becca began to speak, “How -” at the same time Ethan added, “Wh-”.   

She let him continue on with his thought; 

The flicker of light was replaced with a dark cloud as he spoke, “Why didn’t you keep in touch?”  

Becca’s eyes grew heavy with sadness and she tried to look anywhere but at him. “Ethan…” 

He searched her features, using everything he learned about body language from years of doctoring and from knowing her body, for any semblance of an answer. 

All he found was guilt and… something else. 

She went to remove her hand from his and he squeezed it tighter. Her mouth fell agape and turned her gaze to meet his. Blue mimicked brown, both trying to convey all they wish they had the courage to say. Both wanting to mend all the problems they caused and all the decisions they’ve now come to regret. 

The brows above her sorrowful eyes rose, coaxing him to speak. 

Looking at the face of the woman he once passionately cared for, the woman who could see right through his facade, Ethan couldn’t form a coherent retort. He couldn’t think of anything he could say that would make up for all the lost time, all the lost moments. 

She squeezed his hand, egging him on. 

After a harsh inhale Ethan finally relayed the most daunting of words, “Of all the lies I have ever lived, my favorite was you and I.” Finally, after all this time - after all the tears shed he was finally able to say, “I’m sorry I pushed you away.” 

It was as if the admission crippled him, his hands fell from her immediately and he took a step back.  

Becca closed the gap between them once more and placed her hand over his heart. She stared at his chest, remembering the old blissful feeling of their skin on each other, as she maturely admitted, “We were meant to be in each other's lives but not in that way. I know that now, I’m sorry I kept forcing myself on you.” 

“You didn’t force anything.” He shook his head admonishing her words. “I wanted it all, every bit of you.” He placed his hand over her own. His eyes never shifted from her sullen ones that kept themselves fixed on their joined hands. “I’m sorry I wasted all that time lying about my feelings for you. I completely failed you - I know that now.”   

She balled her fist up against him. “Ethan…”  

“Are you happy?” 

“Yes.”  

“I’m glad,” he said with recognition for the most impressive person he has ever met and will ever meet.  

________________________________________

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[avillicit]

The Camboy, part 2

Part 1

IMPRISONED FOR HORNY CRIMES

Summary: Mischa gives birth to his monstrous brood during a stream.

Contains: rapid pregnancy, trans mpreg, non-consensual impregnation, non-human offspring, bugs, lactation, dirty talk, mentions of drug use, bodily fluids, explicit birth, multiple orgasms, and sex work. Written by a non-sex-worker, may contain inaccuracies. Please ask if you need any triggers tagged!

~

incubus90: ha! looks like your water broke.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Mischa barely had time to process what was happening before an intense pain ripped through him, something like period cramps but a hundred times stronger. He doubled over, hugging his massive belly as he moaned through the contraction. By now his arms just barely made it around his stomach. The things inside of him thrashed violently in a bid to escape his womb.

incubus90: does it hurt, baby?

incubus90: do you like it?

“Fuck you, Nick.” But his clit still ached with need, somehow even more desperate than before. The pains of labor set off the same fireworks as rubbing his belly, as feeling the creatures kicking inside him, as teasing his leaking breasts. Another contraction dawned, and he cried out in an intoxicating mixture of pain and arousal. The skin of his belly, already stretched to its limits, tensed somehow further. It was all he could do to keep himself from collapsing onto the bed.

“What the fuck do I do?!” he groaned to his audience.

queentwink: aaaaa fuck

alleykat: just uh. try to breathe

incubus90: she’s right. breathe.

incubus90: the contractions are going to get closer together.

incubus90: in a minute you’ll need to see how far dilated you are.

“How do I check that?”

incubus90: you’ll need to use your fingers.

incubus90: push them allll the way to your cervix.

incubus90: four fingers should be sufficient.

Logically, the idea of spreading his legs and putting his fingers up his pussy shouldn’t have embarrassed Mischa--he literally did it for a living. His regular viewers had seen him impale himself on a Bad Dragon at least three times before. And yet, the suggestion that he check how dilated he was made Mischa go pink.

As he contemplated this, another contraction slammed him. They seemed to be getting worse; the sheer agony of this one radiated through his entire body. Desperately, he rubbed his swollen belly in a hope to somehow calm the creatures who so urgently wanted out. It was useless; whatever was inside of him needed to be born.

He rode the waves of several more contractions, whining and writhing in a desperate bid for relief. After the pain of the fifth finally subsided, he took a moment to breathe before removing his underwear. It was harder than he expected, as he had to maneuver around the swell in his middle, but soon enough he was free. He laid back on his elbows, at an angle so he could still see the laptop screen. His legs spread, exposing his dripping opening to his viewers, he pushed two fingers in, deeper than he ever had before. The feeling when he found his cervix was electric. His pussy was hypersensitive, twitching with every little movement. 

incubus90: good boy, spread your legs for the camera.

incubus90: let them watch you pushing out your babies.

Mischa rolled his eyes and pushed a third finger in, and then finally a fourth, testing how far his opening had stretched in preparation for birth. Lightning streaked through his mind, his cervix twitching around his digits.

Just then he was wracked with another contraction. He moaned strings of incoherent blasphemies as he played with his clit through the pain. Soon he found himself panting with the effort. There’s something about breathing during labor, right? How does that work?

“Four fingers!” he called out to the webcam once his womb was calm again. “You said that’s enough, right?” He could see himself in the camera, impossibly big and obviously enjoying every torturous second.

incubus90: good boy!

incubus90: you’re almost ready to push.

incubus90: how far apart are your contractions?

Another came just then, drawing a howl from Mischa’s throat. He gripped the sides of his belly tight, and the “babies” thrashed against his palms. “They’re--they’re coming closer,” he answered through gritted teeth. “And I think they’re--ah!--lasting longer, too.” He panted and moaned through the contraction, clutching his belly tight. The pain faded out, then returned almost instantly, denying him the kindness of a moment to catch his breath. “God, they’re right on top of each other!”

incubus90: that’s good.

incubus90: there’s only one thing to do now, love.

incubus90: push.

“Fuck, this is happening so fast…” As the next contraction welled up, he bore down and pushed as hard as he could. The sounds he made were barely human, more like a dog in heat. His opening spasmed as he tried to expel the creatures inside him. Tips were coming in every few seconds now, a steady rhythm of chirp! chirp! chirp! just barely audible beneath Mischa’s groaning. More contractions came and passed, and he pushed through all of them. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripped down the back of his neck. And just when he thought they were never going to come--

lovextums: holy shit i can see it!!

Mischa looked at himself in his laptop. Sure enough, there was a flash of white peeking through the lips of his pussy. He grinned weakly. When the next contraction came, he gritted his teeth and pushed like his life depended on it. Inch by painful inch, something wormed its way out. His hole burned, and he could’ve sworn his vision cut out for a millisecond. The creature was still stuck half-inside him.

incubus90: you’re doing so well.

incubus90: just one more push.

Mischa whimpered as yet another contraction came. He was exhausted.

incubus90: you can do it, mischa.

incubus90: push for me.

He bore down once again, both hands on his stomach. The burning sensation intensified, and he was sure he was going to tear. Then there was a sickening squelch and a gush of fluid, and it finally emerged.

Mischa forced himself to sit up to get a better look at it. It looked to be some sort of grub, six or seven inches long and about as wide around as a grapefruit. Its flesh was ghost-white and iridescent, and it had two rows of tiny legs like a caterpillar.

alleykat: what the fuck is that

bellyk1nks: that was fuckin hot

crs9: is that an alien??????

Mischa stroked his poor swollen belly, feeling a surge of pride in his chest. Whatever that thing was, it was finally out and he did it all on his own. Well, mostly on his own. Eighty-five percent, maybe. His breasts were leaking, making two little streams of milk run down his belly, and his sheets were smeared with a strange purplish fluid.

incubus90: i’m so proud of you, love.

incubus90: one down, who knows how many more to go.

Panting softly, Mischa kept massaging his abdomen. He deserved a break, right? Just a minute to catch his breath?

Evidently the creatures inside him disagreed. Not even a minute had passed when he was gripped with the next contraction. He doubled over in pain, almost falling onto his laptop. It was almost a relief, knowing he had more inside him, waiting to be birthed. Part of him would have been sad if it were over after just one.

The second grub came easier, crowning only minutes after the contractions started back up again. Mischa moaned loudly again as he gripped his belly, but this time it was out of pleasure more than pain. The way the creature's body stretched his walls was better than anything he'd ever experienced before.

After the second came a third, and then a fourth. This one was bigger than its siblings, almost the size of a newborn human. The skin of his stomach tensed and released, over and over, as Mischa dutifully panted his way through the contractions. He threw his head back and keened when he finally felt the head at his lips, the now-familiar scorching pain inside him more intense than ever. He teased himself as the creature slid out of him, agonizingly slow. The final push sent him over the edge, and he found his climax just as the thing fell out onto the towel underneath him.

incubus90: such a good boy. 

incubus90: you look so beautiful like this.

incubus90: swollen with my progeny.

incubus90: dripping with sweat.

incubus90: delirious with pain, trying to birth these monsters all on your own.

He tried to fight it, but Nick's words sent sparks through Mischa's body. His clit, still torturously sensitive from orgasm, perked up again as another grub descended into his birth canal. He cursed under his breath as the labor pains returned, and his hand automatically crept back to his poor ruined slit. 

This one came to crown fast, and Mischa felt himself shake with the sensations of the grub's body brushing against all the sensitive spots inside him. Then as soon as it was out, there was another, and another, and another. By now the process was second nature to him, the pains as familiar as breathing. On the sixth grub, he felt another orgasm building, and then again on the ninth. He rubbed his belly mindlessly in between contractions, moaning like a porn star and rocking his hips every time another contraction came. Every few minutes Nick typed compliments into the chat.

incubus90: you're so beautiful.

incubus90: so fucking beautiful. 

incubus90: i knew you would be.

incubus90: i knew you were meant for this, baby.

Each message only served to make Mischa blush deeper. As yet another climax hit around the time the eleventh grub crowned, Mischa found himself groaning Nick's name, and he couldn't say whether it was from annoyance or desire.

The last two grubs were almost too much to bear. Mischa's arms and legs were shaking from exhaustion, his swollen chest and belly heaving. Every push, every pain was overstimulating. Nick's earlier description was all too accurate; Mischa was completely delirious. He didn't know whether hours or days had passed, only how many creatures he'd birthed. Rivulets of milk streamed down his chest, changing direction at the curve of his belly and dripping onto his bedsheets. His stomach had deflated significantly, but he continued to rub the swell as he howled and panted through the last of his contractions. His voice was hoarse now, and every sound he made came out a little creaky. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the twelfth grub found its way to his entrance, and he made a few noises like a broken squeaky toy. Either his body had finally found its limit at eleven grubs, or this one was much larger than all the others before it. It was even worse than the first grub, when the pain was new. Mischa was sure he was going to be torn open. Both hands grabbing his belly, his eyes sewn shut with concentration, he groaned through wave after wave of contractions. The creature descended so slowly that at first Mischa wasn't sure it was moving at all. Then he felt his opening stretch further as the widest point of the grub's body passed through. His clit began to throb and spark again, his hips twitching as the grub slowly emerged. Inch by inch, he pushed it out of himself, feeling the pressure in his clit build alongside the pain. With a final push, the grub popped out onto the towel beside its siblings, and Mischa shook as the contraction wrung one last orgasm out of him. 

He laid there panting, propped up by his elbows, convinced that had to be the last one. Then after a moment, he felt another pain in his womb. He gritted his teeth and pushed, bringing it to his entrance almost immediately. It was a little one, and he barely would have felt it plop out of his stretched hole had he not already been overstimulated by a ridiculous succession of orgasms.

He collapsed onto the bed, rubbing the little mound of his belly. His skin was sticky with sweat, milk, and that strange purple fluid; his muscles were sore; his breath was ragged. After several minutes, he finally realized with a mixture of relief and disappointment: he was done.

incubus90: you did so well, baby.

incubus90: i think you deserve to rest now.

incubus90: why don't you say goodbye to all your friends?

Mischa nodded. Propping himself up again, he smiled weakly and gave a little wave to the camera. He managed to sit up and turn the stream off with significant effort, and noted with pride that today's performance had earned him just under a thousand dollars. Maybe later, after taking a shower and a long nap, he could edit the footage and sell it somewhere. Apparently there was quite a market for this stuff.

He let himself fall back onto the soaked bedspread, and laid there among his squirming brood for awhile. He knew he should have been upset, traumatized by what had happened, but all he could feel was the ache in his muscles and a warm sense of contentment deep in his chest.

Suddenly, Mischa's phone buzzed. He groped around beside his laptop to find it, and pulled the phone close to his face to read the message he'd received. 

Nick: i'm coming by soon to pick up the grubs.

Nick: do you want me to bring you a refill?