#padded cell looking better by the day!

[fizzseed]

bmc bracelets i’ve made recently!!!!!

[kitten4sannie]

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

His pointer finger drifted down your chest, along the seam of your blazer, gazing down at you. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

-

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve. 

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place. 

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.” 

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.” 

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?” 

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.” 

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.” 

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over. 

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side. 

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks. 

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum. 

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear. 

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip. 

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[primatechnosynthpop]

Oddly specific fanfic premise I've encountered more than once: au where one of a show's main characters has to spend years living in a basement with only one person to talk to thanks to the machinations of a manipulative evil entity who possesses people. Luckily everyone's favourite conman is here to help, but not before being injured while trying to deal with someone who's been possessed by said evil entity

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

*original Image from a CW still photo

Summary: Dean shows you what it means to be in a relationship with a self-proclaimed Red-winged Bloodhound, and to be loved.

Characters: Dean Winchester x You

Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY, period sex, shower sex, brief oral, super horny bc hormones and Dean Winchester, ILY exchange, intimacy

Words: 2K

Author’s notes: Sanctioned will be a series of low-stakes explorations of sexual taboos and boundary nudging with one or both of the Winchester brothers and You. It will all be written in 2nd person, further fostering a sense of closeness and leaning into the level of intimacy achieved with each act. It will not necessarily be considered part of the same universe but can absolutely be read that way.

As always, all my love goes to my long-time beta and friend @brrose-apothecary and many thanks to @bigmouthlass for the read-through and green light.

Sanctioned: The Red-Wing Rodeo

Being on your period sucks.

You radiate heat, but you're freezing. You can’t even think about wearing anything other than sweatpants. Most days, you bleed through an ultra tampon and the thickest pads you can buy in less than an hour, and you’re hungry all the time.

For nasty, greasy junk food and for Dean.

Dean’s gorgeous and effortlessly sexy. Even when you aren’t on your period, all he has to do is say your name and you’re putty in his hands. When you are on your period, bloated as a bridge troll and craving melty cheese, the things your brain conjures up for him to do to you threaten to set feminism back faster and farther than an old, white conservative on the Supreme Court.

It’s all you can think about—Dean’s hands on your skin, his lips on your throat, and his cock hammering you senseless.

But you smell bad, right? Your eyes are puffy and your feet look like sausages. No one thinks that’s attractive.

He’s tried to tell you that he likes it. Loves it, is what he’s said. He’s the one who told you there’s a name for guys like him—Bloodhounds. He’s even gone down on women having their period.

You don’t consider yourself a prude, but he can’t be serious, can he?

Right now, you’re in the shower in an attempt to feel less ick and maybe work out some frustration where you can easily clean up afterward. You’ve washed and conditioned your hair, exfoliated, shaved everything, and now you’re standing under just-the-right-temperature water as it blessedly sluices your neck and shoulders to your toes. You’re starting to feel something approaching relaxed when you hear Dean’s voice.

“Care if I join ya?” he asks, peeking around the large shower stall with a grin that no one in their right mind could resist. He’s naked, his hair’s spiking in nine different directions, and his face is smudged with grease from the Impala.

You shake your head and shrug, afraid to firmly commit to any answer since every cell in your body is stretched tight between tenterhooks; you could snap at any second.

“You sure?” He arches a brow and dips his chin to his chest as he eases his way into the shower.

“M’sure,” you mutter, curling in on yourself.

He settles in behind you, tall and strong, skimming his big hands over your hips before gently palming your belly. You rest one hand on his forearm and reach up behind you with the other to slide your fingers through his dampening hair. Dean begins to hum and sway before moving to multitask—dragging one hand up to expertly cup and caress one hot, tender breast, and lazily drawing a random but intricate pattern around your navel and lower.

“I know it’s your time of the month or whatever you call it, and I know it’s gettin’ harder lately,” he murmurs, touching you with reverence and heat, kissing your temple, around the shell of your ear. “I wanna make it better.”

You sigh. “I know… I just-”

When his thumb brushes your nipple, you gasp and bite back a desperate moan.

“Just what, honey? Tell me.”

He shifts behind you and his thick, hard cock grazes the curve of your back. It’s too much. He’s told you so many times how good he could make it for you.

“Please?” He continues to kiss and suck the thin skin of your throat and thumb your nipple.

You bite your lip and twist his hair with your fingers. Maybe you can let go a little. The shower will help with the mess, right?

Dean sucks an earlobe between his lips and brings his other hand up to work your other breast, forcing a pitiful whimper from your chest. You grip his wrists, encouraging his touch and buck back against him.

“Fuck me,” you whisper.

Dean groans and you can practically feel him vibrate with excitement. “I promise I’m gonna make this so good for you,” he whispers back.

You sigh, brace your hands against the tile in front of you, and widen your stance before glancing over your shoulder. His eyes flick to yours as he lathers up his hands. When he takes a step closer to touch you again, you drop your head to hang between your arms and exhale. He works you up, kneading your breasts, pulling and teasing your taut, sensitive nipples.

“You look so beautiful when you trust me like this. I want you to know it and believe it.”

He nuzzles and nips under your jaw as he hooks one hand under your right knee and gathers both your wrists with the other. You gasp when he lifts and shifts you like you weigh nothing, spreading you up and open, pressing you up against the cool tile.

“Makes me crazy knowin’ how bad you want somethin’ but won’t ask for it.”

And then he slowly sinks inside you.

You sob his name and quake between his solid weight and the soothing ceramic. You feel so hot and light, spread wide and fucked tight.

“So good, Dean,” you whimper, and he kisses you everywhere he can, sucking small bruises into your skin.

“You too.” He pushes your knee up higher, opening you wider. “So hot and greedy. Fuck, your pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight.”

“Ung.”

His thrusts are slow, shallow, and precise. Each pass sends ripples of brilliant pleasure from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes—liquid, rolling, boiling.

“Wanted you like this for so long,” he huffs in your ear. “Give you what you need when you feel so empty.”

He’s repeatedly, steadily driving over your g-spot, slip-sliding along the path he’s traveled time and time again—but this time, every single nerve ending inside you is engorged and hypersensitive. You can feel every ridge of his cock, stroking your insides.

“Yes, Dean. I can- can feel you everywhere. Fuck.” You gasp for air and arch your neck as he plants his forehead against the shower wall.

“C’mon,” he whispers, quickening his grinding pace and eliciting a shout from you.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck…” you’re chanting, your skin is singing, and your vision blurs.

Time warps and whirls, Dean tells you you’re so perfect, so beautiful, and then- your body seizes rigid and shocking before blowing up into the most powerful, white-hot orgasm you’ve ever had.

•

•

•

Dean gently nudges you awake with soft, warm touches and the aroma of chicken soup. Your eyelids flutter open and he’s lying on his side above the covers facing you, lightly brushing the wide tips of his fingers across your forehead.

“How ya feelin’?”

“Mmmph.” You wriggle into him, clutching his soft t-shirt in your fists, and nuzzle his chest.

Dean chuckles. “That good, huh?”

You feel brand new, wrapped in crystal-spun gossamer—delicate and feral. Your consciousness scrambles to catch up to your body’s instinct to climb on top of Dean and never let him out of bed ever again.

He runs a hand down and up your back, soothing and warm, and kisses your temple. “Should eat somethin’, babe. Made ya some chicken soup and those cheese crisps you like so much.”

“You’re so good to me,” you mutter as you roll and squirm toward your nightstand. You push yourself to sit up, holding the sheet to your chest, and reach for the steaming mug.

Dean traces your spine, back and forth, up and down, sending chill bumps all over your body. You are pretty hungry, so you take a few healthy sips from the mug and pop a cheese crisp into your mouth before turning back to face Dean.

“Thank you. I do love those crisps. But I like you even better.” You scoot closer to him and slide your hands up under his t-shirt. “You should get naked and get under the covers with me.”

“I should?” He smirks in that way that makes your heart skip and your guts twirl. “One single period sex shower session and you’re hooked. I like it.”

He helps you get his shirt off before shimmying out of his pajama pants and sliding under the covers with you so you’re skin to skin.

“God, you’re already hard.” You immediately push a hand down and wrap your fingers around his thick length, kissing him hungrily. “So smooth, want you in my mouth.”

“Uh-uh,” Dean stops you from diving down, rolling you to your back and kneeing your legs open to slot his hips and grind his cock right there. “I want you in my mouth, smell so fucking good, so ripe and hot.”

You groan. Two hours ago, you’d have been horrified by the mere suggestion, but now you want, want, want.

“Dean, you can’t-”

He answers your groan, rolling his hips and nestling his face against your neck. “I won’t if you don’t want it, but,” he pauses, pushing up to look you in the eye. “You want it, don’t you?”

His eyes sparkle, and your pussy throbs. He’s right; you’re hooked and there’s no going back. You’re so turned on that he likes the way you smell—that he wants to devour you. Dean’s always eager to eat your pussy, but right now he looks ravenous.

Your heart rate kicks up a notch, and you nod.

Dean swears under his breath before kissing you, hot and firm. He kisses you so well, every day. He’s thorough with his kisses and touches. This is no exception.

When he finally, slowly begins his descent, you’re breathless, writhing in the twisted bedding and fisting your hair. He gives every square inch of your body the same treatment as your mouth, all the way to your ankles and the arches of your feet. Everywhere he touches, licks, and kisses is a hot zone. As he makes his way back upward, you think you might come before he even lays a finger on your clit.

“Dean, I’m-” You break into a sob and squeeze your eyes shut.

“No, no- don’t hold back, honey. Make some noise, make a mess, I gotchu. C’mon.”

You open your eyes and he’s watching you closely as he hunkers back down, nodding. You mirror his nod and take a deep breath, reaching for him to sink your fingers into his hair.

He smiles as he continues kissing his way from your knee up the inside of your thigh, then splays his fingers against the backs of your thighs. You watch him gently part your seam with his thumbs and dip in to press a kiss to your swollen clit.

“Fuck,” you breathe, dropping your head back to the mattress and twisting his hair in your fists.

He huffs a quiet laugh, blowing a stream of cool air over your slick, open pussy, and you lose it.

“Aaahhh!”

You’re higher than you’ve ever been on any substance, raw, and on fire. You feel like you might rocket through the roof of the bunker into the stratosphere; then Dean slides up over you and inside you, filling you up and anchoring you. He braces his forearms on either side of your head and you wrap your arms around his back.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, accepting his kiss and reveling in his long, steady strokes inside you.

He rests his forehead against yours and breathes, dragging out and pushing back in.

“Me too,” he whispers back, brushing noses with you. “So much, honey. Thank you for lettin’ me take care of you.”

You giggle and lift your legs to hug him tight. “Thank you.”

“Next time, I’m goin’ down on you ‘til you forget your own name, but,” he pauses to rotate his hips and kiss you again. “I just had to be inside you.”

“Not complaining.”

Dean keeps that connection, pulls the thread, loops it back again, and reminds you why you’re there. He reminds you of why you love him.

[dejwrld]

— takuma ino misses your adorable little face and your even more adorable moans while he's away for a mission.

( cw ) ⸻ female anatomy describe, her/she pronouns, black coded reader, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, overstimulation, phone sex, feminine pet names, mentions of cum, mentions of spit, spit usage, told in third pov cause it's through ino's eyes, established relationship (reader and ino are dating), ino hive we up and running, reader is a college student, ino is away for a mission, wc: 2.1k, minors dni ! repost from old account!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dedicated to the hottest ino simp ever @honeybleed

THE MOONLIGHT SHINED THROUGH THE CREAM-COLORED HOTEL CURTAINS. The sound of the hotel room's air conditioner hummed alongside the nude-colored walls as the only form of light that illuminated the room was from Ino's cell phone. His black shaded hair fell into his face while texting on his cellphone. He immediately updated Kiyotaka Ijichi on the mission, admitting that he'll return to Tokyo tomorrow noon. He couldn't wait to return home.

Specifically, he couldn't wait to go home to his girlfriend who loved complaining about him coming to her home bruised and battered after an eventful mission of fighting curses. His brown-colored eyes traveled the miniature alarm clock on the hotel's nightstand before going back to his phone. "She's probably sleeping," He uttered to himself.

But that didn't stop him from sending the notorious text that always leads to something devious.

You Up?

When he heard the familiar sound of his message going through, he waited to see if she would read it. Which she did immediately. He felt his lips curl into a smile seeing the text bubbles pop up indicating that she was typing. Similar to a dog getting a big fat treat, Ino's face lit up seeing her text message. He hated to admit that the young woman made him go weak on the knees on some days. He hated to admit just how love-sick he was when his stomach would form the most hideous knots thinking about her when he was out putting his life on the line. The bone-chilling feeling of possibly not making it back to her always was a thought Ino was forced to push out of his head countless times. Even when he had gotten a small cut or bruise, he still hated the look of worry that decorated her face when she saw him.

His thoughts were briefly interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Her contact photo of her smiling right back at Ino flashed on the screen. He assumed that she must have missed him just as much as he missed her. When he let the pad of his thumb press the green-colored accept button on his phone screen, his face lit up in the darkness seeing that beautiful smile on her face. Even though her lights were dimmed a bit in her room, he still could see that smile that made him fall for her.

"What are you still doing up so late?" Don't you have class in the morning?" Ino jokingly questioned, his eyebrows knitted together in a playful look of confusion.

"My class isn't until noon, so I'll be okay. I just wanted to make sure my boyfriend is okay since he's out slaying curses and whatnot," She sighed.

"Y/N, I'm good. I'll be back in Tokyo before your noon class ends. Unless..." His voice trails off and Y/N finishes his sentence.

"You're assigned another mission, I understand." Y/N sighed again as Ino watched her sink even further into the pink-colored stuffed animal he won her on their second date. "I just miss you so much." Her voice alludes to a cute whine that causes Ino to smile a little.

"I miss you so much too."

"How much? She questioned. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she waited for an answer to her question.

Ino found himself leaning over to turn on the lap that was on the nightstand so she could get a better look at him other than his ominous shadow in the darkness. He watched as her face lit up now being able to look at his face. From the way, his dark-colored hair fell to partially cover the scar that decorated his forehead to the way that you could clearly tell he was exhausted but was fighting his sleep just to see his pretty girl face.

"I don't want to keep you up. You look so tired," Y/N pointed out.

Once the word tired tumbled off her tongue with worry, Ino let out a yawn. His hands went up to rub at his eyes before speaking, "I'm good. I'm not hanging up until you tell me to."

"Good because I have been thinking about you a lot, if you get the drift," Y/N says.

Ino's eyebrows raised in curiosity. He let his tongue glide across his lips before his mind went to catch Y/N's drift. His cheeks instantly stained a crimson color as he gave his girlfriend a foolish grin. A grin she's seen one too many times. A grin that causes her to playfully push him away when his callous curse-fighting hands would grope at her ass when they're out in public. The same grin he gave her before waltzing his way into the mall dressing room with her.

"You have an early morning probably, I don't want to keep you up," Y/N huffed as Ino noticed that she was leaning against the headboard of her bed now.

"I told you, I'm good," Ino uttered as he looked at her. His eyes darted from her face to her hardened nipples that poked out of the thin white-colored tank top she wore back to her face. "What do you have in mind?" He questioned.

"You know what I have in mind Ino." She whines. She slides down her headboard in a dramatic manner before speaking once again, "I was going to send you some pictures, but I'm needy. I miss your touch and your dick."

Ino chuckled at her statement. His fingers comb through his dark-shaded locks before looking at the hotel nightstand clock. He was sure this would help him fall asleep faster, plus he did miss the sound of soft moans in his ear. "Fuck it." He uttered as he sat up in his bed.

He mimicked the way Y/N was, placing his back on the headboard. "Let's do it," He says gaining the cutest giggle from Y/N.

"Okay, but I went to a store with one of my friends and brought something."

Ino's eyebrows raised at her words. Although he knew what his girlfriend was alluding to—he still couldn't wait to see what she would bring to the steamy FaceTime call. During her absence, Ino's tugging down the pajama pants he wore. The alluring thought of having phone sex already caused his dick to twitch in anticipation. As he held his iPhone, his hand traced alongside his toned abs before palming himself through the fabric of his boxers.

"You're ready Ino?" Y/N questioned. "I'm going to call you off my MacBook, 'kay?"

"Yes," Ino could hear the phone hang up before he could see her calling back. He answered the call with quickness and his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store when he saw the view.

The only view of his girlfriend's cute pink-colored panties that covered her pussy he's been balls deep in too many times. If Ino look closer, he could see the faint dampness in between her legs that imprinted her panties. He saw the vibrating wand that was a similar color to her panties and chuckled. "Could you hear me okay?" He asked.

"Mhmm," Y/N answered before she tugged off the tank top she was wearing revealing her bare chest.

At that moment, Ino was kicking the thin sheets that covered his lower half. His body instantly grew hot at the sight of his girlfriend. His cock aching to be touched and he wished it was her touching him. His teeth grazed at his lower lip before he spoke once again, "Go ahead and give me a show pretty girl."

He heard her chuckle. "And how do you want me to give you a show, Ino?" She asked.

His eyes looked at the pastel pink wand in her hand on the phone and she could only playfully roll her eyes. However, the curious glint in Ino's eyes caused her panties to be soaked.

The next minutes consisted of Y/N's placing the wand against her bare folds. Her legs quivered feeling the vibration in between her thighs and Ino felt like he was on a cloud despite being miles away from her. He was so enthusiastic to please himself, but first, he had to make sure Y/N felt the same way. He needed her to feel as hot as he was in the hotel room.

"How you're feeling baby?" He asked as he watched her move the wand in a circular motion.

"Much better if you were here," Y/N says through subtle moans.

Ino could see her hands shaking just a bit due to the intoxicating feeling that was placed on her clit. "Just imagine, I am there." He says.

Y/N has never heard Ino's voice leak with so much sex appeal. Perhaps it was the heat of the moment. She let her body relax in her queen-sized bed and her eyes shifted closer. Her grasp on the wand seem to grow tighter as Ino's voice echoed out of her laptop speakers. If she thought hard enough, she could imagine that it was Ino holding the vibrating toy against her clit.

"Just me in between your thighs eating you out just the way you like it," Ino said. "You always tend to run away from me when I'm down there, but I always pull you right back to my face. Or the fact that you always tug at my hair when you're about to cum, thinkin' I don't want you to cum all over fuckin' face."

"Fuck." Y/N breathed out while she could feel her orgasm coming bit by bit.

Ino would sneer at the sight he was seeing and instantly flipped his camera so that Y/N could see the lower half of his body. His hands now tugging down his boxers freeing himself from the growingly tight space. His cock slapped at his stomach and oozed with precum from the thought of his pretty girlfriend. He brought his hand that wasn't holding his phone up to his mouth. Pooling all the saliva he could and spitting it in his hand. His free hand palmed his cock starting from his pink mushroom-shaped tip to his girthy shaft.

Y/N's mind seemed to be doing mental backflips at the sight of Ino's cock. The woman has seen many men dicks in previous relationships, but nothing could beat Ino's. A very persistent grower when it was time to please her. He kept it trimmed and neat, but not exactly clean-shaven. Gosh, she couldn't forget it seemingly having a curve to the left.

"Fuck—Y/N. I missed you so much," Ino moaned out as he was letting his hand guide up and down his cock. He was trying so hard to attempt to mimic the exact type of grip Y/N would have if she was giving him a handjob.

Y/N gasped out Ino's name repeatedly as if it were a scripture. Her mind felt like a bottle of shaken-up soda. Her body was getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. The two of them have shared countless times like this before due to Ino's sorcerer's work, but tonight was a bit different. The pornographic sound of Ino beating his dick and the sound of Y/N's moans was enough for Ino to gain a noise complaint from whoever occupied the hotel room next to him, but he could care less. He needed to watch his girl cum.

"Fuck." Ino uttered as his hand guided up and down the shaft of his cock. "I'm going to cum, let's cum together baby girl."

Y/N couldn't even focus with the way her toes were curling in anticipation to cum another time. Her moans that called out Ino's name as the pastel pink wand was pressed against her clit, "Okay." She moaned out.

In a matter of seconds, Ino was a grunting mess as he could feel his body heat up. The sheer thought of imagining Y/N's hands around his cock caused the sorcerer to go feral. When he felt the thick ropes of cum splatter out, his head fell back in complete bliss. His breathy grunts bounced off the walls as he glanced down at the mess he made. His face drained of its color and the only noticeable color that stained his face was the shade of red from the desirable pleasure he formally was experiencing.

The couple came down from the small moment of being on cloud nine due to them cumming together and the only thing that was heard between the two were the breathless pants.

"When you come back, just come to my place." Y/N would say.

Ino would get out of bed, instantly going to the bathroom to shower (again). He could hear Y/N shuffling around her room, most likely doing the same thing he was about to do. "What about class?"

"I can always get a doctor's note and I would rather you be the one to make me cum and not a vibrator." these were the last words Ino heard from Y/N before he heard the sound indicating that the FaceTime call ended.

"Gosh, I fuckin' love her," Ino uttered to himself.

[benedictscanvas]

bluebells - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

a/n: i just keep thinking of teeny tiny remus concepts and i have to write them every time. thought it would be fun to do another in the recent universe (1, 2 & 3) from sirius' perspective. this is quite unedited, but i'll have a check on it tomorrow. enjoy sunflowers <3

---

“Do you have a secret admirer you haven’t told us about?” Sirius asks, as innocently as he can.

The question has Remus sitting up a little straighter on the stool in your kitchen, just as he intended. Remus may never have spoken to him about his feelings for you, by some miracle, but they were plain as day to anyone with a brain cell between their ears. Sirius was fairly sure you were equally enamoured - but you were harder to read than his precious Moony.

“What are you on about now?” you laughed, able to shrug off the question easily. Sirius sidled up to the tiny vase of flowers that sat on the granite countertop, filled with imperfect bluebells that didn’t look shop-bought.

“Only the very pretty bouquet in your kitchen that someone has clearly picked for you,” he practically purrs, “And don’t try to convince me you picked them yourself, doll, because I know for a fact you haven’t been walking in the woods.”

That only makes you laugh harder, and Sirius knows he’s got you. He’s hoping you’re about to praise whoever picked you those flowers and Remus will get sufficiently jealous to snog you senseless or something. Sirius hasn’t figured out his full match-making plan yet, admittedly.

“Obviously, I didn’t pick them,” you agree, glancing with obvious shyness towards Remus, who already has telltale pink cheeks, “Remus is the one doing all the woodland walking in this group. He is sometimes kind enough to fill my teeny tiny vase for me.”

And Sirius just gapes at you. Then at Remus. He can’t help it, because whatever he was trying to achieve, it is utter madness that Remus himself could be the one to pick you flowers and still neither of you could move past a more than friendly friendship. 

Remus is glaring at him now, because he’s clearly been gaping so long that he’s made the whole atmosphere awkward. You turn your attention back to making cups of tea, but Sirius sees the way you fluster. He’s made it weird. He was trying to make it a bit weird, yes, but not like this.

“Sorry, I had to take a second there,” he said, through a half chuckle, “Just struggling with the idea that Moony is bringing you flowers and he’s never once thought to bring some for me?”

Sirius is just charming enough to get away with it. Remus softens, his glare now holding far less scorn and you throw him a smile over your shoulder as you get the milk out of the fridge.

“He likes me better,” you argue playfully, sticking your tongue out at him. Just like that, all awkwardness is gone and replaced by the almost flirting thing the two of you do that drives Sirius mad - he wants to tell you both to give your heads a wobble.

“I can give you the leftovers if you like, Pads,” Remus chimes in, “But I’m afraid the finest flowers are already reserved.”

And Sirius watches Remus smile at you like you’re the sun and moon and all the stars combined, and it melts his heart a little. Who is he to rush you? You grin back at Remus like there’s a secret to be shared.

But of course, Sirius must keep up the facade and so he grunts in annoyance.

“I see how it is. Fifty years of friendship and look where it gets me,” he grumbles, “Pretty sure picking flowers is objectively wrong, too.”

“Drama queen,” you say through a cough, then adopt an instant wide-eyed innocent look when Sirius rounds his glare on you.

“Fifty years? We’re in our twenties Sirius.”

“Friendship like ours defies the laws of nature, honey,” Sirius smirks, and Remus’ nose wrinkles.

“And if you pick flowers in moderation, it can actually benefit their conservation,” you say, placing the three cups of tea on the table and waving Remus over from the island stool to sit with you and Sirius, “So drink your tea and stop whinging, Sirius.”

He gasps in mock offence and then pretends to burn his tongue on the tea, just to see you and Remus roll your eyes at him together. When Remus sits down, he thanks you for the tea under his breath and you smile your brightest at him, squeezing his elbow as you hurry away to get the biscuit tin.

Sirius takes another look at Remus’ lovestruck face even though all you did was touch his elbow. He’s not sure whether it’s cute or slightly sickening, but he glances at the pretty shitty bluebell bouquet on the table again and decides that if the two of you are happy as you are, he won’t try to interfere again.

(it lasts all of thirty seconds, because the two of you gang up on him about biscuit choice as soon as you sit down with the tin, and Sirius immediately decides it’ll be worth it to fluster the two of you, if only for his own amusement)

[tinydeskwriter]

Hi! Can you write something with Carlos? After yesterday's events... I need to read something to cope, idk☹️☹️

You're Carlos Fucking Sainz

A/n: this is just a little something, a domestic moment after the bombastic news, Y/n trying to be there for her man. I was so sad for Carlos, I think this is the cuntiest Ferrari move ever, it's sure to make things unconfortable this season. It's not something particulartly big or elaborate, because I wasn't sure what you wanted, but I hope you like.

“Amore,” the Spaniard is surprised to hear the soft voice calling him, blocking his cell phone screen and placing it on the coffee table, turning to his girlfriend standing in the doorway.

Y/n arrived in Madrid three hours after the news was posted and a fifteen-minute call with her boyfriend left her heartbroken. She was lucky to have an extensive network and such a competent PA who managed to get her on a flight back home in record time—even if that meant she had to travel coach from Milan.

“Carinõ, what are you doing here?" The man got up and approached his girlfriend, kissing her lightly before pulling away to look at her, “I thought you weren't coming back from Milan until tomorrow."

“Aren't you happy to see me?" She tilts her head slightly and wrinkles her nose in the way she knows Carlos finds her irresistibly adorable.

“I'm always happy to see you." The words are genuine, but the smile is forced.

“I told the girls that my extremely hot and talented boyfriend needed me more than they did." Y/n wraps her arms around the older man's muscular neck.

“Not so talented apparently…” The woman's smile disappears when she sees his crestfallen expression and deprecatory tone when talking about himself. “They warned me ten minutes before the announcement went up.”

Y/n took her boyfriend's face in her hand, forcing him to look at her. Determination evident in her eyes.

“Carlos, bebé, you are amazing, never think otherwise, you are no less than Charles," she says seriously, “it's their loss, go after what you want my love, any team would be lucky to have you, Ferrari you've only been building tractors for years, you did your best, Hamilton will have the most disappointing end to his career there, and half the experts doubt that Charles will win the title racing for Ferrari."

“I'm going to be without a team in 2025..." the Spaniard says, moving away from his girlfriend, towards the large couch they choose together months before—his house was a true bachelor pad before she moved in, and it took some effort and gentle persuasion for her to convince her very headstrong man to allow her to change around.

Sitting on the huge, velvety blue sofa, with his arms crossed and beaked, his head thrown on the back and his eyes closed, he would look downright pathetic if he weren't so handsome—and if she didn’t love him so much.

At least for today, she wants to make him feel better, tomorrow and beyond, they take it one day at a time. Y/n sighs. She hates when Carlos is hard on himself, especially over a situation he has little to no control.

She takes off her own dress, leaving it pooling down the living room floor, in only a white lace G-string she sits on the man's lap, uncrossing his arms and placing his big hands on her ass. She laughs when Carlos immediately opens his eyes, staring at the pair of breasts in front of him with desire—she knows it's a low blow, but she just wants to see him a little more himself, sex won’t solve anything, but it will definitely take him out of his shell.

“Bebé, you are Carlos fucking Sainz,” she tangles her fingers through his dark strands, “fuck Ferrari, fuck Fred, fuck Charles and fuck Hamilton, show them all who you are, be your cuntiest self, ignore their bullshit strategy and their fucking favouritism, race for you, follow your instincts and get out of that tractor factory with a bang.” She kisses him deeply, biting his lips.

[auteurdelabre]

Something to Fight For (series)(PART 5)

Word Count: 10.6

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

Warnings: THERE ARE SEXUAL THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER.   

A/N: This is part of a series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

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

You’ve been staring at your cellphone for the last hour.

It’s Thursday morning, a full two days since Joel thrust flowers at you and walked off. Two days since Maria put them in a vase and observed that perhaps she wouldn’t kick Joel’s ass. Two days since you’d been to the office or seen James with his obvious hostility towards Joel.

You go from staring at your phone to staring at the flowers. The colorful arrangement sits on your coffee table looking so cheerful. You catch yourself smiling at it more often than not. You touch one of the petals, feeling its velvet softness before you punch in the numbers and raise the phone to your ear. It buzzes and by the fourth ring your anxiety is off the charts and you go to end the call when you hear it connect.

“Hello?”

The sound of Joel’s husky voice makes you feel apprehensive.

You almost can't speak for a moment, feeling tongue tied. But then you clear your throat and force the words out.

"Hey it’s me. Just calling to see what time you wanted me over tomorrow night?"

You bite your lip harshly, your eyes shutting tightly as you wait for his response. There's a lengthy pause and you panic wondering if you'd misread signals. Weren't you going back to normal after the whole flower thing? Finally you hear Joel clear his throat. 

"I wasn't sure if you still wanted to."

"Of course I do," you assure. "As long as Sarah still thinks I'm the coolest adult in the world."

"I think she might think you're the coolest person of any age," Joel says and you think you hear admiration in his tone.

"What can I say, the kid has taste," you say affecting a supercilious voice. "Can't say she takes after her old man in that regard but..."

You hear Joel chuckle lightly and smile. Things are back to the way they have been. Good.  But there’s still one thing you need to acknowledge, no matter how awkward it is.

“I also wanted to call to say I appreciated the flowers,” you say after a beat. “And the apology.”

You can hear Joel holding his breath. 

"Never been that great with words,” he finally says in a voice pitched low. "Not always sure how to handle givin’ bad news. Apparently my delivery could use some work."

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be perfect like me,” you tell him breezily before remembering one additional detail. “Oh, and I’m calling you from my cell, so you can save the number on yours. That way you don’t have to go through the office.”

You hear a pause and some tapping.

“Got it.”

“You can text if it’s easier.”

“It’s not.”

You laugh at his solemn tone musing that you can’t really picture Joel Miller texting at all.

///

"Any chance you have a bunch of blueberries hanging around?"

A few hours later you're on Frank and Bill's front stoop wearing Maria's apron and a nervous smile. Maria is no better than you with baking so you're hoping your neighbors might be able to lend a hand with your current predicament. 

"Not sure." Frank looks you over, amusement in his eyes. "But come in and we'll look."

You pad in after him with your bowl like a lost puppy. You feel like one, you'd thought making cupcakes to decorate would be fun but your first test batch tasted like hot garbage. Maria had choked one down before telling you to just get some at the grocery store. 

"I promised Sarah I'd bring cupcakes for us to decorate on tomorrow," you explain as Frank and you walk into the kitchen. 

Bill is sitting at the table with the newspaper sat in front of him. He's sipping coffee from an ornate looking teacup as he slants a frown at you as you continue explaining to Frank.

"She really wants blueberry ones and no one carries any."

"They're out of season," Bill mumbles. You turn to face him, looking disappointed. 

"Hey Bill. Really? Fuck."  

The empty bowl hangs loosely from your disappointed grasp. You don’t notice when Frank shoots a meaningful look at Bill over your head that the other man groans at. Bill pushes himself to a stand, as if being helpful causes him extreme physical exertion.

"We have some frozen."

Your smile is back on your face immediately. "Is there any way I could borrow a cup? Please?"

Bill is in a surprisingly good mood (a good mood for Bill is a tepid one for most others) because he agrees. He goes to the deep freeze in the garage and returns with your bowl overflowing with plump little frozen berries. 

"Anything else you need?" Frank asks kindly as you profusely thank them both. 

"No, I think I have everything else.” You lift your eyes skyward as you rattle off the ingredients you bought. "Flour, butter, salt, eggs, baking soda, vanilla."

"Baking powder," Bill interrupts. 

"Huh?"

"Baking powder, not baking soda," Bill corrects.  

"Baking soda, baking powder, it's the same thing right? Besides the baking soda was cheaper," you say distracted. "Anyway, thank you so much for the blueberries. Fingers crossed this batch works out!" 

Frank and Bill exchange a concerned look and then Bill is taking the bowl back from you and telling you to follow him back into the kitchen before you waste his berries. 

It turns out baking soda and baking powder are not interchangeable. You learn this working alongside Bill who is watching you measure his ingredients into a large bowl. You think this may have contributed to your first crap batch.

Frank excuses himself to work on his paintings with a wry smile on his face as he watches the two of you get to work.  

It's funny because while Bill is gruff at the best of times, right now he's instructive and patient. He does snap a bit when you drop eggshell into the batter, but his gloom passes quickly. 

"You're going to a lot of trouble for this kid," he says as you begin to stir in the berries. "Are you sweet on her dad or something? Trying to get the kid to like you so you'll get in his good books?"

"No," you laugh, your cheeks pinking under Bills quirked brow. "I just genuinely just like her. I'm actually babysitting her tomorrow so the dad can go on a date."

Bill gives a hummed response before reminding you to stir faster and with the bowl on an angle to get rid of clumps. You do as he says, observing when things start to smooth in the bowl. Its almost fun doing this, seeing the progress you make with Bill’s instruction.

Later you enjoy pouring the batter into the paper cups in the pan, noting that they already look so much better than your attempt did at this stage. 

"Frank told me about the trivia nonsense."

Bill murmurs this out of nowhere as you put the pan of cupcakes into the oven and set the timer.  You feel awkward, unsure of how Bill feels about everything you did.  He’s more private than Frank and less inviting to others’ opinions. You chance a look at him to see his face typically unreadable. 

"It was nice of you to think of us, like that." His hands are in his jeans pockets and he's looking at the oven, not at you, but you can feel how genuine that statement from Bill is. 

You don't want to press it, don't want to throw your arms around him like you would with Frank. Instead you cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the counter next to Bill. 

"I can't imagine having the world hate me for loving someone," you mutter shaking your head. "Fucking insane.”

You keep your eyes on the oven because you're worried if you look at Bill you might cry. 

You feel as Bill's meaty hand comes out of nowhere to squeeze your shoulder gently, lifting just as quick. Then he's gone from you, remarking that he has extra cookies in the basement, his special stash, and that Sarah will probably like them as a topping for her cupcakes. 

Frank enters just in time to see this exchange but says nothing as his husband passes him in the hall. Frank's eyes are wet when you look at him. 

"Fuck, I wish I'd met him sooner."

"Eight years is a long time to be together," you start but Frank is shaking his head. 

"Could've been fifteen if we both had just admitted how we felt about each other, instead of fighting it," Frank shakes his head slowly, going to refill his coffee cup. "Just think, eight years wasted because we were so scared of what everyone else would think."

You stare at Frank for a moment, watching as he pours cream into his coffee, stirring thoughtfully. 

"Wish we'd had kids together."

"You still can. You're not that old, Frank."

"Even if we were twenty five and rich you think they're gonna give a baby to two queers? Here?" Frank shakes his head dejected. "Not a chance."

You say nothing because you know that what Frank is saying is true. Your heart aches for him because you know that he and Frank together would be wonderful parents. 

Frank is looking at the basement door with soft focus.  

"I just think he would have made the best dad, you know?" 

Strangely enough you do know, because under the gruff exterior of Bill is a heart with so much love for those he chooses to share it with.  

"He can be my dad if he wants," you joke lightly. You're surprised when a knot forms in your throat, cutting the laugh off abruptly. 

Frank laughs sweetly at this offer before going back to his office and his sketches.

You stand looking after him for a long while, thinking how insidious a thing like wasted time can be. 

////

You smile at the jack o' lanterns that greet you as you walk up Joel's drive. One of them is large and cut to have a lopsided grin. The other looks like an attempt at a cat with mismatched whiskers. 

You're surprised to see Sarah on the other side of the door, on her tiptoes to open it when you knock. She jerks her neck back so she can stare up at you.

"Daddy said I could answer the door," she tells you proudly. 

"You did a great job," you say as you pick her up, her tiny frame so light in your arms, before closing the door. "Did you carve those pumpkins out front?"

"Daddy helped."

"But you were the brains behind the operation."

Sarah doesn't seem to know what that means so she gives a tentative nod. You internally remind yourself that she's only five and maybe you need to talk to her like it. 

You bring her into the kitchen, dropping her at her chair before pulling the bag from your shoulder. 

"Guess what I brought?"

Sarah's eyes are wide as you reach into your bag and pull out the plastic container full of cupcakes iced and ready to be decorated. In a bag you have jimmies, chocolate chips, Bill's mint cookies and a whole host of other toppings that would keep the sugar monsters in business if they were real. 

"But not until after dinner," you inform her before she can lunge for the bag. She sighs as if this is inhumane torture but agrees, asking you to color with her until the lasagna in the stove finishes cooking. 

You hear creaking overhead, the sound of a tap being turned on and off. You feel strange about seeing Joel after the whole flower thing. Maybe even a bit nervous. With Joel it’s so hard to know where you stand – are you friends? Employer and employee? Acquaintances? Someone he puts up with because of his daughter?

You just don’t know.

"Daddy you look pretty," Sarah tells Joel when he bounds down the stairs minutes later. You glance up from the coloring page she's been drawing on and swallow.

You have to agree with Sarah's assessment. You can now admit to yourself that Joel's an attractive guy. Tonight is no exception. His dark jeans are just the right amount of tight, the flannel is a navy that makes his skin glow and it's unbuttoned enough to showcase his lean neck. 

"Thanks, babygirl," Joel says with an embarrassed flush from the attention. He notices the container in your hand and flashes his brows.

"What's that?"

"Cupcakes for decorating," you say proudly opening the container to show off your baking prowess. "And I know they taste good because my neighbor helped me make 'em."

"You made them?"

"Yeah. Want one before you go?"

"Don't want to spoil my appetite," he replies before pausing and smirking. "But maybe you could save me one?"

"Not sure," you tease. “I guess if Sarah says so. These are hers after all."

Sarah agrees, but only with the promise from Joel that she can decorate it however she wants. The two of you go back to coloring, Sarah talking about something she saw at her school. As you do this you watch covertly as Joel begins to walk around the kitchen, his eyes drifting over all the surfaces. 

He paces like this for several minutes growing increasingly red in the cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck in irritation. 

"Joel?" You ask with a small tug of your lips when he shoots you a questioning look. 

"You been looking for your keys for the last ten minutes?"

"Yeah."

"You're holding them."

Joel looks down at his left hand to see your right and swears lightly under his breath.

Thankfully Sarah doesn't hear him. 

///

"Can you come over tomorrow?" Sarah asks between bites of her decorated dessert a short while later. "We can have more cupcakes."

"Sorry bug, I got plans." You lick the icing from your fingertips. 

"A date?"

You pause. She knows about dating? You consider lying to her but then decide that seems weird. 

"Uh, yeah." 

"You have a boyfriend?" Sarah looks up at you with interest. Or is it surprise? You try not to feel offended if it's the latter. 

"Uh, not really,"' you stutter awkwardly. "Not yet. Nah, uh, I dunno."

You feel flushed. James as your boyfriend? Why hadn't the thought crossed your mind? You're sleeping with him, it seems a natural next step. So why is it such a foreign concept to you? With Paul it had been an immediate concept; you had wanted to be his girlfriend for so long. But with James? It just doesn’t flow like you thought it would.

Sarah is looking up at you quizzically so you decide to change the subject. You go to grab a cloth from beside the sink. 

"What are you dressing up as for Halloween?"

Sarah pauses. "I think a puppy.”

The two of you chat more about trick or treating next week and how her friends are having a party. This gets her on the subject of parties and she starts getting excited, her tiny feet kicking out under her chair.

"My birthday is soon. I want a my little pony."

"When is it?"

"March."

You laugh out loud at this. "March is months away."

Sarah doesn't seem to mind this one small oversight and launches into how she wants to ride a horse for her birthday. You start clearing the table, half listening half thinking about how dark it is outside. 

"Are you gonna have a party?"

"Yep. With purple cupcakes."

You laugh at this, continuing to wipe up the mess you've both made. Sarah rambles on about birthdays as you continue to half listen. You've had trouble focusing tonight, finding yourself glancing at the wall clock more than you care to admit. 

It's Joel.

Well, no, more specifically it's Joel's date. You didn't really get to know much of her at the Bison, but there's something about Joel dating her that makes you feel iffy. 

You go over to the cupboard, putting away the clean dishes and realize it’s because if things go well with Joel and his date tonight, she could be a big part of his life. Your potential friendship with Joel will be over before it even starts. No girlfriend is gonna want some random woman hanging out with her boyfriend. 

And even worse, this burgeoning mentor ship of sorts that you have with Sarah will be over. Joel will have a girlfriend and they'll probably wanna do stuff together just the three of them. 

"I don't have a mommy," Sarah tells you out of nowhere and breaking into your distressing thoughts.

“What?”

You spin around to face her. She's sitting there at the table still eating her cupcake if she hasn't just said something monumental. 

"That's not true, Sarah. Everyone has a mommy."

"Not me," Sarah tells you with a voice that verges on pride as she looks up from her cupcake. "I was hatched from an egg like in Horton."

"Hmmm, last time I checked human babies don't come from eggs," you tell her diplomatically.  

"Then where's my Mommy?" Sarah asks you in confusion. 

You pause to gauge if you should continue this topic of conversation. You think it's not your place but Sarah's eyes are so trusting of you and you feel compelled. 

You inhale slowly before coming to sit across from her at the table. Despite the heavy conversation her eyes are on her dessert that she continues to decorate and nibble at. But when you speak her large eyes dart to your face.

"Honestly Sarah, I don't know where your Mom is. I wish I had a better answer than that, but I don't. But I know you had a Mommy. You grew in her tummy like all babies do."

Sarah’s brows raise. "What did she look like?"

"I don't know, I never met her." 

Sarah is unimpressed with this. "If I have a Mommy why doesn't she live with me?"

You feel like your fucking this whole conversation up and it's really not your place to begin with.

"Sometimes Mommies and Daddies don't live with their kids."

You don't know what Joel has told Sarah but it's not much. 

"Maybe she didn't like me," Sarah says in a heartbreaking observation.

"Impossible," you intercede, launching your torso across the table and cupping both her chubby cheeks in your hands. "You are the coolest kid I've ever met, Sarah. Funny and smart."

Sarah has slumped into herself, her hazel eyes growing glassy with frustration as she pulls back from your hands. You sit back in your chair dejected. Fuck, you never should have said anything. You should have handed it off to Joel when he got back.

But he wouldn’t have done anything about it. He hasn’t for the first five years of Sarah’s life, why would he start now? Your decision is made and you take another steadying breath, internally praying that you’re doing the right thing.

"Sarah. I'm gonna tell you something that not a lot of people know about me," you start, seeing as her attention is back on your face. You add some decorations to her cupcake, trying to keep the mood casual.

"For a long time I didn't see my Daddy," you explain, placing the chocolates artfully along the icing. "He was sick a lot. Really sick. And he didn't live with us. All my friends talked about their Daddy's and I felt really left out because my Daddy wasn't around."

Sarah is staring up at you as if you've sprouted a second head. You suppose for a child it is hard for them to imagine adults as kids. 

"Did your Daddy get better?" Sarah asks handing you the package of jimmies to open. "Did he come back?"

"For a bit."

"Will my mommy come back?"

"I don't know," you say wishing you had better answers.

Sarah looks deflated, her tiny fingers absently tapping the counter. You want to pull her into a hug but her body language is closed off and you need to respect that. Words are all you have to comfort her right now. 

"I know it sounds weird, but you're really lucky, Sarah. Because your Daddy loves you more than a Mommy and a Daddy put together."

Sarah's eyes are large and luminous at this thought. 

"Some parents are really special like that," you explain with a warm smile. "They have so much love inside of them, more love than if they were two whole people. And their kids are the luckiest in the whole world."

You can see Sarah trying to absorb this. She licks the corner of her icing laden mouth, her eyes troubled. 

"Did your Mommy and Daddy love you like that?"

You hesitate before diverting her attention to a fresh cupcake that's just begging to be decorated.

///

It's not even eight when you hear Joel's key hit the front door. You hope Sarah is asleep otherwise the sound of her father's arrival will have her sneaking downstairs to see him. 

"You're back so early," You say trying to sound casual as he comes into the kitchen where you're finishing cleaning up the mess you and Sarah left on the table.

"Yep."

"Date was just that good, huh?"

Joel is looking everywhere but your face. "Nice enough girl, but not for me."

You watch him shrug off his jacket, forcing yourself not to notice the way his shirt underneath strains over his shoulders. 

"What went so wrong so fast?" 

"Things got weird once she found out I had a kid," Joel says with grimace. "But even before that, conversation was like pullin' teeth."

"I'm sorry," you say with a frown. But something secret in you tilts pleasurably at the knowledge. 

"Don't be," Joel says with a push from the counter. "Reminds me why I stayed single so long. It's a helluva lot cheaper."

"Too true," you giggle. "After Paul I swore off relationships. Too much money, too much work. Too much disappointment."

"Well, you got that James now," Joel says airily. "Hopefully he's not a disappointment."

He lets this hang between you and you find yourself blushing. For some reason you really don't like talking about James with Joel. You see as Joel reaches for his wallet and you feel your face flame at the thought of taking money from him.

“Joel, please. I was here for like, not even two hours.  Don’t worry about the paying.”

“I do though,” Joel says with a creased brow. “We talked about this. You paid for all that dessert stuff outta your own pocket.”

“I know,” you nod shallowly. “It just feels weird. I… Let’s just skip it for tonight?”

Joel’s eyes dance along your face before he sighs and replaces his wallet back into his back pocket. 

"I better get going," you tell him as the moment becomes awkward. 

"I'm callin' you a cab," Joel insists. "It's dark and you takin' the bus can’t happen.”

"No, I - "

"C'mon. Lemme have a win tonight."

"Fine," you agree with a roll of your eyes. You watch him punch in the numbers before going back to the last of the dishes. 

You feel Joel come up behind you, tensing when his hand skates along your waist, nudging you gently to the side as he reaches beside you to grab one of the mugs you've washed. It's his favorite one, green and oversized. In his hand though, it looks normal. 

"How can you drink coffee this late?" You muse watching him turn on the machine. "You'll be up for hours."

"It's relaxing," Joel insists, watching the machine. "And delicious. Cab’ll be here soon."

You finish the dishes before wiping your hands as Joel pours himself his black coffee.

You were right, he is a coffee purist. 

He takes it to the kitchen table, indicating with his head that you should join him. You plate the cupcake Sarah made for him, sliding the plate to him before sitting.

"Thanks. You know, I really appreciate you sittin' Sarah," Joel says around his mug. "I know it was last minute."

You shrug, letting him know without words that you didn’t mind at all. Joel is smiling softly at you over his coffee and a part of you wants to extend the serenity of the moment. But then Sarah's pinched little face from this evening swims into your head. 

"Hey, this is none of my business but Sarah's got a lot of questions about her Mom," you say trying to sound detached.

"What?"

You can see Joel's shoulders tensing, his dark eyes narrowing on your face and you feel a moment of apprehension. You start to ramble as you always do when you start panicking.

"I tried my best to uh, well to talk. Like, talk to her about it but you might wanna, ya know, talk to her about it yourself."

Why were ya talkin' to her about it for?!

You can practically hear Joel's voice spitting this at you, the southern drawl more prominent when he's agitated. You're surprised when instead of ordering you out of his house with a roar he just nods sharply and then sighs. 

"What exactly did you tell her?"

You swallow nervously. "I told her she wasn't hatched from an egg like Horton, whatever that means."

"Horton Hatches the Egg," Joel muses. "Doctor Seuss. We just read it last night."

"Okay, that makes more sense," you ghost a smile at the realization. "Uh, then I just told her sometimes kids don't have Mommy’s or Daddy’s that live with them but that she was lucky she had, uh, a dad like you that loves her so much."

You don't go into detail there, not finding it necessary to bare your own history with him. 

You're still nervous waiting for the other shoe to drop when you confess this. But Joel doesn't look angry, he just looks impossibly tired. His lack of aggression makes you feel that you can ask your next question and you do softly, studying his down turned face.  

"Can you tell me about Sarah's mom? Is that okay?" 

You see the fingers of Joel's left hand tighten around the mug. 

"We met about seven years ago. Uh, at a friend's party." Joel clears his throat, his eyes on his coffee. "Tommy was there actually with his girlfriend at the time. Anyway, I met Michelle, that's her name, uh, ya know and we made Sarah a couple months later."

You're nodding, trying not to press him into sharing more than he feels comfortable with. 

"She wasn't planned," Joel says and you can tell her hates to say it, that it feels almost like a betrayal because she's the greatest thing that's ever happened to him. "Michelle didn't want to be a mom. When she found out she was pregnant with Sarah she almost didn't keep her."

Your eyes blow wide at this, at the thought that Sarah may not have been alive in another universe.  Joel takes the fork from the plate and gently stabs at his cupcake, making no attempt to eat it.

"I told her it was her decision, even though it killed me. I even drove her to the clinic. I was so happy when she said she'd changed her mind. That she wanted to be a mom," Joel pauses to take a sip of his coffee. "I think she really thought she did at first. Tried her best. She seemed happy when I proposed and we got married just before Sarah got here. I bought us our house. Everything looked good on paper, ya know?"

You nod. 

"Some people just aren't meant to be parents, I think," you say, blinking back tears that have little to do with Sarah.  

Joel agrees with a sad nod. "When she asked for the divorce I wasn't even surprised. She didn't want anything, just a quickie divorce so she could move away. I think we were both just so tired of fighting for something that never existed."

"How old was Sarah?"

"Eight months."

The thought of a helpless invent Sarah floods your brain and a stab of anger for Michelle hits you hard. It makes your stomach clench angrily.

"Do you ever hate her?"

"I don't," Joel says honestly without pause. "I can't. She made me a dad, she gave me Sarah. I just never wanted Sarah growing up feeling like she wasn't wanted. Photos and talks about her Mom seem like a bad idea. "

"What about when she asks?"

"I tell her the truth. That she doesn't have a Mom because she doesn't. Michelle made that very clear, she wants no part of Sarah's life. No pictures, no phone calls, no nothin’.”

You think of tiny Sarah, perfect, sweet Sarah and how she'll always be missing that connection. It infuriates and devastates you in the same breath. 

"Thought it mighta been, uh, that post pardon thing," Joel adds and you don't correct him. "But uh, she went to doctors and shrinks and turns out she wasn't sick in the head, just sick of us."

Despite the neutrality of his tone, that comment feels like a knife to the gut just hearing it. And it’s not even directed at you. More than ever do you understand Joel's inability to bring even a shadow of Michelle's presence into the home. 

But you think of Sarah who feels she's been abandoned. Sarah who thinks her mother found her unworthy.

"Can I offer some unsolicited advice? From one childless woman to a father of five years?" You joke, emboldened when Joel gives you a nod. "Talk about Michelle with her. Hang up a photo or something around here. Because right now I think Sarah feels like she's living with you and a ghost."

"I'll think about it," Joel replies after a beat. He goes to say more but you hear the beep of the taxis horn outside his door.

"My ride’s here," you say standing. Joel follows suit, walking with you to the front door.

You turn to thank him for talking about Michelle with you, but the sight of him so near causes the words to get stuck on your tongue.  In a rush of affection for what he's shared with you tonight you tilt forward to hug him, just a small squeeze to show him that you appreciated his candor. 

However, halfway through the action you become aware of the potential intimacy of such an embrace and you panic. The momentum of your body is still going but you pull your arms back to still the movement.

This results in you smashing your head directly into Joel's sternum before belatedly pulling yourself back with a grimace. 

Joel is searching your face with a crease between his brows, undoubtedly trying to decipher why fuck you just head-butted him out of nowhere. 

You don't give him a chance to ask. You mutter your soft apology before rushing out the door and into the waiting cab. 

////

Working with James is good. He's smart, dedicated to the work, competent and good at what he does. 

Sex with James is decent. He's enthusiastic, competent and tries his best. Sort of.

Dating James. . . Is a holy fucking terror.

It’s Saturday night and you don't know what happened between the start of dinner to now but James has been talking non-stop, gesticulating wildly with his hands while he does. He mentions how much he loves spending time with you and how long he wanted to ask you out for. You blush at this, not only for the flattery but for how loud he’s talking.

He’s spilled his wine glass twice at dinner and now as he sweeps you into the movie theatre to see ‘Brains of the Undead’  he’s laughing at something you’ve said that you’re fairly certain wasn’t all that funny. He pays for your tickets, thrusting the stubs into his pocket.

You glance over at him, noting for the first time tonight that he seems off. Too animated, too agitated. It makes you feel uneasy. So you try to divert your attention to the concession stand where you join the long line has formed.

Popcorn is obviously a must, but then there’s the decision of whether or not to get a movie theatre pickle. You read the sign and mention that they can drain the juice from these pickles for you if you ask.

“What about draining my pickle?” he laughs into your ear, loud enough for the elderly women in front of you to turn around.

“James,” you warn, your face warm. Hot. He just laughs back at you, grabbing your ass before tucking you against him. You push back slightly, not enjoying the suffocation that comes with the action.

Why the fuck did I think I could sleep with James and not have it bite me in the ass? How can I dump this guy? I see him every fucking day at work.

“Gotta hit the washroom,” James sniffs before giving your cheek a peck and stalking off. You watch this before turning your attention back to the snacks in front of you. You debate the merit of Peanut M&M's versus Red Vines for a while, moving up the sluggish line before James reappears, his smile wide.

"Decide on what you want?"

You glance up at him, about to ask his opinion on licorice when something gives you pause. It's not the twitch of his nose, although that definitely doesn't help. Its that this close you can see that James' pale eyes are almost obscured by the dilated black of his pupil. He seems to notice your scrutiny because he wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, solidifying your suspicions.

"Are you high right now?" you ask, nerves creeping all along your skin as realization comes over you.

"A little bump," James shrugs as if doing cocaine in the bathroom of a movie theatre is typical. 

Immediately you feel your body shut down. 

"Right. We're done," you insist without pausing. "I'll call a cab and see you at work next week."

"Excuse me?" James smiling face cracks.

"This isn't going to work," you tell him. "Happy to work with you, but this whole thing with us is over.  I'll see you later."

James is rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "I don't get it. Can't we just -"

You hear your name being screamed out from behind you and you whirl around to see Sarah running at you full speed. Joel is jogging up behind her, his arm outstretched.

"Sarah! No!"

She slams into your hip, holding you around the stomach and squeezing. You drop to one knee as Joel approaches mouthing "sorry" at you. You wave him off as if it’s not a problem before turning your attention back on Sarah who is playing with the ends of your hair.

"What are you doing here, bug?"

"I just saw Bears Big Adventure" Sarah explains to you excitedly. "I had my own popcorn."

Your eyes dart to Joel standing next to her. He's looking between you and Sarah, his gaze unreadable before moving over your head to glare at James. You can feel James standing behind you, undoubtedly staring down at the back of your head.

"Lucky girl!" you grin, your hands at her waist. "Have you been to the movie theatre before?"

"Nope!" Sarah shouts this giggling madly. Her little sneakers bump against the red carpet as she jumps. "I got red vines too."

"That would explain all the jumping," you laugh. 

"Movie's starting soon," James murmurs from behind you, brushing the back of your head with his fingertips as if you're still on good terms.

"We're not going to the movie, remember?" you say glaring up at him. "So I'm in no rush."

"Is he your boyfriend?" Sarah whispers pointing up at James who is now staring at Joel with an irritated look.

You can't help but burst out in a wheezy laugh. Imagining “James the coke head Co-worker” as your boyfriend just seems amusing in the most terrible way. 

"Why’s that funny?" James asks from above you. Clearly he's heard everything and is not amused.  You stand and twirl to face him, making sure to block Sarah from his view. There’s something in James that makes you wary.

"James, please.”

Joel has gathered Sarah into his arms and you feel his hand on your elbow, startling you. You glance over to see his dark eyes fixed on your face.

“You okay?” his voice is so low it rumbles. You almost think that you can feel its vibrations moving through your own body.

“Yeah,” you assure him and he drops his hand from the crook of your arm.

"Good enough to fuck but not date, is that it?" James is puffing his chest out, his eyes narrowed in anger. He motions to Joel. "You fucking this guy too?"

How didn't you see the signs? They were all there. The volatility, the paranoia, the agitation. You think back to the panic he felt when he saw his desk had been drenched. It wasn’t blueprints he was looking for that morning. It was probably his stash he kept at work.  

"Cool it," you warn. "There's a kid--"

Joel has taken Sarah and moved her over to the arcade. She's still looking over at you but Joel is shoving quarters into a bright game with loud graphics to distract her. 

"What, so you're bad in bed and boring?" James lashes out.  You know that it's rejection that brings this ugly out in him but your cheeks still flame. Some of the theatres are emptying into the lobby, filling it up.  

"Wow James, that cut me real deep," you reply in the flattest of tones. "Well done. You can go now. Maybe your dealer wants to catch a flick."

You're pulling out your cell to call a cab but James is slapping it out of your hands until it falls on the threadbare red carpet. 

"You've never done drugs, is that it?" James scoffs as you pick it up and put it in your purse. "Little Miss Perfect?"

You sigh with a disgusted look in his direction. "James you need to go home. Leave me be. I'll see you at work."

You go to step towards the lobby entrance and leave, but James is following you, his voice loud. 

"It's just coke! Coke doesn't hurt anyone! Just because you don't know how to have fu-"

The sentence isn't even out of his mouth and you've backhanded him. You don't mean to. Your body just spins, your arm outstretched and the feeling of his skin hitting your knuckles overcomes you. The sound snaps through the half full lobby and you immediately rear back, terrified at what you've done as people gasp and start to whisper. 

"Oh fuck, I'm s-sorry."

James holds his jaw in shock, his nose starting to bleed. But if that's from you or the drugs you're not sure. Then you see the split lip and realize that one's gotta be from you. A zing of panic hits your core as James’ lip curls into an angry sneer.

"Fucking bitch."

He stalks away from you without another word. You watch him leave, your legs shaky. Some patrons are watching you and whispering to one another. Others have gone back to walking to theatres with popcorn and drinks in hand. You back up, thinking of another way to exit the theatre. 

"You sure you’re okay?"

Joel is there behind you looking concerned. A large part of you wants to laugh at how horrible this moment is and that he’s there to witness it. But the larger part of you feels that sinking feeling in your gut that tells you to run.

"I'm s-so sorry Sarah saw that. That was so not okay. I'm so -" 

Humiliation takes you over and you shoulder past Joel, aiming to find an alternate exit out of the lobby. You don't get far because Joel has gripping you by the elbow again, urging you to stop. 

"Hey hey, slow down," he insists. "Take a minute to calm down."

"I don't want Sarah to see me like this," you explain swallowing embarrassed tears. "Just gotta call a cab and -"

"She's playing Mario, she doesn't even know we're here," Joel says motioning to her with his chin. 

You look over to see Sarah's attention is indeed focused on a child's game featuring everyone's favorite Italian plumber in the arcade. You give a little sniff, blinking. 

"Did she see?"

"No," Joel shakes his head. "But I did. Nice hit."

You shake your head, disgusted with your actions. "Nothing nice about it."

"From where I was standing a grown man was harassing a woman who was trying to get away from him."

"Yeah well my reaction was out of anger, not fear," you reply. "So it doesn't exactly feel defensive."

Joel's face is rarely expressive, but his eyes are. And right now they're open and reading you. The scrutiny makes you curl into yourself. 

"How're you getting home?" he asks suddenly. 

Your conversation is interrupted by a small Mediterranean man in a white button down and burgundy tie. He's wearing a small gold name tag that says theatre manager and giving you a heavy look. 

"Ma'am I'm gonna need you to leave," he says to you in a voice full of reprimand. "We don't allow violence of any kind in here." 

Your face blooms a bright humiliated red.

"Of course, I'm so sorry," you say flustered. "I'll totally leave right now. I'm so sorry."

You keep repeating this as you make your way to the front doors, too embarrassed to even say goodbye to Joel and Sarah. The manager walks with you the entire way, explaining that you cannot return for a full month. That’s fine by you, after the humiliating moment back there you never want to return again.

You step into the night air, pulling out your phone to call the cab when you see James in the parking lot sitting in his car. He's waiting for you. 

Fuck.

You know that he won’t touch you, won’t chance you screaming or decking him again. But he will try to intimidate you. His mouth is still smeared with red and you feel your skin prickle at the sight.

Just, focus. What’s the cab company again? Or maybe I can just call Maria, but oh fuck is she-

You're taken aback when a large warm hand slides over yours. Joel is there at your side, looking at James in the car and then back at you. Sarah is being held in his free arm, looking at her father tensely. She can tell something is wrong; she's just not quite sure what it is. 

"I'm drivin' you," Joel tells you and there is no room for argument.

Gratitude swells your heart and you nod, tightening your hand around Joel's as he leads you to his truck. James watches you leaving and you hear the squeal of his tires as he speeds off. 

Joel is buckling Sarah into the back car seat and she fights him only a few seconds. The sugar is running through her system and you can see she's getting sleepy. Then Joel comes around to your side, jiggling with the handle.

“Sticks sometimes,” he says before he gives you a head tilt indicating you should get in the front seat. 

Minutes later the truck is rumbling down the street and you're buckled in against the trucks bench seat. Sarah is talking to her toad in soft hushed tones behind you. Joel has put on the radio and some shitty pop is playing through the grainy speakers.

"Had a feeling that guy was trouble," Joel observes after you’ve been driving a short while.

 You keep your eyes on the passing darkened landscape out your window. "You might be the only one. Everyone else thought he was great."

"I know his type," Joel murmurs, his face intermittently illuminated by the headlights of passing cars. "Used to bail Tommy out of jail more than once."

You glance over at him, shocked. "Really?"

Joel nods. "Always for getting into scraps. Mouthing off to the wrong guy.  Hasn't been that way in a few years but yeah, used to be a much bigger pain in my ass."

You can't imagine the sweet Tommy you know now doing stuff like that. Your head falls back against the seat of the car and you sigh as you replay tonight’s events.

"Still can't believe I hit him," you say miserably. "So stupid."

You're leaned against the truck of the door, so that's why you assume when Joel reaches over, his palm lands on your knee because it's the closest part of your body to him 

"You're being really hard on yourself," Joel observes, his thumb stroking the side of your kneecap soothingly. 

You immediately bristle at the unexpected contact. His hand is wide and so warm and you stare at it, not quite sure what to make of it. He sees your eyes fixed on his hand and he brings it back to the wheel at if he's been burnt. 

"I just worry it was an overreaction," you explain in a rush. "What if he calls the cops?”

“He won’t,” Joel assures. “He’d have to tell them why the fight started and last time I checked cocaine possession isn’t exactly legal.”

You feel your body relax a bit at that. That’s right; James wouldn’t go to the cops. But he now had the very obvious option of making your work life a living hell. This thought carries you until Joel has parked in front of Maria’s place, turning off the engine.

You glance behind you to see Sarah completely passed out in her car seat, her little head tilted to the side. Toad is on the seat next to her, just out of grip. You smile at her before glancing over at her dad.

Joel is staring at you, barely illuminated in the darkness. But you can feel the warmth from his gaze. For a moment you muse that for a man who keeps so much of himself hidden, sometimes his eyes give everything away.

For example right now they drop down to your mouth, staring for a beat too long. Your stomach jumps as Joel unbuckles his belt and slides across the bench seat towards you.

Holy fuck.

Joel is gonna kiss you.

His mouth nearing yours. You stay still, your eyes widening as he inches closer until …

…His hand hits the door handle, Twisting and pushing. It opens with a groan and you blink rapidly at Joel. 

"Gets stuck on that side," he reminds you, his warm breath falling over your cheeks. His face is so close you could count every individual eyelash if you wanted to, but then he recedes just as fast. 

"Thanks," you manage in breathy whisper. "I'll uh, I'll see you." 

You fumble with your car seat as Joel’s lips quirk into a smirk. With a frustrated growl you yank it from you before rushing from the truck, your heart pounding all the way back to your suite. 

You pace around the small space going over all that just happened in the last hour, your head swimming. How are you going to face James at work? How are you going to handle babysitting for Joel, now that he just witnessed such an embarrassing display? Your eyes are on the flowers Joel gave you and you find your stomach squirming strangely.

You walk towards your bed, not wanting to think about that. Wanting to delay the inevitable tick and whirl of your brain. You fall backwards into your bed, your eyes closing the minute your head hits your pillow. 

You don’t know how long you’re asleep for when there is a knock at the door. It’s soft yet insistent.  You know it wouldn’t be James – he’s not that stupid. Despite what you assume but be a late hour you pull yourself from bed, shuffling over to the door and pulling it open slowly.

When the door creaks open to show Joel standing on the other side you're not even surprised.

“Joel. Hi.”

His eyes move up the length of your body slowly drinking you in.

He's dressed as he was earlier, only now his hair looks freshly washed. He's half leaning against the door with his arms crossed and he gazes at you with a heated look that says everything you're both unable to admit in words.  

You don't even ask him inside. You launch yourself at his mouth and he brings you into his broad arms as if he's been waiting for you to surrender.

You kiss him deeply, your elbows curling around his neck. You thighs go to wrap around his waist, your ass cupped by his wide hands. He groans as he grips you to him before he walks you into your suite, kicking the door closed behind him. 

He has you on the bed, your knees squeezing into his hips as he grinds against you. He's kissing you with the fever of a man consumed, his hands fumbling with the button and zipper of your jeans before pulling them down and off. Your panties are thrust to the side and his fingers splay over your sex without hesitation. 

"Need to fuck you," he groans in your ear, rubbing and curling his fingers within you. "But you gotta come on my fingers first.”

"Yes," you gasp, arching into him at the pleasurable pressure. Your own hand slides under his the bands of his jeans and boxers to find him already warm and hard. You grip him there tugging gently. 

Joel hisses against your mouth before he begins bucking into your hand. His fists are twisted in the sheets next to your head, his hips rolling as your hand strokes him, your thighs clenching in response to his delightful fingers. 

"Fuck that's good," he rasps against your jaw. "Shouldn't feel this good."

"Yes it should," you tell him as his mouth begins to move downwards, slipping over your clothed breasts. He's moving his hips faster now, his groans coming out in sharp little huffs.

"Gonna make me come."

"I want you to," you moan, tilting your mouth to meet his once more. "Please. Please!"

"Please what?"

You jerk awake with a muffled snort, the corner of your mouth damp. Maria is sitting across from you at her table, both of you dressed in pyjamas. 

"Huh?"

The sound of morning birds outside the bright window jerk you out of your daze and you take a moment to register that you’re in Maria’s kitchen. A plate of flapjacks is in front of you, along with a half-drunk coffee. You came up here a while ago to tell her about your horrible date.

"We were in the middle of talking about what happened with James last night. I went to pour myself more coffee and I think you fell asleep?" Maria is looking at you with a raised brow.  "You started saying please over and over. You okay?"

Jesus.

You can’t tell her you’ve just startled yourself from a sex dream with her boyfriend’s brother. You can’t admit that Joel’s comfort last night had been attractive to you in a way your body understood better than your brain. Instead you force a shaky smile around your coffee mug.

“Just tired, I guess.”

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 6

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Dr. Crane wants to make some changes to your previous arrangement.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, hickeys, grinding, riding, praise, degradation, crying (but in a hot way), consensual sex, cockwarming?, he’s a simp lowkey, but he’s doing his best to hide it.

Words | 3k

Notes | I hope y’all enjoy! I’m doing my best to keep it consistent with how his character would act but it’s definitely a challenge lol

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 5

True to his word, he did return the next day with a few things. He stopped by your cell, rather than having someone bring you to him. When he handed you the bag, you eagerly took it and sat down on your bed to look through it. A sketch pad, multiple pencils- some colored- and two books that you haven’t heard of. 

“I hope it is satisfactory.” He said, emotionless as ever. 

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You beamed at him and he gave you a stiff nod, awkwardly looking everywhere but your eyes. 

“Would you like anything else?” 

“This is plenty.” You lied, not wanting to abuse his kindness. 

“Okay. Bring that whenever you come to my office just in case you need something to do.” He gestured to the bag in your lap and you nodded. “Shall we?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, but even with the items he gave you, having only a little decent human interaction is not enough so you agreed eagerly. 

“Do you have something planned?” You asked as you walked next to him, bag in hand. 

“Not exactly. I just have some questions.” That’s all? He’s just going to ask you things? When you arrived, you sat down across from him, waiting for his questions. 

“Are you eating?” He asked suddenly. 

“Uh- yes? It’s hard to, though. The food is… not what I’m used to.” You did your best to say ‘the food here tastes like shit’ without actually saying that. 

“And that is preventing you from eating even though you must be hungry?” His tone was clinical… neutral. 

“I’ve gotten used to the feeling by now.” You shrugged and he hummed in acknowledgment. 

“From now on I think it would be best if you ate lunch with me, in my office.” 

“What?” You choked out, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You are of no use to me this malnourished.” Is it really that obvious? You’ve only been here a couple weeks… “So I will bring you something and you will eat with me.” He said simply, as if his words didn’t have the impact that they do. He wants to not only bring you food, but eat with you every day too? 

“You can refuse, though I would highly frown upon that, given your current state of health.” 

“No, I- I’ll eat in here. Please.” The thought of actual food was already making your stomach roar to life. 

“Good. Starting tomorrow then.”

“Okay. Was there anything else?”

“When you offered your assistance, was that to satiate boredom or were you being genuine?” He asked casually. 

“Both. Why?”

“It might be nice to have someone to help with all of the paperwork so I can spend my time on more important tasks.” It wasn’t lost on you the way he phrased it as a statement, rather than him just asking for your help. 

“What would you have me do?”

“To start? Copying my notes onto forms, scheduling appointments, things like that.” While it didn’t sound like the most exciting job in the world, it seemed better than your current routine. 

“Sure.” He almost seemed caught off guard by your answer. “During lunch? Or would I do it another time?”

“You need to eat so, no, not during lunch. It will vary each day so I do not have a specific answer.”

“Okay.” 

 “Have you thought about my other offer at all?” You completely forgot about that to be honest. Which he seemed to be able to read from your expression. “That’s alright. You can think about it now if you want and I can answer any questions you have.” 

“Okay… I do have questions.” He motioned for you to continue so you did. “What exactly would I be doing?”

“Sometimes administering the toxin yourself, sometimes writing down my thoughts. Depends on the day.” He shrugged. 

“Why do you want me to do this?” 

“There’s no catch, if that’s what you’re asking.” He said coyly— trying to deflect.  

“If there’s no catch, then why?” He let out a heavy sigh and looked away from you as he thought. 

“Normally when a patient outgrows their… usefulness… Well, you saw the state of some of them down stairs. And as of right now, your fears are trivial. Phobias of a person or an object are common, it’s not something I need to use you for.” 

“So instead of giving me enough toxin to drive me mad, you’d rather I help you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why can’t you let me go? If I’m not useful to you anymore.” 

“Do you want me to?” That made you falter. 

“I… I don’t want to leave you, I just want to leave here. I miss my bed, I miss real food and comfortable clothes.”

“You miss that… more than you would miss me. Is what you’re saying.” He almost sounded offended. 

“No, I just- I want to help you, but I can’t stay here forever. I’m miserable.” He looked down to the desk at your words. 

“And how do I know this isn’t just some plot to get out of here?” He said, looking at you again. 

“You’re the one with the psych degree, you tell me.” He narrowed his eyes as he examined you and you waited patiently for him to find that you’re telling the truth. He hummed in acknowledgment, seemingly not finding the right words. 

“Why do you want me to stay so bad? You said it yourself, I’m not useful to you anymore.” You asked softly, hesitantly. 

“Just because I don’t need to study you in my experiments, doesn’t mean you can’t help me with them.” 

“That’s the only reason?” You could already feel yourself deflating from his words. 

“What other reason would there be?” You bit your lip and looked at your lap. 

“Nothing.” You smiled dryly, looking back up at him. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, whatever I do is up to you. You’re not going to let me go and you don’t want to use me in your experiments so there aren’t many options.” You shrugged, not wanting to draw this conversation out so you can avoid any other tactless remarks. 

“Fine. Regarding your… treatment, that will be up to you.” Did he not want to do that anymore? You don’t want to say you want to keep doing it if he doesn’t actually want to. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” You tried to sound normal and not desperate or sad. 

“Do I want to keep raping you? No, I don’t.” 

“Oh,” You didn’t mean it like that. Honestly it’s hard to think of it as that now. “Okay, then… we can stop.” You said quietly. 

“Is that what you want? Or are you just saying that because of what I said.”

“It doesn't matter what I want if you don’t want to. That defeats the whole purpose of discontinuing the rape.” He eyed you curiously before responding. 

“If it wasn’t rape, would you want to continue?” He asked, looking at you through slightly narrowed eyes. 

“I mean… it’s- I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. 

“It’s a yes or no question.” He said teasingly with a glint in his eyes. 

“You answer first then!” You said defensively. 

“Would I want to keep fucking you consensually? Yes.”  He said lowly, making your breath hitch. 

“Okay well maybe I want that too.” You said, once again, defensively. When he didn’t respond and let you stew in your answer, you rambled out more. “And by maybe, I mean more than maybe.” You watched his lips turn up into a smirk at your rambling. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like- like that!” You exclaimed, pointing at the growing smirk on his lips. 

“Would you want me to consensually fuck you right now?” He asked casually, making your eyes widen. You tried to stammer out a response, but he granted you mercy by continuing. “Come here.” As he took off his glasses and set them on the desk, you stood and slowly walked over to him, waiting awkwardly once you were by his side. He grabbed your hips and rolled his chair back a little, giving you room to straddle his thighs. Once you were settled, he placed his hands on the arms on the chair, making you frown. 

“It’s only consensual if you actually give consent. So far you haven’t.” He explained, raising his brows as he waited for your response. 

“Yes. Fine- I want it.” You muttered, embarrassed. 

“What was that?” 

“I want you to fuck me. Please.” You weren’t able to maintain eye contact as you spoke. His hands grasped your hips, pulling you forward to grind against his bulge, making your breath hitch. You lifted your hands to place on his shoulders, but froze, not sure if it’s okay. He seemed to sense your hesitation because he gave you a nod to your silent question. As your hips maintained the movement without him needing to guide you, your gaze drifted down to his lips. You’ve never seen a man with such pink, soft looking lips. You watched them curl up into a small smile, making your eyes snap up to his. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asked, eyes fluttering down to your lips. 

“Yes please.” You whispered, subconsciously leaning closer. It hasn’t even been very long but you already miss the feeling of his lips pressed to yours— the way he eagerly swallowed down your sounds. 

He leaned up a little and captured your lips in a kiss, making your hips stutter. This kiss was less desperate and hungry than the previous one you shared. Instead, it was slower, more gentle. He removed one hand from your hip and placed it over your covered heat, rubbing your clit through the layers of clothing, making you gasp into the kiss. 

“Please.” You whined against his lips as he continued to tease you. That seemed to be enough for him though and he pulled away from the kiss to free his cock before pulling your pants and underwear down just enough to free your drooling cunt. 

“Tell me what you want.” He prompted, stroking his length to full hardness. 

“Please fuck me.” You whined, hips squirming, trying to maneuver yourself onto him. He relented, lifting your hips enough to line his cock up with your entrance, then pulling you all the way down. You let out a choked moan, brows furrowing and eyes slightly watering from the stretch— maybe I should’ve let him tease me a little more, you thought, trying not to wince. He seemed to pick up on that though and he let you remain buried on his cock, not moving yet. 

“Relax.” He said softly as his hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles. 

“I- I’m sorry.” You whispered, willing your body to just hurry up and adjust. “I’m okay… You can move.” You said, holding your breath, preparing yourself for the stinging pain to worsen. Instead, his hand moved to your clit, rubbing slowly to build your arousal. When your walls fluttered around his length, the only indication he gave that he was affected was a slight hitch of his breath. 

His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you into another kiss. Your hips started rocking slowly and he pulled back from the brief kiss to remove your shirt. He leaned down, sucking your nipple into his mouth, not even teasing you first, and you gasped as your hands found their way to his hair again. The hand that wasn’t on your clit, moved to your other nipple, lightly pinching and rolling it between his fingers. After another few seconds, he pulled back with a wet pop, then switched to the other one. The stinging in your core was replaced with a dull ache by the time he had finished. 

“Fuck me.” You whispered, hips rocking greedily. He had to look in your eyes to be sure, but once he was satisfied with your honesty, he moved both hands to your hips again and slowly lifted you before letting you drop back down with a startled moan. He continued the slow, teasing pace, you started to whine impatiently as you pulled on his hair. You could tell that he was having an internal battle of whether or not he should fuck you like you wanted or punish you for being greedy and you did your best to hide your smirk when he chose the former. 

He grabbed your hips tighter and planted his feet to start thrusting up into you, but he only lasted a few seconds before his chair started rolling back. He cursed under his breath and stood up, making you grab onto his shoulders as you let out a startled sound. Holding you up by your thighs, he walked you over to the couch, then sat down and almost immediately started bucking up into you. 

“Shit-“ You said through a breath at the suddenness of his thrusts, but he paid no mind to it. He just held you still and fucked you with an intensity you didn’t know he had. 

“That’s it- just take it. Just be a good girl, sit nice and still, and fucking take it.” He growled, making you whimper. 

“Please.” You cried, holding onto his shoulders so tight that your fingers ached. 

“Tell me what you’re begging for.” He said lowly, but his voice was starting to get breathier. 

“I- I don’t know… please!” 

“Poor thing. I fuck you for just a few minutes and already you’re too cock drunk to even know what you’re begging for.” He cooed mockingly, making you whine and clench around him. 

“Dr. Crane,” You whimpered, eyes filling with tears of desperation. 

“I wonder how long I’ll have to fuck you for until you’re permanently cock drunk.” You sobbed out a moan at that, feeling the knot of arousal in your stomach grow even tighter. 

“Please!”

“You want that? You want me to turn you into a cock drunk whore? Just a little sleeve for my dick?” You let out an embarrassed whine, feeling your cheeks heat up as you nodded. 

“I bet you do.” He chuckled breathlessly. “I bet you just want to be turned into a proper fuck toy— you don’t need to think, you just need to be fucked and bred.” You let out a choked sob, his words feeding into your kink enough that the fear was at the back of your mind. You nodded again with a whimper. 

“If you want something, you need to ask for it. And quickly too, otherwise I’ll have to pull out. You don’t want it to go to waste do you?” He frowned, making you mirror the expression. 

“No… Want your- I want your come, please…” You whimpered, eyes burning with tears of humiliation. 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up? Say it.”

“I- I want you to- to fill me up... Please, Dr. Crane.” When the tears started falling, he removed one hand from your hip to wipe them away as he shushed you. 

“There’s no need to cry. I’ll give you what you want.” He said softly and you sniffled in response.  

“Thank you.” You whimpered. 

“Ready?” You couldn’t respond, not as his grip became painfully tight on your hips and he fucked even rougher. All you could do was nod. “Rub your clit.” He said through a breath. You moved a shaky hand between your legs, rubbing fast circles over your clit as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching. He let out a low groan as your walls spasmed around his length from the pleasure, then forced you all the way down, the tip bulging your stomach a little. You let out a choked moan, feeling his cock twitching inside as hot come painted your walls. Through your moans you could hear him groaning and panting, eyes squeezed shut as he rode out his orgasm. When he stilled, you whimpered painfully, feeling close to your own orgasm. 

“Please.” You cried, hips trying to rock against him even though he was mostly holding you still. “Please, I wanna come.” You whined, eyes filling with tears once again. 

“Go ahead.” He said simply, removing his hands from your body and settling into the couch with a small smirk. 

“But I want your help.” You frowned. 

“I’m giving you my cock. Would you rather I let you hump my leg instead?” You let out a long, needy whine as you pouted. 

“…No.” You muttered. 

“Then go ahead.” You whined, but started rocking your hips faster, continuing to rub your clit. “That’s it. Put on a good show for me.” The emotion in his voice was new to you— even if it was just smug amusement. You moved your hips faster, rubbed your clit harder, eagerly chasing your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” He was teasing you, mocking you, but you still let out a strangled moan from the praise. Your orgasm crashed over you suddenly, making your whole body tremble as you rode it out, sobbing out moans from the pleasure. When your sounds died down and your body stopped shaking, you sagged in exhaustion, hissing as his cock went even deeper in your now sensitive cunt. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked up at him through your lashes, sleepiness clear in your features. 

“Good girl. Did that feel good?” He said softly and you nodded, not even attempting to talk. You wanted to lean forward against his body, lay your head on his chest and let your heavy eyes fall shut. But you knew there wasn’t even a slight chance that he would react any way other than negatively. So you placed your hand on his chest, forcing yourself to stay up and not give in to the sleepiness. 

“Are you tired?” He asked and your eyes fluttered open again, not even realizing you closed them. 

“Yeah.” You did your best not to slur the word. 

“You can rest here before returning to your room. I have quite a bit of work that needs done so I’ll be here a while.” 

“Mhm.” You nodded, giving him a small smile that you swore he almost returned. When he grabbed your hips and started lifting you off his cock, you whined. 

“I know.” He said quietly. Once you were sitting normally on his lap, he pulled your underwear and pants back up, then gently set you on the couch. When he stood up and walked away, you frowned, but he quickly returned, holding your shirt. He slipped it on over your arms and head, then let you lay down, resting your head on your hand as you curled up on your side. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled, not able to keep your eyes open long enough to wait for a response. 

Part 7

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Nestled Deep

15/12: Dreams & Dirty Talk - Ettore Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: dirty talk (obvi), fingering, somnophilia, masturbation (m), cumplay, dubcon, ettore is a warning himself, mentions of violence

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

In here, sleeping pills were like fucking gold dust.

Having to cosy up to Dr Dibs was bad enough, but not as bad as not being able to sleep at night.

That bitch knew. She knew that they needed them to have a good night's rest, and now knew she held all the cards.

He wanted to cave her fucking face in.

For a moment, he'd actually considered it. Until he thought better.

There was no escape here after all. If he did something as stupid as that, there was nowhere to go and hide like back on Earth. He'd already been caught there once due to his stupidity. It would certainly not be happening again, as much as he wanted to.

Instead, Dibs seemed to be giving the men's share to the women, double drugging them without them realising, so that they'd sleep deeper and for longer at ‘nighttime’.

For what purpose? He didn't know. And frankly, when it came to their wellbeing, didn't care one bit.

He only cared about himself. Something else he'd learned on Earth, especially in their prisons.

His body ached from the mandatory exercise from the day before. Muscles decompressing the moment his back met the mattress, throwing his arms over his eyes to shield them from the harsh blue light that remained even at times of rest.

Across his cell, he heard the little, steady breathing of his cellmate. A woman he barely even knew by name, but had seen almost every day since boarding this goddamn ship.

He couldn't complain, really. She was a quiet cellmate and never bothered him, which is more than could be said for some other women on the ship, acting like they hadn't seen another man with a cock between his legs for years.

Usually he wouldn't mind when women were throwing themselves at him. But there was something about their desperation that for some reason turned him right off.

But she, well, she never spoke to anyone.

He could recall perhaps a few times he'd heard her voice. When she was talking to Dibs and when she mumbled brokenly in her sleep.

Tonight, she was out cold, the double dose of sleeping pills doing their magic. When he looked over, her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling slowly, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes moved beneath her lids. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow, and the sheets draped around her middle. And with her shirt slightly lifted, he could scarcely see the soft flesh of her stomach.

It was a bit pathetic, how he could get hard from just that alone.

He sighed and slipped a hand down his sweatpants, his eyes slipping shut once he wrapped his fist around his cock, pumping quickly to relieve the ache that had built there. He knows he should really go to the Box, but when did he ever play by the rules?

He only used the Box when he felt like it.

“Mm…”

He froze, eyes flying open to look at her.

Was that a fucking moan?

She moved, inhaling and exhaling as she moved slightly, her hips shifting in micro-movements. And under her pale shirt, he can clearly see her breasts moving, the hardened nipples beading at the top of them.

He felt himself throb in his palm.

And suddenly, he was unable to look away.

It was unmistakable. How her hips moved tiredly, languidly, searching for a friction that didn't exist.

Even beneath the covers, he could see her pressing her thighs together.

How her lips parted wider to let out breathy whines, his name following it in a near-whisper.

It was quiet and broken, but she'd said it.

Ettore's eyes lit up like he couldn't believe his luck, a wide grin splitting across his face.

She was having a fucking wet dream.

About him.

Fucking tease.

He almost hadn’t registered how he got to his feet, his length hard and needing beneath his sweatpants, and padding to the side of her bed. His breathing was quiet but steady, as if aware of not making noise to wake her.

He almost wanted to make sure she was actually asleep, worried this was some cruel trick and her eyes would fly open at any second.

But it didn't happen.

He watched the needy little thing writhe around in bed, the sleeping pills giving her a deeper, more sound sleep, her consciousness pulled so low that her nocturnal movements were confident and unabashed.

He bit his lip, thinking very carefully what he was about to do. Batting around the thought, weighing up both the repercussions and the reward.

But he was too fucking hard to think about the repercussions.

One hand pulled the sheets off her body, watching her legs prickle with chill. Eyes darkened at her figure laid before him. The little tease didn't wear any shorts, just underwear, as if she knew this would happen.

Or at least that's what he reasoned.

He slid into her bed next to her with calculated movements, making sure to not wake her even in her pill-addled sleep.

It had been so, so long since he'd felt the warmth of another woman on his skin, he nearly sighed out in contentment when he felt hers against his bare chest. Laid on his side next to her like this, he could look down her body, seeing the shadow of her cleavage, the soft curves of her hips and her shapely legs, all laid out for him.

If she were awake, she'd definitely feel his breath against her neck. His heart calmed somewhat, when he looked down and saw she was still deep in sleep.

He watched her lips part again, sighing and moving her hips, apparently feeling something warm near her body but also in her gut as well.

“Please…”, she murmured quietly.

His fingers carefully took the hem of her shirt and pulled up, just below her breasts, his hand running softly down her stomach over her underwear. His fingers brushed over her clothed core, finding her moist from whatever pleasant dream she must be having.

She made a breathy moan as his fingers began to tease her clit, a rush of warmth drifting south in waves. And at the sound she made, Ettore screwed his eyes shut, feeling himself throb even harder, daring to apply more pressure in tight little circles, her lips parting even more in more hurried breaths.

His other hand dipped into his sweatpants, wrapping around his length and stroking himself slowly, his grip tightening at the angry red tip with every leisured movement. As if he was edging himself while giving her pleasure.

He watched her fingers twitch, the sensation not quite enough to wake her with the sedatives pulling her deeper. And he felt the way his actions were having the desired effect, moisture leaking out of her against the fabric of her underwear.

“Fuck - you like that? Dirty little slut-”, he breathed against her ear, not caring in the slightest if his words were even reaching her. But judging by the way her thighs tried to shut around his hand and the noises coming from her, a smirk found its way to his lips, that they just might be.

She didn't do much, except simply writhe tiredly and let a few barely breathy moans fall from her lips, and every now and then if he was lucky, his name.

The little slut was dreaming about him.

Emboldened by her reactions, and not at all concerned with the sense that doing this while she was asleep was entirely wrong, his pace on his own length had barely picked up, trying to savour the moment as if he could do it all night.

He almost broke fully, his eyebrows arched almost in pain when he dipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear and felt how soaked she was. His digits slid against her effortlessly, and he had the intrusive thought , that he could easily fuck her right now, with barely any effort, and she might not wake up.

“God, you're fucking soaked for me - all from just playing with you -” he breathed against the shell of her ear. He swears that she shivered from his words.

“Pathetic little cunt - this is nothing -”

The heel of his palm rubbed against her clit as his fingers easily breached her opening, two digits sliding inside her warmth. It was here his pace on his own length was finally too tempting, his thumb swiped over the sensitive tip, spreading precome over his palm and shaft with each languid thrust of his fist.

All the while, his fingers began in earnest fucking her, even the sheer sound of her cunt sucking him in could've finished him off.

Each time he pressed inside, her walls shrank around him, trying to pull him in further.

“You're so fucking tight - can't wait to feel you around my cock-” his words seemed to have her move slightly, her back arching slightly off the bed and into his touch. Her hips chasing the rhythm.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you, dirty bitch - for me to fuck you - you know I wouldn't be able to fucking stop-”

Every wet sound against his fingers, curling up to brush against that rough patch at the top of her walls, had his palm rubbing her clit, rubbing her slick over her thighs.

It was so erotic, it was overwhelming.

“-you'd want it rough, wouldn't you - fuck, I'd have you crying for it - until you beg me to stop-”

His voice was uneven, punctuated by shudders, fisting his cock quickly, stomach clenching and unclenching with his impending release, still infuriatingly out of reach.

“-I wouldn't fucking stop -” he whispered, a growl spilling forth, “-you'd be a good little slut, and take it-”

He felt her walls tighten around his fingers, the loudest moan she'd ever let loose tumbling from her lips, though still quiet. He saw how her thighs trembled in the low, blue light, and the rush of arousal that coated his hand.

“that's it - fucking cum for me-”

He didn't stop. Now that he'd had one, he wanted more.

The air was heavy with the heady stench of sex, only making him want to bury himself between her thighs and never leave.

Even if she woke up.

That was a dangerous thought.

His fingers were moist with her slick as he pulled out of her, hearing a breathy sigh hit his jaw. Uncaring of the consequences, he smeared it over the flesh of her stomach, watching it glisten with her juices.

There was something unapologetically erotic about that.

His fist pumped his cock in earnest, eyes screwing shut as his burning, blissful peak crept up on him, pushing the air out his lungs to make room for pleasure.

Carefully, he pushed himself up slightly, a far too loud moan stuttering past his lips as he released in hot ropes on her bare stomach, mixed with her essence.

He watched with hooded, lustful eyes as he emptied himself onto her smooth flesh, her body now sunken back into the deep lull of sleep, her orgasm having drained her completely. He saw how her eyelashes were still, the lower contours of her breasts moving slightly with breathing.

Once he'd choked himself to utter completion, he sighed and was tempted to touch her again, but something deep within forced him to reconsider.

It felt strange now, to think about touching her outside pulling pleasure from her, and by extension, him too.

With evened breathing, he tucked himself away and haphazardly tugged her shirt back over her stomach, padding back over to his bed. Body feeling significantly more tired now than it had a few moments ago.

He looked at her from where his head lay on the pillow and smirked, the perfume of her womanhood clinging to his fingers. And it was the only thing he could think about as he closed his eyes to sleep, was how he was going to do it again, take little steps to push just that little bit further.

And in the morning, he'd risen before her, watching from the doorframe with a smug smile on his face as she sat up, her eyebrows furrowing at the sticky sensation on her stomach, stuck to her shirt. He felt a sort of swelling of his ego then, shoulders pushed back, standing a little taller, watching her awake and covered in his cum was different entirely, with that dumb look on her face.

Yes. It would certainly not be the last time he'd give her sweet dreams.

Definitely not.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 2

Since the Vitrichl tasked me with observing the "human", it was not surprising that I was assigned with waking the "human“ from its recharging time session. The quarters of the human were at a, for my species, tolerable pressure, so I was not required to wear a pressure regulating suit while entering.

I found the human to already be up in its cell. Its cell did not vary much from the other‘s quarters. In one corner, there was a metal cylinder with padding inside, so it was certain to assume that "humans" were one of the species that recharged by going unconscious for a certain amount of time.

 The human looked up as I entered its quarters. It did not move at first, seemingly scanning me with what could possibly be their sight organs (two white spheres set in the skull, with a small brown ring in the middle, facing my general position). I could not be certain. The moment did not last long before the human raised itself to its full height. Four limbs. Bipedal, it seems.

I, urging to not offend the Terran, decided on simply asking "How was your recharging session?", something that would not usually be seen as a threat. I seemed to be correct, as the Terran opened one of the holes on its face, revealing a horrifying amount of what seemed to be teeth. But then it spoke. The translator in my internal auditory organ made a crackling sound, before immediately translating what was said. "Oh, uhm, it was alright, I just couldn’t find the light switch, so it was…kinda bright. But still, it was way better, I‘m not complaining or anything! On the prison planet, you could barely sleep because it was so loud. Everything‘s better than there. Hell, I‘d rather sleep on the cold hard ground here than go back there." 

I blinked with four of my six eyes. "I am afraid I do not understand."

The human, seemingly mirroring my motion, blinked back with both of its two eyes. "Well…humans usually require it to be dark in order to get a restful sleep. Or, not require, but most prefer it."

"I see. I will look into the issue." I would have expected this offer to bring the human joy, promising to change something that was bothering it, but apparently, I was wrong.

It stepped forward, and its face suddenly warped into a horrifying grimace. Its mouth, in fact, seemed to contract in a what looked awfully painful movement, reforming its shape so that the corners seemed to point upwards. I stepped back a step, finding myself in the doorway. 

But it did not attack. Instead, it raised one of its upper limbs and extended it into my direction. The ends of its limbs each had five small junctions, possibly fingers, if this species was in any way similar to any other species I have ever met. I was unsure what it wanted me to do with its extended limb, and I was careful not to act impolite towards it. Eventually, it let its limb fall to its side again. I was afraid I might have angered it, but it did not seem irritated.

"Not a shaker? Yeah, me neither, really. I‘m Quinn, by the way." It spoke again. I could not fathom what a "shaker" was supposed to be, so I decided to try a distraction method.

"A part of the crew is taking in one of their cyclic meals in the meal hall right now. I am unfamiliar with your species‘ eating habits, so I apologize if this is an insensitive request, but would you like to dine as well?" 

"Oh. Sure, food sounds good." It raised and lowered the part of its body where its limbs were attached to its upper body, a gesture that I could not fathom, but I did not question it.

I went back to the meal hall, the human following me, and I showed them what to eat. The only food we regularly carry on the SIIR Noxos are different vitamin components, which, when mixed together form a not very delectable looking but nutritious gruel. This way, we can assure the nourishment of all the crew members without having to go to ridiculous lengths to get what their bodies need to keep on working.

The human seemed to share my opinion about the looks of our cyclic diet, contracting its face muscles into what seemed to be a grimace of distaste.

Nonetheless, it consumed it without further complaint, but for an odd reason it did not sit down, but rather kept standing next to the supply depot. It finished its meal rather quick, and then we parted ways, as Vitrichl required its presence.

I did not encounter the human again for the rest of the cycle, as my species usually only consume one meal per cycle, and there was a leak in one of the machinery rooms, which I had to assistance in repairing.

[lou-struck]

The Smell of Denial

Eijirou Kirishima x reader

~ Kirishima's day takes an unexpected turn after his friends point out something that is obvious to everyone in the world except for two people.

W.C. 1.5k

a/n: a little bit of friends to lovers to end the night! This has been in my folder for far too long.

Eijirou Kirishima is plenty thankful for his job as a pro hero. But on days like today, where there are no distress calls, and his agency overbooked the number of heroes who need to go out on patrol, he feels extremely bored…

The wheels on his chair go round and round as he spins in little circles around his desk. For once, he is all caught up on paperwork. He looks over at Denki and Mina, but the two friends are deep in concentration. As much as he wants to, he probably shouldn't bug them right now. 

With a sigh, he stops spinning and flops against the padded back of his chair in defeat. Just as he does he hears the light little chime of his cell phone. He lunges for this new distraction eagerly, and his shark-like teeth flash with an involuntary smile when he sees that his new message is from you.

His best friend.

You must be bored as well because you are flooding his inbox with dozens of funny little videos and memes that have him laughing out loud. Sometimes, he thinks that you know his sense of humor better than he does. When he gets to the end of your thread, he starts furiously scrolling, trying to find funny videos that will have you laughing till you cry as well.

“y/n texting you again?” Mina calls over from her desk. The Pink Haired Pro Hero has a knowing look on her face as she spins around in her office chair. 

“It is.” He smiles, pressing send on a video of a guy who teaches his pet monkey with a pyrotechnic quirk how to light a firework. “Is it that obvious?”

“Totally.” She laughs crumpling up a bright pink sticky note and tossing it into the waste bin in the corner. “You are always smiling like an idiot when you are texting them.”

“Excuse me,” he scoffs, pretending to be offended by this completely true statement. “I happen to smile all the time.”

“Not like that, you don’t,” Denki laughs, “You’ve got it bad.”

The Crimson-haired pro hero furrows his brow, “ got what bad?” he does not understand why his two friends are looking at him like he just told them the Earth was flat.

“ Obviously, everybody knows that you are in love with them.” Mina grins, giving him a punch on the arm.

“Except for y/n, of course.” Denki chuckles. He sniffs the air and looks around, confused for a moment. “Hey, do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” Kirishima answers by sniffing the air, not picking up on anything unusual. He furrows his brow and tries to figure out how a strange smell in the office is more important than the notion that he has feelings for you.

“That, my friend, is the smell of denial. You reek of it. You better tell y/n how you feel before someone else decides to steal their heart.” He tries to lean back in his chair but ends up tipping over. 

As the electric pro hits the floor, Kiri is too preoccupied to help him up.

Is he in love with you?

~

Eijirou Kirishima definitely is NOT in love with his best friend.

He is just standing outside your door with an armload of your favorite snacks because you told him that you had a rough day at work because he is a good friend. 

He just happens to know all of your favorite snacks by heart because…

Because…

He’s Manly?

Right…

This extremely weak self-justification is exactly what he needs to bring himself to knock. Just seconds later, he hears a loud crash and a series of jumbled movements just beyond the door. Before he can react, you swing it open and greet him with a genuine yet kinda frazzled smile. Your skin has a wonderful natural glow to it that is enhanced by your bright eyes. 

“Hey,” you breathe, opening the door wider for him to come inside. 

“Hi,” he says, walking over the threshold like he has done thousands of times before. “What was that thud I heard back there?” 

“Oh, that was just me,” you grin, shutting the door behind him. “Nothing serious, I promise.”

There is that smile again, why does his heart feel so strange. Did he have too much coffee today? It feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest. Although you tried to hide it, he can tell that this silence is awkward, and he has to bring himself back to reality. “I got snacks,” he offers, holding up the grocery bag as a peace offering to end this awkwardness.

“You’re wonderful,” you say, taking one of the bags. “I ordered us some takeout, fried chicken, okay?”

“You had me at meat,” he laughs, striding into your kitchen and setting the bags down on the counter. “So what happened today?”

“My Manager was on one again today. I swear, Kiri, A villain could crash through our window, and he would find some way to blame me for the damage.” You say with a groan, grabbing the ice cream he got you and tossing it into your freezer. 

“Ouch. Do you want me to go down there? Show 'em who’s boss?” he says sarcastically, rolling up his sleeves and flexing his well-trained biceps. 

“Nah, just having you here is enough,” you say with a warm smile. Your eyes trained on Krishima’s face with a dreamy intensity that has him fighting a blush. You blink and take a flustered step backward. Your eyes flicker down to his phone and zero in on the thin red line where his battery percentage lies. 

“Dude…Charge your phone.” you tease, “ what if for some kind of world-ending emergency?”

He scuffs. “You know, I would’ve had a full battery. But someone kept sending me videos, and it completely drained my battery.”

“Oh, who would do such a thing?” You gasp sarcastically. “Come on, You can use my charger; it's in my room if you wanna plug it in.”

You turn and walk across the carpet, your bacon and egg-printed socks carrying you into your bedroom. As Kiri shuffles behind you at a polite distance, no

“What’s wrong?” you ask, taking in his furrowed brow. 

“Something’s different,” he mutters, looking around your space, trying to pinpoint what exactly has changed. 

“It’s my comforter,” you laugh, “I just got a new one.”

“Oh, looks nice,” he comments, setting his device on your bedside charger. 

“It’s amazing,” you gush, “I have never slept better in my life.” 

Have you always looked so adorable when you are excited about something?

“Oh really? I doubt it’s that comfy.” he challenges, raising a crimson brow. 

“I’m serious-” you are interrupted by a knocking sound coming from the front door. Your lips curl up into an eager smile. “Oh yay, food here. I’ll go grab it but you have to at least try my comforter for a second.

Eijirou holds his hands up in surrender, earning a big grin from you as you run down the hall to greet the delivery person. As he hits the surface of your bed, he expects to bounce slightly, but instead, he sinks into the pillowy foam. 

“Oh, this is soft,” he says aloud, readjusting his head against your pillow as he takes a deep breath in and relaxes deeper, feeling the stress of the day melt away. Closing his eyes, he smells something familiar. Its sweetness washes over him as if there is a weighted blanket covering him from head to toe.

He should move…

But he doesn't…

Held captive by the plush duvet under his ridiculously strong arms he stays breathing in that smell he just can’t seem to remember the name of. It dances teasingly just under his nose.

“Hey, are you really gonna fall asleep and leave me with all of this food?” You call from the doorway, freeing him from his trance. 

He jolts up immediately, an embarrassed tint on his cheeks as he looks over at you. “Shoot, sorry.” He says, walking out of your bedroom, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks with his loose hair.  “I guess that mattress pad or yours was a bit more comfortable than I thought.” 

“I told you it was comfy.” you laugh as he walks past you; he is shoulder to shoulder with you when that familiar smell breaks through his curtain of crimson hair.

His heart starts beating wildly in his chest as he realizes that the puzzling smell that has ensnared him is your shampoo. “The scent of denial,” he mutters to himself.

“What was that?” you ask, cocking your head to the side adorably. 

“N-nothing,” he says quickly, wondering how he is ever going to tell you how he feels.  “Just thinking about something someone said to me at work earlier.”

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[injuries-in-dust]

What concerns me with the humans are space orcs stuff oddly enough was humanity's clothing,

Looking at mass effect and other SciFi games and films the clothes suck, boring and basic design all round.

Then I look at what we wore around the 1800s, where did our sense of fashion go?

Security chief Thron frowned as they looked down at the human, classified as; "Stowaway" in the holding cell.

Xe didn't know how the conversation had spun around to this topic, but it was engaging enough to pass the hours until they reached the next spaceport to hand the human over to the proper authorities. "Human fashion is so boring."

Jupiter classified themselves as a "Hitchhiker" but after a few hours in the cell and settled on an "agree to disagree" mentality with the security chief.

They shook their head. "You've clearly not met the right humans."

Thronn shook xyr head, "I have met many humans during my service."

"Oh service," Jupiter rolled their eyes. "You can't judge human fashion based on those guys in the service. Uniforms don't count."

"It is not just humans within the service I have met. We are a cargo vessel, we bring many useful supplies to many fledgling colonies, human ones included."

Jupiter shook their head, "new colonies? You're judging fashion by what you see on the new colonies?"

"Then what of your garments? Dull colourings all over your person. Little accoutrements to be seen. Very boring. Very typical of human stowaways."

"Hitchhikers." Jupiter corrected. "You can't judge hitchhikers and colonists. They don't have the resources to waste on fancy stuff, and I've got to travel light. It's all about keeping it simple. Hardwearing stuff that lasts a long time and could be easily replaced or repaired. And the dark colours help me hide when I'm stow... hitchhiking."

Thronn decided xe would let that slip of the tongue pass without comment.

Jupiter looked xem up and down. Even in a uniform, the alien had been allowed a few accessorires of cultural significance. It certainly added splashes of colour to the usually dull grey security uniform. A small headdress with a bright embroidered pattern, a sash around the waist with a matching design, and an epaulette on the shoulder made of small conical seashells stitched onto silk and painted in bright colours.

It was certainly more than Jupiter had going on. They had a navy blue bomber jacket, dark shirt, dark khaki trousers, brown hiking boots, a black and white shemagh wrapped around her neck and a dark green and black rucksack usually slung over her back, but right now it was sitting outside the cell in an evidence locker. The closest to an accessory they had going on was a few ID patches sewn onto the jacket and bag. Name, species, blood type, and world of origin.

Photographs and memories were their souvenirs.

"Have you ever been to any of the long-established colonies? Any that have been around for a century or more?"

Thronn shook xyr head, "I haven't. The ship's duties only take us around the border worlds."

"Then you haven't seen what humans are really capable of when they get comfortable." Jupiter pointed over to the locker holding their bag. "There are some pictures on my datapad. I managed to visit Port Marinda, Alforanza, and New Barcelona last year, they're all human colonies, all about two hundred years old. Go on, get the pad and I'll show you the pictures."

Against xyr better judgement, Thronn opened the locker and retrieved the datapad. Xe opened a small hatch in the holding cell, usually used to pass meals through.

Jupiter scrolled through the pictures until they found the folder holding the pictures of their visit to New Barcelona. The pictures showed the wonderful countryside of rolling hills of silver and purple grass, scattered with trees with leaves of bright orange. Sunglasses were a must when walking in the countryside because of the risk of violent headaches, especially on sunny days. The sunsets were simply stunning, and they had amazing local fruit that looked like a red banana and tasted like raspberry and dark chocolate.

The capital city was also a sight to see. Tall, wavy and twisting buildings that looked like bright coral growing right out of the ground. Each one was a different colour so every district contained a rainbow of either bright or pastel shades.

The people were equally bright and ingenious in their clothing. Jupiter turned the screen to show Thronn a picture they'd taken of a picturesque street market.

Thronn looked at the handful of humans in the picture. One human wore a colourful dress that looked almost like millions of feathers sewn together. Even in the still image, xe could imagine how they would shimmer in the light.

Another human, a male, he wore a bright green suit, covered with silver, gossamer-like webbing which rose out of the shoulders, spreading behind him, resembling small wings.

Xe spotted a person Xe almost thought wasn't human at all until xe realised that their skin was painted from the neck down. Covering the paint was a simple dress that looked like a net. Where each thread crisscrossed with another, a brightly coloured jewel had been sewn.

One human being, who looked to be talking with a shopkeeper over some sort of food, was dressed in an elegant gown of a bright colourful fabric that looked like a sunset itself had been turned into the material that made the garment.

There was a tall adolescent human was dressed in a tight full-body outfit with an elaborate headdress which covered their entire face with a snake-like mask. You couldn't see the human and it gave Thronn an almost unsettling impression of a large bipedal reptile moving among the humans.

"You see," Jupiter said. "Forget uniforms, travellers and frontier colonies. Just give humans time to settle down, get some resources to spare and watch their imaginations fly."

Thronn had to admit it. Human fashion was not boring.

[nelapanela94]

You sigh, mopping the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. The sign was flipped to close about forty minutes ago and that was the last table. You fling the rag on your shoulder and push the chair back under the table. Meanwhile, Levi is wiping and rigorously inspecting each glass, and mug and cup and arranging them on the shelf behind the counter.

“It was a good day.” You pad to the till to count the drawer. “We ran out of Madeleines.” But he’s not listening. You slide off the scrunchie and your hair falls over your shoulders, giving off tones of strawberries and cherries. “I’ll take a cupcake home, although I know you don't like me to eat a lot of sugar for breakfast.” You push a button. The drawer rasps and spills.

“Y/N.” He lifts one of the glasses that reflects the vestiges of the war whittled in his face, and his heart shrinks. He’s been running round and round in circles for the fear of failure, for years loving you at half-speed. Why is it so hard to parse those words? What if you find him too ugly? What if he ruins it all and you leave for good?

To love you in secret, even if it hurts, is better than being alone.

“Levi? What is it?” He looks past the glass. Your hands roosted at your hips, head cocked to the side, inquiring with your eyebrows.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, turns around and settles the glass next to the others.

“You know you can trust me.”

He sighs, his shoulders collapse, and he faces you again. His brain cells try to scrape any cogent thought in his head, but the hardest part is to make his mouth not blunder when saying the words. Killing titans in his current state would be easier. He clears his throat and limps toward you. Brushes your hair behind your ears, and goosebumps flare in your arms. Your tongue sweeps between your lips as your eyes scoot around, searching for any spot that keeps you anchored to Earth. “Would you, uh…” He scratches the scar on his right cheek. His face is smoldering, rising the temperature like a hot air balloon. “A date.”

“A date?”

He mentally slaps himself.

“Go on a date with me.”  

Your eyes flicker with tiny constellations only he can see and draw, cherry red creeps across your cheeks. His worries drain from his chest, and he sighs in relief.

“That would be lovely, Levi.” You smile and press your lips at the corner of his mouth where the echo of an "I love you" resounds.

Want to join the tag list? Click here.

Tag list: @stygianoir @lamees004 @lovolee3 @notgoodforlife @svftackerman @apolloshaiku @luvjiro @roralore @mikakayyyy @noctemys @galactict3a @son-of-a-banchi @sjdsarah @ackermendick @trippoverrt @cellgore @maeririka

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Prettier When You're Mine

Andy Barber x Reader

Author's Note: Slowly trying to finish a few of these ongoing stories.

Summary: One year into working with a young, bright and beautiful junior prosecutor, Y/n, who bears an almost uncanny resemblance to Andy’s late wife, Laurie, he finds himself developing feelings for her. Though, when she brushes off his advances, Andy proves that he’ll do whatever it takes to recreate his family.

Disclaimer: 18+ This work contains dark themes, including stalking, dub-con, infidelity and manipulation. Read at your own discretion.

Masterlist Playlist Chapter 5

Chapter 6

A trip to Andy's house to reclaim her lost ring causes tension between Y/n and James, and unveils some dark truths. Warning: dubious consent, SMUT/NSFW, coerced/forced sex. Please do not read if you are even remotely uncomfortable with any of these warnings.

Dumping the contents of her bag on the kitchen counter, Y/n hastily sifted through it. Compact, cell phone, a couple pens, a packet of tissues, wallet, loose change and no ring. “Shit, shit, shit,” she swore under her breath, on the verge of tears. It hadn’t been anywhere that she'd looked, not in her office, her coat pocket or even in the damn coffee cup she’d checked on a whim. Calls to the doctor’s office and the bus station as well as a visit to the coffee shop and the place that she’d bought lunch had also been completely unhelpful and Y/n was beginning to fear that the ring was gone for good. 

But it couldn’t be, not James’ mother’s ring. Precious family heirloom and the first material sign that she’d been accepted into their fold. 

For the millionth time that day, Y/n found herself asking; why me? Was it because she’d almost been willing to let things go too far with Andy? Because part of her wanted them to? Or was it because she’d gotten herself in a self-pitying funk over something she was supposed to have made peace with? 

Was it a sign that she simply didn’t deserve a man like James? 

Standing in the middle of their loft’s small kitchen, she didn’t feel like she did. Because how could she be deserving of him and still spend rare, private moments fantasizing about her boss- who had proven himself to be just like any other jerk in a position of authority. 

In retrospect, she should have seen the signs; his penchant for initiating physical contact, his apparent desire to know her on a personal level, his insistence that they work together. She couldn’t believe she actually thought he just saw potential in her- no strings, no expectations. 

“Babe?” Hearing the bathroom door open, Y/n worked quickly to clumsily repack everything into her handbag. She hadn’t told James that she’d lost the ring, and had spent the entire car ride home trying to hide her left hand.

“Yeah?” Y/n’s head snapped up and her frenzied gazed noted James standing near the foot of their bed, wrapped only on a towel, with his skin still damp and his hair dripping. “What?” Then, hearing the haste in her tone, she cleared her throat and tried again, “I mean….what’s up?” 

James’ lips fell again and he stuttered before continuing, “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to get Chinese,” he padded barefoot across the wood floor, “But I think I can ask you the same question.”

“If I wanna get Chinese….?”

“What’s up?” He quoted with emphasis, “Or better way; are you okay?” 

Sneaking a cautionary glance at her hand, Y/n dropped it at her side and didn’t dare make a move towards James. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Not believing her for a second, James shook his head and made the final steps towards her, rounding the kitchen counter so he could lay his wet hands on her shoulders, “No you’re not." He searched her teary eyes, worry pooling in his, “Did something happen at the doctor's?”

Sniffling as slow tears trickled down her cheeks, “I’ve just had a really rough day,” her voice broke pitifully and James didn’t miss another beat before pulling her against his chest. One hand cradled the back of her head while the other fell to the small off her back, and as she clung to his waist, she finally let a couple sobs break through.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He probed gently. 

How was she supposed to tell him that she was irrationally insecure about them never being able to convince? Or that Andy had come onto her in a moment of vulnerability. Or that she'd lost his mother's ring.

"No," she whimpered, "Not yet. I just wanna….I just want to forget the whole thing." Forget that she'd always secretly want something she would never have. Forget that she'd lost a very expensive and precious symbol of their union. 

Forget that she was still thinking about what would have happened if she'd been brave enough to give in when Andy had come on to her. 

Forget that she was above betraying the man she loved. 

“Alright,” James murmured, kissing the crown of her head, “Well we don’t have to until you’re ready,” he added, lips still pressed to her hair. He was so good, so patient and she loved that. 

Andy was so brooding and dangerous, she liked that. 

Hugging James tighter, Y/n squeezed her eyes shut and tried to regulate her breaths; she didn’t deserve to cry about it when she’d come so close to acting on selfish impulse. They might have stayed like that for a while, if it were for her phone ringing loudly from where it sat on the counter. Sniffling loudly, Y/n pulled away and brushed her tears away with the sides of her fingers, “I should….” Trailing off, she moved towards the phone, sluming her shoulders when she saw Andy’s name on the screen, “Its my boss,” she reported sullenly. 

Coming to stand behind her, James rested his hand on her shoulder, “Just let it go to voicemail.”

Y/n sighed, “Its not that easy.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” James reminded before letting go of a heavy breath and reluctantly adding, “But if you feel like you need to then, I can’t stop you.” 

As James retracted his hand and started walking away, Y/n looked at Andy’s name on the screen and frowned as she glanced back up at her fiancee, “Don’t be mad, please.”

“Not mad,” he said, not looking at her as he tugged one of his drawers open, pulling out a pair of sweatpants, “Just….I’m worried about you, okay? This guy keeps you at the office at these weird hours and then today you come home crying.”

“What happened today has nothing to do with, Andy,” she lied, “He…he tried to help-”

“So you told him what was wrong but you didn’t tell me?” James knitted his brows, stepping behind the bamboo privacy screen that they kept near their wardrobe to get changed. 

By then her phone had stopped ringing and the screen had faded to black, “That’s not….I didn’t tell him. I was really vague about it-”

“Yeah, well all I got was you had a rough day,” stepping out from behind the screen in low riding sweats and a t-shirt, James moved to hang his towel on a rack they kept next to the bathroom door. 

“I…its complicated,” just then, her phone started ringing again, the urgency evident in the blaring tone, “I really have to take this,” Y/n snatched her phone off the counter and swiped the green icon. “Hey, what’s up?” Y/n answered cooly, defiantly matching eyes with James, whose gaze had hardened. 

“I have something that I think belongs to you.”

Knitting her brows, Y/n stuttered, “What?”

“Three carats-”

“You have it,” Y/n gasped; she must have lost it in the haste to vacate his office, everything had been so jumbled and messy, from her feelings at the time to the physical situation. 

“Yeah. Why don’t you come by and get it?”

Turning away so her back would be to James, Y/n drew in what she hoped would be a calming breath, “You’ve had it all day and said nothing?” She hissed as quietly as possible. 

“Well, let’s not get accusatory.”

“God,” Y/n suspired, “Are you at the office?”

“Of course not,” Andy sounded amused by the whole situation, like he was baiting her, and it made Y/n’s blood boil. “You should come get it, tonight. Wouldn’t want James to think you’re trying to seem like an available woman.”

Exasperated, Y/n sighed, “Yeah, well, I don’t know where you live.”

“I’ll send you the address now,” she heard the phone moving on his end of the line and then less than a minute later, her phone pinged with an incoming text. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

There was that name again, that involuntary thrill up her spine. 

Without another word, Y/n hung up and turned to James who was looking at her expectantly. “I have to go, some stuff came up late in discovery and its a lot so we’d have to start going through tonight to finish in time for Thursday.”

She wasn’t sure if James believed her, but he did play along, “Alright, well you should take the car,” he suggested and she was grateful that he didn’t offer to drive her. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, approaching her once more, that time grabbing the keys off the coffee table and pressing it into her hands from over the counter, “Go do your job, we’ll talk when you get back.”

Leaning over, Y/n smiled tightly and reached to cup his cheek with her free hand, “I love you,” she kissed him briefly, hoping to chisel away some of the lingering tension. 

James hummed softly, “Yeah, I know, I love you too.” When they broke, she grabbed her bag and coat quickly and hurried out of the apartment, letting a slow breath vacate her lips when she pulled the door shut behind herself; caught between being excited to see Andy again and combating worry over what would happen when they did. 

Stuffing the hand with the car keys into the pocket of her camel coat, Y/n inhaled deeply before bringing her fist to Andy’s front door. His house was nice, it was one of the first thoughts she had upon pulling up at the curb; it was kind of like the one she had in her mind when she thought about the perfect place to live; big enough to comfortably raise a family with a gable roof and big windows that made you wonder what was happening inside. It looked like something out of HGTV or one of those home and garden magazines- sweet and picturesque. 

“You came,” Andy determined when the door swung open. He was still half dressed from work; sleeves of his navy shirt rolled up to his elbows, black and blue tie from earlier gone and top two buttons of his shirt open. 

“Yeah,” she squared her shoulders and straightened her back, “Well I want my ring.”

Andy smirked and Y/n ground her teeth, “Its upstairs, come in and I’ll get it for you.” Y/n couldn’t tell if it was an invitation or condition but Andy didn’t leave room for explanation, instead leaving her to follow him as he turned and delved further into the house. 

The hall light was off, making the glow emanating from the kitchen up ahead to seem dim and ominous. Their shadows seemed bigger and in even in the low lighting Y/n could make out some of the framed photographs on the wall  and she slowed down to see some of them. She recognized the people, a woman and a teenage boy, from the one personal picture that Andy had in his office- a small, family portrait taken on what she'd assumed was a taken at a beachy resort, contained in a shiny gold frame. 

Mexico, he'd explained when he'd caught her staring once. The last vacation they'd taken before Laurie and Jacob's accident. 

It must have been so hard for him to lose everything like that, especially since he had no other family. Worst yet, he was still a social pariah; the things she'd heard around the office were brutal and they seemed to follow him around like a dark cloud. It was why she'd tried to befriend him when they'd started working together, no one should be that alone. 

But Andy had crossed a line.

Though, she hadn’t been very good at drawing one in the first place. Maybe she should have told him about James sooner. Maybe she didn’t want to. 

When they finally broke off into the kitchen, Y/n stopped abruptly and folded her arms defensively. Andy didn’t head upstairs immediately, instead he poured two glasses from an open bottle on the dark veined marble counter. “I think you’ll like this one,” he offered her the glass. 

Rolling her eyes, Y/n kept her arms folded, “I want my ring.”

“Have a drink,” Andy inched closer, causing Y/n to have to tip her chin to match his gaze. Swallowing a hitch breath, she tried to not react too much. He was so much bigger than her though, it was hard to keep the thrill contained. If the past couple months had taught her anything it was that there was a darkness that resided within Andy- behind the sad blue eyes and the strong silence was something akin to a tornado strong enough to rip an entire country to shreds. 

Dangerous and violent. 

And she liked it. 

“I don’t want one,” she countered definitely, his proximity chipping her resolve away. 

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart,” Andy offered her the glass again, “Take it.” Reluctantly, Y/n relieved him of the glass but hesitated on taking a sip. Something might stir inside her when he was around, but it wasn’t trust. “Relax, I wouldn’t do that to you,” Y/n glared and in response, Andy downed his entire glass in one go, stepping away to fill it up again- that time a little more than the last. “See?” He took a generous swing, “I’m not that kind of guy,” he got close again, that time offering his glass for a toast, “To good men.” 

She’d called him a good man, that had aged pretty badly. 

“To good men,” she retorted sarcastically, taking a large sip of the wine. He was right, she did like it. 

“Do you like it?” Y/n could have been wrong, maybe she had a little too much faith in him, but his question seemed genuine. Like he was eager to know if he’d made the right pick. 

“Its alright,” the lie must not have been a very good one because Andy smirked. “I want my-”

“I know, finish your drink,” he gritted. Then, after polishing off his second glass at an alarming rate, Andy wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. With just the slightest stumble in his usually confident gait, he set the empty glass down with a thump and started walking towards the stairs, “I’ll go get you’re fucking ring,” he mummbled, leaving her downstairs without another word. 

Not thinking much of it, she took periodic sips of the wine. It was good, and judging by the label, it must have cost upwards of a couple hundred dollars, but it wasn't particularly strong- definitely not strong enough to get a man of his size drunk after two glasses.

That was when she put it together; the slightest scent of liquor on his breath when he’d answered the door, his outwardly aggressive behavior, the way he’d swallowed the wine like it was water- Andy was already drunk. He’d probably been that way since he’d called earlier. 

And he was obviously playing some kind of game with her. Laying a trap. Luring her to danger. 

On heavy steps, Andy returned downstairs about five minutes later, prowling towards her and prompting Y/n to absently inch backwards into the wall. “Your ring,” he held it up with a little, wicked grin. She put her hand out for it, but Andy took it instead, turning it over so her palm would be face down. Their chests were inches apart at that point and he kept his darkened eyes matched with hers, presumably in a defiant act above all else, as he slid the ring back onto her finger. “All better?”

Clenching her jaw, Y/n tried to pull her hand away but Andy tightened his grip and lunged; within the second his lips were on hers. Reacting instinctively, she kissed him back- it was completely impulsive, submission to a primal desire. She could taste the mixture of liquors on his lips and his kiss could have been as inebriating  as the poison he’d poured down his throat. She might have gotten drunk on him- she would have- But the minute she caught herself, deserting carnal yearning in favor of what was true and right, Y/n tried to use her free hand to shove him away. 

But he wouldn’t budge. 

Andy was solid, immovable. Like a gray stone wall or a bear boxing in its prey. 

She could feel a bulge pressing into her lower stomach, making it hard to focus

“Stop,” she fought against his lips, a frustrated noise escaping her lips when grabbed the wrist of the hand she as using to push against his chest. “You need to stop,” Y/n struggled against his hungry lips. It doesn't matter that she actually doesn't want him to, that she'd traded hours of sleep for fantasies that looked just like that. A moment where they'd be alone and he'd do things to her that James might be scared to.

But none of that mattered- they were fantasies and she was engaged.

When she attempted to use her legs against him- knee him in the groin or kick him in the shin- Andy reacted swiftly positioned both his legs between hers, consequently pressing his crotch against her.

“No,” he easily positioned her hands over her head, closing his fingers in around her wrists and pinning them to the wall above her head, rendering her defenseless. “You want this,” Andy snarled into her mouth, hooking his now free hand around the back of her thigh, guiding it harshly to his hip. “Say you want this.”

Wiggling against frantically, Y/n tossed her head back, hitting it on the wall, as she tried to tear her lips from his. “No, get off me,” she protested, voice rising above a harsh warning. 

Deserting her thigh, Andy brought his hand to her neck and held her like that for a moment, “We’re doing this,” he managed through gritted teeth, “I know you, you want this. All those nights we spent together, just the two of us. Everytime I asked you if you wanted to go home, what did you say?” He was squeezing her throat, applying enough pressure to limit airflow. 

“N–no,” it was getting harder to breathe and speak, and her vision was dancing  but something in the back of Y/n’s mind doubted that he genuinely wanted to hurt her, “I-I said….no.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re engaged?” He pulled her forward a little, only to slam her head into the wall again, though not hard enough to inflict any more damage than a sore spot. 

“Exactly,” Andy hissed, “You said no. We went on a fucking date and you didn’t tell me you were engaged.”

Hot tears were racing down her paling cheeks and Andy was beginning to seem more and more like a blur. “Because,” she gasped, desperately trying to suck in some air, “I…” A hitched sob punctuated her words, “I….I didn’t want you to know.”

She really didn’t. It was wrong, misguided and shamefully selfish, but at some point, Y/n had thought that bringing up her engagement would ruin the closeness that she so enjoyed with Andy. She enjoyed being the only person he opened up to, in a way, it felt like he was hers and as long as she kept her relationship with James hidden, nothing would change.

“Exactly,” he growled, seeking her lips once more, “You’ve wanted me exactly the way I’ve wanted you since that first case.”

A broken sob fell into his mouth and Y/n occasionally found herself punctuating her failing resistance with sloppily returned kisses. “I don’t wanna do this,” she cried weakly, breaths short and throat dry, “You don’t wanna do this,” halfheartedly, she kissed the corner of his lips and tried to turn her face away again, “You’re drunk, this isn’t you.” 

Pressing his forehead to hers, Andy chuckled and his grip on her neck loosened so he could flatten his hand on the top of her chest. She could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of her dress as he dragged it slowly down her body, and as she got a clearer sense of where his hand was going, she was breathing quickly. “I promise you, sweetheart” he rasped, fingers creeping under the hem of her skirt, which had ridden up her thigh, “This is exactly me.” 

Pushing aside the crotch off her underwear, Andy slipped two of his digits into her folds and started pumping slowly. “See?” He taunted in response to the slickness that had gathered there shortly after she’d felt his member pressing into her stomach. Try as she might, it was impossible to deny the effect that Andy had on her and she hated that she did want him- a man like him, who was proving to be worse than the rumors. She hated that the only reason she was resisting was because she didn't want to be branded as a cheater. 

“You want this,” he coaxed, curling his fingers and extracting a sharp inhale, “Admit it sweetheart.”

Not because she loved her fiance- she did- but she didn’t want that love questioned. Not by Andy, not by herself. 

But love and sex, they were different. She could love James and want Andy. It wasn't wrong, it was just human.

His beard grazed her skin, and the sensation coupled with her mounting arousal made a shiver run up her spine. “Please….” Her plea was teary, and Y/n wasn’t sure what she was begging for; for him to spare her the consequence of a nasty truth or give her more. 

Biting down on her lower lip, Y/n hoped a little pain and blood on her tongue was enough to keep her mouth shut and ward off the obvious truth, but when his lips sought her jaw and he added another finger to his quickening ministrations while pressing his thumb to her nub, she succumbed. “Yes…” She heaved, sobbing, “I want you,” she cried, head bending forward and her face consequently nuzzling the side of his.

She was only human, after all.

Finally satisfied, Andy let Y/n’s wrists go and she immediately loomed her arms around his neck, holding him to her. Meanwhile, he removed his fingers from her arousal and started pushing her underwear down, letting it pool at her feet. Without thinking, she kicked it away and when Andy curled his fingers under her ass after sparing a bare moment to undo his pants and free his cock, she let him lift her off the ground and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

But when Andy slid into her with unfettered ease, girth stretching her to the point of a delicious burn, an erotic moan tumbled off her lips and her fingers curled in his nape. Immediately, he struck up a pace of pronounced but aggressive thrusts, giving off the sense that he was barely containing himself. 

She still felt guilty. Y/n still knew it was wrong. 

“Fuck….Laurie….” In the heat of the moment, her name dripped off his lips, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that it wasn’t even about her;

'Because you remind me of someone. Someone special.'

'Keep the length, try a couple shades darker'- just like the woman in the photographs. 

“I’ve been thinking about this since we met,” he admitted, liquor stained breath hot on her face and distracting her, “God, you feel so fucking good, you take me so well.” 

He felt good too. 

Steadying her at the hip with one hand, Andy used the other to free her blouse from the waist of her skirt. Delving under the hem, he groped her breast through her bra, kneading harshly. As the rhythmic roll of his hips grew rabid, Y/n found herself demanding, “Harder,” and, “Faster,” with the occasional obscene praise peppered in between. 

Reveling in the feel of his bulging veins rubbing her sensitive walls with each purposeful, aggressive thrust and the way the curve of his member seemed to probe at the lowest part of her stomach, Y/n sunk her nails into his back, clawing at Andy through his shirt. Breathy moans and low grunts bounced off the walls as stifling heat cocooned them, hardly remedied by the air conditioning. 

With each jerk, her back hit the wall with an audible thump and as Y/n felt herself inching closer to insurmountable gratification she tightened her legs around his hips, driving the back of her feet into his thighs. “Andy,” she hitched headily when his lips met hers again, not really in a kiss but a stretch of shared breaths. “Fuck,” Y/n heaved into his mouth, “You feel so….”

Grinning wickedly, he tried to meet her lust blown eyes but their faces were so close that it was hard. “Feel so….?”

“So-uh,” a small fraction of her was readily able to recognize that there was no coming back from the words she wanted to say. Her silly admission that he was the best she’d ever had. Y/n’s mind though had fallen into some kind of sex-crazed limbo, caught between what was inherently right and what felt incomparably good. 

“Tell me,” he demanded, kissing her roughly, biting her lips before pulling away a few centimeters.

“Good,” at the back of his head, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, causing him to bite her lips when they kissed again, “So fucking good.” Pressing her face close to his, the rise and fall of her chest became erratic and her heart was galloping in behind her ribs and she became acutely aware of just how close she was to toppling over with gratification. 

“I wanna feel you,” he encouraged, quickening his pace a little, fingers digging into her waist. 

The fabric of his shirt was crumpled in her grip and eager for release, Y/n struggled to buck her hips towards his. With a gasp, Y/n’s legs stiffened and her head lolled back against the wall. Unrestrained ecstasy started in a burst at her center, spreading like an untamed wildefire to electrify her every nerve. Clenching around him, her frame quaked and she drenched their thighs in silky moisture. She didn’t think it had ever felt like that; like watching fireworks on an LSD high or speeding on the freeway after a night of tequila shots. There was a rush she’d never experienced before, one she fittingly thought could only ever be achieved with drugs. “Andy! Fuck!” Her throat hurt and her words were loud and a little hoarse.

Andy’s pace didn’t falter through the crest of her euphoria, though just as her high settled, leaving behind a pleasurable sensitivity and colours on her vision, his hips sputtered. She should have pushed him away, begged him to pull out, but much too consumed by the threads of pleasure still running through her veins, Y/n clung to him as generous ribbons of his hot product shot into her. By then, he’d shifted his feet slightly and moved both his hands to hold onto her hip, as if he were keeping her in place so she’d take every drop of him. 

Even after it was over, Andy remained sheathed between her sore walls for a handful of slow moments. They kissed, lips taking on a leisured pace that time and Y/n leaned forward so he’d be supporting most of her weight. She could have sworn that every sensation in that moment was raw and amplified; the roughness of his beard scratching the area around her lips and tickling her palms, the fullness of him still settled inside her, the heat of his touch seeping through her blouse and the rhythm of his heart matching hers. 

Suddenly, she couldn’t remember if her heartbeat had ever matched James’. 

She hated that she was comparing them. He was a good man and Andy was…..Andy. 

Gingerly, he pulled out, and simultaneously, she untangled her legs from around him, knees almost buckling as her feet finally hit the ground. Shutting her eyes as she slumped against the wall, Y/n could hear the soft clink of his belt as Andy tugged his pants up, and while she made no effort to pull her skirt down, she could feel the fabric slowly creeping back to his proper place. 

When he lazily leaned forward, braced by one arm pressed to the wall diagonally over her head, Andy  reached out to ghost the  outline of her face with his rough fingertips, thumb tracing tear stains and then the shape of her kiss-swollen lips. His breathing was just as heavy as hers and it was only after his touch hand trailed down her neck and had reached the valley of her cleavage did he disturbed the heavy silence. “Can I tell you something?” His hoarse whisper elicited a pitiful whimper and shiver from her. His large hand skimmed the contour of her curves and settled to a firm grip on her waist, “You’re prettier when you’re mine.”

Mine. 

His. 

A hitched sob escaped her throat just as her guilt doubled; how could she? That time, when she pushed him away, Andy complied. There was so much she could say to him; curse him, lie and say she hated him, blame him but it would really only be words born from her own guilt and after he’d spent the past forty minutes or so ruining her, Y/n didn’t think he deserved the satisfaction. 

Sucking in a big breath to contain her shameful tears, she shuffled away from Andy, who didn’t even put a toe towards trying to stop her; she supposed it was because he’d already gotten what he wanted. Blindly, Y/n stumbled towards the door, letting herself out without a word and not bothering to shut it as she left. Approaching the car parked on the curb, Y/n rummaged through her coat for the keys and after she got them out, she shrugged off the coat using it to lap up some of the moisture on her face and neck before getting in. 

Immediately after getting the engine going, Y/n put down the windows and turned on the air conditioning, hoping the inescapable chill would do something for her appearance. Then reaching into the glove compartment, she hastily extracted a wad of napkins and did her best to clean up before discarding them on the passenger seat  and  grabbing up her phone. 

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”

“Drive safe. Text me when you get there.”

“Y/n?” 

“I get it if you’re still upset but please let me know that you’re safe.”

“Ordered your favorite for dinner. Waiting till you get here. I love you.”

“Shit!” Y/n banged the wheel with the side of her fist and hot tears rained from blurry eyes. She’d been at Andy’s for just over an hour. Trying to slow the erratic rise and fall of her chest and quiet her sobs, she quickly typed a response, telling James that she’d forgotten her phone in the car and would be home within the next half hour. 

Then, as she wiped her eyes and pulled off, hoping she could bring herself to face James by the time she got home. 

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 33

MASTAPOST

god im so sleepy lmao also warning for skulker being a mega creep, but not to the extent of vlad

Damian, for the second time in as many days, awoke in a tank, a fact with which he was extremely displeased. The last thing he recalled was his stomach lurching, the bag he’d been stuffed into serving as an excellent package for Skulker to make off with him. Damian longed for a good blade to sink into the man’s body.

That fact was amplified by the feeling of cold metal on his scales. Damian scratched at the golden bracelets cupping his arms. He was dressed up in luxurious gold and jewels like a lecherous sultan’s slave. A ringed belt-like piece of silver wrapped around his waist and looped over his hip fins. Two more golden rings, each adorned with gleaming rubies, cupped the thinnest portion of his tail just above his tailfin. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to relieve himself of any of the filthy things. They were fitted tight as a glove, almost like they were made for his measurements. Damian shivered, and turned to more productive activities.

His new prison cell was at least more amenable than his last. In fact, it was a little too amenable. Damian found himself in a veritable miniature aquarium. If it weren’t for the reflection of his scaly face in the glass and the lavish (and frankly, tasteless) furniture beyond, he’d have thought himself in the actual ocean. The bottom was padded with beautiful white sand, populated by towering coral structures and schools upon schools of fish, jellyfish, and even a few manta rays. Stalks of kelp rose to the ceiling of the room, as the tank was that tall. Seaweed swayed in an artificial current. Damian picked up the sound of a wave machine gently pushing against the surface of the water.

Tapping the glass proved it was not some common fishbowl’s glass. The barrier between the water and air was at least two inches thick, something even a human Robin would find trouble with, let alone his current state. A golden shine caught his eye. Damian tutted. His fins rattled. It seems Skulker’s poor taste knew no bounds. Solid gold pillars lined the corners of the tank, and ran along the top and bottom.

With a closer look outside the tank, Damian clocked the numerous animal heads lining the walls of the room. Even more baffling was the inclusion of beautiful hand-crafted stone bird fountains scattered around the walls and mounted on posts in the room, populated by, of all the things, red duck candles. An old fashioned writing desk and chair sat facing away from the tank, decorated with what else but more preserved animals, and even more tacky candles, as if they were bought from the novelty shops that Richard would occasionally visit.

Outside of his already-revolting interior décor tastes, Skulker was a hunter. Went after rare and exotic creatures, Danny had told him. Damian’s eyes narrowed. Now he understood fully what the man was after. The abduction, the drowning, the pursuit, the sudden presence of the GiW in Panama, the entire reason for this trip in the first place.

The better question now was whether he was the prize, or the bait? And Damian suspected he was both. After all, Danny had made it very clear how much Skulker wanted his pelt specifically. Why go through the effort of making such a luxurious fish tank for a dead teenager?

There were so many other sirens in the sea, though. It made perfect sense that Damian would be the bait, but why also the prize?

He had caused a media sensation when he’d first arrived in Gotham. Tabloids ran for months, drooling over the gossip and rumours surrounding the mysterious biological son of Bruce Wayne. He’d been swarmed by mobs of rich snobs trying to pair their daughters with him, until his biting tone chased most of them off.

While Skulker wanted to make a coat out of Danny’s scales, he probably also wanted to allure of having such a mysterious and exotic pet. A pet that he’d had a direct hand in creating. Damian’s cheeks heated. He gritted his teeth. Of course. Here he was as much a trophy as the heads on the wall.

The door swung open. Damian bared his teeth. His fins flared wide. If he had his way, he’d be sinking them into the man’s jugular. Instead he was forced to bear Skulker’s smug smirk. He walked in, dressed in black cargo pants and a tank top instead of the customary hulking metal suit. Damian’s scales ran cold as the man looked over his body, bare except for jewelry he himself had placed.

Skulker went to the desk and retrieved a microphone from the drawer. He flipped it on, causing a brief whine in the tank.

“Good afternoon, Damian Wayne. I trust you find your new accommodation satisfactory?”

Damian hissed at him. “If you set me free I might let you live.”

“Hah!” Skulker laughed. The man reached into another drawer and pulled a can of beer. “I’m afraid the world outside is far too dangerous for a little guppy like you. You’ll be safer in here.”

“My absence has already been noted. You will not be able to get away with this!”

“Do you truly believe that, little boy?” Skulker shotgunned the beer in one. “Your little friend Danny wasn’t recognised by his own mother at gunpoint. And even if by some miracle they came here, what would you do? Squeak at them?”

Actually, he would tap out a message in Morse Code, but Skulker didn’t need to know that. And this time he would not hesitate.

Still, that brought up another concern. Skulker did not know he was Robin. As far as he believed, Damian was just some spoilt rich boy. On the one hand, it meant that there would be underestimation, and from there an opportunity. On the other hand, any overt competence he displayed would do badly for the family secret.

What a conundrum.

“So what do you intend to do with me, then? Sell my scales? Bed me?”

Skulker gasped in genuine shock, not the fake politeness that he’d seen Father’s parasites give off. “Did you not know? I am Skulker, the greatest hunter in the seven seas! I am not some kind of sicko. All the pleasure I need comes from the thrill of the hunt! And you have been an admirable quarry, and may now live out the rest of your days in comfort as my greatest trophy.”

Despite his ‘reassurance,’ Damian distinctly thought this made him even more of a sicko. “And what of Phantom’s pelt?”

“Danny will be my greatest coat, or a handbag. I’m open to options. Probably won’t even die the first skinning, what with his regeneration.”

Definitely a sicko. This man would fit right in on Gotham’s rogue’s gallery. Damian had disdain for hunters, especially trophy hunters, but to chase after someone whom you know is human? He recalled the fiery siren girl’s words back at the cave near Amity. To go after your own kind indeed. And Danny had the confidence to casually banter with this man like it was Tuesday?! Not to mention while being shot at by his parents, and the government.

Robin always had Batman, and the family, and the Justice League beyond those people. There were times he craved independence, to strike out on his own and prove himself, only to sorely regret it when it inevitably went pear-shaped. And yet Danny did all that and more, and the only adults in his life wanted to kill him.

“Phantom is thrice the man you will ever be. To covet his skin will only bring you ruin.”

Skulker pressed his face right up against the glass, grinning sadistically. Damian hissed back. “What does a baby sea monster know about manhood? Or ruin, for that matter. Let me spell it out for you. You. Have. No. Rights. Nobody who has those rights is coming for you. I could parade you around animal conservation centres for all the world to see and as far as the law is concerned I’d be as innocent as a newborn babe.”

Rage boiled over. Damian snarled. He lashed out against the glass, clawing uselessly at the barrier. Skulker only laughed harder. Damian slammed at the glass with his tail. His tail rings clanged against it uselessly.

“You’re an adorable trophy. I ought to put a little bell on you, like a kitten.”

The man left soon after, cackling like a TV supervillain (or just a regular real life supervillain, honestly), leaving Damian to stew in his rage.

He was not one to stew for long. With rage, there was never inaction.

Danny stuffed as much seaweed into his mouth as he could fit in his arms. He shoveled shellfish in like a waterslide. His belly bulged with how much food it was taking, and yet kept shrinking rapidly. Danny slashed open a fat fish. He sank his teeth into his flesh, ripped out the guts, then threw the rest out in seconds. It would take too much time to pick the flesh between bones, so he just killed another. Then another, and another.

He’d exhausted himself, and got Damian caught by fucking Skulker. That mistake couldn’t happen again. He couldn’t fail Damian again.

He tried to ignore the way his skin crawled just from how close his mother was. How close Damian’s dad was. If Bruce Wayne learned how badly he’d fucked up, Danny would be a dead fish and he wouldn’t even complain. He deserved it.

Danny ate, and ate, and ate.

He sniffed the water. It was Skulker’s dolphins. The trail was heading away from the shore. Danny swam faster than he had ever swum before.

It seemed Skulker had anticipated many of his first ideas. Damian found the water filter practically welded to its spot. His new ornaments proved useless at breaking or dislodging anything. He’d even found the larger rocks of the aquarium affixed to the bottom and immovable. The pebbles gathered up in bunches at the bottom proved ineffective as well. At the top, Damian found a hatch, probably for maintenance and cleaners to enter, but it was sealed shut. The tank featured no other entrances or exists. What he saw was what he got.

Even if he could break the glass, he didn’t even want to. He was not the only unwilling resident of this tank, but he was the only one with lungs. That left the top hatch as his current best option.

Damian swam into a nook, and began to plan.

This was not ideal. No weapons, no tools, a body for which measures had already been taken. Of course, Danny might come for him. He might. He’d heard an explosion moments after he was snatched right off Danny’s back, then there was the issue of Dr Fenton and his father. To expect Danny to be swift was unreasonable. 

In fact, it might be Damian who needed to save Danny. 

Which was to say he could not afford to lounge around. Simultaneously, it was possible he’s be forced to play the long game in his escape attempt, and the longer he had to endure Skulker’s lecherous gaze, the more chance he might pop a vein or two. 

Time to work on it then. Damian swam up to the top. He knocked against the hatch, testing its durability. To his surprise, there was just the slightest amount of give. Perhaps with a pebble, he could pry it open. A crowbar would’ve been preferable, but beggars could not be choosers. 

Seizing stress overwhelmed his tiny body. His subconscious recognised it first. Then his conscious mind registered the rattling of everything in the room. The boat shook, as if rocked by an attack. Damian dashed back behind a rock. He waited for a moment. 

Skulker did not come. Perhaps Damian had underestimated Danny’s tenacity yet again. This represented a prime opportunity. While Skulker was busy fighting Danny, Damian could escape and then assist. 

So he got to work immediately. He picked up the largest pebble he could get his scaly hands on. Then he went to the bottom of the tank. Steeling his nerves, Damian kicked his fins in sync. He undulated his body in one fluid motion, and surged with blinding speed. The metal clanged loudly and echoed in the water as he slammed as hard as he could against the hatch. 

It budged a quarter of a millimetre. Damian could hardly believe it. Then he did it again. And again. What he lacked in body mass he made up for with supernatural speed, pebbles in hand bashing against the hatch. He could not hear any more fighting or gather information on the situation outside the ship. The drive to get back to his friend fuelled his resolve, let him ignore his bruising knuckles and aching elbows. Damian surged up and attacked the opening once more.

His heart sank. The door was pushed open enough to reveal a padlock and chains covering the outside. Curse that Skulker! Damian yelled Todd-esque obscenities as he clawed uselessly at the chains. The lock was too far in the air for the water bound boy to reach, the opening too narrow to fit his hands through. He was Robin! He had no intention of letting a demented two-bit hunter with an ego the size of Lake Michigan get the better of him. 

So Damian coiled his tail like a spring again. He imagined all sorts of hateful and unpleasant things plastered over the hatch. The Fenton parents. The Joker. Grandfather. 

Nerves fired up, Damian snarled a barely-human battle cry. He launched himself faster than ever before. One second he was at the bottom. The next he was-

The next second, Damian found himself above the surface. Barely registering his surroundings, he let his gills open up immediately. Did he break the hatch? Was this super strength?

He was on some kind of platform over the tank, like the kind at aquariums for trainers or feeders. There was a tight constrictive feeling around his waist. Damian looked back, and his eyes widened.

The doors had budged, but only by a few inches. The lock and chain remained, albeit stretched out. And Damian? His waist compressed through the tiny gap like an octopus. He made out the gleam of the silver belt and necklace on the other side, wrapped around his tail, which should have been too big for them to fit, and yet Damian barely felt inconvenienced. 

Well. This changed things. 

Damian gripped the metal platform and pulled. He distinctly felt his organs squelch. His stomach had been pushed into his chest cavity, finally returning to its normal spot as his waist came through. His hip fins folded in on themselves. Then each of his bones in his tail bent like rubber bands, his scales sliding through with the help of his copious mucus secretions. At last Damian’s tailfin went through the gap, thin enough to not require any nauseating body modification. Unfortunately, the rings above it were also small enough. If he had the time, he’d have forced them off. 

He didn’t have time, though. Danny was out there and he needed his help. With the help of his mucus, Damian slithered snake-like over the metal platform, then down the stairs at the side. 

Skulker’s trophy room looked even more garish when there wasn’t glass covering his view. Damian spat on the carpet in disgust. Indeed, he was already intending on slathering a generous trail of mucus over the expensive decor, but it was not just about the raw damage. It was about sending a message. 

Damian began to roll across the room. However, just as he went underneath one of the fiendishly ugly bird fountains, another explosion shook the room. Out of water, it was able to ring at his ear fins. Damian was startled out of his wheel position, splaying himself on the floor. 

The shockwaves rattled everything in the room. The water rippled. Mounted animal heads jerked up an inch before returning to their hooks. The post holding up the bird fountain just above Damian jerked to one side. Before Damian knew it, a small waxy weight fell on his side. 

Everything in his body burned.

The jet ski’s radar pinged bright. Their drone in the air confirmed it. Turns out Brucie Wayne had some nifty contacts. Managed to figure out this ‘Skulker’ fellow was the proud owner of a yacht, and had connections in the human trafficking business. Jack felt sick to his stomach.

Brucie should’ve come with them, should’ve been there to rescue their sons by his and Maddie’s side, but he was still injured from Jazz’s mind-controlled swing, which meant it was just the classic Fenton pair once again. He felt another tinge of pride for his daughter’s arm. But mostly, he felt ready to tear this Skulker apart molecule by molecule.

He just couldn’t believe it. Maddie’d seen him. She’d seen Danny. He was right there and she was just that close and then-

He relaxed his body and took in a deep breath, just like Jazzy said. Whatever was going to happen, he and Maddie were going to give it their all, and get the boys back. Then this would all be over.

Five kilometres north. He glanced to his side, where Maddie, the love of his life, revved her craft. Now or never.

Their presence did not go unnoticed. Jack’s goggles picked up dozens of rockets in the air. His scanners detected torpedoes in the water. Without a word, Maddie was firing at will, and Jack manned the jet skis’ systems. Counter-torpedoes launched from tubes underneath their seats. Mini-guns sprang from their concealments and opened fire.

“Jack, there’s one flanking you!”

“Go high!” He yelled back. Jack spotted the lone torpedo moments away from hitting his ski. On cue, Maddie’s jet ski shot ten feet into the air off the back of its thrusters. Jack waited until it was within striking distance. He pushed the handle bars to full throttle as his ski’s backup thrusters went into overdrive. He shot off away from the torpedo at a sharp right angle. Once he had enough distance, Jack directed the blasters to intercept.

The yacht emerged from the horizon. From hatches and panels along its hole, a veritable arsenal primed itself to fire. Looked like Brucie’s intel was solid. Now it was his and Maddie’s time to shine. Jack charged his weapons, he nodded affirmation to Maddie, and together they went into the fray.