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cherubify · 17 days

Text

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA / LEON KENNEDY

6.1k words

cw: corruption, stalking, doppelganger themes, dirty talk, attempted sa, dubcon, hints of mindbreak/exhibitionism/overstimulation, fingering, creampie, unprotected p-in-v, use of pet names, fellatio, filming, dead dove do not eat, minors dni

a/n: this was written for an anonie's reqqy! it marinated in my wips for a few weeks (mb!) so it feels kinda off to me + i kept changing the title but.. yeah! n special thanks to my trusted beta reader @xoxostarlet!! <3 ok i'll shut up now but enjoy!

There’s a saying out there– something about how there are more than seven people in the world who share the same face as you. Despite possibly living in a distant community, with a foreign tongue and having one’s own idiosyncrasies, there’s someone out there who resembles you. A doppelganger, is what most people called it, right? Leon hasn’t met anyone who looks like him yet, though he’s heard passersby comment on how he looked like a model whose name was always on the tip of his tongue.

It must be a prank pulled by the heavens when they created people, forgetting to register their creations as solely unique individuals and reusing their faces for a recycled project. At least, that’s what he thinks when he finds yet another film, with its poster girl bearing a striking resemblance to the store clerk. A knowing smile crept up his face as he strolled over to the front desk.

You sat behind a long counter, homework precariously piled up as you scribbled your answers onto the papers. A cash register and your laptop accompanied you on your side. He set his selection of the day beside your papers, prompting you to look up.

“This one again? You borrowed it last week, Mr Kennedy,” you commented with a shaky laugh.

The man on the other side of the counter was an older man with a face and body of strong and hard corners everywhere. He was dressed in grey sweats and a hoodie, the hood draped over his side swept dirty blonde hair. Leon was what he told you to call him, but the desire to maintain personal distance led you to calling him by his family name instead.

“What can I say? It’s a good way to kick my feet up.” His arms were folded on the counter as he leaned towards you.

You snorted inwardly. Yeah, kicking your feet up by getting off to these… morbid tapes, huh? You read the summary of all the films he rented before. They were about dark things you’d never want to be involved in. Random films centred around dark plots, such as Stockholm syndrome, hardcore BDSM and the like. Perfect for twisted people with twisted fantasies. But not for you, you were proud to say you lived a mostly peaceful and non traumatised life, and you would keep it that way.

It’s not that you wanted to kink shame; people could watch whatever they wanted. But having to rent out these tapes to a shameless guy like him was uncomfortable. And he was making you feel even more uncomfortable when he waltzed up to the counter, showing you his findings of the day. What a weirdo. At least act a little embarrassed like the other customers, wouldn’t you?

However, you shoved down your grievances and processed his purchase on the register. Once you finished, you passed both the film and a receipt to him. He took it from your grasp, warm fingers brushing against yours. You immediately withdrew your hand and discreetly rubbed your skin raw against your jeans.

Nothing went unnoticed by him, including your poorly hidden disgust. His lips curled on his face, he knew what you were thinking– most people didn’t relax by renting adult films. If only you knew his true intentions. Why he chose this specific film to rent again.

You jabbed the back of the store with your thumb, attention returning to your homework. Beside the staff room and a tiny toilet, there was another door that led to a room: the viewing room. He entered, closing the door behind him softly. It was furnished the same as always: a family sized couch with cushions. No windows or lights, just a single projector, a screen and speakers. A viewing room to watch the store’s rented shows and only that.

Not that he couldn’t view it at home, but he wanted to do it here. In this room, in the back of a store you had no choice but to man alone. He knew the sounds leaked into the hall and into the sales floor. And the actress in this film had impressively exaggerated moans. Which was why he liked this certain film. He knew your face would be distorted with horror as you struggled to put up with it for the next hour. Plus the second hand embarrassment you experienced when other customers entered (not that there were many to begin with).

He chuckled softly whilst setting up the screening. When it began to play, he slumped onto the couch, arms crossed. He knew you noticed the resemblance you shared with the poster girl. Knew the uneasy glances you’d send him whenever you caught him browsing through the adult film section. It was fun pushing your buttons– seeing your innocent face distort with horror, embarrassment, shame whenever you scanned the films he chose. You certainly noticed the increasing resemblance of all the actresses to you. It was clear as day from the tautness in your smile as you forced out a polite ‘thank you’ when he returned the goods.

He tried to focus on the actress on the screen. A girl who shared the same hair colour and clothing style as you. There were some similarities in your faces, but only as far as the curve of your jaw and the curl of your lips. A mismatch in voice, sure, but when the woman on the screen moaned, he wondered if you replicated such a sound. The thought made him swell a little in his sweats. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

Like the girl on screen, he wanted to bend you over a kitchen table as you wore nothing but a frilly apron and underwear. He’d rip your panties off and bury his face between your perfect butt and-

A knock on the door snapped him out of his daze. He paused the show and it creaked open to reveal you, standing hesitantly. Your eyes shifted from him to the screen, pupils dilating as they adjusted to the darkness of the room. You tried to hide the way your eyes flitted from the screen to him. The same old expression on your face as your bottom lip quivered.

“Um… I can hear everything,” you told him- and he knew, but he listened anyway, “It’ll bother the customers, so please keep it down.”

Or go home. He knew those words were on the tip of your tongue. There were no other customers around (probably) but he smiled anyway and complied, just because you asked nicely. He jabbed the volume button once.

“Sure, but maybe a kiss would convince me, darling.” He called out, but you barely heard it over the creaking of the door as you closed it.

Always running away before he could shoot his shot. Like a game of mouse and cat, a fitting analogy considering how you’d tremble in his presence and flee with your metaphorical tail between your legs. He chuckled and resumed the film, the volume a single decibel lower while you sat at the counter, shaking your head.

In your eyes, Leon was a bit of a troublemaker. You weren’t naive enough to be fooled by his clueless facade. You knew that he got a kick out of the distress he put you in when he played his fine selection for the day. He could go home instead– in fact, you had a right to kick him out. But your boss instructed you to be kind to regulars, such as Mr Kennedy here. So what more could you do besides put on your customer service smile and voice? After all, customers were always right. You’d like to believe that if it weren’t for the amount of trouble he gave you by entering the store. If he pushed any further you were sure to blacklist him from the store for good.

When he came out, you watched hopefully. Hoping that he’d walk out of the door. But then he began searching through the aisles and before you knew it, he set another box onto the counter again. An adult film with its poster girl sitting on a couch sultrily, her hair colour and hair parted the way you did yours. Last time his choice was a girl with the same fashion sense as you. All of his selections consisted of girls that took after you. Quite the strange coincidences, but you chalked it up to just you having run-of-the-mill features.

“Come again,” you grimaced inwardly. You hoped he wouldn't, but when he left he cast you a knowing smile over your shoulder. You groaned aloud, because you knew he would.

You worked at the rental video shop temporarily, home from college for summer break when your pockets were emptier than you recalled. This store was an easy choice, simply because it was right across your apartment complex. The close proximity meant you could just tumble out of bed in the morning and clock in with your pjs. The owner was a decrepit man who was out of town half the time, so he couldn’t be bothered with what was happening except meeting the bare sales requirements.

Retail life was no stranger, but this was the most relaxing it had ever been in your job history. It was a joy working in this store, believe it or not. Truly a pity it was only temporary. No naggy managers or bossy coworkers. Just you and the occasional customer wandering among dusty aisles. Speaking of dust…

You checked the time– a few minutes left before closing. It took a mere second to find Leon, whose blonde’s head peaked above a low row of shelves. You guessed he was sifting through another peculiar genre. So you left him to it as you entered the back and into the staff room. Unbeknownst to you, the front door jingled as someone stepped onto the sales floor.

When you finally returned, you were armed with a step ladder and a duster, the latter missing more than half of its feathers. Despite its haggard appearance, it was clearly not being put to use, apparent from the store’s dust infested furniture. Perhaps the store’s sorry state was a contributory factor for the lack of visitors. You set the ladder down at the front of the store and began dusting from top to bottom.

A cough alerted Leon’s attention to you and he peeked up from the boxes in his hands. You stood precariously on the top, a hand clutched over your nose as you dusted a shelf. From where he stood, he could see cotton peeking from your loose shorts. He set the goods down to grip either side of the ladder’s frame.

“I don’t think this rickety thing’s stable enough for you to use, sweetheart,” he commented, prompting you to look at him. “You should come down before you fall.”

“I’m fine, Mr Kennedy. I’ve got everything under control,” you began cleaning again when you inhaled some dust. Your eyebrows furrowed, then your face crinkled as you sneezed. And ironically you fell. A shout and a thud followed, and you found yourself in his arms.

He had an awkward grip on you, having caught you suddenly with open arms. His arm was wrapped around your thighs and the space below your shoulder blades. The vice grip on the fat of your thighs caused your face to explode with red.

“Oh my god- I’m sorry!” You gasped as you wriggled in his arms, begging to be put down. He yielded and you were onto your feet again. You backed away from him, hands clasped apologetically. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? Are you- are you okay?”

He laughed, and it’s an airy, low sound. The regular crossed his arms and leaned against the ladder. “I’m fine. And you?”

“Y-Yeah. But I guess I should throw this out,” you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly.

“Let me,” he offered and he swiftly walked out with it in tow. The entrance jingled before closing behind him as he disappeared.

You rubbed your arms awkwardly, the heat from your face dissipating as you exhaled shakily. Maybe you were wrong about him. Leon was quite a nice guy. Now, if it weren’t for his weird fetishes, maybe you’d give him a chance. You shook your head. What were you thinking? He was just a customer. You sighed and picked up your fallen duster.

You turned your back to an approaching man. Footsteps behind you prompted you to look up, and you expected a blonde but was mistaken. Your face was shoved against a shelf, the old thing creaked as it leaned back then back onto its corners. Your wrists were held behind you by a gloved hand, and you strained to see the perpetrator but the grip on the back of your head prevented you.

“Just stay quiet and it’ll be over soon,” it was a hushed voice, unfamiliar and muffled. “–be a good girl and stay still.”

“Who are you calling a good girl?” You gritted your teeth and struggled against your captor’s hold. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll-”

“Uh uh–” something cold pressed against your neck. Was that… a knife? “–It’d be better if you don’t struggle.”

You froze as the blade dug into the column of your throat. The stranger released your wrists to wander a gloved hand along the curve of your spine. It hurt to swallow, and you struggled to breathe as the molestor’s hand dipped into your shorts. Was this how your summer break would end? An assault in the store you part-timed in for quick cash?

Your train of thought was derailed when a grunt echoed in the store. The blade was withdrawn and clattered onto the floor, and you whirled around to find a masked man collapsed on the floor. Standing behind him was Leon, who swiftly pocketed a gun into a holster on his belt. You gaped at him– has he always carried that on him?

“Are you okay?” Leon stepped over the body to grip your shoulders. His wide eyes scrutinised your smaller frame. “Did he hurt you?”

You looked at his hands then at him, “I… I think I’m alright.”

The man frowned and studied the unconscious man with a hardened expression. He dialled for the cops and filed a brief report. Afterwards, he dragged the molester outside the store, where he tied his wrists to a lamp post. The man was limp throughout, unconscious from whatever Leon had pulled. You clutched your arms as you sat at the cash register, eyes fixated on the counter.

A first aid kit came into view. Leon stood on the other side, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I found this in the back,” he said softly, digging through it. He produced a disinfectant wipe and a bandaid.

Only when he reached out to you did you notice the wound on your neck. It stung, and you gingerly touched it. Beads of blood sat on your finger. It was a little cut that had bled into the collar of your top. He dabbed the swab of disinfectant against the wound, and you hissed. His hand found yours, and he held it as you squirmed in your seat.

“It’ll sting for a bit, but better safe than sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m not a wuss, I can take it- Ow!” You jumped in your seat when he pushed the swab deeper against the cut. The two of you exchanged a look, and the corner of his lips tilted up in amusement. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, lips pursed.

Then he placed a bandaid over the wound and his fingers ghosted over it. “There. All better,” he sighed.

He withdrew his hand except the one in yours. You ogled at the larger hand in yours, at the way his slender fingers were comfortably interlaced with your shaky ones. Just like two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly slotted into one another. You tried to banish the thought. You exhaled softly, and you squeezed your trembling lips together into a feeble smile.

“Thanks, Leon.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled back. In that moment, he was all you could see. Not the arrival of the police car outside the store or the officers standing by the criminal, but just him.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. “So I take it you’re dropping the formalities?”

The blonde was referencing how you always called him by his family name and not his first name. You refused to answer, the faint blush on your cheeks sufficed. He squeezed your hand, and you squeezed back.

Leon accompanied you for the rest of the night. He stayed beside you in the police station, drove you back to the store and assisted you in the cleaning duties. Despite the incident, life moved on, and you were responsible for the night duty chores as the sole employee. Areas unaccessible by you were managed by him, and you found yourself appreciating his company. Although he was a creepy regular, he was quite sweet. You didn’t have to force yourself to laugh at his crappy jokes that night.

And though you were pretty sure he shouldn’t know where you lived, you let him accompany you to your doorstep after closing shift. He bid you goodbye with a gentle pat on your head, and you found yourself staring at the place he stood for a while. You sat in your bathtub, hugging your knees to your chest. Water enveloped your body in the cold of midnight, and you leaned your head against the cool tiles. Your eyes were glazed over with tears as you recounted the recent events.

Thank goodness he was there. If Leon hadn’t been there, something terrible would’ve happened. You wanted to see him again. Maybe you’d give him a thank you gift. It’d be only fair, right?

. . .

“What’s business like this week?” He enquired as you scanned the good in your hand. This time he came in with a different colour of sweats, with a stain on the hem of his blue sweater.

It had been a while since you last saw him. Maybe a week since that night.

“Slow,” you sighed, returning the film to him. The colours on the box’s cover were washed out, and the actress was a blurry blob of colours. Her hair colour and body type matched yours, but that was all you could make out. So you chose to close an eye. “My boss is gonna be so mad about the sales.”

“My bad. If it weren’t for work, I’d be here more often,” the blonde commented.

“You’re a hard worker, aren’t you?” You teased, to which he placed a hand over his heart.

“You don’t know half of it, sweetheart.” Your cheeks tingled at the pet name. Wait– what? “The higher ups owe me more breaks.”

You cleared your throat. “Even if you did, don’t you have better places to be?”

“I’d say you make good company,” he grinned boyishly. Your heart fluttered a little. Wow, what was seriously happening to you?

“Anyways-” He tilted the film in his hand, “-wanna watch this together?”

Fat chance. Just because he was growing on you didn’t mean you were ready to sit in a tiny room with him on a couch, just the two of you in the dark. You’d tell him that, but he read your expression independently and laughed. When he disappeared into the viewing room, your attention turned to the register’s screen where an alert had popped up.

Invalid barcode. Please contact staff.

Huh? You copied the barcode number and manually entered it into the system. The same system popup appeared and you scratched your head, confused. Muffled noises leaked into the sales floor and you stepped away from the counter. Maybe he took a show that failed to register in the system?

You stood outside the door and listened. Was now a good time to enter? You hesitated and held the door knob. A soft moan stopped you in your tracks– followed by a whimper and some incoherent noises.

Weird. For a second there it almost sounded like you. Was the actress a sound-alike too?

You finally opened the door, peaking into the room as the door creaked ajar. It was dark as you expected, just the singular beam of light from the projector that shone onto the screen. Strange enough, you found no one on the couch, only a rolling film on screen. Your dilated pupils shifted to the screen, and you practically swung the door open.

A girl– no, it was you. You were on screen. Laying on bed with a fluffy towel crumpled beside you as your body glistened with droplets, courtesy of your bath. A bead of sweat trailed down your nape, dumbfounded as the you from that night had her fingers buried between her trembling legs. Your face was contorted with pleasure, and you bit the back of your hand to stifle your delighted noises.

How? This couldn’t be happening. You wanted to assure yourself that it was fake, but even you knew there was no denying its authenticity. The camera was shaky, and you scrunched up your brows. The angle… you recognised the angle. You were being filmed from your bedroom windows.

The scene abruptly cut to another one, this time it was of you in your bedroom, standing naked before your mirror. Your hands traced your silhouette, hands wandering down your naked body as you inspected yourself in the mirror. Sleepwear and underwear were gathered haphazardly in a pile behind you. A matching set of underwear on your bed.

It felt like a giant ball of cotton was shoved into your mouth; you swallowed dryly. Your feet moved and you stood behind the couch, your knees feeling like they may give out at any moment. This was last week. How did such a creep go unnoticed by you? Who was filming you? And how did all these get into the store? And– You searched the room frantically. Where was Leon?

The door creaked closed, and you found the devil himself blocking the way out. Another clip played on screen, and you pried your eyes from him to look back at it in horror.

“Nicely edited, don’t you think?” His sneakers thumped against the carpet softly. He stood behind you, arms trapping you against the couch from behind. You flinched at the warm breath that fanned your ear. His fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

“I think I deserve a round of applause for it.”

“L-Leon…” your voice cracked. You should be screaming and pushing him off, like you did before with that man. This was a similar situation, right? So why was your heart hammering in your chest like this?

“What is it, sweetheart?”

His voice was a low murmur against your ear, and you shivered. His voice sounded like it was literally in your head, reverberating in the cavern of your mind. Your breath hitched as a warm hand slid under your shirt.

He unclasped your bra with ease, and his hands slid under it to gently cup the curves of your chest. His hands engulfed them easily, and he fondled them half-heartedly while pressing soft kisses along the column of your neck. His lips grazed over the scabbed wound, and you gripped the couch to stabilise yourself.

You should hate it, but your voice failed to protest when he led you to the couch to lay down. He bundled the hem of your top into your mouth, muffling your squeaks when he slipped his hands underneath your loose bra to run his fingers along the circumference of your areola. His thumbs prodded at your nipples, and you squirmed a little at the tingling sensations running along your chest. He pushed your bra aside and flicked his tongue against one of your nipples. Your fingers gripped the blonde’s tresses whilst he teased your perky buds with his warm tongue, lapping at them painfully slowly.

Leon’s other hand traced down your body until he reached your bottoms. He tugged it off your legs, throwing it behind his shoulder. His fingers wandered to the gusset of your panties where a damp patch had formed. The regular stroked your slit through the thin cloth, and you whimpered softly at his ministrations. All the while his eyes were fixated on you, never looking away as he licked your chest like a starving pup begging for milk.

He pulled your panties aside to squeeze a finger into your tightness, and your gaze shifted to where he was connected to you. A finger disappeared into you, and you squeezed your thighs in disapproval as he tried to fit another. Not that it could stop him when he forced into you one more, and you trembled at the stretch from his digits. The blonde wrapped his tongue around one of the swollen buds on your chest, his free hand pinching and tugging on the other.

“Mhnn,” you hummed softly. Moisture clung to your lashes.The intensity in his baby blues beckoned you into the brink of your sanity, and you threw your head back to guard yourself against his tempting call.

“Don’t be shy,” he withdrew from your chest with a pop. He tugged your top out of your mouth. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Moan for me.”

His padded fingers prodded inside you experimentally , and a certain spot elicited an embarrassingly loud mewl. The blonde grinned boyishly as he fingered that gummy spot, jamming into it harder and deeper with each cry he drew out of you. Biting the back of your hand, your lashes fluttered unsteadily as you twisted and turned, a strange feeling pulsating deep within you. Your hand found purchase in his hair again, tugging on his silky strands in a silent plea. Whether to stop or for more, only god knew.

But then he stopped, and the heat from his body dissipated. You opened your eyes to see the man shed his sweater, pulling the navy blue article over his scarred body. With a shaky hand, you placed your hand over a scar on his chest and traced the protruding tissue. You frowned- what he had gone through to amass the plethora of scars before you?

The jingling of his belt tore your attention back to his torso. He tugged his pants down to reveal the bulging outline of his hard-on through his boxers. You didn’t mean to stare, but you struggled to tear your eyes away and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. He carded his bangs with his fingers, pushing them back as he smirked.

“Like what you see? ‘Cuz my eyes are up here.”

Your ears were hot, and you held your breath as he pressed a kiss to your knee. Then he kissed the inside of your thighs until he reached your clothed core, to the drenched gusset of your panties. His lips quirk up in a pleased smirk, and he kissed it before tugging your panties off. It landed atop your long forgotten bottoms, and he swept them off the couch and they crumpled onto the floor.

He planted his hands on either side of you, trapping you underneath him. But for some reason you weren’t scared, no, your heart pounded in anticipation when he leaned in. Maybe you wanted this all along, and you stared into his deep blue eyes when fists suddenly pounded on the door. The thuds echoed in the viewing room, and the both of you jumped.

“Excuse me? Hello…? Is anyone around?”

Your eyes flitted to the door and at the knob as it jingled. But Leon had locked it earlier- thank god- and the customer repeated their question once more. You hesitated before opening your mouth, but he clamped his hand over your lips. You shot him a look, but he answered you with a deep kiss. His plush lips tangled with yours, biting and gnawing on the softness of your own. His kiss was like the ocean, an uncharted wonder that submerged you deeper and deeper with each press of his lips against yours. No thoughts resided in your head, all you could think about was him and his warmth.

Meanwhile, he pushed the back of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. The weight of his upper body sandwiched them to your swollen chest, and he ran a finger between your sticky folds before finally slipping in.

He growled against the corner of your lips, and your nails wandered along his back. Pink crescents glowed red as you dug your nails under his shoulder blades, and you whimpered softly. The stretch hurt more than it did with his fingers. He shushed your cries with saliva stained kisses along the corners of your mouth. A sweet haze swirled in your mind, muffling the knocking on the door in favour of the groans from the man sandwiching you to the couch.

“Fuck-” he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. He was finally hilted within you. His hips stuttered and he struggled to unsheathe himself. He mumbled something into your skin, a hand gripping the back of your knees for support. He withdrew until there was only the tip left, then he slowly filled you up again. Over and over, he plunged deep and slow, drawing pretty moans from you. Soft plapping noises filled the room, a sound barely registered by you in your haze.

“Such a perfect little pussy,” the blonde murmured, his grip on your knees bruising. Strings of drool dribbled down your chin as you laid there limply for him to use. He weakly slapped your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Look at you. Too drunk on my cock to think.”

Leon chuckled lowly, and you squealed when he slapped your clit. You clenched him harder, and he cursed as you throbbed around him. The veins running along his length pulsated angrily against your gummy confines, and he grabbed your chin to peer into your clouded eyes.

“You’re practically begging me to cum inside, sweetheart. You’d like that, yeah? Mhn… I know you would. Such a dirty slut. All mine.”

He dragged his tongue along the outline of your jaw, and you met his tongue with yours in an open mouthed kiss. His name was a broken song, rising in pitch as an overwhelming sensation escalated with each press of his pelvis against your clit. When you finally broke, you cried out in desperation and you came hard around him. He fucked you through your high, uncaring about the overstimulation racking your body as you convulsed underneath him. His pleasure would become yours, whether you liked it or not. When the thread in his abdomen finally snapped, he stuffed himself to the base and emptied his spent into you.

The warmth in your belly was comforting, lulling you into sleep when his voice tugged you awake. He stood beside the couch, phone in hand. A sleazy grin played on his swollen lips.

“Smile for the camera, sweetheart.”

You blearily raised a peace sign, the hem of your top between your teeth, bra hanging loosely. Uncaring of the cum and sweat all over your body, you managed a timid smile as the camera flashed. He snapped a photo and sunk into the seat beside you. A commemoration for today, and a little something for him (and you, if you’d like him to send it to you) to remember it.

You crawled over, nestling your head on his chest as your eyelids drooped close. Would your body suffice as a thank you for saving you that day? You hoped he’d ask for more. You nuzzled into the warmth of his chest.

Meanwhile, Leon inspected the pixelated photo. He was deeply pleased with his work, and he kissed the top of your head. You were slipping into a plane of unconsciousness, and he tucked stray hairs behind your ear.

“That’s my girl.”

. . .

“Use your tongue,” He whispered. The heavy hand on your head stroked your hair tenderly, and you gazed up at him through hooded eyes. He laid on his back, on the couch as you knelt between his spread legs.

The projector had long stopped rolling its film, and a single beam of white light illuminated the viewing room. Who knew how much time had passed. All that mattered was pleasing him, so that you could earn his smile, and if you were lucky, his attention.

He clenched his teeth as your canines grazed his pulsing veins. You licked his tip apologetically, earning a low chuckle from him. Your stomach fluttered at the sound, and you closed your eyes as you continued nursing him with your tongue.

“That’s it,” he hissed. He tightened his grip on his phone, and his screen reflected you in it. A red icon incessantly blinked in the upper corner of the screen. In the darkness, a smile snuck onto his face, “Show me what that mouth can do.”

(BONUS)

A month. That was all the rest days he had accumulated after slaving away as the government’s killing machine for the past year. It was non negotiable, so he was going to make the best out of it- and he planned to burn through cheap booze and rewatching classics.

So Leon found himself in a rental video store, a bag in his calloused grip clunking with cans of cold beer, condensation clinging to the insides of the cheap plastic bag. He wandered along the aisles as an old fan nailed to the ceiling rotated in semicircles. The blades whirred at snail's pace, practically useless as even the dust sitting on top of the shelves barely flinched. Sun rays filtered in from the space between the top of the shelves and the glass walls. White light from the rows of blinking LED lights above lit up the dinghy shop. The store was quiet and unmanned, and as he stood at the counter, eyes searching for the clerk, the bell hanging above the door chimed as it swung open.

A young woman, he raised a curious brow- why was she working in a place like this? You were dressed in skimpy pyjamas when you burst in. Your hair was barely tied up, face bare skinned and lips cracking. You licked them nervously when your eyes fell on him- and he stared expectantly at you.

“I’m so sorry!” You cried as you scrambled to the other side of the counter. “I had to leave the store unattended for a moment- Please don’t tell my boss.”

Fumbling, you tapped buttons onto the register. Something must have gone wrong, because you cursed under your breath. Then you pushed your hair out of your eyes to meet his.

“I just got here,” he lied. He had waited for a while, staring at the cracks on the ceiling and at the clock with frozen hands. He was about to walk out without the tapes, even. But your frantic expression proved to be an amusing display, and he found himself smiling politely. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Thank you so much.” You heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. You scanned his selections when your brows perked up, “Titanic? Didn’t know we had this.”

“Aren’t you working here?” Leon teased, and your cheeks flushed. Cute. He leaned in subconsciously as you flustered.

“W-Well, it’s my second day. I still don’t know where most things go- But I know we have classics and plenty of other… stuff.”

“Stuff, huh?” He laughed, and it was an airy one that deepened your blush.

You cleared your throat and swatted the air beside you, “You know, adult films and all. The geezer that owns this store has quite the collection.” You gestured at the back with your hand.

“Come back and take a looksie when you’re free, mister. It’ll be of great help. Y’know, for our sales,” you added.

“Maybe,” he said as he took the goods from you. He offered a friendly smile, and you smiled back. Really cute, he figured. So he promised to return.

He kept his word and returned after a single day. How could he not when you bid him goodbye, all smiles and giddy with gratitude. Did this job mean that much to you? He decided he’d spend some of his time watching more films then, since what else could he possibly do besides bar hopping for skirts and getting blacked out drunk at home? Plus, it was ridiculously cheap to rent these films, an actual steal.

As he wandered in the back, his eyes fell on a strange box with a cursive font. His curiosity got the better of him and he picked it up and stared at the model in the front. A woman with the same hair colour as you, the sole worker in this drab store. A knowing smile crept onto Leon’s face.

all content written by @cherubify ! do not repost, edit, plagiarise, or use my work for AI. requests are indefinitely open.

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mawofthemagnetar · 2 months

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TFC’s Completely Normal Afternoon Where Nothing Goes Wrong And Nobody Dies Horribly

(shoutout to @lindentree for inspiring this silly fic!)

TFC sat in his little bachelor pad, coffee in hand, watching the steam rise out of his mug.

It was a nice mug, all things considered. A gift from the other Hermits. A handmade blue thing, turned on a potter’s wheel, with an extra-large handle to give his old hands a break sometimes. Full of coffee from his ancient coffee machine, that gurgled and growled like a jackhammer being waterboarded.

TFC took a sip, and winced. Okay, so maybe it was time to leave the mine and get more coffee. He’d re-used the grounds for the fourth time, and now it was really starting to get properly bitter.

He drummed his fingers on his glass-top table, listening to the echo against the cold stone walls of his little antechamber. Maybe he’d decorate the walls at some point soon.

TFC shrugged, and opened his comm. Hopefully one of the other Hermits had some coffee beans. He wiped the stone dust off his screen, and held down the three buttons to switch it on. Yes, he kept his comm strapped to his arm like almost every other player with some semblance of sense. No, he refused to let the damn thing be awake for any longer than it needed to be. The Hermits were chatty folks, and when TFC was deep in his mines and deep in thought, the last thing he needed interrupting his musings was a million buzzing noises as Cleo and Jevin got into a slapfight in the general chat.

TFC’s personal logo flashed across the screen (the three letters of his name in red, natch) and he took another slurp of his bitter coffee, wrinkling his nose. The comm beeped, and TFC opened the group chat and tapped out a quick message.

<Tinfoilchef> anyone got any more coffee? I’m clean out.

He put his comm down, and took another swig.

And waited.

TFC frowned. He was a patient man by nature. The same could not be said of the other Hermits, who were usually falling over themselves to help each other out.

And he hadn’t gotten a reply yet.

It had been a whole ninety seconds.

TFC scrolled up in chat, and he sighed, rubbing his face. He sank back in his chair in annoyance.

Of course.

He tabbed upwards, watching things spiral out of control… in reverse.

<Renthedog> THE PAIN! THE PAIN IS INDESCRIBABLE

<Vintagebeef> RUN! THE BOATS! THE BOATS ARE COMING!

TFC rubbed his temples with his free hand, sighing in exasperation. ‘

“Guys, I dug up five stacks of diamonds, don’t make me do this…I don’t want to re-dig those tunnels…” TFC groaned.

And of course the nonsense kept coming as he scrolled farther and farther back. Gee, that last message from Ren was about four hours ago, now...

<Iskall85> HELP GOD THE LOOM’S GROWN LEGS

“Does anyone on this server besides me even know HOW to weave?!” TFC growled, averting his gaze from his pile of unfinished weaving in the corner of the room. It didn’t exist. He couldn’t see it. His WIP’s couldn’t hurt him.

And on and on it went.

“Right, I’ve seen enough.” TFC sighed, “On the bright side, at least I’ll have all the coffee I had a week ago, so there’s that…”

He carefully tabbed through his various screens and menus until he arrived at the one bit of his comm that was set aside for admin functions. Now, TFC wasn’t a server admin. That much was true. But he had slight admin privileges, for one thing and one thing only: server rollbacks.

While, say, Hypno would have had an extensive wall of options, showing his permissions and all sorts of bells and whistles, TFC’s admin console had a text box to input a date and a big red “GO” button.

He looked mournfully at his ender chest, and, with a sigh, keyed in a date one week prior.

And TFC jabbed his thumb on the big red button.

The world flashed white, utterly blinding him, and a second later TFC was deep in the branch mine in a half-finished tunnel, the same spot he’d been exactly a week prior.

Unfortunately, he was still in a comfortable sitting position, resting all his weight on a chair that suddenly wasn’t there, so he immediately toppled to the ground, landing on his ass in an undignified heap.

“Ow.” TFC muttered, sitting up slowly and tapping through his messages.

<Xisuma> oh, we rolled back. Is everyone alright!?

<Tango> Mumbo you are BANNED FROM TIME TRAVEL

<MumboJumbo> It wasn’t me this time! I mean it was. But blame Zedaph!

<Zedaph> ME?! No! Blame Cub! Cub gave me the doodad!

TFC rolled his eyes and typed out a message.

<Tinfoilchef> Does anyone have any fresh coffee beans?

Silence.

No messages. No new complaining. As all the hermits re-read TFC’s words and soaked them in.

Finally, Cleo broke the silence.

<Zombiecleo> TFC. How many times did you re-use your last filter of grounds.

<TinfoilChef> eh, six? Seven?

<Zombiecleo> are you telling me we’d all still be in shuttlecock hell if you hadn’t gotten sick of the taste of reused coffee grinds?!

<TinfoilChef> Pretty much, yeah

<TinfoilChef> anyway

<TinfoilChef> does anyone have some fresh coffee?

#magnetar writes #Hermitcraft fic #TFC fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Family Affair

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, violence, humiliation, biting, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your sister surprises you with good news but you find it difficult to be happy for her. (older, short reader)

Character: Curtis Everett

Note: Happy Curtmas.

For @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Chatter buzzes from the front room as you brace the wall and lift your foot to unzip your wedge boot. You’re late and the guests are already in the throes of their celebration. You wiggle off both boots and set them amid the clutter of many. As you stand straight and gather up your gift bags and purse, you’re met with an unexpected sight.

You lift a brow, slightly confused by the unfamiliar man. He’s tall, his hair is cut short, and dark stubble adds definition to his well-formed jaw. His eyes are a bold shade of aquamarine but are glossed over with an almost indifferent gleam. He doesn’t say a word as your eyes meet and he just as quickly turns into the front room, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans.

It’s been a few years. You’re sure a lot has changed. You head down the hall, past the broad archway of the front room, and into the kitchen. As usual, your mother is there, readying another tray of finger foods.

She looks up from her intent work and gives a wide smile, “you’re here!” She chimes, “I was half-waiting for a call saying you wouldn’t make it.”

Her arrow hits the bullseye of your guilt. You haven’t been the most reliable. You can make excuses; the divorce, work, depression. None of that can assuage her.

“Sorry, mom,” you go to put the gift bags down and she stops you with a tut.

“Ah, ah, you go add those to the pile and say hello,” she demands, “you’re not hiding in here.”

You look at her, almost desperate. You love her but sometimes you wonder if that feeling is mutual. As much as she’s right, you hoped she might have some empathy. She’s been through a turbulent split, she’s had to start again, but she expects you to do it flawlessly. As she has anything else.

“Love you, mom,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Love you too, hon,” she goes back to arrange the spiral of cocktail weenies, “make sure you say hello to your sister. She’s so excited to see you.”

You nod and a real smile breaks through. That was the one light at the end of the tunnel. Your baby sister was always your favourite. Despite nearly two decades between you, she’s your best friend. In a way, you feel like a second mother, taking pride in her like you would a child of your own.

The front room is filled to the brim. Aunt Geri and Uncle Val sit on a sofa with their son, Miko. A cluster of similarly aged cousins stand at the edge of the couch chatting. Aunt Maureen argues with Aunt Kaya, and the latter’s husband stands by the window with a glass in hand and his mind a million miles away.

You always found yourself out of place at these things. When you were a child, you were the youngest one in the room. Too immature to understand the dialogue of your elders. As you got older, the other cousins came along and were too young for your angsty teenage self. Now, you’re caught in the desert between the eras; the retirees complain too much and the coeds talk too loud.

You peer around. A set of broad shoulders draws your eye in the corner of the room. It’s that same man you saw before. He has his back to you as he maintains a casual posture. As he leans on one leg, you see your sister, Adeline, gabbing to him. Oh, he must be with her…

As you drop your gifts under the tree, you mull the revelation. You suppose the assumption wasn’t obvious. At first glance, he’s older than her, or maybe he just looks it. She’s still a sophomore in college but you suppose that makes even more sense. These are the years she gets to figure it all out.

You face the room and stop as Aunt Maureen latches onto your arm, blindsiding you with Kaya as they close in like hyenas.

“There she is,” Maureen slurs.

“Not too good for us after all, huh?” Kaya challenges.

“What? No, uh, Merry Christmas–”

“Where’s Benny?” Maureen interrupts. You blanch, nearly choking on your tongue. The mention of your ex-husband has you breathless.

“Maur,” Kaya hisses, “remember…”

“Probably with his new girlfriend,” you say tersely.

“Oh my,” Maureen lets you go and slaps her forehead, “I’m so sorry. The wine…”

“It’s… okay,” you shrug. “Not talking about it won’t undo it.”

“He was such a charming man,” Maureen hums mournfully. You blink at her.

“His loss,” Kaya pats your arm gently, trying to clean up her sister’s mess. You know they all think the same. You had a good thing and you blew it. Even if you told them he fucked his co-worker, you’d be the one who threw it all away.

“Pity you never got a kid outta him,” Maureen sighs.

“Really, divorce has been final for a year, I’m good,” you insist and shuffle past them, “I’m going to make the rounds.”

“Don’t forget to have some wine,” Maureen calls after you, “takes the edge off disappointment, you know?”

You growl and shake your head as you stalk away. You wave hello to your other aunt and uncle, hoping to avoid a similarly humiliating encounter, and weave through the sea of guffawing cousins. You come out on the other side as Adeline beams up at her guest.

Her gaze is drawn by your movement and her face lights up. She bounces in place and throws her arms out. She rushes past the man and has you wrapped up in a hug. It’s kind of ridiculous how much taller she is. You’re supposed to be the bigger sister.

“You’re here!” She rocks you in her embrace, “eek! I’m so excited.”

You croak out a breath as she squeezes the air out of you. She releases you with a giggle, apologising as she steps back. She wears a long tulle skirt and a beaded sweater. She’s beautiful. You could never pull something like that off, even twenty years ago.

“Oh, oh, you have to meet Curtis,” she snatches your hand and tugs you over the tall man as he turns to face you. Those same vague eyes fall upon you, “Curtis, this is my sister!”

“Curtis,” you repeat, “it’s nice to meet you.”

You look between them with a brittle smile. He offers his hand as he returns the sentiment. You shake, his palm rough and calloused. Adeline vibrates with joy.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says.

“And I’ve heard nothing about you,” you grin at Adeline, “Addy?”

“I’m sorry,” she cups her cheeks guiltily, a sparkle on her ring finger. Your heart drops. “I didn’t know how to– the divorce and–”

“Ad,” you wisp and nearly sway on your feet, “what is that?”

You point to her hand and she quickly swipes it away, hiding it behind her back. “Nothing,” she gulps, the same way she did when she was a child and you caught her playing with your makeup.

There’s a tense silence as you gape in shock. Your mouth hangs open as you search for the words. Your eyes tinge with hot tears but you swallow them back.

“Congratulations,” you draw her into a hug, “really, I’m happy for you.”

She hugs you back, gentler than before. As you part, she looks nervous. Curtis clears his throat.

“Both of you,” you offer him a fragile smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little… shocked. Does mom know?”

Adeline nods as she clasps her hands together. You take a breath, and calm yourself. It’s not anything that she fears, you’re not jealous. You’re nervous, you’re afraid for her. It’s a big thing and she’s so young.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to share the good news,” you say, “I’d love to help, if I can?”

“We got it,” Curtis insists.

“Oh,” you wince, “I didn’t mean– I could help with the planning or the engagement part–”

“We’re eloping,” he crosses his arms, “we’re not wedding people. Whole lot of money and fanfare for nothing.”

You nod, holding back your surprise as best you can. Nothing? It’s marriage. Even if they don’t want a big ceremony, it means something.

“I could help pay for the trip–”

“I got it,” he enunciates each word as he sidles over to sling his arm around your sister’s back. She looks away meekly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. She’s my sister, I just want to–”

“If you wanted to help, you would’ve been around the last two years,” he interjects.

Adeline’s head snaps around as she gives him a look. She nudges him with her elbow and whispers his name. He glares at you as you wilt. You’re not sure what you’ve done or said.

“Well, I think maybe me and Addy can talk about that,” you look at your sister, “when you have a chance, of course. I don’t want to spoil the holiday.”

“Adeline,” he corrects you, “Addy is so juvenile.”

The benefit of the doubt splinters as his tone cuts through you. You bite your tongue. Perhaps a twenty-one year old is juvenile to someone his age. You’ll talk to Addy about that too.

“Adeline,” you force a smile, “I… I’m going to go check on mom.” You show a palm in deference as you excuse yourself, “we’ll catch up later.”

As you back away, your eyes meet Curtis’. He watches you with a scowl. You are taken completely off balance. How could she end up with someone like him? She’s so sweet and he’s so scary…

Maybe she’s afraid too.

🎄

Christmas Eve ends much the same as you remember. The elders sit around the dining table to play cards as the kids, now adults, disperse in the living room or outside to entertain themselves. There’s a vague stench near the front door that no one will comment on but everyone knows what it is as it wafts in from outside.

You find yourself in limbo, once more caught in the in-between. You hole up in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as you wait for it to tremble. You won’t be missed if you take a tea up to your assigned room without a good night.

You lean on the counter and sigh, your finger brushing over the brim of the white porcelain cup with the hen on it. Strange how your mother’s house never seems to change but your life is inextricably altered. Your melancholy dims the cheery decor around you as you wallow away from the voices of the merry.

“There you are,” Adeline startles you as she sweeps in, “oh, is there any of the hot choccy left?”

You smile at her question. Everything about her reminds you of the time passed, of her newfound adulthood, yet she’s just the same little girl you always knew. You turn and pull the tin forward, “one packet left, just for you.”

You pull it out and face her again. She pulls out a mug from the cupboard and sets it down. The kettle hums between you as it heats up.

She exhales as you linger in a tense silence. You both have so much to say but neither of you know where to start. She finds her words first. Despite being younger, she was always the more outspoken.

“Do you like him?” She asks.

You poke your tongue into your cheek, “well, I’ve barely spoken to him. He seems to like you though.”

Her cheeks bulb as she grins bashfully, “I love him.”

Your chest seizes as you recognize that glimmer in her eye. She’s genuine, she feels that love so deeply it consumes her. It’s a naive love but real nonetheless. The sort you can’t see for what it is until it turns sour.

“I can tell,” you reach forward to fix the bow on her headband, “I’m happy for you. And my offer still stands. Maybe if it’s not the wedding, a honeymoon, or help with a house…” you wet your lips and steady your voice, “I only want you to be happy, Addy– Adeline.”

“Oh, he’s just… he’s like that. I can’t even call him Curt. He balances me out,” she beams.

“Yeah,” you say noncommittally.

“What?” Her voice dampens.

“Nothing,” you distract yourself with the variety of tea bags in the wooden chest next to the breadbox, “it’s… a lot. I’m surprised, is all. I just hope it goes well.”

She sniffs and lets her breath out long and heavy, “I’m sorry, I knew– he kinda said you’d probably be upset. After Benny–”

“This has nothing to do with him,” you narrow your eyes at her, a bag of chai in your hand, “this is about you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“He’s so good to me, you don’t have to worry.”

“I can worry, you’re my baby sister,” you insist, “and…” You shake your head, refusing to let the thought escape.

“And what?” She challenges, her pitch squeaking.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. I can always tell when you’re dying to say something. What?”

You shrug, “it’s just… how old is he?”

She scoffs, “wow.”

“What? I’m just asking.”

“It’s not like he’s old enough to be dad,” she pouts and crosses her arms.

“I know, I didn’t mean– Ad–Adeline, I just— you have time to figure it out. So I hope you’re not rushing this.”

“I’m not,” she snips, an uncharacteristic edge in her voice.

“I believe you… but what about him?”

She’s quiet as the kettle clicks, signalling the boiling point. You turn and drop the tea bag into your cup and pour the water. She tears open the packet and empties it into her own mug.

“Sorry,” you utter, “forget it. I… I don’t know him so maybe I need to get to know him. I’m here, Ad, and I will always be here for you.”

She nods and reaches for the kettle, not looking at you.

“Really, I trust you. I just worry about you,” you clap your hand on her shoulder, “you’re my lil teddy bear.”

She chuckles and looks down at you, your statement made absurd by the difference in your heights.

“And you’re the big grizzly, scaring off the wolves,” she kids back.

“Adeline,” the deep rumble thunders in ahead of the man, making both of you jump. You pull back your hand as Curtis strides in, “hey, I’ve been waiting on you.”

“Oh, sorry, baby,” she preens at him, “I was just–”

“You said we’d call my family after dinner,” he interrupts.

“I forgot,” she squeals, “oh, I’m so sorry.” She glances over at you, “I did promise.”

“Go on,” you try to smile but you’re not sure it’s showing.

She spins and flits over to Curtis. His eyes meet yours over her shoulder. His brows arch as his jaw is set in stone. A chill runs up your spine at the ice in his dark pupils. He grabs Adeline’s hand and drags her out.

You’re left in silence. You look over at the unmixed powder floating in the steaming water. You chew your lip as you stare at it. It’s just hot chocolate but there’s something about her abandoning something she loves so much for him. You try not to let your own failed marriage echo over her relationship, but it just feels off.

Well, Benny always did say you never did handle change very well.

🎄

The night before Christmas is rarely a restful one. Even without the childish belief in Saint Nick, you find yourself awake, anxious but not for presents. You keep replaying the night through your head; not the awkward interactions with aunts and uncles, or the silent judgment from the younger crowd, but Adeline and Curtis. Let it go, it’s none of your business.

You huff and roll on your back. Sleep eludes you. You sit up and bend over the side of the bed. You hold your head. You’ll sneak out the bathroom and hopefully an empty bladder will help.

You drag your feet across the floor, the legs of your pajama pants too long and trailing down your feet. You open the door and yawn as you enter the hall, only to collide with another unexpected barrier. Before you can react, you’re being forced back into the guestroom, stumbling as your fingers claw at the door frame and slip off.

A hand smothers your mouth, rough against your lips, as a foot kicks the door shut with a sharp click. You murmur into the calloused flesh as an arm loops around your back, trapping you as you’re urged further into the dark. You grasp at the cotton clinging to muscular shoulder. You’re kept off balance by your attacker’s certainty.

“I fucking heard you,” Curtis’ silty grit seeps into your ears, “you think I’d hurt her?” He snarls as he stops you at the foot of the bed. His shadow looms over you, breath puffing from his nostrils as he growls like a beast, “I wouldn’t, but I’ll hurt you.”

He pushes you back so your legs meet the side of the bed. You teeter and clasp your hand around his wrist, squeaking as he easily takes you down onto the mattress. He pins you, your legs hanging off the end, kicking weakly as his other hand curves around your throat.

He bends over you, straddling your chest heavily. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds until your ears throb. Your temples pulse violently and your throat dries to a sandy scrape.

“Stay out of my fucking business,” he snarls, sliding down your body.

You whimper into his hand as he drops his knees off the bed, holding himself over you. He squeezes your neck, choking out your voice as he drags his hand from your mouth. He feels along your chest and flicks open the top button of your shirt. Your eyes wet in horror.

“Fucking show you…” he sneers as his breath scours over your flesh.

Another button undone as his lips tick along your shoulder. You squeak once more as he sinks his teeth into your flesh, biting a mean pinch until you spasm. The pain is unbearable. You feel the skin break as the hot flow of blood mingles with his spit.

He detaches only to bite you again. You can’t make a noise as his grip grows tighter on your neck. Even if you could scream, you’re too terrified and confused to understand what he’s doing. He’s like an animal tearing you apart.

He lays a tortured path down your chest, lingering on the rise of flesh, gnawing into the tenderness there. His nails dig into your side, pushing up your shirt as he scratches hot lines into your skin. You push on his shoulders desperately but he’s too strong.

“Stop filling her head with your bitterness,” he growls before he bites into your nipple.

You shake and beat on his head, shoulders, and back. You writhe and wrestle, trying to free yourself from him. He continues on, down your stomach, lingering on the soft flesh as his fingers hook into the elastic of your pants.

Your panic overflows with your tears. This can’t be happening. Why would he do this? He could talk to you? You would listen. You didn’t say anything wrong, you just want Adeline to be careful.

The very thought of your sister throttles you. Does he do this to her? Is this why she’s so defensive? The idea makes you sick to your stomach.

He lifts himself, his weight centering on your neck. You think he’ll crush your windpipe as he looms over you, snarling in the blackness. He pushes you higher onto the bed, forcing your legs open with his knees.

“Don’t make a fucking noise or I’ll make sure you can’t,” he threatens, giving a last squeeze before slowly slackening his grip.

You hold your breath. You believe him. Your body goes limp and you close your eyes. The bed shifts as he sits back on his heels. He pulls your pants down your thighs and you whine. He hushes you, a harsh tap across your cheek to get his point across.

You let your head drift to one side as you clench the blanket beneath you in tight fists. He keeps your legs trapped in your pants, knees bent as the fabric strains across his stomach. He tilts and movies around, his fingernails scratching the back of your thighs.

“Bet the husband couldn’t stand your fucking mouth,” he snarls as he pushes roughly against your cunt. “Didn’t know how to train you.” He jams two fingers into you, jolting your entire body, “dry bitch like you, he was probably thirsty as fuck.”

You seal your eyes tight, tears trickling through as a sob bubbles in your throat. You want to tell him to stop. You want to ask why. You want to scream. You can’t do anything as your body locks up.

He fingers you meanly, pulling his fingers out only to ram them in again, each time his knuckles hit you painfully. He keeps it up, growling with each intrusion as your muscles knots and pathetic noises rise from your throat.

He forces your legs higher, tearing his hand away from your pelvis. He adjusts his knees and you feel something else against your cunt.

“No…” you whisper right as he ruts into you.

He splits you apart around him. You let out a holler and he quickly silences you with a crack of his knuckles. The back of his hand snaps off your cheek and turns your head to the other side. You gulp and sob, choking back any noise that threatens to bubble over.

He holds himself as deep as he can. He puts his large hands on your shoulders and pins you flat. He bucks, agony rippling up your spine. He snaps his hips, again and again, each time harder than the last.

“This is what you need. So fucking jealous, aren’t you? Dried up old bitch,” he pumps into you as his breath picks up, “why kind of sister are you, huh? Fucking your baby sister’s man. Fucking slut.”

You cover your face and heave. You’re drowned in pain and humiliation. You’re disgusted with him for doing this to you; and yourself for letting him.

“You don’t wanna hurt her, do you?” He growls, “that’s why this is happening… cause you wanna keep her safe, right?”

He puts his hand against your head and pushes it down into the bed, fucking you into the mattress. The frame pounds the wall, matching his furious rhythm. You reach to brace his thick arm, begging silently for it to end.

“Oh, it’ll be over soon,” he rasps as his hand once more frames your throat, “fuck, you got me ready to blow quicker than I thought.” He puffs, each thrust rattling your bones, “I love how weak you are.”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #snowpiercer #au #christmas #naught or nice

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natashatrace · 4 months

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hangster mpreg fic wip snippet 😘 || daily create 8/365

“You don’t have to come inside with me,” Bradley says, scratching a hand over the back of his neck. “Seriously, man, you can – “

Jake’s expression stops him halfway through his sentence.

“Okay, Jesus,” Bradley mutters, laughing and holding his hands up in surrender. “Come with me, I don’t care.”

The smell of the clinic hits him as soon as Jake opens the door, and it takes everything in him not to retch at the scent. Part of it’s tied up with memories of his mother’s illness and memories of the sickbay after the mission, but part of it is just good old-fashioned morning sickness, too.

Smart kid, Bradley thinks to himself. Hospitals suck.

It isn’t until Bradley’s finished with the pile of paperwork that he realizes Jake hasn’t said a word since they got here. He glances over and realizes Jake’s watching a pair of toddlers in the corner, both standing on wobbly legs as they play with the tabletop train set the clinic’s provided. The smile on Jake’s lips is —

Well. It makes Bradley’s heart ache. Makes him want to do stupidly unbearable things, like give Jake a child of his own right this second so he can see that look all the time. Almost like a reflex, Bradley rubs a hand over his stomach and then curls his fingers into a fist instead, knocking it against Jake’s thigh.

Jake glances over at the touch, eyebrow quirking. “You good?”

Bradley nods, watching the kids for a second before meeting Jake’s eyes again. “Just watching you.”

“And how do I look?” Jake asks, smirking.

That stupid, devilish tilt to his lips is ever present, but he hasn’t managed to get rid of the wistfulness in his eyes yet. Bradley can see it so easily.

“You look good,” Bradley says, and finds that he’s never meant it more.

#hangster #sereshaw #tgm #top gun maverick #hangmanrooster #Hangman #Rooster #mywriting #daily2024 #Hangman x Rooster #Rooster x hangman #mpreg #THEY’RE SO DISGUSTING AND HAPPY AND I CANT BELIEVE

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suzukiblu · 2 months

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WIP excerpt for lottie; a pocketful of Kons. Cut for length. Bart is really hard for me to write, especially as a POV character, but I might almost be getting a grip on him now, hah.

Bart ducks into the bathroom and peeks in the half-open cabinet under the sink, where his Pocket is huddled up sulking in the back corner and shredding up the rest of the extra toilet paper, for some reason. So that’s kinda annoying. And definitely gonna make a mess.

. . . whatever, as long as he cleans it up before Max finds out about it and decides to make him clean it up slow it doesn’t matter.

Though it’s still annoying.

“What’re you so upset about?” he asks with a frown, and his Pocket shoots him a dirty look. He looks . . . really upset, actually. Bart doesn’t get it. It’s not his fault his Pocket’s slow. Or messed up his cape. Or can’t pick a dumb name. Or . . . whatever he was upset about, it’s been a few subjective hours, it’s hard to remember exactly what set him off. “Seriously, we’re already stuck inside today because you showed up in a superhero costume, dunno why you’re mad at me.”

They could go out as long as they were fast enough, obviously, except his Pocket isn’t fast, so what’s he supposed to do about that? Like, how is it fair that he gets a Pocket that can’t even keep up with him? He didn’t even ask for a stupid Pocket, much less a slow one that was gonna complain about everything and sulk in his bathroom and wreck all his toilet paper!

Lame. Super lame.

Seriously. Couldn’t he at least have gotten another speedster for his soulmate? Or at least not gotten faked out by a Pocket that should be fast enough to at least kind of keep up? Like, even a little bit?

That part actually might be more annoying than getting a slow Pocket to begin with, Bart thinks.

Waaaaay more annoying, actually.

Ugh.

His Pocket glares at him and then, uh–

Then the rest of the toilet paper just explodes.

. . . okay, that’s weird. Like–what? What the heck? His Pocket didn’t even touch any of it, so what the heck?

“What the heck?” Bart says. His Pocket glares at him.

“Bart,” he snaps angrily, then dives into the destroyed toilet paper and curls up under it. Bart . . . frowns.

His Pocket’s really upset, huh.

“Is this about me beating you at all the games?” he guesses. “Because it’s not my fault you’re slow, okay, and–”

“BART!” his Pocket yells, and all the bottles of cleaning stuff throw themselves at Bart’s head without him actually touching them.

. . . weird, Bart notes, then dodges. Because again, he’s actually fast, unlike certain people in this bathroom and conversation and . . . whatever.

Ugh. Isn’t Helen back yet? Isn’t Max done with his stupid calls? Maybe one of them can figure out why his Pocket’s so weird. And so slow. Also why he’s so slow. Because Bart would really like to know, personally.

Seriously, he cannot think of a worse possible soulmate to have than a slow one.

Ugh. Ugh. Ughhhhh.

“Don’t be such a jerk,” Bart says, frowning irritably at his Pocket, who just glowers at him again and then reburies himself in the destroyed pile of toilet paper. Bart scowls back, then darts a hand in and yanks him out. His Pocket screeches indignantly. “Don’t yell at me, you’re the one wrecking stuff!”

“Bart!” his Pocket yells again, his face all screwed up in fury as he kicks out of his grip and zips up towards the far corner of the ceiling. “Bart Imp BART!”

Bart really would not have called Superman being the type to throw a tantrum, but okay. Learn something new every day, he guesses.

“You’re a grifing brat,” he grumbles, tapping a foot impatiently against the floor before jumping up onto the side of the tub in an attempt to catch his Pocket before the little guy can wreck anything else. His Pocket just flies up higher and screeches down at him in angry Pocket-talk, which is not a helpful method of communication. Bart does not get what he’s so mad about. Like, what’s the big deal or whatever? If anyone should be upset right now it should be him over getting the slowest Pocket ever. Like, he’s definitely the one who should be upset right now!

Well, he is, kinda.

“Come on, Pocket!” he complains, jumping up to try and grab him again. He’s fast enough to catch him, but his Pocket’s up too high for him to reach.

His Pocket screeches louder at him, then bolts into the medicine cabinet. Bart groans in frustration and barely keeps himself from falling into the tub before he steps onto the lid of the toilet and tries to tug the medicine cabinet back open. The door doesn’t budge, much in the same way his pillow didn’t.

Weird, still, but kinda expected at this point.

“Why are you acting like this? I didn’t even do anything!” he protests. His Pocket just thumps the cabinet door–kicks it, probably–hard enough that the mirror cracks. Max is totally gonna blame him for that, Bart thinks disgruntledly, scowling at his splintered reflection. “Grife, Pocket!”

His Pocket makes a really weird sound, and Bart–pauses.

“Pocket?” he tries warily. His Pocket makes the weird sound again. It’s hitched and strangled and thick and sounds like–

. . . uh-oh, Bart thinks with a wince, because he’s pretty sure his Pocket’s trying not to cry right now.

Sprock.

He doesn’t even know what he did. He tries to ease the cabinet door open again, but it still doesn’t move at all.

“Bart!” his Pocket yells in obvious frustration. “Imp Bart, Imp Bart, Imp Bart Imp Bart!”

Bart frowns. He wonders if–

“Is this ‘cuz you don’t like any of the names I suggested?” he asks doubtfully. His Pocket sniffles. Bart hears something rattle in the cabinet. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a name.”

His Pocket sobs.

. . . okay then, Bart thinks, his frown deepening reflexively. That’s . . . a reaction, alright.

Man, this is why he never wanted a Pocket. They’re so confusing. What’s his Pocket even want from him? He suggested a ton of names! His Pocket’s the one who’s being picky! What was even wrong with his suggestions, anyway? They were all fine! If his Pocket wants a name so bad, why’s he refusing to pick one?

“I don’t get it,” Bart says, tapping his foot restlessly again and frowning all the harder. “I thought up a ton of names for you! Like, all kinds of names! And like basically all Super-stuff ones, even!”

His Pocket tries to stifle another choked little sob, and Bart . . . pauses.

“Is that, like . . . a problem?” he asks skeptically, and his Pocket doesn’t make a sound. “Pocket?”

His Pocket still doesn’t make a sound. Bart gives the medicine cabinet door another tug, and it pops open. A bunch of random junk falls out into the sink, and he finds his Pocket hiding under a couple of washcloths and trying to muffle more sniffles.

Bart feels–weird, seeing that. He reaches into the cabinet, and this time his Pocket doesn’t kick him when he grabs him. He keeps the washcloth dragged over his head, though, and his breathing is hitched and hurt-sounding.

Bart doesn’t get it.

#lottie #wip: a pocketful of kons

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

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A Dangerous Game Ch 22

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut. Okay so i did say we were gonna wrap at 25 chapters but I'm smooshing things together cause I didn't have enough meat to fill out chapters and am getting lazy. SO! ONE more chapter after this one. Hopefully soon, but also I work the next two days so we'll see how that works out LOL. Plenty of other stuff in the wip pile otherwise and some bingo squares actually started on so you have content to look forward to, promise.

Both you and Emily were incredibly thankful when there was no last minute new case on Friday, leaving the two of you (and the rest of the team) free to head home right at five. You had enough time to wind down from work, shower and get ready before Emily was knocking at your door. She let out a quiet swear when you pulled open the door and you giggled, kissing her cheek gently before setting the alarm and locking the door. You were in a dusty pink casual yet flirty dress, the neckline enough to tease Emily while still being modest, the hem of the skirt flowing across your mid thigh.

“You know I could’ve met you there.” You commented as you slid into the car, “less back tracking for you to do.”

“Yeah, but I figured I wanted to do this the right way.” She smiled softly at you, her hand naturally finding home on your thigh as she started the car, backing out of your driveway. “You look absolutely gorgeous by the way.”

“Thanks.” Your cheeks flushed, glancing over to her with a warm smile, “so do you.”

Emily hadn’t planned much, not wanting to go too crazy or come off overbearing, telling you just to dress nice but casual was fine. She’d made dinner reservations at Iron Gate Restaurant, a cute little place that was a prime spot for date nights that wasn’t too fancy but just fancy enough. It was warm enough outside that the two of you ended up at a corner table on their back patio, fairy lights strewn overtop of the gardens and candles on the tables to embrace the ambiance.

You started with a round of cocktails while you looked over the menu, the waiter offering wine suggestions when you placed your food orders. The table started with focaccia, cremini mushroom arancini and a citrus salad while the two of you gossiped about work that week, laughing over the stories that Emily had missed out on while trapped in her office.

“I can’t believe you told Morgan about the jet.” She laughed, taking another sip of her drink and you joined in on her laughter.

“Listen, I was hungover as fuck, I needed that couch.”

“Well now he’s insistent on bunking with you on trips to keep us apart.”

“Okay.” You shrugged with a grin, “never stopped us before. He can give us an hour for privacy or he can suffer. Or I’ll bribe Savannah. If he’s gonna cockblock us, I’ll cockblock him right back.”

“You’re cruel.” She chuckled.

“No.” You insisted, “I give back the same energy I’m given.”

“Ah, the changing of a few crucial words and you get away with it.”

“It’s worked so far.” You replied with a teasing shrug and she laughed again, her free hand sneaking across the table top to grab yours before laying a kiss on the back of it, fingers remaining tangled when they hit the table once again.

Wine and dinner came out shortly after that, Emily teasing you for your choice of seafood despite your absolute hatred of crab. You scoffed, pointing out that they were completely different tastes and textures, and that this would be delicious. The playful argument was completely unneeded, but the way it brought a spark to Emily’s eye when she looked at you was all the excuse you needed to dig into her when she ended up liking your choice of dinner better than her own.

You opted to take one of each desserts to go and Emily was obviously insistent on taking care of the cheque. You attempted to open your mouth to object and the look she shot you was enough alone to know she definitely wasn’t going to give in, no matter what you said. You thanked her, kissing the back of her hand before the two of you were gathering your things, making your way out of the restaurant hand in hand. She faltered in her step as you reached the back of the car, turning back to you with a smile on her face and you leant in, kissing her gently, lips lingering against hers a little longer than normal for being in public.

“Thank you for dinner.” You murmured, “it was really nice.”

“It was.” She smiled, pecking you lightly, “should do it again next week.”

“It’s a date.”

“Now…. Am I taking you back across the river?” She raised a brow at you and you laughed.

“We got dessert to go. What did you think? I was just gonna run off with it? Besides, Sergio’ll throw a fit if I don’t come say hi.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes about Sergio, considering you were completely correct and kissed your cheek softly before nudging you in the direction of the passenger side door.

The moment the elevator doors slid shut Emily had you against the wall in a bruising kiss, lips moving with fire against your own. Your arms quickly looped around her shoulders, fingers threading through her hair, your body relaxing into hers. A thigh found its way between your legs, pinning you to the wall and you let out a whine into the kiss when her hands grasped at your hips, grinding you down against her.

“That’s it angel…” she murmured, her breath hot on your skin as she kissed across your jaw, her muscle flexing under you and your head dropped back against the wall, “feel good?”

“Yes daddy…”

The elevator pinged and you barely had enough time to tear away from each other before the doors slid open and you fumbled your way down the short hallway to Emily’s apartment. Once the door was locked behind you Emily’s hands were on you again, shoes were kicked off and her lips found yours, tongue daring to slide into you mouth and you bit back a moan. Your hands slipped under her shirt, whimpering when she broke the kiss to pull the offending fabric over her head before kissing you again, a happy sigh escaping you that she swallowed down. You quickly got rid of her bra, tossing it to the floor and began squeezing at her chest, lips curving up into a grin at the way she practically melted into your touch. Emily’s hands wound around you to find the zipper of your dress, letting the clothing fall to the floor and she pulled back from the kiss, letting out a low swear when she saw the set you had on underneath.

“Christ princess….”

“Figured I should dress up for you.” You shrugged with a playful grin and she chuckled, her eyes darkening as they dragged up your body.

“You always look so pretty for me.” Her hand reached out, brushing a piece of loose hair behind your ear, “but this is… wow…”

“Yeah?” Grinning, your fingers curled into her belt loops, tugging her closer to you so you could kiss her, “I have a feeling it’d look even better on your bedroom floor.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” She smirked, hands ghosting up your sides to grope at your chest through the lace, pinching at your nipples and you sucked in a breath, your back arching towards the touch. Your hips ground against her and you gasped, a small laugh leaving your lips.

“Why am I not surprised you’re already strapped?”

“Didn’t want to waste any time.” She murmured back, her lips beginning to trail down your neck as her hands made quick work of your bra so you could let it fall from your body. Her hands pinched at your nipples as she bit into the crook of your neck, nudging you back onto the bed. “Good girl.”

She undid her pants, kicking them off, cock springing out before she leant over you, fingers in the waistband of your lace panties and she pulled them down your legs. Her hands smoothed back up them, spreading you open for her and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. The moment her mouth lapped at you, your head fell back into the pillows, a happy moan leaving your lips. One of her hands slid up your hip and your own quickly found it, fingers interlacing as she continued to eat you out. Her nose brushed against your clit and you gasped, your hips rocking up to the sensation as your free hand tangled into her hair, holding her gently to you.

Emily’s tongue darted out, pulling your juices into her mouth, groaning over the taste she adored so much, her free hand pressed down your thigh, spreading you even further open for her, just the way she liked. Her mouth sucked at you, moaning against your pussy, the vibrations shaking through you deep into your core. She shifted up, latching around your clit, letting her tongue trace patterns across it while two fingers slipped into your pussy. Her eyes flicked up so she could watch the way your body thrived against the bed, whimpers and whines escaping your lips while her fingers pumped and curled within you. Your pussy was soaked, fluttering around her with each brush of her fingers.

“Fuck… oh god daddy… feels so…so… fuckin good.”

She sucked harder on your clit, tongue pressing down heavily on it while her fingers curled right against the spongey spot inside of you and you cried out, coming undone, thighs shaking around her.

“Good girl.” She praised, kissing just above your clit before pulling her fingers from you. Before she could even blink, your hand wrapped around her wrist and you were sitting up, pulling her slicked fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean of your juices.

“Please fuck me daddy.” You mewled, nearly pouting as you did so and she swore again, knowing that you were likely going to be the death of her.

“Lie back princess.” She urged after stealing another kiss, watching the way your tits bounced when you did as she asked, spreading your legs even wider for her.

She ran the tip of her cock through your folds, smearing it with your juices and your eyes fluttered shut, breath catching in your throat. She lined the toy up, sinking into you inch by inch until she was completely buried within you and you let out a low moan when she circled her hips. She leant over you and your hands instantly wrapped around her, fingers digging into her skin as she began to move her hips. Her mouth wrapped around a nipple, sucking it into her mouth, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as she set a steady rhythm. Each thrust her cock seemed to hit every inch of your pussy that you needed and you let out a whine, one of your legs wrapping around her to pull her even tighter to you.

“Harder…” you moaned, “please.”

She bit down harder in the same moment that her hips heavily rocked into yours and you gasped, your hands digging deeper into her skin, pulling a moan from her. She braced one of her hands on the bed, fucking deeper and harder with each thrust of her hips, your whimpers and whines getting louder and longer with each push of her cock. Your hips began to rock up to meet hers eagerly, begging for more,

“God… fuck…oh fuck!”

Emily’s teeth sunk into the curve of your breast, her tongue lapping out to soothe the burn but you both knew there’d be a mark for days to come. She licked across your collar bone, placing a kiss on it before making home in the crook of your neck, mouth licking, biting and sucking while she continued to fuck you.

You were a whimpering mess by now, your entire body on fire and completely consumed by her. Her cock filling you so precisely in only a way she could, her fingers pinching at your nipple, tracing patterns across your skin, your senses were overloaded with Emily, her perfume surging through you, bringing tingles to your skin with each inhale you took. She could feel the way your thighs were beginning to tremble around her, the shake in your breath and her lips formed a smirk on your skin.

“Gonna come for me angel? Come all over daddy’s cock?”

“S—so close.” You whimpered, gasping when her cock thrust heavily into you.

Emily’s hand vanished from your chest, sneaking down in between your bodies to find your clit, pinching it when she did so and your legs tightened around her, a loud moan leaving your lips. Her fingers began to rub in time with her thrusts, pressing harder and harder with each roll of her hips.

“That’s it princess… let go…” She husked into your ear, biting at the lobe and you cried out, shaking in her arms as your orgasm washed over you.

Your body shook, tensing around Emily, nails digging into her skin, burying yourself into the crook of her neck in an attempt to be fully absorbed by her, wanting to feel nothing but her in that moment of pleasure that continued to wash over you, wave after wave. You could hear her voice, but were completely unaware of what she was saying, everything was a haze until you could feel the drag of her cock in your pulsating pussy and let out a shuddering breath, letting go of her and collapsing down into the pillows with a sigh. She gazed down at you with a happy smile, her hips stilling against yours as her hand caressed at your cheek, thumb rubbing at your skin until she was certain you’d had enough of a chance to catch your breath. Leaning down she kissed you softly, lips moving with grace against yours and there was no place in the world either of you wanted to be in that moment. She slipped out of you, leaving the strap to be dealt with later and rolled onto her back, wrapping an arm around you in the warm embrace that you gladly accepted, curling around her body.

Your leg nestled between hers, head resting on her chest and your arm lazily strewn around her while you slowly came back down to earth. Emily’s hand came up to the back of your head, gently scratching at it, playing with your hair and she left a tender kiss on the top of your head. Everything felt right, felt peaceful, comfortable and despite the air cooling as the night wore on, a warmth was wrapped around the two of you that you knew wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. The silence took over the room, only the sound of your breathing and happy little hums as you simply basked in the embrace of each other.

You let out a happy sigh, nuzzling into her body deeper, kissing at her bare skin and she hummed softly, kissing your head once again. A warmth bloomed throughout her as you nestled against her, pressing gentle kisses to her skin. Her eyes drifted down at the feeling of your finger tips on her skin and she caught the way they were softly tracing the pattern of the scar on her stomach, ghosting over the white lines and Derek’s words from the other day replayed through her head.

“Hey…” she whispered softly, gently squeezing at you.

“Hmm?” You replied without looking up.

“I wanna tell you something. Something that should help make sense of why I did things the way I did…”

“Okay..”

“Years ago…. I was the target for someone, someone who wanted to see me in pain before actually killing me. Meaning they were going after my team first and I decided to be dumb, I thought the only way to protect the people I cared about was to go take care of it myself, go straight to the source of the violence.” Your fingers stilled in their pattern, shifting off the scar as your head tilted up at her and she stalled in her words at the expression on your face.

“I know about Doyle.”

“What?” Her brow furrowed and you shrugged.

“It’s not every day an FBI agent comes back from the dead. Everybody knows about the legendary… or… reckless depending on you who ask, Agent Prentiss. I’d just never heard a first name or seen a picture. So yeah…” you nuzzled back into her chest, letting out a happy sigh at the feeling, “I know the Dewald thing kinda just brought you right back there and you didn’t want to repeat history, especially with me in your place.”

Silence overtook you, your hand curled around her waist this time, thumb rubbing across her soft skin as you waited for her to absorb your words. She kissed your head, her lips lingering on you before she spoke once again,

“Is that why you never asked about the scar?” She felt her brow furrow and you shrugged.

“I’ve been in law enforcement long enough to know not to ask about scars. Hell, even before I started this job. You never know if it’s gonna bring up some super painful memory or if it’s from something like falling off the swings as a kid.”

“Hmm…” She replied and you could feel the wariness flowing off her, so you shifted up onto your elbow to look up at her again.

“Emily…” your voice was soft and hearing her name on your lips like that made her heart nearly stop, the adoring gaze in your eyes completely melting her. “We’re good. Okay? You don’t need to be constantly apologizing or explaining yourself or buying gifts. Give it another month and we’ll be arguing over something trivial like whose turn it is to take out the trash.” Your smile brought a laugh to her lips, worry washing away as the sparkle in her eye returned while you leaned up to kiss her. “We’re more than good. Okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled brightly, letting out a happy sigh when you nestled back into her chest, “as long as you know that I’m in this for the long haul, that I want it to really be something and mean something.

“I do.” You murmured.

“So much so that I may have mentioned something to the director earlier today.” She winced at the way your body tensed against her.

“And… what would that have been?”

“I didn’t specify things, I just brought up that something was… blooming and I wanted to get in front of it professionally.”

You propped up on your elbow again and Emily frowned at the worry wavering in your eyes, “are they gonna transfer me?”

“No!” Her hand shot out, cradling your cheek, “no baby, no. I didn’t even mention you by name. We’ll have to go in and sign some paperwork on Monday, there will be some situations where you report to the section chief or director directly instead of me. Any evals or performance reviews will be done by them instead, and they’ll likely keep a closer eye on us in the field for a bit, but we can do this.”

“Good.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss her, “because I really like this job. And I also really like the idea of not having to sneak around or be worried about it all the time.”

“And we won’t have to.” She kissed you softly, lips curving up against yours as she did.

“When do we tell the team?” You asked and she sighed heavily.

“Let’s give it a bit? If that’s okay with you?”

“Please, Morgan and Garcia are already having field days with it, let them get the major teases out before everyone’s in on it.”

“Knowing Garcia that’ll only take the rest of the week.” Emily chuckled and you laughed.

“Well then let’s make the week worth it.” You murmured as you leant in, your lips brushing her skin as you caged her into the bed and she let out a chuckle, eagerly accepting the kiss.

______________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots @overtrred28 @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @heidss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments s @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @aws-l

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #a dangerous game #emily prentiss series #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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ships-to-sail · 28 days

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WIP Wednesday 4.3.24

Well, y'all, blink and it's been a week! Seven whole days later and I here I am again with more @firenati0n prompted shenanigans. The rival bakers stay rivaling, but there may or may not be (but most definitely is) sexy dough kneading this round, so. thanks be to the universe for that!

He motions across the street with a wild gesture. “There’s a new bakery?!” “Apparently,” Ellen says, her voice calm even as her brows pinch together by another fraction of an inch. “Since when?!” “Since about two weeks ago, mijo, if you’d actually read any of the signs across the street,” his dad says as he comes out from the small kitchen in the back, wiping the flour on his hands onto the hand towel sitting on his shoulder. A wave of sugar-and-cinnamon smell smacks Alex in the face, and he knows the first pans of conchas are sitting on the racks in the back, waiting for them to flip the sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN. “Patissier du Renard,” the traces of his father’s Mexican accent turning the French syllables into a different kind of dance. “Who the fuck is Renard?” “It’s French for —” “Language, Alex,” his mother barks at him again, spinning on her heel, the corners of her mouth tucked down. The set of her jaw makes it abundantly clear that it’s not actually his choice of four-letter words that’s bothering her. But Alex, while not always the smartest guy, is also not an idiot, and so decides that this is not the moment he wants to push her on the issue. Holding up two hands, he gives her a sincere, “Sorry, ma,” has he slips behind her, stopping to press a kiss to her cheek before he pushes open the swinging door to the kitchen and grabs his favorite bright yellow apron off the back of the door and flipping the neck band over his head. He ties the strap behind his waist absentmindedly, making his way to the far fridge and grabbing out a 10-gallon tupperware of concha dough, tossing it onto the workstation behind him with a loud bang. His thoughts stay on the new bakery across the street, the crowd of people he couldn’t see through overlaid with the columns and columns of numbers growing increasingly larger, but in vivid, blood-red font. He can’t see past it as he crosses to a different set of fridges, pulling down jars of fillings and jams — mango and strawberry, passionfruit and limón, whatever his hands can reach until his arms are full. He drops them next to the dough with a clatter, and lets his hands work on autopilot as the gears in his brain spin at warpspeed, trying to process through this new piece of information. He uses a pastry cutter to slice off a chunk of the dough, tossing it onto the waiting scale, before adding a smaller piece and then sliding the whole pile off the metal plate and onto the cool metal of the work bench. Reaching beneath him, he grabs a small container of flour and flicks it open, sprinkling some over both his hands and the table. His heels dig into the cold, partially sticky dough as he begins to pull at the edges of the pile, his fingers pushing and his palms pressing, his hands working occasionally together but even more frequently at odds, as he begins to work his family’s award winning concha dough into a batch of slightly-less-popular (but in Alex’s opinion superior) chamucos.

a giant thank you to @suseagull04, @cha-melodius, @wordsofhoneydew and @hgejfmw-hgejhsf for the tags -- I'll leave my tags below the cut, and consider this your hearty invitation to take the open tag, especially if you never have before!

@affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @everwitch-magiks @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @lizzie-bennetdarcy-afterdark @myheartalivewrites @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged @kiwiana-writes

#red white & royal blue #rwrb #wip wednesday #rival bakers

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sleepisaturn · 2 years

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right where you left me

PAIRING—steve rogers x avenger!fem!reader

SUMMARY—Steve finally askes you out for a dinner date but as you sat patiently at the restaurant, where was Steve?

WARNINGS—angst, steve being a jerk, no happy ending, kinda more focused on reader

A/N—idk if this is considered a song fic but some of the lyrics of Taylor's song is written in-between paragraphs so...

part 2 still a wip!

Matches burn after the other

Pages turn and stick to each other

Wages earned and lessons learned

But I, I'm right where you left me

The warm lights of the restaurant were supposed to make you feel cozy but contrary to what you were feeling, you felt anxious, nervous and everything all at once. It's been more than thirty minutes and Steve was still nowhere to be found. The agreed time was 7 pm and it's already close to 7:40. The slow pouring rain made your situation much more gloomy.

The anxiousness became worse as more minutes passed, Steve wasn't answering any of your texts or any of your calls. Your breathing got heavy as you clasped your hands together trying to keep your cool, deep down you were feeling scared that something bad happened to Steve. You didn't think much about what people might think of you at the moment, a beautiful woman who's sitting miserably at a cozy restaurant; alone. All you could think about is—where's Steve?

Help, I'm still at the restaurant

Still sitting in a corner I haunt

Cross-legged in the dim light

They say, "What a sad sight"

It was supposed to be a fantastic night for you because finally your long time crush Steve Rogers, Captain America finally asked you out on a date though from everyone's perspective you were totally in love with the man. You wouldn't deny that, you fought with him, bled for him and almost sacrificed everything you had for him. It was obvious but maybe not to him. You are undeniably, truly, completely and unconditionally in love with him.

You're a beautiful woman, that's what you believed but it did catch you off-guard that Steve suddenly asked you out on a date. Who wouldn't? But you've been his friend for years and you believed for the longest time Steve was always gonna love one woman and that being the one and only Peggy Carter or maybe his actual ex-girlfriend who he broke up with almost a year ago, his first love's niece, the impressive and beautiful agent Sharon Carter.

You felt pure euphoric happiness and countless butterflies danced in your stomach, it felt like a million fireworks erupted in your heart when Steve decided to ask you out. You remembered every part of that day, that night—that second that he dropped the ball and asked you the million dollar question like it was yesterday, well it was actually yesterday.

[ flashback ]

" report's suck don't they? "

" and here I thought being Captain America would excuse me from the paperwork " Steve chuckled as you sat beside him with your own reports.

" oh please your hobby is reading reports "

" I never said I liked writing them "

" well I guess were the only responsible ones here seeing as you have Natasha's pile and I have Tony's "

" more time to spend with me " Steve smirked as you breath a nervous laugh as his words caught you off-guard

" my, my Captain America being cocky? "

" don't deny it, you love my company sweetheart " Steve responds as he confidently holds your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, tilting it slightly as he makes you look at his breathtaking blue eyes. Your breath hitched momentarily.

You scoffed, turning away from him not believing Steve was actually being flirty with you.

" oh yes because everybody's dying for your presence, Oh? Mr. Rogers, would you please sign my chest? " You asked while doing a slightly higher pitched voice, you didn't want to make Steve think he can just play with you. You played along with his flirty antics as you suddenly opened your jacket making Steve choke on air which was your plan. You weren't wearing a revealing top but the action definitely caught Steve off-guard.

You laughed like an old man, having difficulty breathing as you laughed at the expression Steve did after your little stunt, his red face made you laugh uncontrollably and made you a coughing mess.

" you're not gonna win whatever game you're playing Rogers " You said as you went back to your reports, calming yourself from the laughing while Steve coughed to catch your attention once more.

" What if I wasn't playing a game? "

" Then what's with the random flirting Captain? planning on trying those moves on someone? "

" yes actually, you " He replies with no hesitation, you would've laughed if it wasn't for the serious expression he wore.

" —would you give me the honor of taking you out on a dinner date? " Steve continued as you fell silent, internally you were screaming and your heart immediately beat faster than normal as his words found your ears.

" Yes ... YES! of course " You reply with a smile, and seeing the wide grin on his face made you blush madly.

I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

Right when I felt the moment stop

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

I, I stayed there

Dust collected on my pinned-up hair

You catch yourself smiling as you remember the events of yesterday's evening. You reminisced the comfortable silence that happened after, wide grins as the two of you did reports you didn't want to but the worst news came as you opened your phone that had a notification from Natasha. You smiled momentarily as you saw her name flash on the lock screen but your face fell immediately as you read the words she sent.

she's back

Those words made your legs feel weak as more anxiety filled your mind and your heart felt like it was slowly being chipped away by the tools used in carving stones.

please tell me it's not who I think it is

yup, Sharon's back and she went to Steve like she did nothing!

is Steve with her?

You hesitantly typed, scared of what the answer to the questions that naturally floated in your head might be. Different thoughts came to mind but you didn't want to judge Steve, he would never ditch you for his ex, not without informing you first in case he did. Wouldn't he?

Yeah ... He's with her, I'm sorry

Natasha answered, making you shut your eyes hoping everything was a dream and that the special blue dress you wore wasn't for nothing. Your eyes felt teary just as a waiter went to you asking if you needed assistance in which you replied with one bottle of wine, please. You hoped that maybe Steve would come to you after he talked to Sharon, that is if that's the only thing he was doing with her. That tiny hope ran out as you've realized you've been sitting at the cozy, warm restaurant alone and pathetically for three hours straight, you've finished the red wine long ago. Now, you just sat quietly and glanced outside where the rain stopped and the streets shined as the countless puddles reflected the street lights and shop signs.

You stayed there until the staff had to ask you to leave unless you actually ordered a meal but you didn't have the stomach to eat anything as you were just ditched by Steve, Steve the golden boy just ditched you for his bitch of an ex-girlfriend without even telling anything.

Right where you left me

You left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

You left me, you left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

You hailed a cab quickly after exiting the restaurant, you couldn't just walk in your state. You weren't drunk but you were probably tipsy enough to trip over nothing. The elderly cab driver dropped you off in front of the tower. You held your heels in one hand and your coat hanging loosely on your shoulders. The guard immediately let you in as he recognized you. You were sadly met by nobody inside the compound as you entered, not Steve—nobody. You knew Natasha went out for her nightly jog while the others you thought were just busy doing their own stuff.

You contemplated whether or not you'll confront Steve tonight. A couple minutes passed as you sat on the couch of the living area of the tower, your thoughts consuming you as you sat silently.

With a huff of a breath you stood up, shrugging your coat as you walked barefoot on the cold floor of the tower. You pressed the fifth floor where Steve's room is located, the ding of the elevator distracted you from your thoughts.

At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want

Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right

I, I could feel the mascara run

You told me that you met someone

The sound of your heart shattering was all you could hear as you watched the view In front of you—Steve and Sharon fricking Carter making out. Steve was kissing Sharon Infront of his door as she was about to leave when he heard the elevator open and there you stand, looking gorgeous in a silk blue dress. You stood pathetically in a blue dress that you wore for what would've been your date with Steve but instead you see him kissing another woman.

You momentarily spaced out, you didn't know what happened after but suddenly Steve was Infront of you and Sharon was nowhere to be found.

" Y/N! " Your eyes snap to Steve as they were previously gazing on the floor.

" So yesterday was really just a game huh? " You asked with a laugh even as your heart broke more that it already was, even if you knew that it was Sharon who owned his heart. You confidently looked at him straight in the eyes with your teary ones.

" Y/N I—Sharon was just here and she wanted to get back together and to be honest I still kinda have feelings for ... her " Steve tried to explain, failing as he saw the disappointment on your face, he knew it was an asshole move to ditch you but Sharon just knew how to keep him from leaving, to pull him back into their own little world.

He did genuinely like you, he did but Sharon made him think that she's the one, the only woman who'll truly make him happy and he stupidly believed that. His mind desperately believed Sharon and him were meant to be, that the break up was just a test on their relationship even as his heart silently shouted your name. He just didn't see how perfect you were for him.

" of course, it's always going to be her, she's perfect—she's a Carter after all " You brokenly said, sadness and jealousy evident in your voice. A bitter tone encasing your words as you felt rage.

" I liked you , I really do, you're a beautiful woman but Sharon is just ... and you’ll find someone better than me " Steve said while trying to hold your hand but you turned away completely giving him a cold shoulder.

" I understand perfectly Steve, you owe me no loyalty and that's okay—I guess I just expected more from you " your voice low as all your disappointment and heartbreak was put into words.

" No, i-its, I know that was not respectful of me to just leave you hanging and ditching our date but Sharon was just suddenly here and then she just kissed me and I—I caved, look I know this looks bad but— "

" Again, it's my mistake to have high expectations and if you'll excuse me I had a whole bottle of wine so I feel a bit sleepy, goodnight Steven " You replied as you quickly turned away from him and wiped the tears that threatened to fall.

“ Y/N … shit “ you heard Steve mutter as you entered the elevator but you ignored his words as you felt so close to breaking down, maybe you fell for him more than you realized as you felt like your heart was shattered to a thousand pieces.

I'm right where you left me

You left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

You quickly walked out on Steve, the elevator ride felt like forever and as you unlocked your room you immediately dropped down on the floor. A deep sigh came out of your lips as you rested your head on the large metal door of your room, tears immediately escaping your eyes.

" how could I be so stupid!? God! , you just had to fall in love with someone like him huh? yes, how could little ol' me be ever good enough for the great Captain America, Sharon’s just perfect so—perfect and she’s beautiful ... she's gorgeous "

" How could Steve not love her? "

You talked to yourself hoping Steve wouldn't hear it with his super hearing ability. You sat and stared at the ceiling questioning how stupid it was to actually think Steve was a perfect guy, well not perfect but you at least expected that he wasn't a jerk like the other guy's you've dated.

You didn't know how long you stayed on the floor crying as you felt intense heartbreak, ironic that he wasn't even yours to lose, but you stayed there crying your heart out—probably longer than the time you spent waiting at the restaurant.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x avenger!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers story #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #saturn writes #sleepisaturn

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aphroditestummyrolls · 4 months

Note

27 and wesper for the prompt meme 💕

Hiiiii! Thanks for playing ❤️ I was aiming to make these cute little drabbles, about the same length as the WIP game, BUT. That didn’t happen here.

So, enjoy what is essentially a oneshot missing scene from Only Way Out (is through).

27. Accidentally Sleeping In

The kitchen was still cast in deep blue shadow. The night clung to the corners of the room, and the furniture in the adjacent den was nothing but dark silhouettes as the windows gradually lightened. Blinking out over the fields with bleary eyes, it looked like another clear summer’s day on the horizon. A breeze made the jurda dance; the last stars glittered above; and the first fingers of sunlight were going pink as they chased away the darkness.

The house felt still in a way that it hadn’t since the boys came to stay. There was no glow of light under Jesper’s bedroom door, and there was no squeak of mattress springs as they restlessly shifted around and around. Wylan’s usual beleaguered whisper was absent, leaving nothing but the slumbering silence of pre-dawn.

He hoped Jesper had gotten that poor lad to go to sleep and stay asleep. And that he’d still gotten a good night’s rest for himself.

Colm looked at the wall clock— scarcely 5 bells.

He’d give them till the half chime.

He took the coffee pot down from its cupboard as quietly as he could manage, and set the kettle on the fire. He would give them until breakfast was ready. Usually, Jesper was stumbling down the corridor by the time he smelled griddlebreads, anyway. Even after all these years away, it was still like a summoning ritual for even the most exhausted of sons.

Even this exhausted, though? Addy’s voice chimed in from the back of his mind. You’ve never seen him this tired. You know that.

Colm sprinkled flour across the countertop, and unwrapped their breakfast dough from where he’d left it to rise in the hearth’s embers overnight. Perhaps he kneaded into the soft puff of it with more feeling than usual, but he couldn’t help it. He was worried.

He had never been able to hide from his wife— especially not now. And, as usual, she was right.

It had been just over a week since Jesper and his young councilman had docked in Shriftport. They brought with them two haphazardly packed cases of clothes, but Colm considered them lucky that their ship didn’t charge them extra for the bags under their eyes. There was a weight on Wylan’s skinny frame so broad and crushing, it almost surprised the Kaelishman to see the lad walking.

Jesper helped shoulder that weight with all the grace of a man anticipating an explosion, but Colm glowed with pride all the same. They were good partners, those two. He watched them give and take throughout that long, sleepless week— he caught the tail end of long talks and brief check ins. Every morning after they came in from the jurda fields, Colm brought in the post; and every night, he walked past their bedroom door to see the lamps still lit as they worked steadily through the passing hours.

And, he saw the circles under their eyes grow darker with each morning, over griddlebreads and coffee. In the pre-dawn, they seemed as deep as any shadow in the house.

Colm was finally beginning to understand the extent of what Jesper was trying to say in his letter, all those days ago.

Dear Da, it read, I hope you’re well. Good to hear the harvest is coming in strong, and the buyers are already lining up.

Things here are fine— I’m worried about Wylan. This house is starting to feel bloody haunted, and the noses of the council constantly poking in aren’t doing much to help. Everything is piling up. He thinks I don’t know how much this is grating on him, and I don’t know how to tell him he’s scaring me.

I know I’m not much of a communicator—

I understand if you’re still mad, but I’m trying to—

Did you ever have to talk to Ma— that one was so blotted with ink, that Colm had to hold it up to the midday sun to find the words underneath.

I don’t know what to do. You told me to tell you next time I didn’t know what to do, so I’m doing that. He’s not sleeping, he forgets to eat, we spend all day pushing through this damned paperwork, and getting him down to the club can only distract him from the worst of it for so long.

I’m so tired, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. Help? I suppose?

He signed it with love from the both of them, and Colm had reread it until the parchment feathered at the corners. It was still tucked into the bookshelf in the shadowy den, used as a place marker in a half-interesting novel he gave up on.

The kettle whistled. With floured hands, the Kaelishman turned in the time-honoured route from counter to stove, and then to the coffee maker. He didn’t need to think about it. The motions were as natural as breathing, and he had other things on his mind.

The night before, the three of them spent a few short hours in the den before retiring for the day.

Colm couldn’t even remember what was being said, when Jesper suddenly went very still, and quiet. His grey eyes blinked, wide and sparkling, and he looked over to his young councilman as if he wasn’t sure what he’d see. And then he smiled.

No, he beamed.

Because Wylan Van Eck was deep asleep, his cheek smushed up into Jesper’s shoulder. His thick lashes tickled along his cheek, chapped red lips just a little bit open. He took slow, even breaths against Jesper’s chest, and Colm couldn’t help the clench of emotion that snuck up around his heart.

He looked like a little boy.

And Jesper looked like he’d been given an absolute treasure of a gift.

He kissed his forehead— gently, so gently, as if he’d bolt upright at any second— and didn’t dare to wake him up to shuffle him off to bed.

Colm held open the bedroom door so Jes could fit Wylan and himself through the narrow opening. The smaller lad was laid out in the center of the bed while Jesper fluttered around the room, unlacing Wylan’s boots and slipping his braces from his shoulders. For once, Colm found himself glad that his son was so allergic to making his bed— it made it much easier to slip back in at night.

And that was the last he had seen of either of them. The Kaelishman bid his son goodnight in a whisper, and Jesper smiled. He looked so exhausted,and so relieved.

Oh, he hoped they’d managed some good rest.

By the time the half chime rang through the little farmhouse, each bread had been cooked to golden brown, steaming perfection. Coffee was ready. Plates were on the counter— not that Jesper would use one. Not when there was the option to leave crumbs on the kitchen floor.

But, Jesper wasn’t here. There were no creaking bed springs, or sleepy grumbling voices coming down the corridor. Colm craned his head to peek at the lad’s door, and the glow of the lamp wasn’t there, like it had been so reliably for so many days.

The sun was rising, painting the kitchen and the den with the wash of warm pink, yellow and Zemeni blue sky. Yet, even with the shadows chased away, the house was still heavy with a sleeping hush.

He sighed.

At least when Jesper was awake all night, he didn’t oversleep.

Rolling his eyes, he poured himself a coffee and took a long sip. He stared at the door, willing the light to turn on, and to hear his son roll out of bed and curse at the clock.

They were meant to start the second round of the harvest that morning. The first of the drying blooms were out in the silos, but the growing things of the earth weren’t just going to wait for them to be ready to pick them. The time frame was limited. How many times had he told Jesper that? How many times had he walked the short path from the kitchen to that bedroom door, and given him the wake up call he missed?

This time, though, he raised his hand to knock, and… paused.

Instead, he dared to open the door and poke his head into the room.

The sunrise was a little slower to reach Jesper’s room, turning the peachy dawn into a warm lavender haze through the drapes. The bedside table was stacked with the last of the letters to be sent— signed and sealed with a splatter of red wax. But, on the bed itself, there wasn’t nearly as much formality… or urgency.

The covers had been kicked around. Only a sheet was draped across Jesper’s skinny hips, his gangly limbs starfished out across the mattress. He was utterly dead to the world. His ribs rose and fell in deep pulls of breath, and Colm wished he could see his boy’s sleeping face better. He always looked so sweet and young, finally at rest for once in his wild life.

But, this time, his nose was buried in a nest of wild curls.

While Jesper had sprawled, Wylan had curled up under his arm, cuddled in between his body and the wall. His cheeks were flushed with the warmth of sleep, even in the low light, and he looked just the same as he had when he fell asleep the evening before. He had a cheek squished up against Jesper, lashes fanning his cheeks, and chapped lips slack. Now, though, his fingers twitched and flexed over Jesper’s chest, and he was burrowing impossibly closer to him. A tiny little sigh passed Jesper’s lips— he could see it as it ruffled the red curls obscuring his mouth. Maybe he smeared an unconscious kiss to his forehead. Colm couldn’t tell.

Oh Saints. Colm couldn’t bring himself to wake them.

“Da?”

Grey eyes blinked at him for a long, sleepy moment, not processing much of anything at first. And then, it hit.

“Fuck—!”

“Shh, shh— no.” Colm crossed the small room to stop his son before he moved and woke the both of them. “No, no. It’s alright, Jes.”

Jesper blinked. Wylan made a sleepy little sound, but didn’t wake.

Colm pulled the covers back up over them, and Jesper finally seemed to understand what was happening. His eyes went half lidded. He sighed.

“Get some sleep, son.” He murmured.

Jes just hummed.

They were both asleep again by the time Colm closed the door behind them.

❤️❤️❤️

#six of crows #wesper #jesper x wylan #wylan x jesper #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #colm fahey #thanks for playing!

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snickerdoodlles · 1 year

Text

say hello to my current wip, making assumptions, aka the fic about chay's truly impressive collection of monsterfucker sex toys. i'm banging my head against my desk as i work on one of the emotional scenes, so here's a ~1k preview of the first chapter because i like validation 😂

The thing about fucking up a lot is that you get really good at identifying the little voice in your head yelling hey moron amongst all the alarm bells. It’s just that, if you’re Kim, the little voice can scream as loud as it likes, but it won’t change the fact that the stupid decision is so often the only decision available.

I, Kim thinks as he picks the lock on Chay’s door, am very bad at lying to myself.

It’s just, Kim is nosy. He doesn’t know how not to be, not with a childhood of secrets that kill and a father who lies more than he cares. So, when Kim had snooped through the family’s finance accounts and happened upon Chay’s bank statements, which showed no activity beyond Papa adding an allowance for months and then abruptly incurred multiple pages of mysterious payments totalling to several thousand baht in less than two weeks, which transactions could only be less obvious if they were plastered in neon DRUGS HERE! signs, well. What was Kim supposed to do?

…Not break into Chay’s room and scour the place for secret drug stashes is the correct answer, but Kim is so far past that now. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to do when he finds the stashes of drugs--probably throw them out, except then he’d have to tell Chay, because people rearranging your rooms and throwing out your stuff behind your back is the worst, and he won’t do that to Chay. But he’s also been trying to respect Chay’s fuck off boundary line, no matter how much it hurts, so Chay’s going to hate him twice as much for this, fuck, he’s really thrown himself into a right pickle this time--

He should turn back now. Before he makes this worse.

Then Kim thinks of Chay collapsed in his own pile of vomit, or passed out with blood dripping from his nose, or pale with a needle still sticking out of his arm, because Kim knows the shit dealers cut their products with, because Papa had wanted him to take over the gritty side of the business, and then Kim’s inside Chay’s rooms without a second’s hesitation.

Chay’s room is a mess. Not the type of mess Kim had liked to drop in on, back when he’d surprise Chay at home and get treated to Chay frantically tidying the place while making half a dozen excuses for why Kim couldn’t come over, despite knowing Kim was watching him clean through the front window, and then finally invite Kim in and pout at him until he did something nice to make up for his bullying. This mess isn’t small piles of debris and laundry and dirty dishes--it’s several unpacked boxes growing dust in a corner, a small hamper of clean clothes infront of an empty closet, a collection of dirty glasses atop a stack of textbooks before the nightstand. If Kim hadn’t known this is Chay’s room, hadn’t secretly triple checked the security of this wing and Chay’s position to it obsessively when Chay had first moved in, he might’ve thought this the room for one of Papa’s infrequent guests. It’s…unsettling, to see a space Chay spends so much time in be so empty of his presence.

…He’s wasting time.

The rooms in this wing are all outfitted with the same basic setup: bed in the middle, oversized nightstand between it and the corner, lamp and chair in another, entrance to a full bath and toilet in the last. Usually, long term guests customize their rooms into anything besides a soulless box, but Chay hasn’t even tacked up so much as a postcard on the wall. The only thing unique is the large wooden chest with a well-loved blanket tossed over it, so that’s where Kim starts. It’s too obvious as a hiding place, and Kim almost wants to scold Chay or give him lessons on how to hide shit he wants to stay hidden, but…it’s the one piece Chay’s chosen in this room. Chay could just grab a backpack and this chest and disappear--anything he wants safe will be in it.

…The chest isn’t even locked, and Kim returns to the urge to go find and grab Chay by his shoulders and shake him until he remembers something about situational awareness, or keeping secrets, or distrusting people, or a lot of other basic caution measures, except Kim’s one of the things Chay’s currently keeping himself safe from, so that definitely won’t do him any favors. Kim settles for closing his eyes and sighing deeply through his nose.

Then he opens the chest to reveal…tentacles. Literally dozens of plastic tentacles.

What?

Kim stares down at the chest full of…plastic octopus legs? Or, at least, the tips of several of them, in all varieties of colors, from coral pink to a deep, shimmery blue. Kim even grabs one that glistens like oil slick when he moves it in the dim sunlight. They all vary in shape too, some are more sleek with just tiny bumps and ridges in different patterns, some with thick bases and thin tips and others with thin bodies and flared heads, others with strangely realistic suckers that yield under his finger tips, and then even more underneath those that look far too strange to be called proper tentacles. Kim pulls out a deep green one with a cute flower at the base and a body that curls aggressively, another that’s mostly straight but has the look of chewed bubble gum, and yet another that’s shorter than the rest but twice as thick and covered in bulging bumps.

It’s not until Kim finally pulls out a toy covered in flared ridges, scales, and other alarming geometry, but also distinctly phallic, does his brain finally accept that all of these are dildos.

Chay…Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Kim’s brain gives up. His face is too hot for him to think, his ears are ringing with what he’s quite sure is literal steam coming directly off his brain. He keeps pulling out more new toys, unable to stop. There’s one that looks like a tongue, with twice as many veins and a bumpy texture that is much too real for the scraps of his sanity. An alarmingly long and bendy tube with a pretty rainbow gradient and a disturbing number of knobs. A dark blue dildo that seems strangely plain until it lights up with half a dozen glittery rings when he accidentally squeezes the base too hard.

Pretty, Kim thinks, then is so startled by the sound of his own thoughts he misses the sound of the door clicking open behind him.

“Kim?”

Kim actually startles, whacking his knee on the chest of sex toys, and comes face-to-face with Chay.

…While sitting in a half-circle of monster dicks.

Chay’s eyes dart from him, to the toys on the floor, to the chest, and blushes all the way to his ears. “Kim?”

#kinnporsche #fic: making assumptions #kimchay #me: i'll write this if i think it'll stay under 10k #first chapter alone: is ~7k #draft: is well over 20k already #me: am not anywhere near done #hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha #who thought this was a good idea #anyways please wish me luck as i work thru this emotional hurdle aaaaaaaa #if i get enough of the beginning done ima start posting at the end of the month #fingers crossedddddd

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dk-wren · 6 months

Text

A Buddy Daddies' Halloween

School and work have been slamming me yet again, so unfortunately could not write a fic for today (on top of the pile of wips I still need to finish). But, I really wanted to do a little drabble/throwing out of ideas for what a Halloween with the Kurusu/Suwa/Unasaka family might look like.

I hope you enjoy and happy Halloween!

It's their first Halloween at their new home and at the Diner's Nest

Kazuki and Rei get a notice from the city council that as a local business, they are invited to participate in a Halloween event similar to the one that takes place in the 3rd CD drama (i.e. kids visit local business to essentially go trick or treating)

Determined to make a good impression with their new community, Kazuki decides that they are gonna go all out: decorate the restaurant, have specialty food items, and only hand out the best and biggest candy bars

After Miri returns from school that day, the family takes a trip to the local dollar/general store to search for some decorations

They all go off in their own direction and reconvene later: Miri found pumpkin decorating kits, Kazuki found some banners and streamers, and Rei wandered down the "scary" section for decorations, and returned with a few statues that are very terrifying and gory looking (at least to a fairly young child)

Kazuki reminds Rei that the trick or treaters are trying to scare them, not the other way around. But, he eventually relents and agrees to get one of the decorations Rei found so that the decorating process can truly be a whole family effort (and on the agreement that it will sit in the back corner of the restaurant)

Once they finish shopping for decorations, Miri says they need to look for their Halloween costumes

Miri picks out another princess dress and she makes Papa Kazuki and Papa Rei match with her, with Kazuki getting a jester costume and Rei getting a knight costume

Over the next few days, the family spends time getting the Diner's Nest prepared for Halloween. Kazuki is also testing out how to put a Halloween spin on a few of their dishes. His proudest moment is when he figures out the right amount of pumpkin spice to add for a delicious, seasonal pumpkin french toast

Halloween finally comes and the front-facing decorations and pumpkins are inviting and loved by all those who stop in at the Diner's Nest.

The regulars try out the handful of dishes Kazuki developed (and Rei and Miri approved) and enjoy the hidden, little corner decorated around the scary statue Rei found, especially when compared to the cuter decorations seen throughout the rest of the restaurant

It's around mid-afternoon when they run out of candy to give to trick or treaters, causing Kazuki to panic slightly. Rei comes up with the solution to bake some cookies or cupcakes that they can start handing out instead.

After they close up the diner, Kazuki and Rei get into their costumes and take Miri out to go trick or treating in the local neighborhood

Miri gets a bunch of candy, with some families giving her a little extra to share with her papas

Upon returning home, Kazuki agrees to ordering a pizza for dinner. Then, they watch a Halloween movie together while eating their pizza, with Rei and Miri digging into the candy stash afterwards

Kazuki tries to limit how much sugar the two of them eat, but knows how much both of them looked forward to Halloween and wants them to enjoy it

Rei and Miri eventually crash on the couch while they are on their third or fourth movie. Kazuki knows he should probably move everyone to their bedrooms, but he's pretty tired himself. And also, it's been a while since they've had a family nap/cuddle like this. Kazuki is pretty sure he'll regret letting them all sleep out there in the morning, but that's a problem for later. Soon, he too is asleep with the rest of his family on the couch.

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies headcanon #i guess?#halloween #drabble #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #miri unasaka

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kookygranger · 4 months

Note

Hi!

I'm so late!

But I'd love to know about HF!E

for the wip game!

Thank you, Betty! ✨

HF!E stands for High Fidelity!Eddie. It isn't a HF au it just takes place in a record store and I didn't have a name for it. It was an idea for a one-shot inspired by this playlist featuring gothic/spooky songs before goth was a genre.

It made me think about Eddie who just moved to Chicago with Corroded Coffin and is slowly being accepted by the scene. Reader works at a record store and is playing this mixtape over the speakers and Eddie very much falls in love.

I started writing it and then didn't really like it but here's a lil' snippet:

“What the fuck are you listening to anyway?”

“I made a pre-Halloween mix. Music that lead to goth before goth was a thing.” You frown as you try to unstick a bright red sticker from the price gun you’d been tapping on the pile of vinyl.

Eddie smiles to himself as he continues to pretend he’s browsing and not tuning into your conversation.

“Are you going to The Allied tonight? There’s some new band from Indiana or something playing, apparently they do a sick cover of Master of Puppets.”

Eddie pauses in his faux perusing for a second as he awaits your reply.

“I wasn’t really planning on it, no.”

The guy huffs, “No? What was your plan, going home to sulk to The Velvet Underground?”

“I don’t sulk–“

“You do when you listen to The Velvet Underground.”

“What do you want me to do? Pogo to Heroin? Anyway, I was gonna work on an article actually.”

“Why don’t you write about this band tonight? Tim says they’re pretty good. He saw them a couple of weeks ago at the Metro.”

“Tim said that about that god awful noise band that played at De Salle’s. It was the worst four hours of my life. I thought my ears were actually going to bleed.”

“Whatever, you say that like you’re not currently playing the most depressing German synth music that nobody in their right mind would listen to.” He points out the new song playing from the speakers behind you.

“First of all, this is David Bowie’s Low. And if you knew as much about music as you claim to, you’d know that this was his seminal work in his Berlin era and an ambient soundscape masterpiece. Secondly–“

“I like it.”

Both of your heads shoot up at Eddie’s interruption. He blushes and clears his throat as you catch his eye and the corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry, I just–it’s a good mixtape. I like the theme.” He frowns and shakes his head at himself, he doesn’t know what came over him. Who is this guy that’s bothering you, anyway? You have amazing taste and he’s pretty sure you’re the most angelic thing he’s ever seen. You gesture in his direction and look back at the guy that’s teasing you.

“The customer is always right, Simon.”

Eddie moves quickly to the B section and finds the album you were talking about before heading over to you.

“Did you find everything you need?” You smile at him sweetly as you hop off the counter and take the record from him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before. Customer service isn’t exactly my strongest skill.”

The guy, Simon, snorted. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off the way your face lit up quietly when you realised what album he picked.

“What are your strongest skills?” That was such a weird question Munson, what the hell?

You looked up at him a little taken aback, before a small smile crept up on your face.

“Talking about music…or” you shake your head in contemplation, “writing about it actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Maybe it’s not so much a skill, more like an obsession.”

“She’s actually kind of good.” Simon butts in with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“Such a high compliment cuz.”

You were cousins. He still had a shot.

“You write for magazines?” Eddie asks.

“Zines mostly,” you point to a stack of xeroxed pamphlets on the counter, “but I’ve published a few reviews with Spin and The Face.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, “That’s pretty cool.”

You breathe out a laugh and take the cash he hands you, collecting his change. “Thanks.”

“Wait, you're Eddie, right?” He turns to Simon, almost forgetting he was there. “Your band’s playing at The Allied tonight? I met your drummer Gareth at a show last week.”

“Uh yeah that’s me. We’re called Corroded Coffin.”

“Cool name.” You smirk and hand him his record wrapped in paper. Eddie tucks it under his arm, his dimples showing as he smiles back at you.

“Thanks.”

“You’re from Indiana then?” You call back to Simon’s earlier statement, as Eddie doesn’t make a move to immediately leave.

He rubs the back of his neck as he nods, “Yeah. Just moved here a couple of months ago with my band.”

“Welcome to Chicago, Eddie.” You smile and introduce yourself, “Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you…vinyl wise I mean.”

“Thanks,” he scratches the stubble on his jaw before stepping away from the counter. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight at the show?” He tries to keep his voice casual, but there’s a hint of hope in there.

You bite your lip and shrug, “Yeah, maybe you will.”

Eddie nods and takes his queue to leave, the bell jingling again as he steps back out into the cold.

“Yeah, maybe you will.” Simon mocks you in a breathy imitation and you roll your eyes. “So now that you know the singer is cute are you coming?”

“Obviously! You better get me on the door list, or I swear to god I’m telling Aunt Carol about the stash in your underwear drawer.”

Okay, there were a lot more High Fidelity references than I remembered. Fun fact: I have read the book and watched the film and HBO reboot so many times I could quote word-for-word. I also dressed up as Zoe Kravitz's Rob for an office Halloween party once, complete with the Wings Over America live album that she talks about in that scene with the misogynistic cheater. Only one girl got it because she was a fan of Zoe Kravitz lol.

#wip game #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #she writes

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ghouligancentral · 2 years

Text

Terzetto

Papa Emeritus III x Reader X Omega Rating: 18+ NSFW

Summary: You all know what this is about.

(Terzetto means 'threesome' in Italian)

Afab reader - no pronouns

A/N-

Alright Ghoulies- I'm back at my same old games. I've got 3 WIPs that need finishing but the idea popped into my head and I knew I had to write this. It's smutty, It's glorious, please enjoy. Also I just realized that this is my first fic with a Papa so there we go. New milestone I guess.

Also- Please forgive my poor Italian.

The sound of footsteps echo throughout the stone hallway as you rush up the steps of the Abby on your way to Terzo’s office. You were already quite late since Sister Imperator had sent you on a multitude of useless errands. She probably knew about your appointment with Terzo and wanted to make you late. You are still convinced that she makes it her personal mission to snuff out any spec of joy Tezro has.

Upon rounding a corner you hear the pounding of another set of footsteps to your right. After stopping to catch your breath you turn to see a large quintessence ghoul and he is headed straight for you. Your eyes widen when you realize he is going to crash into you, the only thing you can do is brace yourself.

Smack

You feel the wind being knocked out of you as you and the ghoul tumble to the floor, landing in a pile.

“Sorry,” the ghoul apologizes as you both lay sprawled out on the ground, attempting to reorientate yourselves.

“I’m glad to see I’m not the only one late, Omega,” you chuckle out while offering the ghoul a smile. Omega stands up first and then offers to help you to get back on your feet. You gladly accept his help by taking his outstretched hand. With one easy tug, the ghoul has you standing upright. As you brush off your habit, Omega searches the surrounding area in search of your veil.

“Here you go,” Omega says as he puts your veil back on your head, allowing his fingers to gently caress your cheek before pulling his hand away. You smile back at him as you both begin to walk towards Terzo’s office once more, albeit a lot slower this time.

“He’s not going to be happy we are both late,” you muse as the two of you continue on your journey through the Abbey grounds. You love the man, but saying Terzo tends to be needy is an understatement.

“Yeah, he is probably climbing the walls at this point,” Omega chuckles just as you reach the door to Terzo’s office. You knock softly only to find it already slightly ajar. Popping your head in, you see Terzo at this desk talking to another sibling. The third Emeritus brother looks rather bored with the conversation. He allows his focus to drift away from his present company, his eyes searching for something more entertaining. Once he spots you in the doorway, he eagerly sits up before motioning for you and Omega to enter with a wave of his hand.

After stepping through the door, you and the ghoul stand to the side, not wanting to interrupt the Sibling. As the two of you wait, Omega leans down and mutters ,”Well he’s taking the fact that we are late much better than I thought he would.”

You nod in agreement while keeping your eyes on Terzo, waiting for him to finish his conversation with the sibling.

“I’ll have those pages sent over to you right away Pap- I mean Terzo,” says the sibling.

“Molto bene,” Terzo responds as he waves the sibling out of the room,” I look forward to receiving them.”

However, Terzo did not, in fact, have any intentions of reading over those documents.

“And close the door behind you. Grazie”

Once the sibling closes the door, Terzo stands and faces the two of you.

“Cara mia and Omega! How are you?” Terzo asks as he walks over.

“We’re sorry we are lat–” Omega starts before the third Emeritus brother cuts him off.

“No time for apologies. It is all good, si. We are all here and ready to get started,” Terzo beams as he wraps his arms around the two of you and begins ushering you to a room connected to his office. Only Terzo would have a bedroom right next to where he works. Once you have entered the room, Terzo makes his way over to a chair in the corner of the room.

“Now since the two of you kept your poor Papa waiting, I think you should put on a little show for me,” Terzo states as he settles himself into the chair.

“But you’re not Papa any more,” you smirk. You couldn’t help but tease him just a little. Terzo gasps with faked offence.

“Will you not indulge the fantasies of an old man, cara mia?” Terzo asks with a taunting tone.

“Yes, Papa,” you nod back.

“Well get on with it you two,” Terzo orders with a clap of his hands. With this you turn to face Omega before beginning to run your hands over his chest. A low purr can be heard emanating from the ghoul. You feel a set of hands roaming your back in search of the zipper of your habit. The movement of your hands stops once you reach Omega’s neck, you look up at him for consent to remove his mask. Omega nods and you remove the mask, setting it on the edge of the bed. Omega takes your face in one of his hands before he leans down to press his lips against yours. One of his fangs pokes at your lower lip as he smiles into the kiss.

You pull back, allowing him to remove your habit. He unzips the zipper of your dress and helps you tug it down your body stopping just below your knees allowing you to step out of it. Once you do so, Omega tosses the dress on the bed next to his mask.

You hear a small grunt and the rustling of fabric and you turn to see Terzo removing his pants.

“Don’t be minding me. Continue,” Terzo motions for the two of you to continue. Omega wraps his tail around your leg as you begin to unbutton his shirt. You can feel yourself becoming wetter and more desperate by the second.

“Why don’t we hurry this along?” You whisper to Omega, who grunts in response and begins unbuttoning his trousers. Once you reach the last button, Omega has already finished undoing his pants. You open his shirt and help him remove it before moving to do the same to his pants. You can tell Omega is just as aroused as you are. He kicks his clothes to the side instead of laying them neatly with the rest of his things. His tail whips around excitedly as you pull him back in for another kiss.

You run your hands down the front of his body until you hit the waistband of his underwear. “Please,” Omega pants as you place your hand over the bulge there. The ghoul grounds when you begin to rub him through the fabric. A series of small “fucks” comes from Terzo’s corner of the room and you know he is already stroking himself while watching the two of you. You move your lips so that you can begin peppering Omega’s neck with little nips and licks.

You pull away from Omega before slowly lowering yourself to your knees. Omega’s chest heaves as his breath quickens in anticipation of what is about to come. His eyes widen a little while watching you pull down his underwear. Once the elastic band makes it just past his thighs, his erection springs out and hits his stomach. A shot of arousal runs down your spine upon seeing his cock leaking precum in front of you.

“Si, Si, cara mia. Let your Papa watch you suck off one of his ghouls,” Terzo moans out. You can’t help but let a feeling of pride swell up in your chest at the notion of pleasing both your papa and your ghoulish lover. As per Terzo’s instructions, you take Omega’s member into your mouth and begin to swirl your tongue around the tip. Omega throws his head back as he releases a groan. His hand threads through your hair in an attempt to ground himself to something. He doesn’t push your head further onto his member, but instead, he just holds you there. You pull off of his tip to swipe your tongue over the prominent vein located along the side of his cock. This causes the large ghoul to wrap his tail around his own thigh. You look up at him and give him a little smile before placing your mouth back onto him. You begin to bob your head, stroking the part of him that you cannot fit in your mouth.

A warmth spreads over your body as you listen to the moans echoing throughout the room. Omega pulls you off of him only to have you look up at him.

“How about we show that cute little pussy of yours some love,” he utters with a smile.

“Si, come here and give your Papa some attention while he licks you,” Terzo gasps as he stops stroking himself. You crawl to him on all fours and begin to give his head little kitten licks. Terzo groans as he praises you.

“Very good little one”

You smile at his words as you continue giving his member your full attention. Omega crawls up behind you and spreads your cheeks to get a better look. You moan into Terzo when you feel his warm tongue begin to lap at your slit. He runs his tongue around your rim and then down your slit as his motions speeds up. Terzo places his hands on your head montioning for you to take him in your mouth. You wrap your lips around him and begin to gently suck. You feel a finger slide into you causing you to moan onto Terzo’s cock. A second finger joins the first and begins to scissor you open as Omega’s tongue settles into a steady rhythm on your clit.

You feel your spit leaking out around Terzo as you continue to bob your head. It is difficult to concentrate on the task at hand but you do your best to please him. Ever so often, Terzo’s member hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag a little. Terzo pulls you off of him and speaks to you.

“I don’t want this to be over too soon. I’m not the young man I once was,” he chuckles. You nod before laying your head to rest in his lap, as your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs. Terzo continues lavishing you with praises as he gently strokes your hair. You can feel the heat building inside you as you approach your orgasm.

Omega feels your tight heat clinch around his fingers. The motion draws a growl from the ghoul, who promptly doubles down on his efforts. A gasp escapes your lips when Omega’s thumb finds its way to your clit and begins to rub tight circles on the sensitive bud.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out as you finish, you can feel Omega grin as he drinks you up.

“You did so well, cara mia,” Terzo coos as Omega works you through your orgasm. A strong arm wraps itself around your waist, preventing you from collapsing to the floor.

Terzo gives you a moment to catch your breath before directing the both of you to lay on the bed. Once the three of you are settled on the bed, you look to Terzo for further instructions.

“How should we do this?” Terzo muses as he pretends to think. You know he has already planned out exactly how he wants this to go.

“I believe that both Omega and I should both take our pleasure at the same time. Do you think you can do that for us, cara mia?” Terzo asks with a smile. You nod back eagerly. You weren’t new to this, having done it multiple times with the two of them before, but not for a while. It would be nice to feel so full again.

“Molto buono,” Terzo exclaims as he clasps his hands together, his eyes sparkling with excitement. You giggle a little as he makes a show of crawling up onto the bed next to you.

“Let me get you ready,” Terzo continues as he inserts two fingers into you and begins moving them in and out. You moan in response to his actions as your hands claw at the bed sheets.

“But let's not forget about Omega here.”

Terzo takes his other hand and licks his palm before grasping Omega and slowly stroking him. Omega grunts in response and lets his eyes close enjoying the feeling. Beads of precum form at the head of his cock as his hips instinctively rock into Terzo’s hand. The third Emeritus brother has a wicked grin plastered on his face as he watches his lovers writhe in pleasure.

Terzo slips a third finger and then a fourth into you, having you mewling under him. He continues for a couple more moments before determining that you are sufficiently stretched. The sounds of your own moans mix with those of Omega’s as the two of you bask in the pleasure.

“Are you ready?” Terzo asks as he removes his fingers from you and stops stroking Omega. The empty feeling causes you to whine a bit before you answer him.

“Yes,” you whisper. Your body jitters in anticipation as you eagerly await his next instructions.

“Good. Omega lay on your back,” Terzo instructs. Omega obeys and settles himself into the bed before Terzo turns to you.

“Now you lay on Omega with your back against his chest so I can watch your beautiful face while we take you,” Terzo grins. Your heart races as you position yourself atop Omega, knowing that the large ghoul will have no problem holding your (and probably Terzo’s) weight. You shift around a little before finally finding a comfortable position. Once you are settled, Omega wraps one arm around your chest while using his other hand to help position himself before pushing into you. A cry of pleasure escapes you at the feeling of the ghoul entering you. The ghoul rumbles underneath you as he feels your tight heat encompass him. Omega warms you up with a series of shallow thrusts while nipping at your neck.

“Are you ready for me?” Terzo asks.

“Yes, Papa,” you pant out.

Terzo gives you a nod before moving to position himself at your entrance. Omega spreads his legs a little wider so that Terzo has a little more room to maneuver. The ghoul halts his thrusts as he waits for the third. Terzo slowly slides himself into you beside Omega.

A collective moan echoes throughout the room as Terzo enters. There is a moment of pause as Terzo gives you time to adjust to the feeling. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around Terzo’s neck in preparation for their movements. After a sufficient amount of time, Terzo is the first to begin thrusting into you with Omega shortly following. You had forgotten the feeling of what it was like to be this full. It is bliss.

Moans, groans and gasps can be heard throughout the room as you all chase your high. Terzo leans over you to give Omega a kiss which he happily returns. You feel a tail snake up between your legs and begin to rub circles on your sensitive clit. You whine in response as you feel your high drawing closer. The sound of Terzo’s and Omega’s interlocking kiss in your ear has you desperate. Terzo pulls away from his kiss with Omega to do the same with you. He cups his hands around your face and continues with his deep thrusts which are becoming sloppy.

“Si! Si! Si!,” Terzo pants out as he feels his orgasm rushing towards him. Omega growls deeply in your ear when he feels you begin to clamp down on him. A set of teeth sinks into your shoulder as the three of you draw nearer to an orgasm. Terzo pulls away from the kiss to turn his attention to your chest.

You whimper when you feel his tongue lauve at one of your sensitive nipples, the pleasure from the action courses through your veins. You can feel the coil of arousal in your stomach growing tighter by the second.

“I - I- I’m-,” you don’t get the chance to finish your sentence as you are over taken by an intense orgasm. Your legs tremble as you feel waves of pleasure course through the entirety of your body. Once Terzo feels you clench down on him, you feel his cock kick inside you. As Terzo cums, your and Omega’s names flow from his lips as though he was reciting a prayer. Omega is not far behind, in five more thrusts you feel his cum being added to Terzo’s.

Terzo collapses on top of you and Omega. The three of you remain in a sweaty pile as you attempt to catch your breath. Your brain feels hazy as you bathe in post orgasm bliss. After a couple of moments, you finally begin to come back to reality.

“Alright Papa,” Omega grumbles as he pushes the man back into a seated position. You feel cum slip out of you when both Terzo and Omega pull out. Omega pulls you into a spooning position with him before reaching up to pull Terzo down as well. With a content sigh, Terzo joins the both of you.

“You did so well, cara mia,” Terzo praises as he caresses your face before brushing a sweaty lock of hair behind your ear. You hum at the praise as you snuggle deeper into Omega’s arms. You reach out to pull Terzo closer to you so that his chest is flush with yours. He smiles before kissing the top of your head and giving Omega a kiss as well. You feel Omega’s content purr as the three of you lay there enjoying the moment.

“That was fun,” Terzo utters as the two of you both hum in agreement.

“But try not to be so late next time.”

—-------------- La Fine —--—-----

#the band ghost fic #the band ghost #papa emeritus lll #papa terzo #omega ghoul #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul x reader #meliora era #era iii #ghost bc

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