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#I’ll let the antis on this one too
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There’s something about the way that Zuko looks at Katara that has me ascending. For someone who had no ‘feelings’ for her, he had me completely fooled.
Aka me after finding out Zuko and Katara didn’t end up together:
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Me, after deciding that even if they couldn’t be a couple they’d be the best of friends only to see that they nerfed their friendship in the comics because any Zutara is too much for canon to handle:
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badolmen · 3 months
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oh my god this pillow….
Edit: “it can’t be that bad” behold my horrors boy
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Ancient pillow as fragile as mummified linen
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persephoneflouwers · 5 months
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#@ Louis’ avanger anon#honey I wrote something so articulated for you#I won’t ever post it because I think it’s too much to handle#for a person that come in my inbox and talk like you did#I was asking you questions and maieutically try to prove my point#but I think I’ll let it sit in my drafts#and re read it anytime I feel like the bullshit that happened yesterday is cooling down#one thing I’m surprised is that you came to MY blog#looking for an harry’s apologetical blog… and like bestie Idk what to tell#but you’re in the wrong place ☹️#also aren’t you tired to repeat this chant anytime people call idiots with their rightful name? It’s lame at this point#there’s a funny situation for blogs like mine#because I’m louie to harrie larries and im a harrie to louie larries#but im a larrie to the antis! and I don’t get excited with things that most fandom enjoy#and i have many unpopular opinions and noone that supports me when I say controversial things#you know I just get much hate for calling bullshit out when two millionaires that literally make millions to pretend to be who they’re not#(im not talking about their sexuality. it’s more their image tm as a whole)#and I get hate and lose followers for voicing my opinion#so yeah I could do what you say actually#it’s just that I really despise stupidity#and I get very vocal when it shows#moreover when it comes from people I was very closed to idolise.#*close#let me just write my fics in peace now#casella di posta numero 32
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pinkandrainyclouds · 5 months
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Old people at the doctors will genuinely shove you of the way if you try to sign up before they do even though it’s not your fucking fault that you didn’t see them since they WERE WAITING IN THEIR CAR instead of by the door
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starry-bi-sky · 3 months
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More clone^2 snippets
Snippet 12: hands
Lancer: dear god, Mr. Fenton, what happened to your hands!?
Danny, had a run in with Damian’s katana and both of his hands have stitches: um… cooking… accident. I can’t use them that much currently
Lancer, pale: right, yes, of course. You may have one of your friends right you notes until they are properly healed
————
Snippet 13: more hands (and dash is a dick)
Dash: I bet Fenturd’s just faking his hand injury to get out of doing class work. Getting out of classwork is my thing! I’ll show him.
Danny, minding his own business:
Dash, yanks on his fingers harshly: Freak! Did you think you could copy me and het away with it?
Danny, his stitches torn from the way Dash grabbed him: you’re the last person I’d want to copy Dash, let go.
Dash: we all know you’re faking the hand injury, there’s no way you’d— you’d—
(Danny’s hands are bleeding, and starting to smear on Dash’s hands.)
Danny, (fake) calmly: you were saying, Dash?
Dash: I - uh—
Danny: thanks for opening them up, jerk.
—————
Snippet 14: Danny is Bruce’s Clone and Bruce Wayne has been hottest man alive for many consecutive years
The A-Lister Girls are at a sleepover
Star: Never have I ever had a crush on Danny Fenton
All girls (including Star): puts a finger down
A-List Girl: Paulina put your finger down
Paulina, begrudgingly putting a finger down: he shouldn’t count - he’s a loser!
A-List Girl: he’s still the cutest boy in our grade. Put your damn finger down.
—————
Snippet 15: unstoppable force vs immovable object
(In the Clone Danny Au, since Danny is not a ghost Valerie doesn’t see Phantom as the guy who ruined her life, but a very exhausted vigilante trying his best. They’re allies with conflicting ideologies on how to handle ghosts.)
Red Huntress: are you kidding me, Phantom? You dragged a kid in with you to fight ghosts? I thought you were better than that
Wraith, offended: *opening his mouth*
Phantom, tiredly putting a hand over Damian’s mouth: *in ASL + one hand* you don’t think I tried to stop him?
Red Huntress: he’s a child, Phantom, how hard could it be?
Phantom: looks down at Wraith
Wraith: looks up at Phantom with the eyes of a hundred enraged bulls
Phantom, kneeling down to Wraith and pulling his mask up to show his mouth: *whispering inaudibly*
Wraith: *takes off in the opposite direction*
Phantom, standing up to Red: *ASL* well? go get him
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Snippet 16: identity
(Danny and Damian are sitting on a rooftop, in the middle of a break from patrol. Damian sits between Danny’s legs and Danny is slumped over Damian’s back.)
Damian, playing with Danny’s fingers:
Danny: who are you?
Damian: Damian.
Danny: who are you not?
Damian: Damian Wayne.
Danny: do you have to be?
Damian: no.
Danny: who do you have to be?
Damian: I just have to be me.
Danny: who are you?
Damian: I’m Damian.
Danny: good.
Damian:
Danny:
Damian: who are you?
Danny, smiling: Danny
—————
Snippet 17: long hair
(In the Clone Danny Au, Danny’s hair goes to his shoulders. I was in a GNC mood at the time the au was made and it passed on to Danny.)
Tucker: are you going to cut your hair, Danny? It’s getting long.
Danny, laying against the bed frame with Sam doing his hair: probably to get the dead ends cut off. I like it long.
Sam: I like it long too.
Tucker: you like it long because he lets you do whatever you want to it
Sam: it’s also a stand against the oppressive stereotype that men can’t have long hair and must always have it short in order to appear masculine! Danny’s showing individuality and sticking it to the patriarchy at the same time!
Danny: and because I let you do whatever you want to it.
Sam, making a punk hairdo for danny: yea that too
——————
Snippet 18: Danny is Bruce Wayne’s clone and Bruce——
Danny, getting stuff from his locker: my parents have a new ‘Fenton anti-ghost sticky bomb’ they’re working on and—
Student with a photography camera: Hey, Fenton!
Danny, looking over: what?
Student: *snaps a photo* thanks!
Student walks away
Danny:
Tucker:
Sam:
Danny: so… um…. Is that- is that another Wes? Should I be worried?
Sam: you should be angry! He just took your picture without your consent! That’s a violation of your bodily autonomy.
Danny: we can keep an eye on it, Sam, and if it becomes an issue then I’ll report it to a teacher.
Danny: and as I was saying, I can’t wait to have to make sure that that doesn’t hurt anyone.
Danny: i love having to stay up late sabotaging my parents’ inventions. Yay…
—————
Snippet 19: Danny is Bruce’s clone and—
Wes: ranting about how Phantom = Danny and how there’s proof and he has it and—
Random Student from his photography club: you wanna kiss him so bad it makes you look stupid.
Wes: I do nOT
Student: Its okay Wes, so does literally everyone else.
—————
Snippet 20: Lookalike
Danny: the only good thing about being Bruce Wayne’s clone is that my Brucie Wayne Impression is spot on
Damian: what??
Danny: my Brucie Wayne impression. It shouldn’t be as fun as it is doing it
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asterosian · 3 months
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I’m watching Jesse Gender’s video acknowledging the criticism against that one line in her video and how she needs to address her own blind spots when it comes to trans men, which I think it’s awesome that we’re being listened to when I would’ve fully expected us to be written off by most other people, but one thing she mentioned got me thinking (read: distracted) about how exactly trans men challenge the gender power hierarchy. It’s something I’ve tried touching on before but it didn’t really take off as much as I wanted it to and I think that’s because I didn’t phrase it as well as I could have. And I don’t even know if I’ll succeed right now cause if I’m being honest, I’m not sure how to phrase it. Damn if I won’t try tho.
But like how nonbinary people challenge it by not even fitting into it and trans women challenge it by “lowering themselves,” I think trans men challenge it by making people question what sense or value the hierarchy has in the first place in a way that invokes a fear that those who wish to uphold that hierarchy clearly have but won’t say so too directly.
Dial your clock back to the women’s suffrage movement for a second. Have you seen the anti-suffragette posters? They certainly seem to imply that if women can vote, they can do basically anything else a man can do. She can put on pants, get a job, find a woman to marry, and - oh the horror! - live basically identically to a man. You don’t want women to become men, do you? Oh but let’s move forward. Inch by inch. Women did more things that men could do and this was a massive big deal and scared the shit out of people, but eventually it was sorta-okay. As long as they’re still women. We need to make sure they understand they are still women even if they do all these things. But of course, there’s still backwards asshats trying to turn time back to before all of this.
I’ve heard the arguments that people who think a woman’s proper place is in the kitchen wearing a dress and an apron, barefoot and pregnant with three kids already at her ankles, have made about these things. I can anyway and it’s smart to do so but I don’t even have to turn to historical writings to see it; they’re on YouTube and Rumble or whatever it’s called. They’re on Xitter. They’re even on tumblr of all places. I’ve noticed something about them; as soon as trans men are brought up, they sound exactly like the anti-suffragette posters. The hand-wringing about women getting jobs and bank accounts. One example I’ve heard from someone I’m not going to give the honor of promoting was a man who got so angry about a nonbinary person, who he believed was a trans man, being on the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. In his anger, he went on a rant that went something like “you just think men have it so much better than you cause you believe in male privilege so you wanna pretend to be one of us, but when another man tries to fight you over your girl, you’re gonna get your ass beat. You couldn’t handle being a real man!” And like, people like this guy thought women couldn’t handle most jobs out there. They thought women couldn’t be financially responsible enough to be allowed control over their own money. They thought women voting would lead to the worst candidates taking office and, even worse, then a woman could end up in office and there’s no way she could handle it. But uh. Plenty of women prove this wrong on a daily basis. This guy had to create a very specific scenario in which he believes a hypothetical trans man couldn’t handle it but any cis man should be able to. And quite frankly, it doesn’t work cause the number of cis women who’ve successfully beaten the shit out of cis men in various circumstances is a pretty good indicator that ASAB has nothing to do with fighting ability.
In short, in the eyes of a misogynist, if women can do literally anything a man can do, even become a man, then what fucking sense does patriarchy make in the first place? If you can become a man, thrive as a man, and fulfill the role of a man without issue, all while having been AFAB, then what makes (cis) men so much better than women? What was the point of all this in the first place?
What even makes a man a man?
I think those questions scare them. They don’t want to even try to answer it. They’re comfortable with the notion of those they think of as men are men, those they think of as women are women are women, this is a state as static and inflexible as a thick lead pole sticking out of the ground, and there is a natural place and role for the two genders. And every trans person no matter how they’re trans takes this notion and uproots it at multiple points at once.
The worst part is? If they just sat down with an open mind and asked these questions, a massive percentage of the trans community would be able to answer all of them. We already had to ask what makes a man a man or a woman a woman. We just don’t have simple answers most of the time.
Okay now that I’m done thinking way too much about that one point, I’m gonna keep watching the video.
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lipglossanon · 8 months
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Stay Right Through
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☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆
Dogman!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, hybrid au, dogman Leon, master/pet dynamics, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), mounting, breeding, knotting, unprotected sex, creampie
not proofread 👌
Title from Wandering by Good Charlotte 💜
Part 2: I Only Touched Her Hips But She Saw It
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Excitement makes your leg bounce as you wait for the lady to come back from setting up. 
You did get to the hybrid adoption center a little early, but you’re just really happy to be here! 
Hybrids were all the craze ages ago, but since the newness has died off (aka puppy syndrome has waned) there were more and more of these places opening up. Your parents never saw the point in getting a hybrid for the family, very old fashioned not to mention pretty anti pet in general. 
So now, you have your own place and a steady job that isn’t eating up all your time anymore making it the perfect time to get a feel for what kind of hybrid you want. You’re definitely open to any of them, but it seems like the dog hybrids have a higher turnover rate which is why you’re at this specific adoption center. 
The lady finally comes around to the front desk and smiles at you. 
“Sorry for the wait, now how may I help you?”
You glance at her name tag, “Hi Patricia, and I’m looking into adopting. I was hoping to kinda get the ball rolling today.”
She laughs, “Not a problem. If you could fill out this form, I can put this in the system while you take a look around and see if there’s anyone you like.”
“Thank you,” you smile, taking the forms and returning to your seat. 
It takes a lot longer than anticipated, but soon enough you have all your i’s dotted and t’s crossed. Turning in the clipboard, Patricia stands up and leads you over to a locked door. She runs her card across the electronic sensor and opens it for you. 
She gives you a little nudge inside, “There are caretakers throughout if you have questions or concerns. Cameras are all over the facility but you look like a nice enough person so I’m sure we won’t have any issues.”
She laughs a little and waves as she closes the door behind her, leaving you to sort of walk around and look. 
The place is a lot different than the mental picture you had; it’s set up like an open floor plan, but with individual mini rooms separated by cubicle partitions. It seems like in the center is just a large lounge type area with couches and an entertainment center. Past all of that you can make out granite counters suggesting a kitchen. 
With that, you can see all kinds of hybrids hanging around in the living area or just milling about talking with one another. 
“Hi! Need help?”
You look over at the perky blonde woman with the name tag Sherry.
“Uh kinda, I just don’t want to step on any toes, y’know?” you smile feeling a little shy. 
“Not a problem,” she laughs, gesturing for you to walk with her, “I’ll just give you a quick tour and let you meet some of the pups.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I was really hoping to look at older—“
“Oh gosh, that’s great,” she gushes, “sorry to cut you off, but we have more than we like to see with older dog men.”
“Oh,” you laugh at her bubbly attitude, “well that’s great,” you wince, “not that it’s great.”
She pats your arm in solidarity, “I totally understand. But I’ll take you right over to where they like to hangout. They tend to stay away from the center of the lounge, too many yapping pups.”
Her voice must mimic one of the older hybrids with that last comment and you laugh along with her. 
She guides you closer to the kitchen area but off to the side that sort of resembles a ‘man cave’ for lack of a better term. It’s more dimly lit with similar lounge furnishings. 
“Hi everyone!” Sherry lights up the space with her presence, some of the hybrids calling back to her as you two walk closer. 
“We have a new prospective friend here,” she introduces you to a trio of dog men standing up from the couch. 
“Nice to meet you all!” you wave, excitement probably making you smile like a maniac but you’re just so happy to finally have this chance. 
“Nice to meet you, I’m Chris,” a tall, dark haired dogman nods, his Rottweiler ears flopping a little as he tilts his head to look over at the other two. 
“H-hi, I’m Ethan,” the mild mannered blonde rubs the back of his neck nervously, his twitching ears reminding you of a Chow Chow making you smile wider. 
“Leon,” the last dogman gives you a lazy two finger salute, sandy blonde hair nearly hiding his soft Labrador ears.  
“Would you like to hang out here while I run off to grab some pamphlets?” Sherry asks you with a twinkle in her eye, giving you an option to hang out with these three alone.
“Sure,” you nod, watching as she spins on her heel and walks in the direction of the office. 
You turn back to the three dog men who quickly invite you to sit and hang out. Chris is quick to talk, adept at conversation making you laugh at some anecdote or other. Ethan’s a little more subdued, reminding you of yourself, chiming in every now and then. He seems to help reign Chris in when he gets a little too enthusiastic. 
Leon, although he talks less than Chris, constantly draws your attention. You don’t know if it’s cheesy puns or his overly cynical jabs (which Chris takes offense to and then Ethan’s breaking up their growling and snapping), but you have a good feeling about him. So by the time Sherry makes her way back with some actually helpful pamphlets, your mind is all made up. 
“It was so nice meeting you all,” you wave cheerfully, following Sherry back to the front.
“Well, any lucky candidates?” Sherry asks with poorly hidden enthusiasm. 
“Yep,” you smile at her, happy with your choice, “I’d love to take in Leon, if he’s fine with it of course.”
“I’m sure he will be!” she enthuses, clapping her hands, “he’s been here the longest so I’m so happy to see someone finally pick him!”
“Really?” you look back through the door right before it shuts, “I’m surprised.”
“Eh,” she waves you off, leading you over to a different section, “he’s just grumpy,” she pauses and looks around before whispering, “people come in, pick him out, then being him back after the trial week. Always the same, he’s too sarcastic, too grumpy, they just want a younger dog.” 
Your heart cracks after hearing that, determination blazing through the sadness, “Well that’s not happening this time.”
Sherry looks at you, eyes contemplative before grinning, “I think you two will be a good fit!”
She has you hang out in her office as she prints some documents to put in a Manila folder for you to take home. 
“You’re all set,” she leads you out the back to the parking lot, “your background check should clear in about three days and we’ll call to set up a time to have Leon do a trial stay at your place.” 
You hesitate but push through to ask, “Is it okay if I come by tomorrow? I’d like to make sure Leon is fine with it, too.”
Sherry looks a little teary eyed as she quickly nods, “Of course, please do. I think he’s gonna be perfectly happy with ya though.”
You bid your goodbyes and you get in your car to head home. It’s not that far of a drive, luckily, and since it’s on the other part of town there’s no crazy traffic. You’re home lounging on the couch in no time, texting your friend Heather all the details. Once you send her the link to Leon’s profile, she does not shut up about him.  
Rolling your eyes, you close your phone and start reading through the folder. It’s all pretty basic info on how to care for a hybrid; they’re pretty much like a person, just a little less adept at some things. They can hold a job if they wish but more seem to choose the pet lifestyle. 
Gazing down at Leon’s profile photo, you  just really wanna take care of him. Show him that not all owners are complete douchebags. 
The next day passes quickly and by the time works over, you’re tired but buzzing—excited to get to the adoption place and meet up with Leon again. 
Sherry greets you again, just as enthusiastic as before. She leads you over to one of the cubicle partitioned rooms and raps her knuckles on the side. 
“Leon, she’s here,” her voice sing songs. 
“Have fun,” she pats your arm and turns back the way you both came. 
Leon’s nice enough to you, but you can tell he’s acting very closed off—keeping all of the conversation pretty baseline and shallow. No matter how grumpy and gruff he’s acting, you’re literally showering him with enthusiasm. You show him pictures of your house (including the room that’s all his, if he wants it or you can work something else out). 
You ask him tons of questions, but he only answers a few. A few times you say something that makes him smother a smile or a laugh making your heart flutter in your chest. Right before it’s time to go, you’re shifting on your feet at the opening of his room. 
“I know I’ve asked a million times, but are you good with living with me? I promise I really won’t push it if not,” you smile shyly, “I’d be super bummed though.”
His blue eyes watch you, unreadable for a moment before he smirks, “Hey beats being here,” he raises his voice a little, “plus I won’t have to deal with deadbeat rotties.”
The partition wall next to you rattles and you see Chris looming over it to glare at Leon. 
“I’ll be glad to see you go, tomorrow can’t get here soon enough.”
“Tomorrow?” you ask quizzically. 
Leon looks a little sheepish but shrugs easily, “Pretty sure they pushed it through this afternoon.”
“Oh,” you beam, feeling giddy all over, “that’s great! I’ll be here as soon as works over! Oh! And then we have the whole weekend to get you settled in, this is going to be so much fun!”
Chris and Leon both look amused as you finish rambling, now feeling bashful for coming on too strong.  
You fidget before clearing your throat, “C-can I pet your ears?”
Chris’ eyebrows raise and he grins at Leon, “Can’t believe you, Kennedy; she hasn’t got to pet you yet?” he tilts his head toward you, while looking at Leon, “you can pet me, ma’am.”
Leon steps between you two and snarls at him making Chris laugh and drop back down behind his wall. He walks closer to you, lowering his head due to his height. 
You smile sweetly making him blush as you softly run your hands through his hair before coming up to rub his soft sandy colored ears. He shivers and headbuts your shoulder, silently asking for more. Stifling the giggle that wants to escape, you use both hands to pet and rub his soft ears. 
“You’re such a good boy,” you murmur not really thinking. 
He whines a little and nuzzles into your neck making the giggle you were suppressing come bubbling out. He noses against your skin, huffing warm breaths as you continue to pet him. 
“You’re so sweet, Leon, I’m happy you’re coming home with me,” you keep your voice low and soothing.
He only chuffs against your neck, rough tongue coming out to lap at your skin before he’s pulling away. You smile at him as Sherry turns the corner. 
“Sorry to cut this short, but we’re closing soon. Good news is you and Leon leave out from here together tomorrow,” she hands you yet another folder filled with information. 
You take the folder and wave to Leon who moved back over to his bed, “See you tomorrow, Leon.”
He just gives you a little wave as Sherry leads you back to the front. She sees you out the door with a smile and a promise to be the one to help you out. 
Once you get home, you pace your living room. You feel like you have so much to do but don’t know where to start. Texting Heather, she tells you to chill out and actually sit down. Laughing to yourself about how well she knows you, you collapse onto your couch just realizing how tired you actually feel.  
Your phone dings with a new text from Heather. Honestly, ever since you told her your idea, she’s been sending you cute puppy videos. They’ve been full of all types of pets getting along with their owners doing silly things together.  It honestly helped you cement your plan on picking an older dogman since you rarely saw any in those videos. 
This text, however, was sent with the cryptic ‘to fill in those lonely hours 😜’ and knowing her sense of humor you’re kinda worried about the link. 
Knick Knack Paddywhack sounds kinda cheesy but you definitely didn’t expect porn to be on the other side of that link. 
At first you don’t even realize that’s what it is; it starts off pretty tame in general and before you know it this female owner is being mandhandled face down onto the couch as this huge, buff mandog is mounting her from behind. 
“Yeah you’ve been fucking gagging for this doggy’s dick huh?” 
You really should exit from the video but some dark horny part of your brain is too entranced by what’s happening to even move. Distantly, you notice that his dick looks exactly like a human male’s just with the addition of a knot at the base. He fucks her roughly, stretching her out and forcing his cock deep in her wet pussy. 
The dirty talk is really what’s making you go a little cross eyed with arousal. 
“Oh fuck yeah, knot me, breed my little pussy.”
“You want that? Wanna be my pretty bitch always on her hands and knees?”
“Unh unh yeah, make me your bitch. Wanna have your pups.”
You watch in mounting curiosity and arousal and shame as the camera shows her cunt take his entire knot, sealing them together as he ruts through her climax. 
Quickly exiting before the video can go further, you drop your head in your hands. Your panties are soaked, making your thighs feel tacky. In a daze, you move off the couch and head into the bathroom to take a shower. Your thoughts are a whirlwind. 
You’ve honestly never given it any thought about inter species relationships; you’ve heard about them sure, but only in passing and never any details. Now, you literally can’t stop thinking about that mandog dominating his ‘owner’ and knotting her. Shivering, your nipples pebble under the warm water. 
Leon’s gruff voice and handsome face swim into your thoughts making your clit pulse with your heartbeat. Would he—
You shake your head vigorously. Nope, not going there. You’re gonna shower and then go to bed, maybe watch a cartoon or something to keep your thoughts G rated. 
All of that’s easier said than done, but you somehow manage and before you know it you’re waking up the next morning, excited to go pick up Leon and bring him home. 
It’s pretty anticlimactic once you leave work and pick Leon up; Sherry had everything at the front ready to go with Leon just standing next to her. She leads him out to the car with you carrying the essentials, stowing them in the trunk while she unclips his collar and leash. 
“Please keep us updated,” she ruffles Leon’s hair making him bat her hands away with an eye roll, “we love seeing our pups flourish.”
“Not a pup,” he grouses, climbing into the backseat and shutting the door. 
Sherry laughs, “I’ll miss him but I’m more happy he’s leaving.”
“Thank you so much for everything,” you shake her hand, “and I promise to stop by every now and again with updates.”
She walks back inside as you climb into your car. Looking at Leon in the rear view mirror as he stares out the window moodily, you crank the car and slowly leave the lot. 
“Do you need anything before we get home?” you ask, breaking the quiet. 
He shakes his head no making his ears flop. You hide your smile and turn your attention back to the road. Once home, Leon settles in seamlessly; he takes the bedroom you offer but after the second night has made a little bed for himself in your room, tucked into the corner. When you asked, concerned he wasn’t happy with his room, he just gave you the short reply of needing to make sure you’re safe. 
You didn’t push it but let him know he’s more than welcome to tell you if he’s unhappy with anything. 
Days passed into weeks which quickly became months. Leon made himself right at home and now you really couldn’t picture your life without the dogman. It was nice coming home after a long day and be greeted with someone so happy to see you. Although Leon is still pretty stunted with showing affection, you usually can convince him to snuggle you on the couch and let you pet him til his tail wags. 
He’s really particular about having his tail touched so you don’t pry or push, more than happy to just pet his head and ears. 
Today when you get home for work and enter the house, Leon’s beelining straight for you, burying his face in your neck. 
“TGIF huh,” you laugh, petting his ears making him whine. 
“Missed you so much,” he breaths in your smell, tongue lapping up your neck to your jaw, stubble tickling your skin. 
He licks across your mouth once making you jerk back but he quickly follows, raspy tongue licking over your lips and chin. 
“Leon—“
You try to tell him to stop as you push at his shoulders but that just gives him the leverage to lick into your mouth. You keep pushing at him while you take a step back to make him stop, but your legs get tangled and you both fall back on the entryway carpet. 
Leon still hasn’t let up, and since you were more worried about making sure neither of you hurt yourselves when tripping, he’s drooling and licking into your mouth making you whine and push harder at his shoulders. 
He shifts until he’s between your legs and rocks down against the apex of your thighs. Grunting, he shoves your skirt up and tears your panties in half. One of his broad hands, grabs your flailing arms by the wrists and pins them to your chest. 
Finally he pulls away from your swollen mouth, licking his way down to your neck again. 
“Leon, stop being such a bad boy,” you gasp out, “what’s gotten into you?”
“Heat,” he sniffs against your neck before lightly licking the skin again, “need you so bad.”
You’re in a daze as you feel his bulge grinding against your bare pussy, slick starting to slowly drip out of your hole. As much as you protest, you’re really getting off on this, on Leon losing control and wanting to fuck you. 
“T-there are heat toys the center gave me,” you try to cut this off before you both go too far, “you can use those.”
He growls and nips your neck making you whimper. 
“Don’t wanna knotting toy,” his growling is getting deeper as he grinds against you harder, “only wanna knot my pretty owner.”
“Oh fuck,” you moan as he rubs against your clit just right.
Your mind flashes back to that video you saw months ago, hips bucking up into Leon imagining him mounting you in the same way. 
“Leon, s’bad, we shouldn’t—ngh, fuck!”
He pulls completely away from you and buries his nose in your pussy, raspy tongue eagerly licking up the slick dripping out of you. 
He growls and looks up at you as he mouths across your swollen clit, letting his rough tongue lap at the bundle of nerves til you’re keening and spreading your legs for him. 
He smirks, “That’s a good little owner, let me taste your sweet little pussy. Fuck, been smelling you for ages and now I can finally eat you out as much as I want.”
“Leon, you’re being such a bad boy right now,” you hiccup a whine, thighs straining to stay open. 
“Nah,” he kisses hour clit and softy licks it over and over and over, “you’re just being a bad girl, need me to put you in your place.”
You whine as he goes back to tongue fucking into your fluttering walls. Reaching down, you softly grasp his hair and rock against his mouth. He grunts and somehow shoves his face even more into your soaked cunt, greedily lapping at you with his rough tongue. 
The arguments you should make die on your tongue as Leon uses his to make you shiver and shake, goosebumps trailing along your body. With a low keening moan, you relax against him, letting him use that rough tongue to lick your cunt until you’re bucking up into his mouth.
He keeps you there, pinned to the entryway carpet as he eats you out for hours, never letting you cum once. By the time your bleary eyes take in the street lamps through your window, Leon’s pulling away from your slick pussy making you whine. 
“Leon, we shouldn’t,” your pussy throbs, entire body strung tight from your denied orgasms. 
“Have to,” his eyes are so dilated they look black, “don’t you wanna help me? Just need it one time.” 
He looms over you, forearms caging in your head, his jaw and mouth covered in wetness as he grinds his dick against your mound. Glancing down you take in just how big Leon is; he’s so hard the head is peaking through his foreskin, dripping precum all over your thighs.  Then, right at his base, you can see the beginnings of a knot forming which makes your pussy ache with want.  
You’re nodding up at him, belatedly answering his question, “Yeah, I wanna help you,” your hands come up to pet his hair, “wanna help my good boy.”
He yanks your blouse off, seams popping and tearing until it’s in shreds around you then snaps your bra off and tosses it away. His mouth eagerly licks and nips at your pebbled nipples making you gasp. 
“Gonna make you feel so good, breed this hot pussy.”
With a growl, Leon flips you over onto your stomach, hands going to your hips to raise your ass up. You try to push up onto your arms, but his broad palm pushes on the middle of your back shoving your upper body down. 
You rock your hips back although there’s not much room from how he’s laying on top of you, back pinned to his broad hairy chest as his cock rubs against your drippy cunt. 
“You wanna breed me?” you tease making him growl and snap at the nape of your neck, “wanna knot my pussy?”
He buries the first few inches of his cock in your pussy making you squeal and arch away. His hands move to keep your hips still as pulls out to thrust back in, sinking his cock all the way inside of you making you squirm in place with a cry.  
“Think it’s funny?” his tone sounds mean as he ruts his fat cock deeper into your pussy making you wince and try to move away again. 
He clucks his tongue and tightly squeezes your hips, “No little owner, you wanted it and you’re gonna get it. Show you how I breed bitches that need a knot.”
“Oh god,” you whine as he bullies his cock even further into your cunt, “Leon s’too much, you won’t fit, I wasn’t made to—“
“This pussy was made for cock,” he scoffs down at you making your body hot all over from his words, “just gotta break you in first; I’ll have you begging for me to knot you.”
His mocking is only making you wetter, pussy walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. 
“S’too much,” you finally gasp out, not stopping yourself from rocking back against his slow thrusts, “shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Yeah?” he snorts, “think it’s dirty? Think it’s wrong to want me to fuck you? I bet this entire time you’ve been thinking, Oh please Leon need your big doggy dick to stuff my needy little pussy.”
You moan loudly at his crude words as he laughs. 
“Like I thought. You like it you dirty little slut. Like my thick doggy cock filling you up?”
“Leon no,” you whimper, eyes rolling back as he grinds against that spongy spot in your cunt that has you moaning nonstop, “s’dirty ‘n you don’t even have a dog di—“
“Shut up,” his canines nip at your skin making you keen, “gotta teach this little pussy who’s the real master here.”
You gasp and keen as Leon stretches your pussy out on his large cock, bottoming out constantly making your cunt clamp down on him from the pain of his tip knocking against your cervix.  
Like earlier, he keeps you pinned to the carpet and slowly fucks your pussy for what feels like hours all while talking filth to you. 
“Mmm knew your pussy would be so good, been humping my fist waiting for my heat so I can fill you up.”
“My sexy fucking owner, letting me knot her pussy, breed her full of my pups.”
“I know, I’m so big for this tiny little pussy  but doesn’t it feel so good? So nice and stretched out?” 
“Leon,” you keen hands scrabbling at the floor, mouth drooling everywhere, “my knees hurt.”
He pauses and gently eases himself out of your cunt. Not giving you time to breathe, he already has you hoisted over his shoulder and carries you into your room. Tossing you onto the bed, he’s back on top of you in a flash burying his dick inside your sopping wet pussy. 
You look down and whine to see the belly bulge his fat cock makes inside your body. 
“Nice and snug,” Leon licks your cheek, “gonna be so tight on my knot.”
“It’s not gonna fit,” you whine up at him, nails digging into to his forearms so hard they’re bleeding. 
You’re already so full, pussy feeling like it’s stretched to the limit, but his knot is pressing against your soaked hole making you rock down into it. 
“Sure it will, little owner,” he laughs, voice gravelly and deep making you shudder and relax around his dick, hole giving just a little around his knot, “that’s why I licked you open so good earlier.”
You moan as he licks across your cheek, “Tongued you deep until you were practically squirting in my mouth.”
“Leon, oh fuck,” you hiccup a moan, tears slipping down your face. 
“So good for me, prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen and it’s all mine,” he grunts, grinding against your fluttering pussy walls as his drippy tip knocks against your cervix, “my owner and her fat pussy are all mine.”
“Leon,” you gasp, “you can’t say that.”
“Sure I can,” he huffs warm air against your neck, his canine teeth nipping at your skin, “I’m gonna knot your tiny pussy and breed you. Give you my pups.”
“Nooo,” you whimper, pussy pulsing and clamping around his cock, knot continuing to press inside. 
“Gonna mount my pretty owner like this every day,” he kisses your neck before licking his way back up to your mouth, “mount my little bitch and give her wet needy cunt my knot.”
“‘M not your bitch,” you finally gasp out around his tongue as he drools and licks into your mouth, “this can’t happen again, Leon.”
“Okay,” he chuckles, “gonna make me use that toy? That fake little plastic pussy? Y’gonna let me knot it in front of you, knowing what I feel like now? I don’t think so little owner.”
He pulls out and flips you over on your stomach, yanking your hips up so your ass is raised, head still down on the mattress. 
“Should be able to fit it this way,” he slaps your ass and you whine, fingers twisting in the sheets. 
His cock plunges back into your sopping wet cunt over and over; his knot teasing you on every thrust until he slowly grinds deep into your fluttering walls. 
“I’m gonna put it in this time, knot you nice and deep,” he pants against your shoulder, mouth drooling all over your skin making you shiver, “gonna knock you up, breed you til it takes.”
You moan and press back against him, mind slow and hazy. He pulls back and then presses forward slowly but insistently and you wail as his knot breaches your clenching hole. His cock’s filling you up so much it feels like he’s in the bottom of your throat. 
“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” you whimper, pussy gushing around his impossibly huge dick, walls milking his knot repeatedly as he just continues to grind into your cunt. 
“Feels good,” he slurs, licking over your neck and shoulders, “pussy squeezing me so tight.”
You moan weakly, pussy pulsing around his dick as he continues to grind his hips into your ass.
“Gonna spill deep inside my pretty little owner and she just has to take it,” he chuffs against your neck, groaning as he humps deeper into your cunt.
His grunts taper off into low growls as he rocks harder against you. 
“Gonna fuck my pups into you,” he’s snarling into your ear, saliva dripping down the shell onto your jaw making you mewl, “keep this pussy plugged up with my cum all the time—oh.” 
He bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth breaking your skin making you whine as your body burns with pleasure at the pain. You can fill as hot cum floods your pussy, Leon grunting as he keeps humping against your ass while his knot locks you two together.
His fingers slip from your hip over to your swollen clit and he roughly rubs against the sensitive bud until you’re crying and whining, pussy cumming around his cock again. 
“There we go, such a good owner,” Leon chuckles in your ear, before dipping down to lick over the bite he left, “mmm milk me, want you so full it’s spilling out.”
⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆
You lay there underneath him, feeling exhausted but content. It’s been several hours at this point and you feel like you’re on another plane of existence. Leon has fucked you better than anyone before and you’re definitely addicted to his knot. 
Reaching back, your hand finds his hair and pushing up higher you pet behind his soft fuzzy ears. 
“S’good,” he mouths against your shoulder as he ruts inside your knot plugged pussy.  
Shuddering as his fingers tease against your clit drawing another weak orgasm from your spent body, you whimper and press even closer to Leon. 
“Gonna take such good care of you, little owner,” he kisses you shoulder, “by the time my heat’s over, you’re gonna be my needy little pup.”
Your pussy tightens around him at his words making him whine and nuzzle into your neck. As you lay together, you let your mind drift into a hazy fog. Once Leon’s able to, he gently pulls out of your sore cunt, cum oozing out of your hole. 
His rough tongue licks across your cheek as he rolls you onto your back. 
“So pretty,” he says to himself as he kisses and bites his way down to your chest. 
He laps a path to the swell of your breasts and then softly suckles a hard nipple into his mouth. With a groan, he tugs the hard bud with his teeth before sucking harshly and releasing it with a pop. His mouth drifts over to repeat the same process to the other hard nipple, then moves back; repeatedly teasing your breasts until you’re squirming and whining, grabbing onto his hair to have something to hold onto. 
He finally pulls away with a growl, eyes dark and heated as he noses at your breastbone, “Smell so good.”
He drags his mouth down your body, eagerly licking and biting at your skin until he finally reaches your puffy mound and clit. 
“Taste good too,” his stubbled jaw tickles where he scrapes it against your thigh, “love licking your pussy all over.”
He follows his word by licking a broad stripe across your cum coated pussy, groaning as he brings his hands up to spread your cunt open. His rough tongue laps at your clit in quick little strokes before dipping into your creamy slicked hole. He laps and lathes his tongue all over your pussy, sucking at your clit before dragging his mouth over to your thighs. 
“Gonna mark you up, little owner,” he chuffs against your skin, eyes staring up at you with his tail wagging excitedly behind him. 
“Leon,” you whimper. 
Your fingers twist in the sheets as you cry out. His teeth are buried in the meat of your inner thigh making your clit throb with need.  He sucks harshly at the skin, digging in harder when your thigh trembles under his mouth. 
With a grunt, he lets go but then sinks his teeth into your opposite thigh; this one closer to your pussy, making you buck up into his mouth with a gasp. He hums in satisfaction, lips and teeth working at your skin until it’s sore and bruised.
He pulls back with a grin, “You’re even more pretty now.”
“Feel pretty,” you murmur, eyes glassy with arousal. 
He pants excitedly, hands grasping your thighs to hold you open as he licks and drools all over your pussy. You arch, his mouth making you rock up into the feeling as he noisily eats you out. Letting go of the sheets, your hands reach for his head and accidentally grab onto his ears. He snarls and fucks his raspy tongue up into your fluttering cunt, pressing you down even further so he can lick into you more. 
He pulls himself away before you can cum making you whine. 
“Please, Leon, ‘m so close, be a goody boy and make me cum,” you pout at him, tears pricking at your eyes. 
He crawls up your body, pressing your hands down with his as he rubs his thick cock against your pussy. His head glides through your slick folds til he’s bumping against you clit making you spread your legs wide. 
“You can cum on my knot,” he kisses you, all drool and spit, “wanna mount you again.”
You shudder underneath him and easily let him roll you over. Raising your ass up, you spread your thighs for better leverage. 
“Like this?” you ask a little shy now. 
“Perfect,” he groans, dragging his rough palms down your back to slap you ass, “my pretty owner and her pretty pussy ‘n it’s all mine.”
He sinks his cock into your willing cunt inch by inch, licking and biting at your nape as he rocks himself deeper into you. 
“Gonna breed you so good,” he mutters into your skin, “pussy made for my fat cock, isn’t it? Made to take my knot.”
“Uh huh,” you slur, pussy pulsing and fluttering around his dick as he slowly thrusts into your spasming walls. 
He chuffs and bites your neck a little harder as he snaps his hips hard against your ass. His hand moves from your back to your pussy, softly rubbing and teasing across your swollen clit. 
“Sweet fucking pussy,” he snorts, nose burying itself in your hair, “squeezing me so tight, know it needs a knot.”
“Give it to me, Leon,” you moan loudly, “knot my pussy, please, want it so bad, feels so good.”
His teeth latch onto back of your neck and he pounds into your squelching cunt, knot catching on the rim of your pussy with every thrust. 
“Knot me, Leon, knot me, please, need it,” you’re chanting under your breath , eyes fluttering as your orgasm is fast approaching. 
He can’t say anything with his mouth biting into your neck, but his fingers circle your clit faster, pinching it just right between his fingers making you shake under him. 
“Fuck, right there, please Leon, fuck me,” you rock back against him, wanting his knot to be inside your pussy already, “fuck me, give it to me, give me your knot. Wanna be your little bitch.”
He lets go of your neck with a low howl as he shoves his knot past your twitching hole and ruts hard in your cunt, fat tip grinding against your cervix so hard it’s going to bruise. 
You squeal as he tweaks your clit making your pussy clamp down like a vice around his knot as you cum so hard you see fireworks. Your walls rhythmically milk his cock as he grinds and ruts into your hole. 
“G’nna cum,” he whimpers, sounding drunk. 
“Mmm,” you squirm against him, feeling as hot pulses of jizz fill your pussy. 
He grunts as he spills deep inside you, spurt after spurt of sticky cum shooting out against your cervix as his knot keeps your cunt nice and full. 
“Gonna give you my pups,” he licks at the bite wound on your neck and then the one he gave your shoulder when this all first started. 
“Fuck,” you mewl, thighs tightening as his fingers go back to teasing and circling your clit. 
“Cum for me, little owner,” he goads in your ear, “show me how much you want me to breed this needy pussy.. again and again. And again.”
His fingers circle your clit, the rough pads rubbing you just right making you climax around his cock for the second time that round. You shiver and moan as he keeps teasing your swollen bud. 
“Good girl, so good,” he nips your ear, “my own little pet.”
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beemochi-art · 2 months
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The great Optimus prime.
Supreme emperor of Cybertron. Leader of the autobots. Loved by his people and feared by his enemies.
Surely they aren’t putting in the history books that he was ran off his planet by some thug and his cronies with his tail tucked in between his legs.
Hm? -what? that’s exactly what they are putting? Ok.
The reality is that Optimus is a shy and all around awkward person. But most people mistake his anti social personality as being all wise, stoic and mysterious. Don’t get me wrong he still is all those things but sometimes it’s just him being nervous.
He’s angry too. Mostly at himself. Not bring a strong or good enough leader, that sort of thing. He isn’t immune to losing his temper tho.
He tries not to loose his cool in front of his friends, usually opting to go into his room then lose it. Because of this, his room is mostly empty so he doesn’t break anything important. His hab giving off loony cell vibes. Ratchet made him get a comforter, so at least were making progress.
Speaking of Ratchet. His two closest friends, Ironhide and Ratty! Ratchet knows Optimum best. They we’re friends when he was Orion pax. Ratchet takes care of him cause primus knows he can’t. Ratchet is the only one Optimus is comfortable taking his mask off in front of. Ironhide seem to know how Optimus is feeling no matter how hard he tries to hide. So op can’t help but be honest with him. Optimus let’s his guard down majorly around these two. The same goes for them as well. Maybe not Ironhide cause he is most comfortable around his wife. But that’s a story for a different time.
Op is crushing on Elita and she knows it. That’s all I’ll say about that.
Op is the type of guy to lay in bed looking at the ceiling waiting for his alarm to go off. He still gets up before anyone else tho. Except Ratchet he has never seem to beat Ratchet In the waking up early game. If Op is standing behind Ratchet he’s nervous.
All these numerous flaws he can’t let other know about. But there still is one more thing. The worst one. He is scared. and sure who isn’t? But he is scared of Megatron. He’s so scared of this mech, he can’t eat, sleep or enjoy anything without thinking about him. But he knows he has to fight him again.
No one can know this about him.
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hardlyinteresting · 1 month
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Love, Guilt and Other Wounds
Aaron Hotchner x female reader
When Aaron and his partner are taken hostage, he has to break her heart to save her life.
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of domestic fluff, mention of blood, injury (non-graphic), hostage situation, knives, cannon-compliant themes of violence, non-detailed discussion about religion (Christianity), themes of childhood abuse, please let me know if you want me to add anything else.
Word count: (less than I expected, sorry) 3.7k  Request here! | Masterlist
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"Of course, I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course, we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence". - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Aaron isn't sure if he believes in a God or a higher power. He was taught to read scripture; and spent Sunday mornings perfecting his posture in church pews-- starched shirts and neckties pulled too tight. The preacher's sermons left him wanting-- wondering how this man of God could stand over his congregation preaching every week, and not see all the lies they were holding back. How could he not see the secrets Aaron seemed to read so clearly? At just fourteen Aaron knew who was having an affair and with whom. He could see which children feared their fathers. Every pew had another story, another family growing together, or falling apart. The hypocrisy of it all drove him mad, and he imagined standing from his seat to shout it, overwhelmed as he realized he had unintentionally become the keeper of everyone's secrets. He learned that everyone in that church was a liar in their own right, and he hated it. But, when he left for college, his mother called to ask if he was still going to church on Sundays, and he lied and said yes. 
He should have paid more attention. Maybe then he'd understand how he ended up here. Perhaps it's some sick retribution. A cosmic evening of the scales; his penance for his sins. He just wishes you weren't here with him. How dare he think he could love someone when all he's ever done is punish those who love him? His hands are stained with blood; he taints everything he touches. 
Very early on in his career, Aaron learned he couldn’t take cases personally. As devastating as it was to have another victim show up while hunting a killer, it wasn’t a personal failure. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He repeated the process again and again. Logically he knows that he is not responsible for the actions of the aggressive sociopath who is now holding the two of you hostage; but, he blames himself for not keeping you safer, for bringing you with him, and for putting you in harm's way. He knows he will not recover if you don’t make it out of here. He won’t forgive himself. 
The profile said this man would be anti-social. Physically, he’d be small in stature. It was clear he’d been sneaking up on his victims. He had been taking couples, knocking out the men with a blow to the back of the head, and then the women. It’s a method that the team had seen before, common for UNSUBs without the social ability to lure their victims, or the physical strength or confidence to attack head-on. But they had not profiled that he would escalate to taking out his targets with a taser. 
After six days in San Diego, the team finally had a lead on two rental properties in the UNSUB’s comfort zone. One was an old tyre factory, listed as a multipurpose warehouse and storage space; the other was a large storage facility in an industrial neighbourhood. Both units had been paid for in cash, both offered the privacy and space required to hold and torture two people for days at a time. The team split up, Hotch and you arranged to meet the owner of the factory space to find out more about who the renter was and gain access to the property. With no response from the owner of the second property, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi headed over to check it out. 
The two of you had only been on the property for five minutes before Aaron had been incapacitated and taken out. He had foolishly made his way into the building while you ran back to the SUV to grab your jacket. Out cold, there was nothing Aaron could do to stop you from meeting the same fate. 
It’s not his fault. But he feels like it is as he watches you shiver from across the room. He can’t be certain how much time has passed, but it feels like hours. He can only hope that you’re being kept in the building you were attacked in, that the team will connect the dots and come and get you, but until then you’re stuck. He watches, nauseated as your eyes flutter open, and then shut again. You’re concussed, he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that. His ears are ringing, and he’s sure the blow he took to the head has at the very least temporarily worsened his hearing. 
“Doesn’t the FBI have rules against fraternization?” The UNSUB wonders out loud, waving a knife around as he walks towards you. 
“What makes you think we’re a couple?” Hotch asks, as he tries to work his hands free from the rope that binds them behind his back, “She’s just a colleague”. 
It’s a lie. But it needs to be said. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. Buy time, shift the UNSUB’s interest away from the two of you. Ruin the fantasy.
“I think I’ve been doing this long enough to know a couple when I see a couple, Aaron,” the man taunts, obviously proud of himself. He’s feeling emboldened having taken two FBI agents, but that works in your favour. He’s getting cocky, too full of himself. It’s a level of confidence he isn’t used to having, it just gives him a higher height to fall from. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. “I think it’s time we wake your girlfriend up,” the man says, his hand gripping tightly at your hair, your head tugged back without remorse. 
Aaron resists the urge to cringe as he hears you groan, your face twisted with obvious pain as you’re rudely awakened. “She’s pretty. What’s she doing with you?” 
“I told you. She’s a colleague”. 
Your eyes are unfocused, scanning the room trying to make sense of what is going on. 
The man raises the knife, holding it to your throat. This time Aaron blinks, desperate to control his expressions and micro-expressions. In this scenario, the less he cares about you, the safer you are. 
It’s the burden of being tied to him. Time after time his love destroys people. 
The blade presses closer to your throat. Aaron controls his breathing. 
“Impressive agent Hotchner. But I’m still not convinced,” the UNSUB moves the blade but pulls your head back further. Your eyes meet Aaron’s, “Do what you’re going to do, he doesn’t care,” you say. You’re speaking to the man with the knife in his hand as much as you’re speaking to Aaron. He weighs his options, his heart pounding as he watches you hold your breath, willing the tears to leave your eyes. It’s the permission he needs but doesn’t want.  Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He knows you’re doing the same, telling him to break your heart to save your life. 
“Please, Hotc--”. 
He doesn’t let you finish, “Just shut up for once. Please,” he thinks the words cut through him more than they cut through you. Knowing his cruelty is a lie does little to soften the blow, and it breaks his heart to be the one throwing it. 
But this is all he’s good for, isn’t it? Letting people down. Surely it’s not just coincidence that so many of those who have dared to love him end up damaged. One way or another he destroys people. Who is he to say that he’s the one who is suffering when it’s he who does all the damage? 
Even as a child, he couldn’t help it. He thinks perhaps he inherited his sharpened tongue and lack of patience from his mother. She loved him in her own way but could never show it without first tearing him apart. Her biting words, and regular beatings. Prentiss had been right when she once said he was distrustful of women-- unfairly so. Not all women carry the hateful, spiteful heart his mother had. Very few had ever turned their rage at the world and their shortcomings into a personal and violent rage against him. He grew weary nonetheless. Better safe than sorry.
 At a young age, it became clear to him that there were few things, if anything, as important to his mother than appearances. On Sundays, she fussed over his clothes and his posture. She lectured him on table manners from the moment he could hold a fork. His room had to be spotless. His grades had to surpass average. Long before his brother was ever born, he learned how to live up to her expectations. But still, there was always something she could find him lacking in, an excuse to take her open fist or wooden spoon to his skin, a reason to send him to bed without dinner. He remembers crashing into the china cabinet trying to escape her one night. She was mortified on Monday when he had to walk into school on Monday with a cast around his arm. “Make sure they know this was your fault,” she told him. Perhaps I was built to fail, he had thought. She loves me and I embarrass her. I will only ever let her down. God, how disappointed she would be to see him now.  
Seconds feel like hours as the UNSUB leers expectantly. The man's mouth twists into a smile when he sees the tears forming in your waterline again. Aaron watches your fist clench presumably to distract yourself from the migraine that matches the pounding in his head, just as much as it is to pull your attention away from the hurtful lies he's about to weave. 
“You were supposed to have my back,” Arron spits with faux vitriol. “You had one job and couldn't even manage to do that”. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. 
“From the moment you showed up I knew you'd be a problem”. 
He continues to try to work his hands out from the binds. He can feel the knot loosening as he continues to buy the two of you time. “Aaron,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks now. 
“Following me around with some school girl crush. Look where we are now,” Aaron breathes. 
He can feel his father’s rage resting on his shoulders, as heavy as his hands were when he used to pat him on the back. It’s a quiet burning, far more silent than his mother’s anger, but it’s there and threatening him all the same. A silent shame; a fear induced by the knowledge that he’s failing but not being able to stop it. His father lived like a ghost in their home, just as Aaron has learned to haunt his life. He only ever raised his voice when he drank, but even then his hatred was self-directed. A sorrowful self-pity. A cry for help. The affairs, the gambling, the drinking; the man punished himself, stumbling home to a house with a vengeful wife, a silent boy, and a crying baby. It was a heart attack that finally killed him, but Aaron never doubted his father had stopped living long before that. 
Aaron breaks his own heart as he delivers each verbal blow. He hopes you understand. He prays that just maybe your concussion might leave the memories of this moment blurry. Selfishly, he begs you to forgive him, because he won’t forgive himself. 
He can see the way your wrists strain against your restraints. The UNSUB adjusts his grip on your hair as you struggle to distance yourself from him. Your eyelids flutter and he knows your vision must be swimming but you don’t give up. With a sadistic grin, the UNSUB wipes at the tear stain on your cheek with fake sympathy, grasping your jaw roughly he forces you to look straight at Aaron, “Poor girl… guess boss man doesn’t care about you after all. What a waste,” he sighs his breath heavy against your cheek, as he moves to hold the knife to your throat again, “She’s so pretty,” he directs his commentary at Aaron this time. 
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve slept with her. How couldn’t I when she was practically throwing herself at me?” The words taste bitter on his tongue as he speaks them. His stomach churns as he continues, “But what we have certainly isn’t love”. 
It couldn’t be further from the truth. Aaron grounds himself choosing to remember the quiet morning you two had shared only a few days earlier. Waking up without an alarm but with Jack sneaking in to jump up on the bed. As he watches you cry now he recalls how you had smiled so brightly at the little boy, ruffling his hair and cuddling Jack into your side. He had watched with a smile of his own as you bargained with his son, promising pancakes in exchange for ten more minutes of sleep on your shared day off. 
You crept into his heart so slowly he had hardly noticed. Until one day, he looked up from the bright pink sticky note you'd left on your recent report, reminding him not to work too hard; he knew, without a doubt, he was in love with you. 
For so much of his life, Aaron conditioned himself to expect a fight around every corner. He learned to make sacrifices from his happiness in fruitless attempts to keep peace. For the first time in forever he's been feeling like maybe, just maybe, he's enough. You’ve been more than patient with him; understanding his hesitance to open up to people again. You don't get upset with him for working late, but you scold him for not getting enough sleep and skipping meals. 
He smiles more. He cracks jokes the way he used to. You've helped him see the forest from the trees--  healed parts of him he didn’t know needed mending. He's tried to do the same for you. He's watched you open up and trust the team more. He's seen the way your confidence has grown and he can't take credit for your growth, but he's enamoured by the transformation just the same. 
You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better. The thought echoes in his head the same as it does most days. But now, it’s louder. The voice in his head matches the volume of the ringing in his ears, and the rushing sound of his pounding heart. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He fights to remind himself, but the UNSUB is laughing now. Taunting you and your emotions, and there’s nothing Aaron can do but sit there and watch. He struggles to feign indifference, watching as you continue to make yourself smaller. It’s only then that he notices that you too are working your hands out of the rope that restrains you. The UNSUB was stupid enough to tie your wrist in front of you.
Aaron’s eyes focus on the bandaid wrapped around your index finger. You cut yourself making dinner last week. He could have sworn his heart melted when you turned to him holding your hand out, blood beading already. “Aaron, where do you keep your first aid kit?” you’d asked. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pouted. “In the bathroom, the cabinet under the sink,” he’d answered with no intention of letting you go off and tend to your wound alone. Instead, he guided you down the hall, his left hand looped in a gentle hold around your wrist, his other hand on your waist. 
Once you were sat on the countertop he took great care, making sure the wound was cleaned before he bandaged it. “My hero,” you teased, leaning in for a kiss. 
A simple cut he could manage to fix. Jack promised you could use as many of his Star Wars bandaids as you wanted while you healed as well. A little love and patience could make it better, a philosophy he adopted to heal Jack’s scraped knees, and schoolyard bruises. But the sight before him now is far worse than any kitchen mishap could be. 
Your nose is still bleeding. Bruises have already begun to form, red marks turning deep purple with every passing minute. He knows that your concussion is something you'll recover from. The contact burns from where the taser touched your skin will become new skin someday soon. The cuts and scrapes will scab over and then disappear. 
Aaron worries the damage he's done can never truly be ameliorated. Your compassion is unmatched. It’s what makes you a good agent, a good partner, and someone Jack can turn to. You are forgiving. God knows you've excused enough of his behaviour. But, he doesn't deserve to be absolved of this guilt. He will carry this day around in the darkest corner of his heart; the same place he holds the memory of Haley and how he failed her. The words “what we have certainly isn't love,” will linger uneffaced by time or kind words. 
The squeak of an old door opening piques Aaron's interest. The UNSUB doesn't react. Seemingly only interested in tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes are closing again. It's over now, he wants to tell you. He wants to hold you; comfort you; to apologise because you deserve to hear it anyway.
“Paul Simpson. FBI,” Morgan’s voice booms, “drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them”. Prentiss and Dave come to stand next to Morgan, their guns trained on the newly identified perpetrator. Aaron bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood-- it's all he can do to stop himself from bursting into a fit of bitter laughter. We win, he wants to say. 
Disarmed and handcuffed, Paul is escorted outside by Morgan and two members of the local police. Prentiss and Rossi make quick work of untying you and Aaron. 
“Aaron?” he can hear you mutter, breathy and quiet. 
“Yeah, I’m right here,” he promises kneeling at your side. Your eyes are glazed and unfocused as you nod and tip forward. Unconscious, your entire body falls forward into Prentiss’ arms. Aaron’s voice joins Rossi in calling for a paramedic. 
The doctors assure him that you’ll wake up soon. They dealt with his injuries quickly. Bruised ribs are the worst of his injuries. A cut at the back of his head and the taser burns were patched in only a few minutes, though he’ll readily admit he was far from a good patient. Too anxious to keep still much to the nurse’s dismay. 
You’re still asleep. A major concussion will have you out of the field for much longer than he knows you’ll be happy with. He makes a mental note to start setting aside some extra paperwork for when you inevitably start hounding him for something to do. With the lights in the room dimmed, and a comfortable silence settling he allows himself to indulge in the illusion that everything might be alright between you. 
With your hand in his, he breathes deeply trying to focus. He prays to a God he’s not sure he believes in. And when the quiet starts to get to him, he speaks out loud, as silly as he thinks he may look. He tells you about the phone call he had with Jack earlier and lets you know that Jack has a new painting he can’t wait to show you when you get home. Your hand squeezes his, encouraging him to keep talking.
“Aaron?” your eyelids flutter as you adjust to the light. The nurse had them turned to the dimmest setting but it’s still far more than you feel immediately capable of coping with. 
“Yeah, honey,” he affirms. You release the breath you’re holding your brow relaxing.  
“I love you,” you tell him. Your voice is steady and steadfast. Your resolve is impressive, unwavering and determined as you focus on making eye contact with him. “It’s not your fault,” you promise. He’s sure you don’t expect the weight on his shoulders to lighten instantaneously. You’ll tell him every day that he’s not to blame; intent on chiselling away at his guilt, shrinking it down before it manages to consume him. 
“I love you,” he swears. He knows it won’t squash any of the doubt he’s planted. Aaron knows there will soon be days that the niggling insecurity threatens to break what you’ve managed to build together; when the worry that you aren’t enough seems louder than it ever has before. He won’t blame you if you decide it isn’t worth the pain of staying with him. But, he’s hell-bent on loving you through it. He can only hope that it’s enough. 
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marvelsmylife · 1 month
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Can you feel my heart breaking?
Pairing: Azriel x reader 
Plot: what happens when the male you’re meant to be with is pining over someone else.
A/n my first angsty Azriel one shot. I did not make this an anti-elain story. I love her and will never write a story where she's being mean to anyone. My girl just wants to take care of her garden in peace. I’m contemplating making a part two to this. Let me know if you’d be interested in a part two.
ACOTAR Masterlist
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There was nothing worse than watching your mate pine after someone else. Granted, Azriel has no idea that you are their mate. Still, it pained you to watch as your mate followed another female around and made sure she was ok instead of you.
The worst part was that Elain was oblivious to Azriel’s feelings towards her or that you were Azriel’s mate. She treated you with nothing but kindness, making it harder to hate her because she was innocent in all of this. 
Someone who did know about Azriel being your mate was Rhysand. He sympathized with your situation because he was in your position before with Feyre and Tamlin. He was also grateful that you didn’t hold anger towards Elain for the situation you were in. 
Rhysand tried everything he could to keep Azriel away from Elain for your sake, and you thought maybe one of these days, the bond would finally snap on his end. 
That changed one night when you overheard Azriel questioning the cauldron for making Lucian Elain’s mate. You felt your heart break at his words because that meant he’d probably deny your mating bond when it finally snapped into place for him.
The following day, you asked Rhysand if you could be sent to the day court for a while. While he was initially opposed to it, he reluctantly agreed because he knew you had family in the day court and that Helion would treat you right over there. “Yes, you may go. I’ll contact Helion and work everything out,” Rhysand sent you a weak smile: “Just promised me you’ll come back to us. You know you’re like a sister to me. I don’t want to lose you too”.
“Of course, I’ll come back. I just really need to get away for a bit. You’ll never lose me. Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me for life,” you replied.
Rhysand let out a soft chuckle before giving you a brief hug and letting you go so you could start packing.
It took Rhysand two days to contact Helion and inform him that you were headed to the day court. Helion told Rhysand you were welcome to stay with him and was excited for your arrival. 
Throughout those two days, you spent it packing and giving individual goodbyes to your friends. Each time, they would question your reason for leaving. Not wanting to lie to your friends, you told them about Azriel being your mate and not being able to be around him when he was hung up on someone else. They understood your situation, and instead of trying to convince you to stay, they wished you luck on your new adventure.
The one goodbye that took you by surprise was Elain. Tears formed in her eyes when you revealed you were leaving: “I know I never said this to you before, but I considered you one of my best friends here. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”
Shocked expression appeared on everyone’s faces at Elain’s confession. Mostly because by now everyone but Azriel knew you were his mate, and they knew how much it hurt you to see him pining over the woman who just called you her best friend. “Everything is going to be ok; you’re going to be ok,” you replied, giving her a tight hug: “And if anything, you can always visit me, or I’ll visit you if you’d like.”
“I will be sure to take you up on the offer,” Elain responded and pulled away.
Azriel was the last one you said goodbye to and for you, it was the hardest one, mostly because he was your mate. “Please take care of yourself Azriel. Don’t stretch yourself thin. That means it's ok saying no to Rhysand's requests from time to time,” you teased at the end causing Rhysand to playfully roll his eyes at you.
“Don’t worry, I will,” Azriel promised; his hazel eyes scanned your face and noticed hurt and sadness in your eyes: “Are you ok? You know you don’t have to go?”
You tried your hardest to keep it together as you replied: “I’m fine. I want this, I’m just going to miss all of you, but I’m especially you.” 
A surge of confidence flowed through you and before you could process what you were doing, you hugged Azriel. This was the first time you’d ever hugged him and yet the moment you hugged him, Azriel felt complete.
But just as Azriel was getting comfortable with your embrace, you pulled away and placed a kiss on his cheek: “Take care Az.”
Azriel felt as if someone knocked the wind out of him as soon as you walked away and got into the carriage Helion had sent out for you. It took him a few seconds to realize it was the mating bond snapping into place for him.
“She’s my mate,” Azriel fell to his knees as he finally felt the mating bond he so desperately wanted to feel for the past five hundred years: “Y/n is my mate, and now she’s gone.”
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xuchiya · 1 month
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need to know [j.yunho]
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₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄
₊˚.༄ I heard from a friend of a friend That dick was a ten out of ten ₊˚.༄
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  Yunho has been busy lately and you were not liking one bit of it. It has been weeks since you wanted to hang out with him and considering that he had been rejecting your invites; maybe it is time to spend some days without and let yourselves be on your own stories.
You can't blame Yunho for taking responsibility for his father's company so why would be a bad friend to him?
You dress up in less clothing for your stream much less by a short crop hoodie that shows a little of your cleavage then your tiny boxer shorts. A streamer of summer, that was your nickname given by your fans— Summer. You have always been a streamer for playing horror whether be a psychological or thrill chasing games, maybe sometimes by playing valorant.
    You were at first called out for dressing way too– short nonetheless you explain that you tend to be really comfortable with playing in less clothing and people see your excellence in playing. You throw on anti-rad glasses before starting your stream, “What is up my dudes! It’s your streamer– Summer and we’ll continue playing Poppy Playtime!”
 While waiting for the game to load, you read the comments, “Looking good as always …  Thank you … Playing alone today? Yeah since they didn’t want to play this one. San is too scared …  Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s currently busy— he’s been busy nowadays so I had to play this alone. “
  After the chapter ended, you were left with a heart attack and sore throat from getting sudden jump scare but overall you enjoy the whole game, you look towards at the camera, “Well that is it for the chapter 2 since the chapter 3 will be out soon and …” glancing at the time to see that you have been playing for just an hour, “aye it’s still early. Do you guys want me to play or just talk with you guys?”
  Some comments were saying to talk since it has been a while since you went live so you went with their request, “Okay okay I’ll answer some questions then …”
 “Since when did I start playing? I think it was around 3 years ago that I started streaming through the gameplays? I was 14 when I started doing my gameplays …”
“You dance? Of course, Yeosang and Wooyoung are actually my classmates in a studio we enrolled in.” 
“Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s at work, I’m little sad he has not been spending time with me like … Tell me your schedule, I got a lotta new tricks for you .. I’M KIDDING HAHAHA!”
“Do you like Doja Cat? Yes, a hundred percent yes, I’m a huge fan of hers speaking of that …” You opened your phone to show them your last song you listened to, “I swear this is my go to song when I’m feeling myself you know…” You chuckle showing them a hand gesture down to our body.  Some of your fans ask you to play the song, some of them want you to sing or mouth the lyrics, you cackle at the last one.
  “I can’t do that, it looks weird but we can still let this play and talk …”     The music plays—affecting not only your fans, not you who is feeling the actual lyrics but the one who has been watching from their phone ever since you started streaming. 
 “Do you want to know a french word? Je suis excite.. Je suis excite, that means I’m excited right? Excite probably is exciting .. Am I right?” you said your eyes were widened a little bit, looking at the comment section for confirmation and you see some were saying yes, right and correct.
 But little did you know, it meant something different else.
 Their pants had made themselves quite uncomfortable, tight and suffocating as their eyes not only stare at your gameplay but at your display cleavage. As much as they tried to not to look like a pervert but how could he— He has desires that he tried to stir away; afraid to ruin your friendship but with you said those words as if telling him that you are horny. Adding to the fact you just said something along the line of having ‘tricks’.
  “Ohmygosh I should go to sleep or Seonghwa-oppa would smack me in the head … I’ll see you guys soon.” You did your outro and the live ended.
  Yunho tucked back his phone, walking inside your shared apartment. He and you were able to share an apartment under your brother’s permission since they both work for the same company and he did not mind as long as you both had an agreement or house rules settled.
 Those words were a huge trigger to him as he had been evading your presence; as much as dumb it sounds, his dick can not cooperate with him. Whether you were in your hoodie or favourite pajamas, nothing beats when he wants you all for himself. Love you, praise you, worship you, choke you, dick you down—
  “Oh yuyu!” You were startled when you exit your room to see Yunho leaning on the counter with a cold drink in his hand, his eyes landing on your figure and all his last string snap when you just walk in with your zipper open, exposing your tits out.
  You tried to cover them last minute but Yunho was faster, grabbing your wrist, spinning you to pin you on his chest. He leaned down, voice gruff from the pain in his pants and overwhelming horniness spilling out of his body, “nice way to greet me … tits out? Do you walk around with this …” his other free hand ran up to your chest, playing with your nipple and giving it a squeeze, making you moan a little too loud but to Yunho's liking.
 “I-I thought you won’t be home … fuck! “ Yunho breathy laugh, giving your other boob the same treatment but this time adding a slap on it, your back arching in the pain and pleasure making your ass brush up on his hard dick in his pants. 
  “Feel that? you’re the cause of it … now be a good girl for me and choke yourself on my cock.” 
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“F-fuck! … Yunho– Oh my God!” your face was red and sweaty from how many hours Yunho had you pinned down on your bed, taking you from behind; had his dick ramming himself back and forth, hitting every inch of your walls then his tip knocking at your cervix several times as if trying to reach a deeper part of you to bury his cum.
  “You don’t know how long i wanted to fuck you so dumb that it makes me want to go faster and harder on you .. do you like that? Do you want me to keep hammering you down on this bed like a bitch on heat?” You never knew Yunho was into this kind of thing, rough and mouthy.
 You were crying out of pleasure as Yunho drilled his cock deeper and deeper until you clench around him that had him smacking his (veiny) hands on your ass, “Yu-Yunho— eugh fuck– I’m gonna cum, gonna cum– !” Yunho continues slamming his hips as your eyes roll back as you reach your orgasm, creaming his dick and milking him dry. Yunho chuckles, wrapping one of his hands around your throat, pulling you closer, bottomless.
  “You like that huh? You like it when I fuck you this hard?” You dive on the sheets, Yunho's pace persistent in making his dick wet and creamy on your puffy pussy. You look over your shoulders, engulfed in overwhelming bliss, you speak with assertive tone, “clap me, choke me, bite me Yunho.” 
 Yunho pulls out, leaving just the tip inside as he adjust his grip from your throat down to your hips, in spite of that he shoves back while you pulling back, “FUCK!” you cried, your fingers circling around his wrist, “Yu-yu — wait you’re going too fast.”
 He shakes his head, his eyebrows arching, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, “I haven’t cum yet and we can fuck all night baby.” He keep thrusting back and forth,leaning forward to grasp both of your nipples in his fingers, twisting, pulling them.
  Your head swirling with so much euphoria that it sent electricity vibrating down your pussy as you were reaching your second orgasm quickly, this time a little different from the last one, long strings of ‘oh’ and ‘fuck’.
  “Tell me baby, i need to know one thing …” He licks his lips, pressing you on his bare chest, continue to pound inside of you, almost nearing his climax, “come on baby, i didn’t fuck you that dumb did i? Now answer me.”
  You were breathing hastily, orgasm around the corner but you know best that if you don’t speak now, Yunho won’t let you cum, “Wh-What is it?”
  “Have you been fantasising about this one? Did someone tell you?” You nodded, your head moving swiftly, you felt his chest vibrate as he breathy laughs, “Yeah? 
“ y-yes…”
“From who?”
  Your throat clogged yet you oblique, moaning when his tip brushes on your cervix once again, your dignity slowly crashing but who could you blame? You were fantasising all of this for the longest time that you slipped out to one of your friends about your huge daydream to Yunho that one of your friends may or may not slip about him.
  “I heard .. I heard from a friend of a friend … that your dick is better than their exes.” His hip halted, pulling out— groaning at the emptiness but you were taken back when Yunho pulled you off the bed and towards your balcony; your eyes widened as he pushes you the makeshift knitted lounge chair.
  “Well one …” yunho’s lips brush on your ears warmly, “I have never met your friends …” He inserted himself back in, slamming back on your pussy, “And second well .. they’re not wrong.”
 Yunho pace didn’t falter as he locked his arms on yours, your arms pulled on your back; your chest full on display, bouncing each time Yunho hammered back. Broken groans left Yunho and you were also reaching your climax, “Fuck yunho!” 
 “Take my cum like a good girl!” Your eyes were clouded in euphoria, feeling full as he spurted all his cum inside you, painting your walls white. Your hole clenches on his dick before gushes of your juice burst, wetting his dick and the lounge chair.
  Yunho let go of your arms and replace his softening dick with his fingers, brushing them left and right as you squirt, your lips puckering
“Oh look at that, such a good girl. Keep squirting baby~” Yunho slaps, wipe your pussy letting you ride on your orgasm before he pulls away. Your knees gave out, thankfully Yunho caught you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and at the back of your knees. He leads you both to your bathroom, setting you on the cold marble tile of your sink.
   Yunho settles you on the bathtub, warm water with bubbles of rose were floating on the water. You sigh contentedly, “Is this what I get for flashing you my boobs to you?”
  He laughs, shaking his head as he settles at the other end of the tub, “You want a princess treatment?” His eyes watch you carefully, cheek flaring. You played with the foam bubbles, “If you don’t mind me being your girlfriend then yeah, I want a princess treatment.”
Yunho leans towards you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips, "Deal."
 It was something you and Yunho had in common. Straightforwardness. Yet here you both are, in a situation you thought is just all in your head and fantasy.
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caninepoetryrelator · 6 months
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Liquid Luck
Carl Grimes x Reader (16+)
Aged up Carl Grimes x Reader soft smut
Synopsis: Carl and you are not friends. So what’s gonna happen when you’re locked in a room together with a bottle of whiskey?
Warnings: Dick, dick getting sucked, no fully blown sex just oral, Carl is a cutie, also it’s a zombie apocalypse there’s gonna be zombies, plus various weapons and very brief nondescript violence.
Words: 3,843
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It all started with a bad raid. We figured we could sneak into the pharmacy, get the medicine for Hershel, and then get out without attracting any attention.
Rick and Daryl stayed outside and kept watch while he sent you and Carl to take care of the rest.
That was it, straightforward, in and out.
Or at least it had been.
A week prior Glenn had put a boombox on the rooftop of the place to attract the walkers out and up instead of prowling the streets and the building.
The windows were almost all broken. Either by walkers or raiders, we didn’t know. But it sure was convenient when the door turned out to be locked.
You watched Carl adjust the brim of his hat and narrow his eyes at a broken square window a few feet above his head.
“I think I can fit,” he stated firmly, casting you a sidelong glance, quickly looking back at Rick when you made eye contact.
He had never been outright rude to you; he had never been anything to you. He had only introduced himself with a short greeting and a tight smile. He seemed much more open with everyone else yet standoffish around you.
“The kid can fit too,” agreed Daryl, nodding towards you. He’d always called you that despite you being the same age as Carl.
Carl’s face dropped as he glanced at you again. “I can do it by myself.”
“No, you can’t,” ordered Rick. “We don’t know how many walkers are still in there. You’re taking her with you.”
He sighed. Did he really not like you this much?
Before you had come to a conclusion Daryl had laid a leather jacket over the jagged glass in the frame before he and Rick boosted Carl into the window.
“I’ll make sure it’s safe!” He hollered from inside the building. There was some scuffling inside for a moment before he yelled “It’s clear!”
Next thing you knew you were standing in their respective interlaced fingers and they boosted you up to the window. You grabbed the edges and dove in. It wasn’t until you let go of the window frame that you realized that you, unlike Carl, were falling face first instead of feet first.
Luckily, you were met with the last type of relief you expected. Carl grabbed your waist, slowing your descent enough to use your own momentum to turn you so you landed on your feet. His hands linger on your waist as you stand chest to chest with him. You look up at him through your lashes, breathing heavily. His face is red, probably from exertion.
Just before you can thank him he pulls quickly away, looking down nervously. You lower your head into his line of sight so that he makes eye contact with you.
“Thank you,” you say with a smile.
He nods shortly before taking out his knife and heading towards a door. “This way.”
You follow him, Michonee’s old sword she had given you in hand as you follow him closely, checking your surroundings avidly. Both of you continuously glanced up at the ceiling, which creaked under the weight of anywhere from fifty to one hundred walkers.
Your shoe nudged something on the ground— a bottle of whiskey. You quickly stooped and picked it up, putting it in one of the pockets of your oversized cargos.
You make your way to the back of the building, into the section where the pills are stored.
“What are we looking for again?” You ask.
“Promethazine, it’s anti-nausea medication for throwing up. Hershel’s worried the vomit from people with the flu in town could make it more contagious.” He replies, examining bottles instead of looking at you.
With a soft frown at his bland attitude, you wander to the ‘P’ section, browsing for promethazine.
You found five prefilled prescriptions made out to various, probably now dead, people.
“Carl,” you call, holding up a handful of amber pill bottles.
“Nice one,” he says, a genuine smile on his face. The first time he’s smiled at you. It was a nice smile. You felt your face heat up as you smiled as well.
Carl turned around for you to put the meds in his backpack. You brush his hair out of the way and he whips his head around immediately.
“W-what’re you doing back there?”
“Making sure your hair doesn’t get caught in the zipper,” you reply simply.
He relaxes as you unzip the bag and place the medications inside.
Just as you were zipping the beg, a loud creaking sound resounded from the ceiling. Carl and you glanced at each other with wide eyes.
“This way,” he commanded, taking your hand and leading — practically dragging — you through the pharmacy. The thumping on the roof was becoming more prominent and you could hear gunshots from outside.
You were practically running now as the sounds became nearly overwhelming. You were near the doctor's office section of the building when the ceiling began to give.
“Shit,” you muttered as the ceiling tiles began to fall.
Carl’s hand was on your waist again, this time snatching you out of the way of something falling— a walker, collapsed on the ground where you had just been standing.
Everything was happening so fast, and next thing you knew the ground was littered with walkers, all focused on the two of you. Your sword could only do so much as you slashed at the hoard, managing to take out two in one blow as you attempted to keep them at bay.
When Carl’s hands were on your waist again this time you didn’t question it— he snatched you backwards and into a room, where he slammed the door closed and locked it.
It was a check up office; it contained white brick walls and linoleum tile. In the corner was an oak desk with a monitor and sanitary supplies stacked on it. There was a cot against the opposite wall and various equipment hanging from the walls.
The thudding at the door where Carl stood jarred you back to reality, spurring you to grab the desk and shove at it. It had to be at least four hundred pounds. Carl pulled from the other side and together you managed to use it to barricade the door. He collapsed against the cot, panting.
You joined him, holding up your hands in a calming gesture as he looked at you with a shaky, nervous expression.
“Well, shit,” he muttered with an ironic chuckle.
“Probably gonna be in here for a while,” you sighed.
“Yeah,” he muttered bitterly.
Why don’t you like me?
The words almost came out of your mouth, but it wasn’t the right time. Instead you just looked at him, with a resigned expression.
You take the whiskey from your pocket and open it, taking a swig. After drinking with Daryl it didn’t phase you too much anymore, but he stared at you with a shocked expression, cheeks dusted pink.
“Where did you get that?”
“Store,” you replied simply, holding out the bottle to him.
After a moment of hesitation he took it, taking a swig with a grimace. “How do you drink that shit?” He laughs.
He laughed. A real laugh. It’s your first time hearing it. You want to hear more of it.
“Daryl,” you explain simply and he nods with a groan.
“I see,” he takes another drink and passes the bottle back to you.
It’s called liquid courage for a reason, you think. That’s all the convincing it takes for you to start chugging the bottle. You get about five swallows down before Carl’s hands, one on the bottle and one on your jaw, stop you from going further.
“Don’t overdo it,” he chides you gently.
You nod dumbly, watching a drop make its way down his neck, tracing his adam’s apple as he takes another drink. You notice the way his lips pucker around the mouth of the bottle and you force yourself to look away.
After a moment of silence he speaks again.
“Wanna play truth or dare?”
You look at him in surprise, hesitating for a moment.
“Only if you want to—” he starts nervously before you cut him off with a simple statement.
“Sure.”
He looks at you in relief, clearly afraid to have overstepped before smiling, a bit anxiously. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” you don’t hesitate; they really do call it liquid courage for a reason.
He glanced around the room before his eyes land on the stethoscope. “I dare you to give me a checkup?” He phrases it as a question so you don’t feel forced. Cute.
You grab various medical equipment, wrapping the stethoscope around your neck with a drunken grin. “I’m your doctor, I’ll be giving you your physical,” you say in your best attempt at a deep voice. You were clearly already drunk. Normally you would’ve felt stupid but with the heartwarming giggle he let out paired with an over dramatic eyeroll, you felt nothing but at ease.
As you begin measuring his heart rate he swallows hard, his pink cheeks darkening to red. His heart thumped steadily; quickly.
“Truth or dare,” you murmur as you measure his vitals.
“Uh…” he swallowed hard, eyes flickered from your hands against his chest to your face, feigning focus. “Dare.”
“Take your shirt off,” you say with an innocent grin. He blanches, surprised. “To check your vitals better. Only if you want to.” You assure him sweetly.
In a moment he was struggling to pull his shirt off, disoriented from the alcohol.
Next thing you know your hands are running down his sides to the hem of his shirt. Halfway through struggling out of his shirt he looks up at you from his sitting position, face still read and panting. You gently tug his shirt upwards, prompting him to pull his arms through the holes and you pull it over his head.
You giggle at the state of his hair, correcting it without hesitation.
“Real soft,” you muse as you gently sweep his hair out of his face. The poor boy looks overwhelmed as he stares up at you, arms wrapped around himself nervously.
You gently move the arm he has wrapped around his chest, pressing the stethoscope there once more. His heart is beating almost worryingly fast.
“You okay hon?” You ask gently.
“Mhm,” he manages, seeming to have a hard time speaking.
“Okay,” you murmur, putting the stethoscope on various places around his chest, pretending to know what you’re doing.
“Truth- uh truth or dare,” he chokes out.
“Dare,” you repeat, this time even more sure than the last.
“Can you uhm.. touch my hair again?” He wasn’t making eye contact at all now, seemingly fascinated by his jeans as he stares down, still adorned by that bright blush.
In a second your hands are in his hair. Even when you hadn’t been talking you were fascinated by his hair. Rick had caught you staring several times and always met you with a soft smile or a laugh, whereas Daryl arched his eyebrow with a slight grin.
His hair really was soft, soft as hell. You rubbed a single strand between your fingers before trailing your fingers from his roots to the ends of his hair. You secure your hands around his scalp, threading your fingers through his hair as you continue to play with it, enamored.
You hadn’t even noticed his face, eyes closed, mouth open, breathing deeply.
You lean in closer and murmur by his ear. “Truth or dare.”
His eyes flicker open and he breathes for a moment. “Truth.”
“Why do you avoid me back at camp?” He froze.
“I-I don’t,” he lied, resulting in a small tug to his hair. He draws in a sharp breath, looking up at you surprised.
“Don’t lie,” you chide.
“You make me nervous,” he admitted after a moment of silence. “People usually don’t make me nervous, but you do.” He was once again apparently entranced by his jeans so you cup his jaw gently, bringing his gaze up to meet your own.
“I like making you nervous. But not all the time. I like talking to you, Carl,” you explain in a soft voice.
He looks up at you with a genuine involuntary smile.
“Really?” He breathes.
“Yes,” you whisper, realizing how much closer you had gotten, your hand still settled on his jaw.
“Um… truth or dare?”
“Dare,” you repeat, adamant on forcing him out of his comfort zone.
“Is it okay if I— can I please, uhm—“
“Do whatever you want, Carl,” you interrupt him. “I trust you.”
His eyes widen at that and he finally rises to his feet. A familiar feeling. His hands on your waist. His grasp is awkward this time, less sure of himself when he’s not saving your life. When it’s a choice to be touching you.
He tugs you a bit closer and his eyes flicker to your lips. You know what he’s trying to do and you know he’s scared to do it.
Your hands are still in his hair and you use that to your advantage, pulling him towards you and letting him close the distance, giving you a hesitant kiss. His lips are a little chapped, but they’re plush and soft. He tastes like whiskey, and you’re sure you do too. He’s inexperienced; this might be his first kiss, you realize.
You follow that kiss with another chaste one pressed against his lips ever so gently.
“Feel good?” You murmur, forehead resting against his with your eyes closed.
“Mhm,” he hums, barely audible as he lets out another shakey breath. You know his eyes are closed too.
You’re both reveling. In each other's presence. Just breathing each other in as his arms move to loosely wrap around your waist instead of simply placing his hands there.
There it is. That’s right.
His hands on your waist were sweet but his arms encircling your waist was just right.
You pull him in for another slow kiss, heads tilted, mouth moving and prompting his to do the same, teaching him as best you could without saying a word.
“Wow,” he gasps against your lips. You try to give him a chance to explain his exclamation by pulling away, but he pulls you back in.
You slide your tongue over his bottom lip, hoping for him to part his lips a bit more and in response he gives your tongue a light suck, pulling it into his mouth and letting out a soft whine as he does.
Your kiss evolves in passion as his hand starts traveling over your body. It slides up your waist and onto your ribs, just shy of your boob. The other stays securely wrapped around your waist as though he’s attempting to anchor you to him.
As much as you adore the feeling of his lips, you pull away. His brow furrows, eyes still shut as he leans forward for another kiss, his lips chasing yours with a small sound of displeasure after you pull away.
You tug his hair, gently prompting him to tilt his head to the side to give you access to his neck. You start by pressing soft kisses there, a trail from his jaw to the base of his neck, before retracing your steps with parted lips, allowing yourself to taste the sweet musky skin of his neck.
He lets out a choked whimper before covering his mouth with his hand. Not on your watch. You immediately grab his hand, pulling it down to your tit. He lets out a shakey gasp as he grasps at the soft flesh, groaning softly as he squeezes experimentally.
“Thank you..” he murmurs, eyes still screwed shut.
“Of course sweetheart,” you smile against his neck. He shivers at the nickname, giving you a minor power trip.
You begin sucking the flesh of his neck into your mouth where you begin biting gradually before biting harder to leave dark marks. You leave one by his jaw before remembering Rick, and what his reaction would be. You press a quick kiss to the mark before shoving him down on the cushioned exam cot, straddling him.
That’s when you notice the tent in his pants. He glances down at the point where your crotches met, biting his lip nervously. “S-sorry—” he started.
“Don’t be,” you assure him, leaning down to begin littering his chest with kisses.
You start the marks by his collarbone, before moving down to his chest. He was whimpering without restraint now, back arched.
His hand was moving up your body, down your arm, and to your hand. He held your hand, giving it a soft squeeze before simply holding your hand.
“Can I.. can I have—” he cut himself off with a small whimper before you stopped your ministrations.
“Use your words sweetheart.”
He groans slightly at that. “Can I— I wanna kiss.” He squeezes your hand again.
You lean up and meet him halfway with a soft kiss. He’s better now. He’s more prepared. You run your tongue along his bottom lip and he gladly parts them, granting you entry. He opens his mouth a bit too wide, but you don’t mind. You pull back slightly, pulling away and following it with a chaste, soft kiss before continuing where you left off– his chest.
You continue sucking dark hickies along his chest, leaving a trail of bites and kisses down to his belly. A faint covering of dark hairs spreads from just about his belly button, trailing down to below the band of his jeans.
You let out a soft sigh of desire, lightly caressing his happy trail with the tip of your fingers. He shudders softly and you watch his cock twitch through his jeans. He begins to apologize again, cutting himself off with a soft groan when you plant a firm kiss to where his happy trail disappears under his jeans.
You tug softly at the button on his jeans. “Can I?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.
He blinks in shock, looking down at you with wide eyes and a flushed face, mouth agape. “A-are you sure?”
“Yes,” you chuckle.
He responds with a small nod, still clearly shocked. You make quick work of undoing his pants, tugging them down before looking up at him with a small nod, prompting him to climb to his feet and shed his pants, quickly clambering back onto the bench. You swing your leg over the base of his thighs, straddling them.
You’re quick to feel him up, groping at his straining cock.
Freeing his cock you glance up at him in surprise, He’s packing. Six, maybe seven inches, not too wide – you could probably fit your hand perfectly around it – with a pretty pink tip, practically dripping precum. You test your earlier theory by experimentally wrapping your hand around his cock, eliciting a whine from him.
He swallows hard before looking down at you. “Are you s-sure? You’re comfortable?”
You nod. “I want to do this for you sweet boy.”
He smiles softly, letting his head fall back and his eyes flutter shut. “Thank you,” he sighs happily.
You lean down and kiss the head of his cock, causing him to jolt slightly. After lapping at the slit of his cock you take the head into your mouth. He gasps, bucking his hips.
Without warning you grab him by the hips and force him back against the cot which draws another whimper out of him as he pathetically attempts to squirm his hips closer to your mouth. You tut your tongue and pull away until he stops moving.
“Please,” he whines, struggling.
You decide to grant mercy on the poor boy, taking his head into your mouth once again. One arm forcing his hips against the table, you wrap the other hand around his cock and gently squeeze. He sighs happily, breath hitching as you begin moving your hand. Rotating it gradually as you move your hand up and down, you allow some of your saliva to drip from the head of his cock into your hand.
You use it as lubricant to begin pumping your hand up and down his cock faster, limp wristed as you continue lapping at the head of his cock. He arches his back more and whines.
Just as you begin taking more of his cock into your mouth his hand flies to the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair before squeezing, clearly doing his best to hold back from pulling your hair too hard.
“Mmh..” he moans softly, gripping at your hair firmly and applying slight pressure.
Suddenly you take as much as possible into your mouth, deepthroating him without warning. He lets out a sharp moan, gripping your hair tighter before releasing his grip in a slight panic as he realizes what he’s doing– it’s cute how hard he’s trying to hold back.
You use your tongue mostly, swirling it around his cock to the best of your ability as you begin bobbing your head up and down. You use one hand to massage his hard balls, ready to burst already. With that you remember that he’s a virgin, and you probably shouldn’t be teasing him so much.
This whole time he’s been making the most lewd noises, moaning and letting out small whimpers to the rhythm of you bobbing your head. His cock twitches in your mouth, prompting you to go faster to help him through.
You release his hips and meet his eyes when he gives you a confused glance, silently giving him permission. Experimentally, he bucks his hips, moaning before falling into a steady rhythm, his hips rising and falling shakily against your mouth.
He grips your hair even tighter, bringing tears to your eyes as you gag on his cock. After less than ten seconds he releases his load down your throat. Despite your attempts to swallow it dribbles out of your mouth and down his cock.
The low groan he had released had tapered off into a moan, sighing as he finally collapsed from his high. As he lays there, chest heaving, you slowly climb on top of him, collapsing there and cuddling into him.
He turns and kisses the top of your head, his wide smile unknown to you.
“I think I’m less nervous around you now,” he murmurs into your hair.
You smile softly as he places his hand on your waist once again. “Good,”
Thank god for liquid courage.
They cleared the pharmacy of walkers eventually, and by the time they reached you the two of you were cleaned up.
You came out swinging, having to run to the truck.
The two of you ended up so battered and bruised Rick didn’t even think to mention the bruise at the base of Carl’s jaw, and the one on his collarbone, just visible when he wore tank tops.
You saved the whiskey for next time.
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stylesloveclub · 6 months
Text
Prose (part 2)
In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.
+++
“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.
She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.
“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”
“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.
She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.
Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.
“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”
“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.
“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.
Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.
It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?
She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”
He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”
Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.
+++
Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.
He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.
“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”
Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”
Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.
“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”
He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?
“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”
Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.
Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.
He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.
All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.
His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.
Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.
+++
“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.
Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”
“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”
“Are you mental?” he interrupts.
She blinks. “Huh?”
“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.
“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”
He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”
She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”
“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”
She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”
Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.
Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.
His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”
“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”
“Yeah. I overslept.”
He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”
She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”
It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.
“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.
“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”
“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”
Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.
Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.
She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”
He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”
+++
Y/n is exhausted.
Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.
With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.
Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.
She’s screwed.
It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.
But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.
She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!
Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.
Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.
She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”
Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.
“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.
She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?
She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”
“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”
She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”
“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.
“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.
Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.
“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.
“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”
“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”
She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.
“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”
“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”
“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”
She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.
“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”
He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”
His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”
She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”
A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.
“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”
He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”
+++
You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?
That’s how Harry feels right now.
Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.
His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.
He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”
Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”
Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”
Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”
She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.
“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.
She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.
When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.
“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”
She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.
He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.
+++
They stay in his office until nightfall.
Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.
Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!
Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).
They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.
Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.
He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”
“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”
“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”
“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”
“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”
She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.
“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.
They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.
He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.
“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”
+++
HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!
Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.
Prose Masterlist
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daycourtofficial · 1 month
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Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 5
Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.
Author’s note: We’re setting things up, baby!! I’m not sure about this part tbh. It’s been a bit since I updated, so hopefully the length of this will make up for it!! 💕
Warnings: slight drinking, mentions of sex, I almost had someone order a sweet tea before I remembered that doesn’t exist much outside the south
(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (masterlist)
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It was quite impressive, really, how Rhysand took half an hour to eat his bowl of cereal just to piss off his brother. Azriel was pacing, wanting to see you as soon as possible. Truthfully he had been waiting since you left their apartment that morning, inviting him and Rhys to come out with you and Feyre.
Azriel thinks he deserves an award for the patience he’s harboring over Rhys’s movements.
They eventually walk into your apartment, much to Rhys’s delight, to find you and Cassian bickering in your kitchen over his inability to turn the tv off at night.
“Cassian, please, stop leaving the tv on at night. I woke up at 3 in the morning and was blinded by the idle Netflix screen.”
“I’ll try, but it’s a big ask. You want me to find the remote when I’m very sleepy and just shut it off?”
“Uh, yeah that’s what I said,” you respond, leaning against the counter, waving to Rhys and Az. Rhys elects not to comment at the way you perk up at the sight of his brother. “Somehow I don’t think it’ll be the end of the world.”
Cassian mumbles out, “I’ll try,” before acknowledging his brothers. Him and Rhys start talking about something but your phone vibrates, distracting you from their conversation.
Feyre: I’m here
“Awesome, Fey’s here - let’s go.”
The four of you head down, taking the elevator down. Cassian thought about pushing all the buttons, but he knew it was a surefire way to find an axe imbedded in the side of his head within the hour.
You all head down to the parking lot, spotting Feyre leaning against her car. The second you point it out Cassian yells, “shotgun!”
You retort back, “how old are you again?”
Cassian responds, having reached the passenger door, “the laws of shotgun are anti-discriminatory, they’re not bound by age.”
You roll your eyes at him, as Azriel holds the door open for you to get into the back. You sit in the middle seat, squished between Azriel and Rhys. And if you lean further into Azriel, his thighs pressed against yours, that’s between you and Feyre’s silver prius.
The five of you walk in and find the place nearly empty. After signing consent forms and paying, you notice that there’s a bar. You and Cassian immediately get drinks, a beer and a seagram’s, and head over to the lane the owner told you to go to.
“Maybe having alcohol and an axe to throw isn’t a great idea,” you mutter, taking a sip anyway.
Cassian saunters up first, putting his beer down before grabbing the axe.
“I’m sure I’ll be a natural at this,” he tells you all, before swinging the axe back and throwing it, all of you watching as it bounces off of the target.
You snicker, but it’s Rhys who says what you’re all thinking. “Mmm, a natural. I see it.”
You all take turns in the two lanes provided, throwing a few times until eventually you all get the hang of it.
Rhys and Azriel fare much better than Cassian with their initial throws, but you and Feyre were struggling for a while, until eventually you guys began keeping score as you went. Feyre began shooting better, telling everyone that she just “needed a few practice swings in”.
In between your turns, you kept finding yourself next to Azriel, joking and poking fun at everyone else’s shooting. You were too busy with Azriel to notice Feyre and Rhys swapping phone numbers as Cassian was throwing.
Cassian turned from the lane, noticing both of his brothers having paired off with girls. He’s slightly annoyed at the fact that no one congratulated him on his bullseye. He places the ax back where it belongs and clamps down on Azriel’s shoulder as he sits next to him.
“Your turn,” Cassian grins. Azriel wants to object, peeferring to stay in your company, but decides against it, walking over to throw. You turn to watch him, but Cassian starts speaking.
“So you have the hots for my brother,” he says, voice low, causing you to choke on your drink. You turn to him, spluttering as he looks at you expectantly.
“Uh, Rhys is very nice but I don’t-“
Cassian’s raised hand interrupts you. “Not that one, sweets.”
You debate whether or not you should deny it, but Cassian looks at you and you sigh. You start ripping the label off your drink and nod your head just slightly.
Cassian grabs his beer and stands up. He looks at you over his shoulder before saying, “I think it’s mutual.”
You don’t have time to mull over his words. Your phone buzzes, and pulling it out, you see Mor’s contact lighting your screen. You answer, putting the phone to your ear. Az sits back down next to you, watching you answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi sweetie,” Mor’s smooth voice crackles over the phone. “Do you wanna get dinner?”
Az looks over at you, the sound of Mor’s voice familiar to him.
“Uh I’m out with Feyre, Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel.”
Mor huffs, “without me? You go out with my favorite guys and don’t invite me?”
You scratch the back of your head at her admonishment, “uh well it was kinda spur of the moment.”
Az takes a sip of his water as he watches you on the phone, curious about your friendship with Mor. He knew Mor somewhat well, actually. Rhysand brought her around fairly often, and Cassian brought her around somewhat regularly. He can’t believe the blonde would hide you away from them for so long and why she especially wouldn’t try to set the two of you up at some point.
Mor was, above all, convinced she was a matchmaker. No one escaped her clutches of trying to pair people up.
“Okay, whatever. I’ll forgive you if all of you come out to dinner with me tonight.”
You laugh, “ah a guilt trip. Where should we meet you? And when?”
Mor thinks for a minute, “meet me at that Mexican restaurant out on Main street. In an hour?”
You nod, even though she can’t see you. “Okay, but I can’t guarantee everyone will come. I haven’t asked.”
You know she’s rolling her eyes as she responds, “just tell them I said pretty please - they’ll come. And tell them that I’ll pay.”
Your eyebrows raise, “are you sure? I live with Cassian - I’ve seen that man eat a rotisserie chicken as a snack.”
“Well I won’t be paying, I’ll put it on my lovely father’s credit card. I’ll consider it payment for that awful dinner a few weeks ago.”
“Well, let me ask them and I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, I gotta go. Bye, love youuuuu,” Mor’s drawn out affections end as you hang up, coming back to your surroundings. Feyre has an axe in her hand, and you hear Rhys cheer as she hits a few feet from the bullseye.
“Do you guys want to get dinner with Mor? She told me she won’t forgive me if you guys don’t come.”
Azriel and Rhys share a look, but you continue. “She did say to tell you all “pretty pleasaaase.” You bat your eyelashes in a fairly spot on impression of Mor, “and that she’s paying.”
Cassian comes up next to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Lead with the free food next time, sweetheart.”
Leaving axe throwing behind a bit later, Cassian is grumbling about how Azriel outscored everyone substantially. Rhys leads the group outside and grins at Cassian declaring, “shotgun.”
Cassian huffs but trudges to the back with you and Azriel. The backseat is even more cramped, seeing as Cassian’s thighs could take up a seat of their own. You’re practically having to sit on both of them, and Azriel is pressed against the door to give you as much space as possible.
Between no one paying attention to him during your group outing and the fact that he lost, Cassian was overcome with the need to stir something up, so he turns to you and asks, “the world is ending and you have to sleep with one of us to save the world, who do you pick?”
You turn to Cassian, shock on your face. Azriel perks up in his seat a bit, wanting to hear what you’ll say. Feyre and Rhys even stop their conversation up front to hear.
“What kind of apocalyptic event is this, Cass?”
“A horny one?” He asks, not really sure himself.
You all laugh, “okay so I sleep with one of you and the world is saved?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“I’d pick Feyre. She’d be a gentle lover,” you say, looking towards your friend as she drove. Feyre gives you a wink through the rearview mirror, and Cassian groans.
“Nope, it can’t be Feyre.”
“Well you didn’t say that earlier,” you point out.
“Well I’m saying it now.”
“Why don’t you just tell me the parameters of who I can have sex with to save the world,” you say, a bit exasperated at this imaginary scenario.
“Me, Rhys, and Az.”
“Cassian,” you say, matter of factly, and Azriel feels his heart fall through his chest. He tries to even his breathing so you don’t notice him shattering next to you, but your voice picks up again as Cassian is cheering.
“I wouldn’t have sex with you, even in a world ending event.” You pat his shoulder. “I’d let all of us die before doing that.”
Rhys throws his head back laughing and Cassian crosses his arms, leaning back in the seat, huffing. Azriel smirks slightly, and he notices that you don’t actually answer the question Cassian posed. He also notices your eyes nervously glancing in his direction every few seconds.
The restaurant comes into view as Cassian keeps grumbling, his unanswered question long forgotten. The five of you pile out of the car, and Azriel offers his hand to you to help you get out. His hand is a little cold in yours, but you hold it a little longer than necessary, soaking in the contact.
You all walk up to the front to find Mor aggressively waving her hands at you all, trying to make sure you see her. You chuckle, and Cassian starts waving back just as dramatically.
“It’ll be about 20 minutes,” she tells you all, texting someone. You all hear the ding of Cassian’s phone right as she’s done talking, but none of you point it out.
Mor and Cassian huddle together talking, leaving the four of you to mingle. The presence of both of them and Feyre makes everyone pause, uncertain of what to say. You had never really realized how much easier talking was with Cassian nearby.
Feyre asks, “so what do you guys major in?”
“Computer science,” Azriel says.
“I’m a double major with business and engineering.”
Rhys’s major does not shock you at all. The well-tailored clothing he wears every day do nothing to combat the business major stereotype. The engineering part does, however, surprise you.
Feyre asks him about his classes, and you perk up when he mentions the organic chemistry class you’re a TA for. The two of them keep talking, bur you turn your attention to Azriel.
“Why computer science?” You ask Az, curious. It suits him, you think. It’s easy to see him behind a computer, developing websites.
“I like software development and coding.”
You groan in disgust, “I don’t know how you like coding. I have to do it for a research project and I hate it. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“What about it doesn’t make sense?”
“It’s just like a new language no one taught me.”
“I could help you,” he says, hesitating to be too forward, “if you- if you want, of course.”
“Yes, I’d love that!”
The two of you are so enraptured in your conversation you don’t notice the looks Rhys and Feyre are sharing at how obvious the two of you are.
The looks between you and Azriel, and Feyre and Rhys, are interrupted by Mor’s chiming. “It’s ready!”
The six of you walk towards a booth in the back, you, Azriel, and Feyre on one side, Cassian, Mor, and Rhys on the other. The waitress provides you all menus, and before she can walk away Cassian asks for “enough queso to make a grown man cry”.
You’re looking at the menu when Azriel nudges you with his elbow. “You never said what your major was.”
“Oh, uh I’m a biology major.”
“Biology?” He asks, a bit surprised.
“Yeah, I really like evolution and ecology. I like the diversity of life.”
“And what is your project that requires coding?”
“Oh- it’s a population survey. For the past two years I’ve been reviewing trail cam footage around the campus for what kinds of animals live on campus.”
His eyebrows raise, “you started research as a sophomore?”
“Yeah, I set up the trail cameras in August that year. They’re in the more woodsy parts of campus or areas where there’s freshwater like the fountains.”
“So you have to view thousands of hours of camera footage?” He sounded genuinely interested in your project, a response you hardly received.
You laugh, “no, it’s motion activated. But it’s still a lot to comb through.”
“If you ever want any company while you do it, I could bring some of my coding assignments and we could just work together.”
You’re about to tell him you’d love to, when the waitress comes by, taking everyone’s drink orders and dropping off chips, salsa, and queso. Cassian, who had been grumbling about how hungry he was, gives his drink order through a mouthful of chips.
After you ask her for a water and a soda, you tell Az, “I’d love that.”
Cassian pulls you into a conversation between himself and Mor, but you do catch a glimpse of the little smile Azriel gives you as you tell Cassian about the time Mor streaked across the football field during a game in high school.
The dinner is fun, made even moreso by Mor picking up the check. You all wish a Mor good night as you head back to Feyre’s car. Once the doors to the restaurant open, Rhys and Cassian yell out, “shotgun,” at the same time, and both begin sprinting to Feyre’s car, pushing each other as they run.
The three of them trudge ahead of you and Azriel, as you two walk in step next to each other. He pulls out his phone, his screen lighting up his face in the night. He turns his phone to you, an empty contact page facing you.
“I-uh just realized I don’t have your number,” he swallows hard, looking down at his phone, watching as your fingers gently grab his phone and begin typing.
He watches you click ‘send message’, watching you type something out before handing it back to him. He chuckles as he reads the message you sent yourself.
Az: oh beautiful, stunning, wonderful woman, thank you for blessing me with your phone number
His phone vibrates in his hand as your response comes through.
You: oh, Az. Flattery will get you very far.
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A New Tradition [Sebek Zigvolt]
You had never seen Sebek look this serious in your life.
And that said a lot, considering you’d known him all throughout your years in NRC and a few years into his adult life where you had subsequently dated. Sebek was a partner who regarded romance with an intensity that was unsurprising yet appreciated. He made every date special, even in tiny ways, he remembered significant days in your relationship without needing to be reminded, he tried to be as open with his communication as possible (which still resulted in fumbling, as he couldn’t always accurately define the emotions he was feeling). Either way, you could see the intense look of concentration on his face now after your request.
You had hesitated on asking him to participate in a Christmas tradition as you had correctly guessed it wasn’t something he really cared for. He was part human, and his dad celebrated it a bit, but had always left it up to Sebek on if he wanted to join. Sebek’s mother was far more interested in the little holiday traditions, helping his father set up the glass tree he took from the attic every year (it caused little mess, and was still customizable enough that they could change out the decorations on it). There was an exchanging of presents that always included Sebek, and as an adult he felt the need to give back as well, but that was the extent of his interaction with the holiday. His mother always seemed to light up the night before, excited as she looked at the colorful wrapping paper around her presents and mused on what they might be. Sebek couldn’t help but consider it a tradition that was more his parents than his, as they seemed more disgustingly in love on that day compared to every other day of the year (and they were pretty much always openly affectionate, so that was saying something).
Sebek was far too aware of the change of energy as he answered your question, the disappointed look being a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment but he noticed. He knew when your smile was forced, that you were simply not making him to do something he didn’t want to, and he had always appreciated the side of you that was understanding. He had come to learn that relationships had a give and take, that as stubborn as he could be there were moments he had to yield to you because it was truly not a serious enough issue that an argument should continue on. And it’s not like he was anti-human tradition, he had to nix that when he started dating one a few years ago, so there was no reason he couldn’t agree to making your own personalized tradition like his parents had.
“I want to… I’ll decorate with you,” Sebek finally stated, regarding the tree he had just pulled into your home. He was still on his knees in front of it, having arranged the skirt around the bottom as you had directed, so now the green pine stood proud at the center of your dining room. “The tree. We can find something in the nearby shops to put on them… I heard there are enchantments that make the lights change color, or sparkle, whichever you’d like…”
He was talking to himself more than you now, seeming to think of all the way he could make this unique for the two of you to enjoy. The thought of a shopping trip was an exciting one, especially when you knew Sebek was thinking of human tradition alternatives that might be found in the fae world; you’d never enchanted a tree before but you wondered what kind of magical baubles might be in the shops, just waiting to find a loving home.
“Ah! But, I do have a rule.”
Sebek tilted his head in acknowledgement despite staying in his thinking pose, to let you know he was listening.
“Do not bring an ornament into this house with Malleus’ face on it.” Sebek went to open his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together on his head, a retort on the tip of his tongue when you cut him off again, “Not a tree topper, either!”
Sebek huffed, arms crossed as he wondered what other way he might make tribute to Malleus on the tree without you noticing.
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chocochipsushi · 6 months
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𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆
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NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!
🌸Word count: 5.3K
🌸AU: Toji as your father’s best friend, consoling you with his cock after a fight with your dad
🌸CW: cockwarming, toji calling reader all sorts of pretty names, fucking while reader's dad is around, unprotected sex, fluff
🌸A/N: Hello... I am here to clarify some things. I found out recently that I got a pretty established and amazing fanartist on Twitter into a situation where they received backlash for recreating one of my Uncle Toji scenes. I felt so bad because antis were giving the artist shit for something I wrote. So I am here to let all of you know that:
1) reader's age was never specifically spelled out bc I wanted everyone to be able to relate to the reader's age and not be restrained by a number in the story. If I knew that there was a rule where we had to indicate ages of every character in stories, I would have done so... Anyway, if I were to be asked what the OC's age was, I would say she is within the age range of 26-28yo.
2) It will be clear in the last chapter as I tried to give a short back story (before I even saw those mean tweets) but I will let you all know now - Toji was out of the reader's life from age 9 to 24, reader's dad had her at 21, and Toji is a few years younger than the dad. So the math is that the age gap between Toji and the reader is ~18 years.
3) Reader hardly calls Toji by his name because she feels awkward doing that since she's always known him as Uncle Toji. but if you notice, she has been getting braver through the chapters. And she calls him 'Uncle Toji' during sex most of the time coz they like to roleplay??
Anyway, I am only explaining bc I really do not wish to hurt anyone, and I hope the fanartist know that the hate should be directed at me, not at them.
Next chapter will be the last. thank you all for supporting my Uncle Toji series.
<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>
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I am surprised when Toji’s hand on the small of my back gently guides me to the side, away from guests trying to lure us into their conversations. I look up at him in confusion and worry, only to be met with a concerned look on his face. 
He dips his head so that I can hear him when he murmurs, “You alright, baby? Wanna go home?”
Oh. 
I’d had a fight with my dad before coming to the gala dinner. Toji was caught in the crossfire when he came to pick me up. I was initially supposed to meet him at the dinner with my parents, where I would be handed over to Toji since each guest could only bring a Plus One. However, once my dad and I started raising our voices at each other, my mother called Toji right away and got him to come over to take me.
I was glad for it, and I’m sure my parents were, too. I haven’t been in the best of moods since then and Toji knows me way too well to have me engage in any conversation. I am still a good guest in the way I politely respond to questions asked, yet at the same time cutting the conversation short. But Toji understands that I am being civil only for the sake of it. 
I give Toji a small smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”
He observes me for a few seconds. Finally, he rubs his thumb on my back and nods. “Okay. But I’ll bring you home early. Let me just talk to Dr. Hung.”
I have no objection to that, so Toji slides his engulfing hand down to take hold of mine and starts walking towards Dr. Hung. I try to listen politely and take mental notes of their conversation, since I am also here to make connections that might benefit my father’s company when I eventually take over. Toji, being my father’s best friend and longest business partner, knows of this and even tries to bring up our company’s name. 
By the time they were done talking business, I had Dr. Hung’s name card and a promise to have a business lunch, all thanks to Toji. And finally, when it is just us again, Toji rests a comforting hand on my back and leans down so that his lips are by my ear. 
“Let’s bring you home now, shall we?”
I look up and nod my head, to which he returns a nod at. Before we leave, however, Toji looks around to locate my parents, who are engaged in a conversation with a few other notable people in the industry. Not wanting to interrupt them, Toji guides me straight out of the ballroom and walks me to his car where his driver is already waiting. 
“Careful,” he murmurs with his big palm resting on top of my head as I get into the car. 
He gets his driver to bring me back and only when he has walked me back to my room, I face him and hold onto his calloused hand with both of mine. 
“Stay for a bit, Toji?” 
He stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I know that he is debating whether he should, since my parents might come home and see him here. But I give him a small pout that I know he can never resist, and he eventually squeezes my fingers — his non-verbal way of saying yes. 
When I let go of his hand, Toji undoes the knot on his tie, ready to get comfortable. By the time I am out of the shower, I find Toji already laying on my bed, tie off and blazer-less. He has the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm resting behind his head widening the plackets of his top and allowing me to see more skin. He is on his phone, probably going through some soccer news. 
Cuddling up to him seems so inviting that I rush through my nightly routine just to jump into bed with him. Toji fully expects it, having experienced this too many times for him not to be ready for it. He spreads his arm out just in time for me to burrow into his side. 
“Ugh, what a terrible day,” I groan into his armpit. 
Toji pats my crown and rests his palm on the swell of my hips. “Your dad only means well, you know that, baby.”
I lift myself up on my elbow, my hand on his chest to keep me steady, as I glare at him. Toji returns a levelled gaze. “He thinks that I’m not focused and that I am not trying hard enough to learn about taking over the company!”
Toji locks his phone and puts it aside just so he can give me more attention. But when I hear his response, I suddenly wish he didn’t give me any at all, or that I even asked him to stay. 
“Well, do you think you really have been giving your all in the handover?” I simply gape at him, in disbelief that he would say something like that. Toji taps my hip. “Look at it this way, Princess, from your father’s point of view. You complain when you have business meetings, when they are actually good for your business. You hate the small talk and show an attitude, which I can’t say gives off a good impression. You hang back and passively stand there and look pretty at the networking events your father brings you to, that are really for you to broaden your connections.” 
Toji could probably see the look of incredulity and betrayal on my face, because he sighs and strokes my chin with his free hand. Being the petty me that I am, I turn my head away with a pout. 
“You know that I am always fair and logical, Princess. I’m not just taking your dad’s side because he is my best friend,” Toji murmurs.
I stay quiet, trying to rationalise his explanation. But the longer I do, the more heated I get. So, instead of answering him, I get up, tear the sheets off my bed to get under it, and reach out to turn the lights off, plunging us into darkness. I lie on my side, facing away from Toji even though he can’t see me in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t move or say anything for a while but a few seconds later, I hear movement and in the next few seconds, the nightlight next to my bed turns on. I feel Toji getting under the blanket behind me where he rests his heavy hand on my hip. He comes closer until his lips are hovering over my ear. 
“Although…” he murmurs huskily, quietly. “Of course I will be there to help you. How can Uncle Toji leave his baby girl to be eaten by the wolves?” While my heart flutters at his words, I make sure not to react. Toji rubs his rough palm up and down the side of thigh now. “Together, we’ll dominate the playing field. I’ll guide and bring success to you.”
I know that he always keeps his promises and he never promises anything he can’t do. But I still won’t respond, so Toji nudges my earlobe with his lips. I can feel the scruff on his chin that is already growing. 
“It’s all for your own good, Princess. Your dad just doesn’t want you to fail. Neither do I.”
I turn my head slightly and grumble, “I thought you said you’d help me succeed.”
The tip of Toji’s nose now brushes my cheek. He rubs my side gently, at the same time causing my night dress to ride up. “Oh, that’s not negotiable, baby. Of course I will. But you’ve got to try and make it out on your own too.” 
“But I am trying,” I whine, now twisting my body a little more so that I am facing him. 
He is staring down at me with the softest gaze — one that he only reserves for me. “Of course you are,” Toji almost coos. This only makes me pout instinctively. He leans down to press his scarred lips to mine. “But try harder.”
Immediately, I pull away with a loud whine and slap his broad shoulder. Toji’s chuckle is low and husky, so warm and familiar that I am already melting before he kisses me again. This time, he nips on my bottom lip, his palm on my hip now moving in sensual strokes. Little moans and mewls escape me as some sort of resistance, not wanting to be played into his hands like that. But we both know that I am enjoying this, especially when I clench my fist on the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Toji hooks his fingers under the hem of my night dress and drags them up along my thigh, pulling my dress up. 
He is toying with the band of my panties when he breaks the kiss and murmurs against my lips, “Still mad at Uncle Toji?” My teeth pull on my bottom lip as I nod my head. The corners of Toji’s lips turn down. “Can’t have that now, can we?” he hums before burying his face into my nape. He trails the faintest of kisses along my neck, his fingers now tugging and flicking at the thin elastic of my underwear. “You’re not tired, are you, baby? I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep yet.”
And with that, Toji lifts himself up on his elbow as he pulls my g-string down as far as he can. He kisses me on the shoulder just as he hovers his hand over my crotch, the tip of his finger drawing shapes on my sensitive skin, making my hair stand on ends. I hold my breath as he gets closer to my clit, dipping his finger between my thighs so that the length of his digit rubs on my pussy lips. 
I can feel his erection growing hard against my ass, especially when he starts thrusting his hips slowly in tandem with the rhythm of his finger sliding between my labia. The tip of his finger teases my entrance. Pushing just an inch of his digit into my hole, he slides out and spreads my slick along my lips. I swallow and turn my head so that I could at least see him a little. Almost at once, Toji leans in to kiss the corner of my lips. 
His lips are still on me when he mumbles, “You’re so cute when you act like you’re mad at me.”
I let out a whine and reach out to thump my fist on his shoulder. Toji merely chuckles against my lips. He gives me one last kiss and pulls away, now moving to lay on his back. I turn my head to take a look at what he’s doing and see that he is undoing his pants. Knowing that he is actually going to finish what he started, I return to face the front. 
His strong arm snakes around my waist again and this time, I can feel his member poking my ass, excited and hard. The expensive material of his pants brush against the back of my thigh, adjusting my position so that my legs are scissored. Scooching closer to me, Toji holds his cock in his hand just for him to rub it against my flaps. I bite my bottom lip in an effort to try not to stick my ass out. But it is useless because my hips start to move and grind against his cockhead, allowing him to spread his precum and my wetness along my slit. 
Toji wraps his arm across my chest and brings me inevitably closer so that his lips are pressing against my ear. As he continues to thrust his hips, letting the length of his cock slide along my pussy lips, he lets out the sexiest grunts and the lowest of moans. At this point, I just want him to put it in me already. And he knows, because I arch my back to the point I am pressing my ass against his hips. 
Reaching his hand down, Toji tactically spreads my cheeks apart and positions his cockhead at the entrance of my wet pussy. Thrusting his hips forward, he stretches out my hole, making me whine and moan in pain and pleasure. Once he has his tip in, he returns to hugging me tight against his body. Toji’s nose is at the back of my ear, his lips on my earlobe. I can hear his shaky breathing as he enters me deeper. 
“Fuck…” he groans quietly. “You feel so good, baby.” 
Toji is slow as he sheathes himself inside of me, trying to savour the moment he first slides into me. Only when he is balls deep inside of me, he pauses and groans into my ear while he enjoys the pulsing, warm cocksleeve around his meat. My jaw goes slack when he finally pulls out several seconds later, only to thrust back into me again. His strokes start out slow before building up to a passionate rhythm of fucking. 
Toji growls into my ear and I just know that he isn’t going to last very long tonight. Especially when he brings his hand to wrap around my throat, his thick fingers lightly gripping the sides of my neck. My pussy is getting wetter. The sounds of Toji’s hips slamming against my ass and the squelching of my sopping pussy are almost too loud in my quiet room. It doesn’t help that Toji releases the chokehold around my neck, only to bring his hand down to my clit, his fingers already rubbing the nub in circles. 
“Ah, Daddy…” I mewl breathily, my body already trembling at his ministrations. 
Toji grunts. “God. You’re so tight and warm around me, Princess.” He lets out a long groan. “Daddy’s going to cum.”
By the sound of his irregular breathing, I just know that he is so close. Just a few more thrusts and he is going to explode inside of me. 
Which is why I have to be the one to stop him with my hand against his hips, giving him a squeeze in warning, when I hear the door creaking open. My heart is racing with fear and anxiety. Toji curses under his breath but immediately ceases his movements. He tries very hard to regulate his breathing quietly. He taps my thigh and I just know what he wants me to do. I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep. 
Someone takes a few steps into the room. Toji twists his body so that he appears to be lying on his back. I hear him groan, like how a tired person would. 
“Oh, you’re with her.” 
I really hope the thumping of my heart against my chest is not as loud as it sounds like to me. Because my father is here, speaking quietly to Toji.
“We had a little talk before she fell asleep,” Toji mumbles. I am impressed that he doesn’t sound at all out of breath.
My father lets out a loud sigh. Instinctively, my entire body clenches with anxiety, even down to my pussy walls squeezing Toji’s swollen cock. Toji chokes on a grunt and reactively moves his hand that is under the blanket to squeeze my arm lightly in warning. 
“Yeah, I might have been too harsh on her,” my father reflects. He sounds a little regretful. 
Toji clears his throat. He knows that I am listening and will very well treat him according to his reply. He pauses for a second before saying, “Good you know that. She really is trying, you know. She’s a good girl.”
As a reward for Toji sticking up for me, I pretend to shift in my sleep so that I press my ass against his hips, fully taking in his cock. Toji lets out a short hiss, which he covers up by clearing his throat. 
“She can be a brat,” he comments, making sure that I hear the edge in his tone. The corner of my lip lifts slightly. “But she is a good kid.”
“I know.” My father sighs. “I feel terrible. We never have fights.”
Toji scoffs. “Obviously. You’re a sucker for your daughter.” 
I could almost hear my father rolling his eyes. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve never seen you fuss over anyone like you do with her. She can’t even meet boys with the way you’re always hovering around her.”
Toji shifts his leg, at the same time angling his cock and driving his meat deeper inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. He is almost growling when he answers, “Boys can’t take care of her.”
“You know, I agree with you. But then who will?” 
I wish I had my eyes open to watch the non-verbal interaction between my father and Toji. Because the tension in the air intensifies and my dad almost sounds interrogative now. 
“You? You want to take care of my daughter?” 
“Just ‘cause she’s a brat and a princess, you think I can’t handle her?” Toji may sound like he is joking but I just know that he is being defensive. 
The tension breaks when my father laughs. “Oh, I know for sure you can handle her, Toji. I’m just not confident she can take care of you, ya grumpy old geezer.”
Toji’s body relaxes behind me. He scoffs and says, “Like I need anyone taking care of me.”
“Hmm. True.” A moment of silence passes, putting an end to the short distraction from their original conversation. My father sighs and asks, “Are you staying?” Without waiting for Toji to answer though, he quickly changes his question to an instruction, “Stay the night and talk to her in the morning before breakfast. She listens to you better. Then we’ll go for brunch at Fordeux.”
Toji chuckles under his breath. “Bribing me with a meal at my favourite place, huh?” My father doesn’t answer but I know he must be grinning. Toji flips to the side and pats my hip over the blanket. “Alright. I’ll make sure she’s talking to you again tomorrow.”
“Good ni—”
“But,” Toji stops him in his tracks. My father pauses. “You need to cut her some slack too. Let her do things at her pace.”
It takes a while for my father to respond but when he does, my heart lightens so much that I feel like I might float. “Fine.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Can’t say shit about me when you’re as big of a sucker for her.” 
“Shut up, dickhead.”
My father’s laughter is getting further and further until I hear the door open again. The moment it closes behind him and we are back in the silence of my room, I open my eyes. I wait a couple more seconds before turning my head around to face Toji. He turns to look at me. I keep staring at him, not saying anything, probably scaring him because he opens his mouth to say something. Before he could even get a word out though, I reach my arm behind me and grab his neck, pulling him close. Toji’s fingers tighten around my hip when my lips touch his, so possessive and full of yearning that I can only respond in a sensual swirl of my hips. 
Hearing him moan into my mouth, I am motivated to give him more. Arching my back to press my ass against his groin, I rock my hips at a steady pace, sliding his cock in and out of my tight hole. Toji kisses me back sloppily, his jaw slack at the pleasure my wet pussy is giving him. 
I pull away from his lips, which only makes Toji’s eyes flutter open as he stares at me in a lovestruck daze. It makes me grin. I am usually the one with that expression. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull his hand away from my hip and move away from him. His brows draw together for a moment before he realises what I am about to do as I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. 
Toji licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one as he watches me steady myself with a hand on his chest and my hand wrapped around his dick. I lift myself up so that I am hovering over his thick cock. Sliding his cockhead up and down my wet lips, I glance up at him, finding him already in position with his arms behind his head, ready to watch me ride him. 
Lowering myself as I rub his mushroom head along my slit, the wet smacking of my pussy lips becomes louder and almost more elaborate. Toji’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and I can just tell that his restraint is almost breaking at my teasing. He is probably just two seconds away from flipping us around and completely obliterating me when I finally sink down on his dick, slowly letting his wide girth stretch me out. 
Toji’s hip spasms at the immense pleasure my sopping cunt is giving him and his face contorts into one of agony and bliss, all at the same time. Placing both hands on his chest now, I hold myself stable as I continue taking in his cock, all the way down until he is balls deep inside of me. I let out the breath I had been holding in and lift my head to find Toji with his eyes barely open. He always enjoys the first time his cock slides into my pussy. 
As I slide my palm up his smooth chest, I tease, “You alright there, Uncle Toji?” 
It takes him a few seconds but Toji finally blinks the haze away. He is already glaring at me. Taking a hand away from the back of his head, his palm meets my ass with a resounding smack. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Thought you were mad at Uncle Toji?”
As I lean forward with a grin, I lift my ass so that his cock slides out of my tight snatch. “How could I stay mad at you?” Toji flickers his eyes down to my lips, looking so mesmerised by the way my bottom lip is caught between my teeth. “You stood up for me.”
Toji’s hand cups my chin and pulls me closer. “If I don’t, who will?” 
My heart flutters at his words, sending a ripple down south that massages his meat. Toji’s warm breath hits my lips in a soft moan before taking my mouth in his. He kisses me deep and slow. Readjusting my hands to hold myself up on the bed beside him, I slowly start to move again, sliding my wet cunt up and down his hard dick. He could still kiss me until I started going faster, slapping my ass down to meet the base of his cock each time. Letting out a low, deep moan, Toji breaks the kiss and tilts his head up slightly, trying to get more air into his lungs. 
I stop for a moment, only to change my position so that I have my palms flat on my headboard, completely hovering above him now. I move my hips again, fast and powerful that I have the bed rocking slightly, my tits swinging in Toji’s face, my perked nipples just grazing his stubble and his sharp nose. The man below me lets rip a growl and grabs a handful of my breast, latching his mouth on my tit. I throw my head back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my stiff bud. My pussy is only getting wetter, making me glide up and down his thick cock easily. 
Toji’s other hand slides down to my body, finding my ass. I mewl when he slaps my mound before giving it a squeeze, his grunts only letting me know that he enjoys my reaction. I know that Toji is enjoying this, but he always wants to finish with him on top. And I am slowly losing my strength as I start to slow down. He gives me one last slap and squeeze to my ass before unlatching from my breast. With his hands on my hips, he stops me from moving, holding me up with his hands now cupping my ass. 
“Oh, fuck, Daddy…” I whine when he starts rutting his hips, impaling me over and over with his thick meat. 
“Mm…” he groans. “Baby.” He cannot stop himself from giving my flesh another squeeze. “Princess.” At that petname, I fall forward and melt into his chest completely, letting him hold me up with pure brute strength. Toji’s grunt in my ear is low and guttural. “My pretty girl,” he moans. My cunt grips tighter around his cock. He knows what this does to me. 
Sliding a hand up to my head, he pushes my hair away from my face so that I can feel his warm murmur on my cheek when he says, “My darling little kitten.” I shut my eyes and let out a mewl. “Daddy made you so wet, pretty baby.” Toji squeezes a handful of my ass. “Gonna cum for Daddy, sweetheart?” I can only whine and nod my head dumbly. stops with his cock entirely sheathed inside of me and circles his hips, enjoying the sticky sound of our juices mixing together. He groans at my pussy pulsing around him. 
He tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on my temple and murmurs, “Daddy’s going to cum, baby doll. And I’m going to ruin your pretty little body when I do.” I can only mewl in response, my walls fluttering around his sheathed cock. My head is buzzing from my unexpected orgasm, my body already reacting involuntarily at his words. Toji nudges my temple as he moves to whisper in my ear, still gyrating his hips with his cock inside of me, “My cum all over your stomach and your tits, baby. Gonna look so pretty, all covered in Uncle Toji’s love.”
I gasp when he flips us around suddenly, his dick slipping out of me at the movement. I am lying on the bed staring up at him now. He cages me under his big, strong build, his eyes dark and lustful as he watches me. Licking his fingers, he reaches between us and gives my sopping wet  pussy a slap, causing me to jerk in surprise. A corner of his lip pulls up. He does this again, and this time I whine. 
Toji takes hold of his cock now, positioning it at the entrance of my parted pussy. He lets out a deep exhale as he slides into me again. I like being in this position where I am able to watch Toji’s expression as he fucks me. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his dark, green eyes would be piercing mine, the ends of his hair just slightly wet from the physical exertion. I smile and reach up to give him a peck on his lips. 
It is meant to be a sweet gesture, but Toji lets out a low growl. He drops his head to kiss me hard while he speeds up his pace. I move in tandem with his fucking, meeting the base of his cock with every hip thrust. I make a conscious effort to squeeze my walls, my pussy gripping so tightly onto his cock that Toji quickly pulls out like he has been burnt, just to keep stroking his meat furiously. He cums on me like he said he would, the white liquid painting my stomach with some droplets staining my night dress. 
He takes a while to recover from his heaving but when he does, he gets up slowly and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps his eyes entirely on me the whole time he strips from his clothes. The moment he is done, he scoops me up carefully and walks me to the bathroom where he brings me to the shower stall with him once he takes the dress off me. 
“I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow,” Toji suddenly announces in the middle of our clean-up. 
My heart stops for a second. I look up at him shampooing his hair. “What?” When he only stares at me, not saying anything, I laugh and joke, “Gonna have another cheat day and eat all the carbs you want?”
Toji rolls his eyes. “Everyday is a cheat day when your girlfriend always leaves you with her unfinished food.”
I click my tongue and reach out to land a wet slap on his bicep. He grins at me and closes his eyes to wash out the shampoo on his hair. Finishing up my rinse, I get out of the shower before him and dry myself. I have to change into a new set of nightwear and when I am dressed, I snuggle back into bed, waiting for Toji. 
He takes a while so I try to stay up. But when I hear the hairdryer going off, I decide that I can always spend time with him in the morning before the brunch, since he is staying over. 
I am already half-asleep when Toji finally crawls into bed and cuddles me, bringing me closer to him. I wonder if I had been dreaming when he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to talk to your dad about us, baby.”
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At brunch the next day, I am sat next to Toji, both of us across the table from my parents. He takes care of me the entire time like he always does, even going to the extent of cutting up my waffles for me while he talks to my father. 
“You’re spoiling her, Toji,” my dad finally comments as he watches his best friend cutting up my food for me. “She’s not a baby, you know.”
My father glances at me but I merely shrug at him and grin up at Toji. “I like being spoiled.”
“Of course you do,” my father quips. 
Toji makes one last cut of my waffle and sets the cutlery down. I thank him and start eating. As he reaches out to have a sip of his wine, he leans back in his chair comfortably to address my father. 
“Do you think it’s weird that I spoil her?”
My dad laughs as he reaches for his wine glass too. “Not weird. But definitely bad.”
But Toji is serious as he continues, “Then do you think it’s weird if I say I want to take care of her?” 
My father pauses for a moment. He looks at me looking lost and uncomfortable at where this conversation is headed, then glances at his similarly confused wife, and finally back at Toji. 
“No… You’ve always been taking care of her even when she was younger.”
“I mean as a man.” 
The man across him frowns and leans forward to put his wine down. “You mean… like…” My father is at a loss for words. 
Even I am, too. All of us are just gaping stupidly at Toji now, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even him laughing to tell us he is joking. But he only clears his throat and sits with his elbows on his arm rests, his hands resting on his torso with his fingers interlocked. 
“Like I want to commit my life to her.” 
<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>
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