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hr43s · 16 days

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Goverment Hooker

dbf Joel Miller x f!reader ( Joel is a Security Guard )

Summary: Joel miller, your dad’s best friend is a security guard for celebrities. He takes you to one of his jobs as part of a university homework you need to do, but he let his guard down.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI ! No outbreak, Unprotected p in v, mutual masturbation, explicit smut, a lil dominant Joel, secret relationship, orgasm denial, edging, dirty talk, fingering, semi-public sex, very slight bondage ( hand tied up, can easily be freed if wanted),Age gap, DBF Joel because who doesn't like that tbh, reader is in her 20', No body description except outfit and gender, no outbreak, porn w/plot, fluff, kind of slowburn.

w/c: 6k ( i'm actually proud for a second time )

a/n: Second smut !! i'm so proud of this one it's wayyy longer than the first one i did and like 10 times better (crying). Also theres a fanart on the banner but when i found it on pinterest the artist wasnt tagged :((( so please if you know who it is please feel free to comment !! love you whoever is reading this <3

Thank you for reading <3 notes, comments and reblog are heavily appreciated !!

“I need to do this uh…homework” you chew on your food. Good, delicious, and steamy coming right out of the stove. “I have to go to one of you two’s job and make a report” you stab one of the peas in your plate. “I mean I’d gladly take you but you know how boring my job is, huh? And your mom’s abroad” your dad says, rushing to eat his plate.

Your dad works a night job at an Amazon warehouse, something about packing orders, taking a box, putting wrapping paper and the object inside the box, taping it up, taking another box, putting wrapping paper inside, and bla bla bla… Your mom, she’s an airplane pilot going around the world. She’s barely home but she always make sure to send you some well decorated cards with landscapes on them, or to ship some gifts like magnets, you love magnets, your fridge is full of it by now but you still getting excited every time a small box arrives home. But like your dad said, you can’t possibly go with her. “Maybe you should go with Miller, from across the street, remember him ?” Of course you do, even though your dad and him didn’t meet for a long time like they used to. You kind of miss the nights around the barbecue where they would both laugh their ass off together, but now this barbecue is black and grey with dust of burnt charcoal that hasn’t been cleaned in a while. You haven’t talked to Miller since the last time the three of you met for dinner. The only interaction you’d have with him now would only stop at a little wave from across the street and a “hey how you doing?” every once in a while when leaving the house. “I mean why not…” you think. “What’s his job? We haven’t talked in a long time, wasn’t he in a contracting job or something like that ?” Your plate empty, you get up and pick up your plate along with your dad’s and put them into the dishwasher. “ yeah… think he got some problems with his brother, and they were both fired for some reasons. Now I don’t know what he’s doing but he’s wearing black suits every morning when he leaves so maybe it’s a job interesting enough for you to work on it.” He sighs, like a dad sigh, and gets up from his chair, walking out of the room. “food was good honey” he smile. That same night, your dad left for work while you’re in front of Miller’s door. The lights are on inside, it’s dim and gives a comforting vibe to his house which is quite unexpected for a man as rough and difficult as Mr. Joel Miller. You knock on the hard wood of his door, kind of hesitant because why would you go see your neighbor for a homework based on your parents? You shake your head. Whatever, no one is going to know anyways. The door open in a quick swift with a sudden smell of crackling fire and…roasted potatoes and meat? “Hey Miller,” you greet looking into his eyes, brown and sleepy. “I’m sorry to bother you but I had a question quite important.” He smile and nod “whatcha want kiddo’?”. You forgot his seductive accent, a while back it wouldn’t have the same effects that it has on you right now. You’re still a little hesitant to ask, afraid to bother him this late and during dinner. “I have this homework I’m supposed to do on one of my parent’s job. I have to go with them for like a day and make a report, but my parents are too busy, and dad told me to ask you instead” “Well, I’d gladly help you but uh, it’s quite early in’a mornin” “That’s fine, I can get up early.” You smile at him “Well now that you’re here,” he looks back to his kitchen, then back at you. “I got spare dinner here, wanna eat here so we can talk about this a little and maybe if you want…crash here for the night? The job has flexible hours so if I get a call earlier, I need ya to be ready.” This was kind of unexpected, but you’re surprised, a good surprised. “I’m down but I didn’t take any clothes with me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d agree with this.”

You laugh it off, kind of embarrassed and a bit flustered. “I’ll give you something to sleep in” he smiles.

Spending the night at his house, eating dinner with him. All these emotions, the butterflies in your stomach is all new. You never really thought about it, but hell Mr. Miller is kind of hot. You’ve always dated guys your age. Some were good and some others disappointing, but you never thought of dating someone older and especially not this old or anyone being your dad’s best friend. The forbidden love that is so slowly and so suddenly growing in you. Why now? Why him. You sit down at the end of the table. Joel’s in the kitchen preparing the food. He brings the plates to the table, and he sit at your left, close to you. And you were right, it was potatoes and meat, and it was quite good compared to what you thought Joel was capable of and it’s quite pleasing to be eating this good. After a while talking about your homework, how the day would most likely go and you daydreaming about how hot he is the more you look at him, he offers you to watch a movie before bed. You both sit down and start watching this movie called Curtis and Viper 2, you’d figure it’s his favorite since he can’t stop going “oh look here” or “I love this scene” every once in a while. After what feels like a hour, your eyes are slowly closing and before you realize, your head is on his shoulder. It was slowly falling with time, and by the look on his face he doesn’t seem to be too bothered about you getting so close to him. “Wake up sweetheart” his voice is calm. You lift your head to follow the sound of his voice “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that,” you say while standing up. “I think I’m gonna take a shower before bed.” You go upstairs and into the bathroom. It’s quite big and smells like colognes and 3 in 1 shampoo. You always feel weird taking a shower at other people’s house, scared someone might walk in so you cough loudly to let the whole house know someone’s in here. You take a big towel for your body, a small one for your face and hair and hang them both on the dryer to make them warm for when you get out. The water is hot and steamy, droplets hits your face like ashes from a fire and you’re hot but not just from the water. Your core keeps burning for him and it gets worst with time. You can’t stop thinking about him, His face, his body, his shirt showing every detail of his biceps, his veins going down his arm and hands, his calloused fingers from playing guitar touching you, feeling your body. Fuck. Too far. You rinse the soap off your body and step out of the shower. The light is dim and making you even more sleepy than you already are. You put on whatever moisturizer Joel has in his bathroom filled with man products, breaking your skincare for one night won’t affect your skin too much. Suddenly the door open. Maybe you should’ve fucking coughed instead of daydreaming like a teen. Joel stops, his mouth slightly open in an “o” shape.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry sweetheart I should’ve knocked first,” he turns his head around as you quickly grab your towel from the floor and wrap it around you. “ ‘forgot to give you clothes before you got in.” He hands you the clothes, his clothes, considering Sarah has left a long time ago. “It’s okay you can look, I’m covered.” You say shyly. He turns back to you and unconsciously look you up and down without saying a word. You take the stash from his hands. “Thank you, I’ll be out in a minute” you smile. You finish changing in his shirt, a too-big dark brown shirt with his name embroidered on the top right part, must be from his old job as a contractor. You figure you’d be better in your panties rather than the pants he gave you considering the weather and how warm it is in this house. You go back into the living room and start searching for a blanket to sleep in. Luckily one big enough to cover your body but not your feet is folded neatly in a drawer under the TV. “Whatcha doin?” Joel goes down the stairs. “Oh I’m just…getting my bed ready” “There’s no way you’re sleeping here,” he says, in a commanding tone “Sarah’s room is my gym now, so you’ll sleep in my bed.” You let out a muffled laugh “yeah like you’ll sleep on a damn couch with your broken back you old grandpa ?” He looks at you with a crooked smile, a little hurt since you called him a grandpa but your personality makes him smile. “Yeah well what do ya suggest smartass ?” You’re hesitant to even try to suggest it but hell if he doesn’t want you on the couch then you need to try other solutions no matter how embarrassing they can be. “Then let’s both sleep in your bed.” You both end up in his bed. It’s awkward, a lot, but at least it’s comfy. Joel is long fallen asleep while you twist and turn every few minutes trying so hard to sleep but something is keeping you awake, something deep down in your core. Joel turns and end up facing you, still sound asleep. You can’t help but look at him and all his features. His crooked nose, his wrinkles softer than when he’s awake. It makes you realize that he’s almost constantly frowning, giving him a mean gaze that could scare people that don’t know him personally. But here, now, he’s so soft and so different. Oh, and he’s shirtless. It’s distracting but you’re in panties, so it feels a bit more casual. His skin is slightly tanned, just the perfect kind of tanned at this time of the year, and it’s a good tan, a brown one not a tomato kind of tanned. Fuck, you need to sleep. You turn around trying not to think about him and finally sleep, when you suddenly feel something against you. Joel moved closer, and he’s now wrapping his arm around your waist. Your breath stops for a second. It’s probably just a reflex from his body but he’s so warm, a good warm even though it’s hot under the sheets but you don’t want to wake him up. The sensation in your core is growing, like an alien trying to come out of your stomach to eat you out. “Fuck you Miller” you whisper. You hear a phone buzz and it’s waking you up. Joel is still holding you but now he’s closer and you can feel something hard on your lower back. It makes you blush but no matter how hard you try, his arm is holding you tight and you can’t escape. “Joel,” you shake his arm slowly. You hear him grumble. “Your phone is ringing”.

“Shit” he finally wakes up and it takes a few seconds for him to realize the position he’s in, and the way his body reacted to yours. “I’m so sorry, I uh… I have no excuse” he jumps out of the bed and takes his phone. He takes the call and leave the room. You check the clock. 5 a.m., you throw yourself back into the bed. “a C might’ve been better than this” you spit. Joel comes back in the room after a few minutes. “Just got a call, some job for us in a city nearby, you should get dressed” he leaves the room once again.

You put on the same clothes as yesterday, a black tank top with black shorts and some converse. You thought maybe dressing all black just like Joel’s uniform would make you look a bit more professional.

“You look stunning” Joel says, entering the room in a full black costume. It’s neatly ironed, not a single wrinkle in sight.

“Looking good too, Miller,” you walk towards him and tighten his tie a bit more.

He smiles “thanks angel”. Dammit, can’t he stop with the pet names, he’s going to make you blush.

“So, where are we going?” you tie your shoe laces in a tight ribbon

“I told ya’, a city a few minutes away from here. We’re taking my truck.”

You already took a trip in Joel’s truck when you were younger, but it was different, your dad was here to do the conversation and make things less embarrassing but now it’s a whole different situation. You still don’t know what to do with your feelings, should you tell him on the road? during the job? you can’t think straight with the small time of sleep you had.

You both hop into his truck; the weather is still quite hot for an early morning.

“How much time till we get there?” you buckle up and look at your phone.

“We got 20 minutes, you can put on some music if you want”

You connect your phone and put on some Arctic Monkeys on. You’re still debating if you should try to make a move on Joel because honestly, you’re starting to miss getting laid, and trying it out with an older guy would be fun.

But the fact that Miller is your dad’s friend makes it weird. Would he get along with it? Or would he just stop you the moment you put your lips on his?

Giving it a try won’t hurt considering you barely see him anyways so avoiding him won’t be too hard. Just no waving and no “Hi Mr. Miller” from across the street.

After like 5 minutes, Joel finally talks.

“Are you seeing anyone? Some guy from your school?” He lowers the volume of your music.

“No, why?” Here. Make a move. “Would you be jealous if I was?” you open the drawer in front of you and search for some candy, every sane people has some sweets in their car. You find a lollipop and unwrap it.

“ ‘twas just a question” he says as you put the lollipop in your mouth and lay your feet on the dashboard. He side eyes you and sigh.

“Well, no, no one’s interesting enough, I guess. Everyone is so focused on school; I haven’t seen a single person kiss another in the corridors or in some empty classes.”

You lick at your lollipop as you make eye contact with him. “Guess I should try older.” You smirk.

You see him adjust in his seat and taking a deep breath. He turns the volume back on to the song.

“How many secrets can you keep ?

‘Cause there’s this tune I found

That makes me think of you

somehow”

This song couldn’t be even more on point than now.

“What about you,” you ask, “You seeing anyone?”

“Not really, not really searchin’ for sum’ serious right now” he leans on the edge of his window, putting his hand into a fist to cover his mouth, he fidgets.

“So like… you just want sex?”

He chokes on his own saliva and coughs “What the fuck are you on about? Jesus “he spits “I mean, maybe, but I’m not actively searching or anythin’”

“You got any age preference?” You take a chance.

“Uh…No, not really” You turn to him, making your belt a bit longer so you can get comfortable.

“Would you fuck me?” You lick on your lollipop; it has become a small pink ball now with all the sucking and licking.

“Jesus girl, you’re my best friend’s daughter” he doesn’t even seem angry or annoyed at the question somehow.

“You didn’t say no though” you smile.

“Doesn’t mean I agree.”

“Okay but, imagine if I wasn’t, would you?” he keeps looking at your lips while you talk.

“You gotta learn how to walk before learning how to run, sweetheart”

“What if I wanna run though?” You say as his grip tightens on the wheel, his knuckles turning white.

You both arrive at a hotel Joel’s company booked before you two arrived. It’s a nice place, a 5 stars hotel. He must stay at the same hotel as the person he has to protect, obviously.

“They booked us…well, me, a single bedroom since it wasn’t really planned for you to come, so we’ll have to share a bed” Joel say

“Again” you smirk. He’s probably already annoyed by you, but he still hasn’t complain, you just assume.

“Come” her orders you, you follow him to the room.

It’s quite big, it has a double bed with dark burgundy sheets and pillows, a big shower along the right side of the room that is basically the size of a whole bathroom, there’s two showerheads and the walls are transparent, so yes, a few meters long shower. What for? No idea.

The toilets are on the other side of the room along with a double sink and a huge light up mirror and fancy soaps you will definitely steal. There’s windows and a balcony in the between with a fancy view on the city.

“We’re gonna have to sleep here tonight if that’s okay with ya’, we might come back home late, and the room is free so we should enjoy instead of going home.”

two nights in a row in the same bed as Joel wasn’t something you’ve planned but you’re not mad about it, to be honest. As long as your assignment is complete…hopefully.

“We got an hour before we have to leave,” he put his bag to the side of the bed. “You can sleep a bit if you want, try to take back the hours of sleep you lost.”

Wait? is he aware that you were awake? Did he grab you on purpose? There’s no way.

“I’m not really tired anymore,” you sit on the bed in front of Joel as he unbuttons his suit jacket. You look up at him and bite your lips. You’re praying inside that he doesn’t reject you, that he follows your movements.

“Well, ion’ know what else you could do besides wait here like a behaved girl” Fuck, was this intentional? If not, it still turned you on.

You have no idea what to do right now, unbuckle his belt, suck him off? Or tease him?

Tease him.

You stand up and start walking towards the huge transparent walls shower, taking off your clothes on the way. Once arrived in the shower, you stand under the showerhead, open the water hose, and turn around searching for Joel.

He’s looking at you with black eyes, devouring you with his hands on his hips.

“Fuck” he spits.

He hurries to unbutton his shirt and take his fancy well ironed pants off along with his boxer.

Oh.My.God.

Your heart has never raced this fast in your life. He’s so big and he’s not even hard yet, you wonder how you never notice it before.

He gets into the shower and stand right in front of you under the shower, the water dripping down his hair and the tip of his nose.

“I don’t know what the fuck ya’ want from me, but you’re tempting me you fucking tease” His word travel down your spine and reaches your core.

His hands slide down your side, reaching your panty line.

“You have an hour to choose if you want to have fun or if you wanna go get a snack and get ready to write your lil’ presentation about me” his face gets closer to yours as your back arches.

“What if I want you to be my snack?” You say, slightly touching the tip of his cock growing bigger the more he looks at you.

He takes your wrists and pin them above your head and hold them up with one of his hands as the other grip one of your breasts. His fingertips are slightly twisting your nipple as he brings his lips to yours, indulging in a dirty, filthy kiss being washed away by the water running down.

Your hand grabs his shaft, stroking it slowly. “You’re so dam’ teasing’, if your father finds out I’m making out with his daughter, I’m a dead man” he growls as your hand twist slightly when reaching the tip of his cock

“We can keep it secret.” You smirk

“You wanna be my dirty little secret, huh?”

You hear a phone ringing on the bed, but Joel turns your head back to him. “Leave it, they’ll call back.”

After a session of teasing and kissing in the too-big shower, the both of you come out of it all wet and steamy. Joel picks up a towel and wrap it around you. He takes another one, smaller, and dries your hair with it. He is so gentle even though you’ve been closed to him for a few hours only, the day before he would only see you as the daughter of your best friend that lives across the street, nothing more.

Joel walks to the bed and pick up his phone, his towel around his hips.

“Fuck!” He screams. “Boss called, the woman I was supposed to work for left earlier, we should’ve been gone by now” He put his clothes back on, muttering shit shit shit while doing so.

A black car with tinted windows comes out of the underground garage of the hotel and stops right in front of you.

“You’re in fucking trouble Miller” The driver guy said. He is big, his black vest almost merging into one with his muscles.

Joel opens the door for you and almost pushes you in.

“We’re ten minutes away from her, you better get yourself ready M” he says, hitting the gas.

You feel something on your thigh, crawling all the way from your knee to the base of your leg, Joel’s warm hands are touching you, slowly going towards your inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. He gets closer to your ear while his hand finally touches your clit through your panties.

“You got me in trouble, made me lose my mind just so I could touch you,” He pulls your panties to the side and slide two fingers through your slit, wetting them just before entering your core with thick digits.

You struggle to keep your pleasure to yourself as a few squeals comes out of your mouth. The car is going fast, the sound of the engine covering whatever filthy sounds you make.

His other hand is reaching for the neckline of your top, his finger slightly pulls on it to have a quick peek of your breasts. You keep panting, his finger crooked into you, reaching that soft spongy spot that makes you shiver if it’s played with a little too much.

“ ‘Atta girl” he say, your heart pounding harder, getting closer to your climax and then…

He stops. Fuck

Your walls are clenching around nothing, it’s demanding for more, something bigger. It’s only waiting for him, but how much longer can you hold it?

The car pulls up to a fancy restaurant with a forest green and gold storefront. You see a few paparazzi outside taking pictures from afar, probably of the girl inside.

The driver gets out of the car and pull out his phone, calling to get orders.

“Take them off” Joel says looking at you, then your hips

“What…My panties?” you frown.

“Yeah” He smirk, and he’s so damn hot when he does.

You take your shorts off along with your panties. They’re black with some floral lace at the top, hot but still comfortable and covering.

Joel takes it in his hands and makes a small ball of fabric out of it and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Mine” he whispers, kissing you one last time before getting out of the car, holding out his hand for you to follow him.

“We have to secure the perimeter and make sure none of this fuckers get in” the big guy say as you take out your notebook and a pen from your backpack and start taking notes: how things start, Joel’s role, his coworkers, and other thing you couldn’t care less about because right now your mind is focused on Joel and not his work, more like the stuff in his pants.

You follow Joel inside the restaurant as he gives his name to the front desk. He sits you at a table near the outside window.

“Sit here so I can keep an eye on ya’ from outside, take your notes here…look at me and scribble whatever you needa scribble,” he gently caresses your hair as you look up to him “Order anything ya’ want, it’s on me sweetheart” he kisses your forehead and rushes outside, seating at an outside table as a server brings him a cup of coffee. He looks so damn professional for a man who has finger fucking you just a few minutes ago while on your side, you can’t stop thinking about him, your inner thigh still dripping wet.

You order the breakfast menu with some fancy beacon and eggs with toast that cost way too much for little to no change compared to the ones you make at home.

The lady Miller and his big friend are supposed to watch is not far away from you, she’s really pretty, you actually don’t know who she is but considering her style she might be a model, or an actor…or a singer?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, you see a number pulling up with a text.

Unknown Number: Still wet baby ?

You: Joel ??? howd u get my number?????

You save his number into your contacts.

Joel: Your dad just gave it to me, in case

You put your phone back on the table and keep writing stuff on your notebook, adding more details to the things you’ve already summed up earlier.

Your phone buzzes again.

Joel: what you writing ?

You: Shouldn’t u be watching that girl instead of me ?

Joel: yeah but I’d rather focus on you and ur bare pussy

You: omg shut up and do your work so I can have an A+

After a full day of running around town following that lady no matter where she’d go; Louis Vuitton, Prada, a random grocery store for some Redbull. All this while Joel and the big guy were watching her along with a few paparazzi they had to push away. You? You were standing behind Joel the whole time, trying not to be a menace to his job like this morning. All this time of walking around in no panties with only your shorts for cover, you finally go back to your hotel room, exhausted.

“Fuck it I’m so damn tired” You pant after walking up to your room.

Joel comes from behind, throwing your bag away and grabs you from behind, nestling his nose in your neck.

“You too exhausted to get taken care of angel?” you feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin. “Maybe I have a little energy to play a bit” you smile too.

He spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours, taking your breath away in a second. He starts undoing your shorts, freeing your cunt for good. He immediately slides his hand down to feel the wetness between your legs.

“You’re so damn wet, is it all because a’me baby?” he says, close to your ear.

“You made me wait all day long,” you say, “don’t act so surprised.”

“Stop being such a brat, honey, I’m gonna take good care of you, like no one did before.”

And you know he doesn’t lie, just this morning in the shower and in the car, he treated you way better than any man did before, not that Miller is so damn special but the boys you were with were mostly unexperienced or scared, now at least he knows where your clit and your G spot is.

You’d never thought you’d do this with a person way older than you but now that you think about it, it should’ve been on your bucket list for a while.

He starts kissing you, again and again, not letting a single air particle get through your mouth as he pushes you until the back of your knees touches the table behind you. He grabs your waist, lift you up and sits you on it.

He quickly parts your legs to make space for him as you start to unbutton his plain white shirt.

“You’re so damn hot in that costume Mr. Miller,” you say as he growls for an answer “too bad we need to take it off.”

His bulge is growing bigger with time, his tip pushing onto the zipper. You’re still amazed by how big it is, even though it hurts sometimes it can be exciting.

He finally unzips his pants and take his boxer away while you take your shirt off in a hurry. His cock is throbbing, touching in between your legs almost like its attracted to you like a magnet.

The horniness is high today, the both of you couldn’t stop looking at each other. Him scanning your body up and down when you walk, devouring you with his eyes.

“I hope you touch yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me after that” and he’s right, you might. Touching yourself surely isn’t as good as Joel touching you, or even fucking with him which you’re going to find out, but maybe thinking of him would make it better.

Excitement is pooling in your core, and it’s about to overflow. Your body is heating up as Joel rub himself against your folds, spreading your fluids all over his shaft. Your hips can’t stop moving back and forth almost begging for him to finally get in, to fill you, possess you.

“Please, Joel, please just fuck me already” you keep begging for him.

A slight laugh comes out of his mouth as he finally pushes in and fuck, he’s so big, bigger than you thought it would be inside of you but it’s just perfect. He stretches you just right, almost like he belonged to you, and you belonged to him like a key belongs to one single door.

He starts pushing in, slowly, but your body decided otherwise and started pushing in even more.

“Hey honey, relax,” he takes back the inches you took from him “I wanna go slow, don’t wanna hurt my girl” The stretch did hurt a little bit but it’s like your pussy needs more.

His hips are going back and forth slowly but it still makes you moan, his thick shaft stimulating your inside just right.

“Just like that, baby.” He wet his lips. Your hand goes down and rubs your clit, following his pace.

“That’s it girl, keep touching yourself like that,” he rasps. His head falls back as he feels you tighten around him. “I love seeing you touch yourself like that baby”.

His hips start to trust faster and deeper, rubbing on your g-spot making you shiver after a few times with your hand stimulating you.

Your nails keep digging into his back, and it hurts him. You know because he keeps frowning. “Fuck baby your nails are sharp as fuck” Getting long black Stiletto nails was a bad idea.

He crashes his lips onto yours as he suddenly lifts you up in his arms, his cock still in you.

“Imma make you pay for those marks” He says as he look in the mirror behind him giving a full view on the mark you imprinted on him.

He throws you onto the bed, making your walls suddenly clench around nothing. You see him grab his tie he left on the bed earlier and brings it around your wrists.

“Oh -- so your form of punishment is to tie me up, huh?” you smile.

“Uh huh” he nods.

He makes a tight knot; you know for sure it’s going to leave marks on your wrists…that’s his way of making you pay for his.

He throws your arms over your head, one of his hands holding you down. Your unable to move, unable to feel his body with your hands, this is the worst punishment you could think of for your first time knowing you probably won’t see each other for a while once you go back home, unless you hide, all this until maybe this goes further and one day you reveal to your dad that you’re fucking his best friend for a while. Damn it, you shouldn’t be thinking about this, right now you should focus on Miller and enjoy the night while it last.

He keeps fucking you deep and rough, your hand still tied up firmly. He pounds into you, changing his pace from time to time until you’re on the edge of cumming, finally.

“Joel please, I’m so close” your brows furrow, your head is spinning with excitement, and it get worse the closer to your climax you get.

“Cum for me baby, I’ll cum after you do” Looks like he put women first, he’s a gentleman.

After more moans, and more trusting, you finally come, your juices spreading all over him.

“Atta’ girl, good job” he praises you, and fuck he’s doing it well. He finally comes too, emptying out on your belly.

“Fuck Joel, I love you”

You didn’t mean to say that – but maybe you do, kind of. Good thing he doesn’t seem to have noticed as he kisses your forehead, gets up and walk to the opened shower. He comes back holding a small towel that he submerged in warm water. “There, baby” he says while cleaning your tummy.

After a whole night fucking with Joel multiple times and discovering more things about your body, and new positions, you finally go back home. Your essay is done and hopefully going through all this will get you an A+.

You’re on your couch with your dad, talking about how your day went while watching TV, obviously skipping the whole fucking your best friend part, when the broadcast is showing pictures of the woman Joel had to cover yesterday.

“Oh, look that’s her !” You say, excited. “That’s the woman we were with yesterday, didn’t talk to her, she seemed nice even though she’s a celebrity and they’re often viewed as self-centered and unaware but she-“

Your dad pauses the TV and looks at you with wide eyes, cutting you off. You look at the image on the wide flat screen and see you and Joel kissing in 4K HD right in front of your dad, furious. Your heart skips a beat, or multiple.

“You got some explaining to do, young girl.”

<3 Hr43s

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wileys-russo · 3 months

Note

mb4 + "are you sure that’s right??” + setting up furniturefromhell ikea furniture

flat packs II m.bright

"do you think the grey or the charcoal mills?" you questioned with a frown holding up both pillows as your girlfriend sighed tiredly knowing too well the question itself was rhetorical.

"i like whatever one you like baby." millie mumbled as she had done over and over as you'd dragged her around ikea for the last three hours. if you asked her there was absolutely no difference between the two cushions you had in hand.

"mmm i think the charcoal. mill?" you glanced at her over your shoulder as the footballer only hummed, leaning against the cart with her chin resting on her fist making you smile. tossing four of the cushions in you returned to her side.

"i love you." you spoke, well aware that shopping was only really enjoyable for one of you and that was not your girlfriend. "love you too." millie sighed with a tired smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"i think thats everything. we just need to go and find the flatpacks in the warehouse bit and pay for it all, then i'll buy you some lunch grumpy." you teased, your girlfriend exhaling and straightening up.

"baby i'm gettin beyond grumpy and dangerously close to hangry."

"and you definitely don't want any help? not even from the instructions?" you hinted, waving the small stack of papers around in your hand as millie shook her head and laid everything out in front of her.

"baby. its a desk, i've got this easy! you're good at the buying, my strength is the building." the blonde flexed her arms with a smirk making you roll your eyes. "fine! call me if you need me." you bent down to peck her lips, sending her a glare as her hand shot out and smacked your ass as you walked off.

"it slipped!" she grinned twirling a screwdriver around in her hand as you hummed. "sure it did bright, sure it did."

an hour or so later you looked up from your book with a smile of amusement hearing yet another thud and a groan, some colorful language filling the air as you heard your girlfriend kick off for what felt like the tenth time since she'd commenced building.

"want a hand mills?" you called out with a grin. "no! i'm fine." the blonde huffed back and you could hear the obvious scowl of frustration in her voice as you shook your head at her stubbornness and tuned back into your book.

easily another hour and six or so chapters later your book was ripped from your hand and the defender towered over you with excitement plastered all over her face.

"i did it!" she announced proudly, marking your page for you and tossing the book onto the coffee table. "only took you...two and a half hours, not bad!" you teased making her eyes roll as she held her hands out to help you up.

"don't be cheeky." the blonde warned in her thick northern accent you adored dearly, pecking your lips a few times as you hummed and allowed her to drag you off to the study.

"ta-da!" she dropped her hands and wiggled her own at the desk, a slight frown curling into your features as you moved closer and inspected it. "what!" millies hands dropped to her hips as she stared down at you in annoyance.

"are you sure thats right? it doesn't look like the display model babe." you hummed, ducking down to inspect it properly as your girlfriend scoffed.

"well thats gratitude innit! slave away buildin this for ya after bring dragged round shoppin for hours on my day off, hardly any kisses and hardly any attention only for you to question if i did it wrong!" the footballer threw her hands up in protest.

"i was only asking! i am very thankful for you. my big strong brick wall turned builder!" you teased playfully, standing on your tippy toes to kiss her as her head swiveled away from you with a huff.

"you know its quite hot that you can do a flat pack baby." your hands crept up her top, nails scratching at her sides as her eyes dropped down to meet yours, smug smile on your lips and eyebrow raised as her face softened.

"i can do a lot of things." millie purred, bad mood melting away as her grin matched yours, hands finding refuge on your hips as she ducked down to connect her mouth to yours.

a small moan dropped involuntarily from your lips as her large hands moved around to grip your ass, a quick tap all you needed to jump up as she easily caught you, lips not even leaving yours for a second as your legs wrapped around your waist.

walking you backwards the defenders tongue made itself at home in your mouth for a moment before her teeth nipped at your bottom lip, tugging on it teasingly as she sat you down on the desk and pulled on the hem of your shirt wordlessly asking you to take it off.

but before you could even move an inch there was a squeaking and suddenly the desk was giving in, legs concaving as you let out a yell and grabbed out for your girlfriend who yanked you up and off the desk right in time for it to fall completely apart on the floor.

"i told you it didn't look right!"

#woso x reader #woso #millie bright x reader #millie bright #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

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tribalchiefscrivxx · 1 year

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Fantastic Healthy Hump Bubble Nerdy Ebony Mom Milf Merged Collection.

Another pretty awesome throwback!!!! So here's the story I've been trying to film this milf for sometime now but I've been seeing her come in this particular Walmart with her daughter that I hunt at for years and she's wore all kinds of leggings from grey tight leggings to black and charcoal black but I never get a decent enough video of her plus one point in time I thought she was on to me but I can't help to deny she has a healthy plump fantastic shaped ass!!! 🤯🤯🤯😫😫😫😍😍😍😍. So different days back to back I finally got her and wanted a longer video of her so I merged all the footage I had of her together on different days as one clip!!! Hint the title merged collection and I plan on getting more of her soon when I see her again I literally always run into her at some point lol this is a guaranteed nut buster!!! She even stomped her leg making her ass jiggle in one segment of the vid and smacking her thigh felling her ass too lol!!!! Definitely knows how to make the wood hard duration is 5:35 grab it for $6 Cashapp or PayPal.

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answer2jeff · 3 months

Text

fixer-upper. // lip gallagher

lip x biker-girl!OC

warnings : public sex, oral (m!receiving), praise kink, light to rough hair-pulling, unestablished relationship, intense and obvious flirting, porn with plot and detail, mentions of smoking (tobacco), cursing, OC is just as full of herself as Lip, knows she's a bitch, kinda has a weird sense of possessiveness over him?? clunky and overly detailed writing with a journaling/diary style.

authors note : trying something a little different! using the first person POV with an original character. first time writing this way—still getting the hang of it <3 this is REALLY long...sorry.

song : beauty school.

disclaimer : you can picture the OC however you like! her name is really just used for aesthetic purposes. there isn't much description on her appearance other than the fact that her hair is long enough to put it in a ponytail. enjoy!

Great. Fucking great.

One of my tires is punctured. The visor in my helmet is cracked. My elbows are etched with surface level scratches and dried blood. And the engine cover of my bike has finally snapped off. I had it coming. It was an old piece of rusty junk from my cousins garage sale from 2012, anyway. But it had charm. I knew I was gonna miss that bike for the good couple of hours, possibly days, I would reluctantly end up leaving it in a repair shop down the street from my apartment.

I can hear the squelch of skin, the seal between my hot breath and sweaty skin breaking as lift my helmet from my head. I hope to feel a rush of cool air, but the humidity tells me to go fuck myself. I'm pulled over onto the curb. I can't totally remember how I got there; being in the middle of the street on a scorching summer day wearing denim shorts that chafe up my inner thighs and rub my skin until it is raw and red and unbearably itchy, was not my vision for today. My handlebars are loose. That would explain it.

If I just take it to Born Free Cycles, leave it overnight, and come back in the morning, I can act like this whole thing never happened, and I'm not horribly irresponsible.

40th West View Ave.

Oh. I'm close actually. Barely a block away. I should go there now. I can call Mikey and have him drop me and the bike off at the garage. I'll see that kid with the grown out buzz-cut and black motor grease on his knuckles that somehow always transfers and blots on his face. Specifically on his strong jaw and right before the peak of his hairline. I wonder if he notices. Maybe he doesn't clean it off because it gives him edge that he doesn't need. Like the nickname on his name tag on a black uniform hadn't given his thirst for trouble away already. And the circles under his eyes are almost the same shade of smudged charcoal grey.

I wonder if he notices.

—

"So the engine cover popped? Just—" he shrugs, looking up at me as if I can't understand him "clean off?"

The sunlight bleeds in through the open garage door. It shines behind Lip, casting a shadow that makes his face hard to see perfectly. But I know the look he's conveying. His eyebrows are raised but drawn slightly closer together, his teeth are gnawing at the inside of his cheek so he can stifle a smile and the laugh that will follow soon after, and his blinks remain slow. I try not to smile too. But I fail.

I've only been here about 3 times, really. The first time was to get handlebar grips from Eddie. That was when I saw Lip. I chose not to make any kind of move, but it ate at my insides until the second time. That time was with Mikey. I was preoccupied with the blue-eyed kid, propped up on a workbench and throwing mindless flirty implications at him while he took long drags from a cigarette, to remember why Mikey was even doing there and why he dragged me along with him. His laugh, the playful eye-roll after I complimented his sweat-laden blonde curls weighed down by heat humidity, told me he was on board.

But I wasn't done.

I knew this time I'd pounce for what was mine.

"Yeah," I breathe out, crossing my arms and peering down at him, "And I mighta' been redlining the RPM a little too much. Probably fried the fucking thing."

Lip nods, the corner of his mouth curling up just a bit. He beckons his hand toward himself, telling me to kneel down beside him to inspect the bike. "This things kinda old, huh?" He teases, turning his head to me and finally letting a real smile break. It warms something in me. I shrug. He glances at my white tank-top, covered in black stains of dirt and oil.

"It's not great, no. It's a piece of shit. But it's cute!" I play along with him, taking the hairband on my wrist and twisting my hair into a high ponytail. Lip huffs though his nose, shaking his head and laughing again.

The next couple of minutes are filled with him telling me things I already know. Things I was too exhausted to manage on my own, defeating the whole purpose of why I was here. Fuck the bike. I know what's wrong with the bike. I know it's an old piece of junk and it's barely salvageable. You should know why I'm here. And maybe you do. But you should do something about it.

Lip has this way of speaking to me that feels ridiculously sweet and overly 'cool.' I know it's just his cadence and his cockiness, but I like it. I like that he thinks it makes me swoon. Partially because he's right, but mostly because I've mastered hiding it. He doesn't see my heart pound or the rising heat in my abdomen when he cracks his knuckles or puts a hand on my shoulder and let's it travel down to the small of my back when I crouch down beside him to look at another motorcycle he's trying to save. I'm almost certain he convinces himself that my gestures are nothing more than a meaningless flirt. I simply find him attractive, as does everyone. Nothing more.

But he's got it all wrong.

He knows my intentions somewhat well enough to the point where he can't not flirt back, though. He knows I haven't stopped him from letting his eyes travel from mine to my lips whenever I speak. He likes that I let him light my cigarettes for me. But he doesn't know this isn't just for fun. I'm so hyper-aware that it isn't out of the kindness of his heart. And neither are his compliments and lame jokes he makes to impress me. He treats my attraction to him as fact, but my genuine interest as a possibility.

Again, he's wrong.

I can't wrap my head around how he could reciprocate my efforts without ever pushing the envelope and asking to exchange numbers, or if I had a boyfriend, or maybe he had one of his own. No, no. He'd tell me if he had a girlfriend. He is, above all else, loyal.

Lip's what I want. I meant when I said his hair looked nice. I meant when I gave him a 20-dollar gratuity and a peck on his cheek just for giving me a repair cost estimate on my shattered headlight. I smile any time he says my name: Maeve.

Hey Maeve, back so soon, huh?

Hand me that box, Maeve.

Y'alright, Maeve?

Yo, Maeve, wanna bum one?

Maeve, Maeve, Maeve.

—

"Think you'll be back tomorrow to pick it up? No rush, though. I can keep it 'till you're ready," Lip asks me, leaning against the wooden workbench littered with microfiber towels and tools. His swell arms are crossed to his chest. I nod, coating my fingertips with a thin film of spin while I fish out some cash from my beat up faux leather wallet.

"A-huh. Thanks," I hand him 6 twenties before glancing at the opening of his button-down uniform.

The corner of my mouth lifts itself into a knowing smirk, my hand on my hip as I shift my weight to it, making my chest stick out and my spine bend correspondingly. My lips hang open a measly centimeter apart before I draw the bottom one between my teeth. I watch him sort through the cash, biting down harder on the flesh of my lip when he freezes.

"Looks like you're a good 15 short," he barely mumbles, looking up at me through his eyelashes. His brows narrow down to me again. I click my tongue coyly. I step closer to him, my hand, with fingernails painted black, pushing the cash in his palms down and his arms down with it.

"About that..." I pause, tilting my head with a look of naivety and not bothering to push away the strand of hair that has fallen from my ponytail and over my eye. Instead, I wait and let Lip set the pile of cash down and draw the curtain of my hair open to reveal my face. My stomach twists on itself, and I can practically feel his chest rising and falling with every anxious breath in my own lungs.

I beg to whatever higher power lies above us in this garage that a kiss will work. Not that it usually doesn't, but my form isn't as confident as it typically would be. The guys I wrap around my finger aren't as driven as Lip is. And God, none of them are part of my tantalizing daydreams nearly as often as he is. I picture his rough hands exploring me, squeezing and rubbing over the valleys of my skin. I imagine his breath is hot with the taste of mint and cigarettes. Every part of me wants to know if my predictions are accurate. If he's the type to sink his teeth into my neck and shoulder blades just to apologize to the reddening skin with open-mouthed kisses. The anticipation kills me. It's enough to swallow me whole.

"...Maybe I can pay you back a different way?"

I barely whisper and Lip scoffs, glancing away from my gaze, scanning the area just for it to be completely empty. He comes back to me. His eyes go a little wider than before. Almost to say, 'oh shit, you're serious?' I stick my tongue between my teeth and tug on his uniform, feeling the fabric rub between my sweaty fingertips. My eyes watch Lip's adam's apple bob as he swallows a breath.

"Yeah?" He thumbs my bottom lip and pulls it down, his free hand traveling down to my hip and pulling me closer to him, "what were y'thinking, Maeve?"

"Mmmm," I hum while pressing my hand against his chest while the other cups his cheek, and I let the pad of my thumb graze over the grove of his defined cheekbones. "Dunno yet."

My teasing is much to Lip's dismay, but he handles it quite well. It's sobering to see a guy as seemingly self-involved and easily impressed play into my mind games. It only pushes me further, and he knows it. I crash my lips into his, my hands anchoring themselves on his shoulders for support. He sighs into me, a hand reaching down to hook a finger through the belt loop of my shorts and drag me closer to him. His hand cups my cheek and pulls me into his mouth to let his tongue slip past my own. And he tastes just as I expected. Minty, smoky, and mine. I practically grind my self onto him in complete desperation, feeling him harden under me. Every roll of his hips threatens to send me over the edge. And fuck, his muffled groans of pleasure against my mouth that ring in my ears are hypnotic. But even with his sturdy, growing buldge forcing the fabric of my shorts to press roughly on my clit, I need this to last.

Blissfully and ever so slowly.

I finally pull away to catch my breath, the buck of our waists slowing down. My head feels fuzzy and heat rises in my cheeks when I open my eyes to see how flushed Lip's face is. Even the tips of his ears have turned a little red. I smile, giggling like a teenager who just kissed her crush in a closet at a house party as a dare. He laughs back in a way that asks 'what are we even doing?'

"Thought you had a boyfriend."

I pause, my eyebrows knitted. I try to think of who he could possibly be referring to.

Ah.

"Who? Mikey?" I try not to laugh, looking around to the imaginary audience to check if they're really hearing this nonsense too, "ew, no. He's like my brother."

Lip lets out a breath of relief he almost didn't realize he'd been holding. It surprises me. Probably a lot more than it should. But hey, for the other 3 times I've been here, I kept asking myself why his flirting was just as intense as mine, but he never asked for my number or made a true move on me. To think that my friend had been unintentionally cockblocking me with his ridiculous height and horrid American traditional tattoos all over his arms, and it wasn't because the guy had a girlfriend...it's almost funny.

"Oh," he replies, his eyebrows raising. Now both of his hands rest at my hips.

"What? Is that why you left me hangin' when I did this?" I press a kiss against his cheek, my palm rubbing over his shoulder to pull a chuckle out of him.

"I guess so, yeah. Just didn't want him to kill me for getting to close t'you," he kisses my cheek, smiling again.

"Geez. Mikey wouldn't hurt a fucking fly. He just...looks scary. Plus, nobody tells me what to do."

"Noted. Glad to hear that, actually."

"Mikey is—" I pause, biting the inside of my cheek "a sweet guy."

"Uh-huh."

"Too sweet. And I hate the aftershave he uses. He's—he's entirely too much."

"Mm."

"Whatever. Shut up."

"Didn't say anything," he shrugs, trying and failing to act clueless.

Fuck. He's fucking glad. He's glad I don't have a stupid-waste-of-my-time-cockblocking-boyfriend on my hip who's constantly watching my every move and stopping me from giving all of myself to Lip. Hell, I'm glad too. Very glad. With one swift movement, I take matters into my own hands again. I undo every last plastic button on his uniform, snaking down his chest and abdomen. I latch onto his neck, biting the skin and sucking a bruising hickey. He shivers beneath me and wraps his hand around my ponytail, huffing breathless chuckles and slowly getting more and more frustrated with my agonizingly slow, torturing pace for foreplay.

I bend my knees to begin my descend to the ground, kissing down his torso. My hands travel down his sides. Lip gently lets go of my hair to lean back into the workbench, never letting his head reel back so he can carefully watch me tenderly adhere to his needs while anchoring his hands behind him for support. I giggle to myself, relishing in the affect I have on him.

Shit. This is risky. Screw it. Pretty girl without a boyfriend who tips in 20 dollar bills and blowjobs? How could I say no? No part of me wants to back out, Lip's mind races, his grip tightening on the wooden slab as he clenches his jaw.

I wonder if he's nervous. Or maybe he's done this time and time again: fucking a girl right in this garage. Possibly bent over this very work bench. Those girls must've been so easy. I can bet on my life that they were never as fun, never as wet, never as needy as me. This would be different. I wouldn't give him everything he wanted and more that quickly. A girl deserves to have her fun. She deserves to watch the overly confident guy she's fancied for weeks, who continues to play hard to get, squirm and writhe with every slight of hand she gives him.

And that's exactly what I'm doing.

"Y'having fun down there?" Lip chastises me, chuckling lightly to himself as he tilts his head down to get a better look at my face.

My kisses stop right above the waistband of his jogger pants. I look up at him pleadingly through my lashes, my eyes big with lust and cunning seduction. I pull the middle of the waistband down just so I can drag my tongue across the exposed skin just centimeters away from his cock. The curls of his happy trail tickle my chin, but the full body shiver and the shaky exhale of "fuck," as he tries to keep his composure, makes it so worth it. He finally shuts his eyes, head reeling back. I lick my lips and smile, cupping his groin before he can even think about looking back down and feeling the blood rush to his cock again. His twitching dick underneath my palm sends me sitting on my heel, ready to slowly rock my hips down into it to fill my desperate need for friction. My cotton panties are definitely soaked.

I can't waste any more time.

I remove my hand from his crotch and quickly pull his pants and his boxers down with them. They pool at his ankles, and his cock strains hard and leaking sticky, crystal clear pre-cum from the thick and aching tip. My mouth nearly drops. I admire every vein, letting my hand wrap around the base of his cock once I've spit into it as makeshift lubricant. I'm so lost that I don't even register Lip peering down at me, swallowing impatiently.

"My, you're so worked up, Lip. And I haven't even started." I don't bother to look up at him as I rub my hand up and down his shaft, worried his pretty face will distract me. But I can picture him perfectly.

"Fuck you," he huffs through a struggled laugh, covering his mouth as he groans in pleasure at the feeling of my hand squeezing his cock every once and a while as I slowly pump him up and down.

"Later," I retort. I bite down on my bottom lip, looking up at him again for permission. He nods, almost as if he's able to read my mind. My eyes shut and my stomach flutters. Soft lips cover the head, swirling my tongue over the slit. His tip leaves my mouth with a loud pop, and I lick a bold stripe along the thickets vein I can find.

"Jesus, fuck, Maeve!" He writhes, his breath hitched in his throat by me hollowing out my cheeks and taking nearly 3/4 of his total length into my mouth. Moans of pure bliss at the feeling of his cock enveloped by the wet warmth of my mouth echo through the garage. I fear he's too loud, but I decide not to care. Not now.

My hand pumps the rest of his cock that I don't fit into my mouth at the moment, while my free hand reaches for his. My eyes remain closed and my sucking maintains a steady pace as I bob my head up and down his cock. I grab his hand and set it on the top of my head, but he hesitates.

"W—you sure, Maeve? I don't wanna hurt you," he swallows, accidentally bucking his hips into my mouth and running his unoccupied hand through his sweaty curls. I detach myself from him, wiping the mixture of pre and spit from the corner of my mouth and finally looking up at him.

"You won't," I take a deep breath, "I won't let you. I'll tell you if 's too much, kay?"

"Okay. Maybe just—" he clears his throat "tap my leg 3 times? And I'll...uh—I'll let go? Yeah?" He looks beautiful. Flushed, bare, and oh so needy for my touch. I wish I could keep him like this forever. He's so compliant, so understanding. But part of me knows that once I let him do this, it'll show me the side of him I've really been praying to see.

I nod, smiling contently and feeling myself blush when he twirls his fingers around my ponytail again. He bends over just the smallest bit to cup my chin and smile back. The pad of his thumb grazes over my skin before he lets go. I take it as my sign to go back, pressing my hands against either of his thighs and feeling clit jump with excitement when Lip tugs at my hair the moment I take his cock into my mouth again. I bob my head up and down, my eyes rolling back when his tip hits the back of my throat. Tears prick at my waterline as I struggle not to cough.

I grow even more desperate. My hand dives into my shorts and I slide two of my fingers inside of me, unfortunately never living up to the potential size and feeling of Lip's. The continuous ram into my gummy and tender spot causes me to fall apart, whining with his dick occupying the space in my mouth.

"Oh my God," Lip nearly whines, his grip tightening as he guides my head up and down his dick, but it's so gentle it never startles me, "so fuckin' good, baby. Jesus, fu—ah..keep doin' that. Yes, fuck.."

My tongue swishes over and under his cock in mind-numbing patterns, and I can't help but let little muffled moans escape my throat and vibrate against him. He almost can't contain himself: bucking his hips and practically fucking my throat. I do my best to cancel out the occasional gag so quickly he won't feel guilty and possibly stop.

Use me, I think.

Usually, I'd take the lead, never letting a head pusher take the role. But not this time. Lip's so pent up, so stressed with the complexities of his life. This is a kind gesture. One that involves tears of struggle spilling out of my eyes and streaming down ky cheeks. But fuck, I love it. It's filthy. It's nasty the way I nearly suck him dry. I can't remember the last time a blowjob was this fun.

"Such a good girl. Y'know that?" He looks down at me, biting his lip as his eyebrows knit in pleasure and desperate need to cum down my pretty little throat, "how'd you get so fuckin...so fuckin' good at this, baby? Shit—feels so good."

He babbles over and over again, and I'm taking strategic breaths through my nose and speeding the pace of my fingers as they thrust in and out of me so I don't stop him from releasing the way he absolutely deserves. Finally, he pulls my ponytail tighter than he ever has, warning me that he's about to cum, but by the time he tells me, it sends down my throat. He groans out, releasing my hair and going limp. I swallow the salty substance, blinking out the last few tears in my eyes and sliding my fingers out of me.

—

Lip: 1 message.

Hey. 11:47pm

Hey. Miss me already? 11:52pm

Something like that, yeah. 11:56pm

What's up 11:58pm

I get off early tomorrow. Just wondering if you wanted to come by the shop and hang out for a bit? 11:59pm

Sure. See you then. xoxo 12:03am.

—

current taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

#lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher #lip gallagher smut #shameless x OC #lip gallagher x reader smut #lip gallagher x oc smut #shameless #shameless x reader #jeremy allen white #i hope you guys like this!!!#tried really hard with this new style

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wolfoftheblackflames · 1 month

Text

Nyeh! I'm back at it again my fellow Tumblr gremlins! Enjoy some cuteness!

It had finally happened, little white specks fell from Hell's red sky, scattering across the landscape. Alongside this, Hell became slightly colder than its normal sweltering heat. The hotel crew blinked watching this phenomenon.

Charlie pretty much squeed, bouncing up and down like crazy making the others look at her. "Hon you look ready to burst. What is it?" Vaggie asked clearly confused.

"It's an Ashen Storm! It only happens once every decade, so it's very rare. It lasts for about a week, and during that time, people can make cute little ash men and have ash ball fights. Though I wouldn't recommend having your tongue out, it's very dusty and tastes like charcoal." The princess proclaimed quickly, dashing away into a room.

"A week is a long ass time for this shit." Angel Dust commented but looked intrigued by the beautiful landscape.

"I'll admit, it's kinda fuckin pretty." Husk muttered seeing out the window.

Though, once Alastor opened the door since he was curious, all the denizens shivered as the radio demon quickly shut the door. "My word, it's like a million ice packs mashed into the ground!" He narrowed his eyes at the Ashen Storm.

Charlie came back with some warmer clothes for everyone as she grinned. "Yeah, last time I got play in one was when I was small. My dad would make so many ash duckies with his fancy mold." The princess grinned, looking fondly at the ash covered grounds.

Vaggie couldn't help but find the outfit, Charlie had come out in super cute. It was a red sweater with a white stripe in the middle that had an apple like motif going on, and casual black slacks that draped loosely down to her ankles. She then looked down at the clothes Charlie had handed her. It was a soft looking grey and purple stripped sweater that looked like it'd float on her. "Did you know one was coming?"

"Yep." The demoness giggled, handing the other clothes to her friends. Angel Dust got a rather cozy pink sweater that said, "I'm a ho ho hoe." along the chest, making the spider twink smirk a little. Husk got a rather nice black sweater with card symbols running up the sleeves. He actually smiled a little since it was rather cozy. Alastor got a what looked to be a deer themed one where it was mainly red and black, he looked a little thrilled by it. With the last one being Niffty who blinked taking hold of what looked like a cozy little white one with fur decorating the hem, cuffs, and neck.

"Oooo, it's so fluffy and cozy!" She cooed wearing it.

"I like it, thanks toots." Angel chuckled, putting his on. He even noticed it had extra arm holes for his lower arms.

"Yeah it's not half bad." Husk slipped into his as he then fidgted to get his wings through the back slits.

"Thank you, my dear, for thinking of us." Alastor was already wearing his looking rather proud.

Vaggie chuckled wearing hers and looking rather adorable. "Is it me, or did you purposely give me a you sized one?" She playfully smirked at Charlie, who lightly scratched her cheek with a blush. "Maaaaybe." The blonde giggled.

Razzle flew in with his own little sweater that was a simple white with a golden trim. His brother Dazzle was in a black version of it as the two looked pleased. Sir Pentious blinked slithering out with a sweater on as well, his was more of a gear motif which he looked rather pleased with, his little eggs matching him. "Thank you for the sweaters. Your little friends helped my egg boys get dressed." He smiled at the princess, giving her a polite bow.

"I wasn't sure if you were busy or not, Sir Pentious, but I'm glad you liked my gift." Charlie beamed. However, she soon scurried off to the kitchen following Razzle and Dazzle as the two goat boys motioned for her to follow.

What followed up next was everyone having a small get-together, which blossomed into a party. Cherri had come by to bug Angel but blinked when she was offered to join the festivities. "Eh why not. I ain't fuckin goin back through that cold shit. Plus I came to mainly bug Angie." The cyclops woman smirked at Angel who chuckled.

"Well here, you get one too!" Charlie handed Cherri a sweater that was black and white with the words "Bomb-tastic Babe" on it. Seeing how it was cold as fuck out there, Cherri Bomb shrugged and put it on already feeling a lot warmer.

Alastor playfully smirked as Niffty pushed in a piano. "Here you go sir!" She saluted as Alastor nodded. "Thank you my dear." He soon perched on the seat and began to play for the crew.

"Oh Al you didn't have to!" Charlie chuckled but took this chance to dance with her girlfriend.

"Nonsense, you gave me a gift after all. I figured some music would be nice." The radio demon stated as he casually played.

Sir Pentious fidgeted but gulped going over to Cherri. "Um... W-Would you... Do a dance with me?" He asked offering his hand.

"Eh fuck it why not. I'm in a good mood." Cherri humored the snake man.

"Now ain't that cute. Someone's crushin' hard." Angel chuckled but then blinked at the hand that was offered to him. "Come on, you look like you want to as well." Husk stated with a slight smile. Angel blinked but returned the smile and went to go dance with the cat demon.

Niffty was just perched on the piano happily swaying her head listening to Alastor play what seemed to be a fun jingle.

The night continued with more dancing, a lot of tasty food thanks to Niffty and the goat boys, and finally playing some board games since everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Angel smirked, taking an empty bottle. "How about we spice shit up, eh? Does anyone wanna do truth or dare?"

"Hell yeah!" Cherri smirked casually leaning against the couch.

"Eh there ain't nothin I don't know about you folks already, but why not." Husk had a bottle of booze in his hand as he took a swig.

Charlie giggled excitedly. "Just nothing too weird ok Angel? But it does sound fun!" The blonde had Vaggie in her lap as she snuggled into her girlfriend.

Vaggie looked a little skeptical but shrugged. "Eh, fine, but if we don't like the question, we can pass.." The smaller woman replied narrowing her eyes at Angel.

"A game where you do something foolish or tell a secret? Sounds fun!" Alastor had a playful glint in his eyes as he sat on the lone arm chair.

"Ooooo is there gonna be pain involved?!" Niffty grinned with a maniacal giggle.

Angel Dust rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Alright, now since it's my game, here's the rules. Who ever the bottle lands on, the spinner gets to ask for a truth or dare got it?" He explained as he soon smirked. He started the game as bottle soon spun around.

The first victim Angel Dust got was none other than Vaggie. "Ah fuck..."

"Truth or Dare Vagina." He playfully teased, making the smaller woman growl at him. With a stern look, Vaggie answered. "Dare." She challenged as Angel Dust rubbed his four hands together.

"I dare you to do a stripper pole dance." He smirked, knowing Vaggie would refuse. "On this no less." He pointed to one of the pole like columns in the room.

Vaggie flipped him off but reluctantly left Charlie's lap, her competitor streak kicking in. "Alright, try not to get too horny." She smirked and went to the pole.

Husk, Sir Pentious, Angel, and Cherri all had a jaw drop moment once Vaggie started her enticing dance on the pole. The music was provided by a stereo thanks to Razzle and Dazzle. Charlie was beet red with her tail flickering behind her. "Damn princess, ya got yourself a nice find, eh?!" Cherri teased as the dance ended. Charlie was too busy being engrossed by each movement to really form words.

"Interesting, but of course Angel Dust would dare that." Alastor remained unphased since he expected it.

"Wow you're a fuckin natural!" Angel commented surprised but looked over at Charlie and laughed. "Too much so you've got little miss rainbow speechless!"

Vaggie blinked but shyly scratched her cheek only to sit down beside Charlie. "You good, sweetie?" She waved her hand in front of Charlie, who came out of her daze. "Uh huh..." The blonde managed to get out and cleared her throat.

Vaggie got to spun the bottle next. It landed on Cherri. "Dare." The bombardier grinned, wanting a challenge. Vaggie rubbed her chin trying to think of one, but then noticed Sir Pentious watching Cherri and got a devilish smirk. "Kiss Sir Pentious."

"The fuck? That's lame but alright." Cherri easily kissed the snake man on the lips. It made him jolt and blow up with all his eyes becoming swirls. "Wow..." He flopped over being the happiest man in hell right now.

Angel Dust laughed at this. "You cheeky little shit, not bad toots." He smirked, looking at a smug Vaggie.

"My turn!" Cherri spun the bottle.

The night continued with several antics, Alastor kept passing on his turn, Niffty never got one as she pouted, Husk had gotten drunk so getting him to do stupid shit was fun, Vaggie had a small rivalry with Angel going on and it made Charlie just flustered since the spider would get her girlfriend to do some reasonable kinky shit, and Sir Pentious was knocked out due to that Cherri kiss.

Cherri, Angel and Husk continued the game since it was fun to mess with the drunkard while Alastor gleefully watched. Niffty also joined in with messing with Husk but was kept in check by Angel. Vaggie noticed the heat radiating off Charlie and took her girlfriend to the balcony outside to cool off.

"Sorry about that, babe." The smaller woman apologized as she rubbed her neck. "I swear Angel knows which buttons to push.." She added with a grumble.

Finally, not a hot, flustered mess, Charlie smiled softly, looking up at the Ashen Storm. It's particals falling gently onto the ground. "I'm glad you had fun though and that I got to spend this once in a decade chance with everyone." She smiled warmly at Vaggie who remained close since it was getting very cold.

Vaggie looked up at Charlie. The soft lights really brought out those ruby eyes of hers as the taller woman looked back at her. "Hermosa..." Vaggie blushed realizing what she said.

Charlie blinked but then took one of Vaggie's hands and brought it to her lips. "I love it when you talk like that." She smiled, though Vaggie did see a playful yet adoring glint in those eyes. She felt the hairs on her neck stand up, feeling Charlie's warm breath on her neck. "Quiero hacerte el amor toda la noche, querida. ¿Puedo?" (I want to make love to you all night my darling. May I?)

It was Vaggie's turn to become flustered, fuck when did Charlie learn Spanish?! "O-okay.." She couldn't help it as her heart fluttered while pounding so hard against her ribcage.

Charlie smirked and gently scooped up her girlfriend taking her back inside and to their room for the rest of the night.

(Wooooo! I had this scene in my head for awhile. Yes I had the Ashen Storm kinda modeled after a heavy snow storm. I figured why not since I wanted a cute as fuck hotel gang friendship plus some funny yet spicy Chaggie/Starmoth.)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #cute as fuck #angel dust #husker hazbin hotel #alastor #cherri bomb #sir pentious #starmoth #huskerdust #cherrisnake #alastor is being ace/aro #niffty

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cosmal · 1 year

Note

✪ — choose a scenario and/or dialogue prompt and i’ll write a blurb

∗ o6﹕ sender gives receiver company in the hospital .

idk if u want a character for this or not but if u do, remus <3

chocolate orange

valentines week celebration!

summary — remus keeps you company in hospital.

content — remus lupin x reader, reader is in hospital, nothing graphic, no mentions of why reader is actually in hospital

"Remus, did you walk here?"

"From the bus stop," he tells you, sitting his tote at the end of your bed by your feet.

His hair is damp where it curls near his eyes, his grey shirt littered with charcoal dots where he's been hit by the rain. He's panting and trying not to show it, wiping the water away from his flushed cheeks.

"Remus," you groan, only because your boyfriend can be hopeless sometimes, not because it hurts to sit up in your bed. You say this with a kindness in your heart only.

"Y/N," he says back, a lot less annoyed. Not that you are, you just worry for him.

He scrapes the chair he's been living in for the past few days back over to your bed and sits down. You wipe at your face now he's so close and hope he doesn't notice your reddened eyes.

"Have you been crying?" he asks because of course he does. You're stupid to think he wouldn't have.

You shake your head and try your best to smile convincingly. "No." Your voice, all scratched up now that you feel caught, betrays you.

"Hey, c'mon," he says softly, searching for your hand under the itchy hospital sheets. He sits here because it's the side where your hand doesn't have the oximeter attached to your finger. Despite being in the sun for the better half of the afternoon.

"I was," you say, swallowing. "I was in a bit of pain for a moment, but I'm okay now."

"Have you seen your nurse?"

"Yeah, she gave me something." Your smile this time is genuine. "I'm okay now, I promise."

You think he believes you. You're relieved when he's smilng again like he's remembered something. He perks up in his seat. "Good," his voice is warped by sudden excitement. "Good, okay, because I brought you some stuff."

"Really?" you say, sitting up some more. It hurts and you wince to show it.

"Hey, woah," he says, "Don't hurt yourself, baby."

"I'm sorry," you apologise and Remus frowns at you for it, "Sorry, it's just so boring in here."

He leans forward to reach for his bag and now he's groaning as well. He's probably in just as much pain as you are. He's just better at hiding it the more he gets older.

"I know, honey," he says all sugary sweet. The way he speaks to you when you're in pain is almost as bad as he is when you're not. He's patient and soft, not that he isn't all the time, but it's different. He makes this place bearable.

"Not long now."

He wheels your table over to where he's sat and starts to empty his totes contents.

"Okay, first," he says holding up some peaches, "I got you some fruit because I know you're starting to hate the food here."

You grin. You want to laugh, he's giving you a little haul. He's adorable.

"Just don't tell Mrs. Williams." Mrs. Williams is the older lady that's in the room next door. She's beginning to be known as the food thief on your floor. You giggle. "Because there's condensed milk in here as well and she'd definitely try to snatch that up."

You tip your head back and laugh. "Remus!' You swat his arm, "You can't make accusations like that."

"You saw her with your jelly!"

You tamp down your laughter but you're still smiling. He's right, she did steal your lime jelly.

"Right, okay," he says with the ghost of a laugh bubbling up his throat. He pulls out something else like it's a treasure. "I raided my chocolate stash," he has a Cadbury's favourites box and a Chocolate Orange that looks a bit crumpled, "I did open the orange on the way here, sorry."

You laugh some more because you can't help it. "That's okay."

He starts to pull out some of your books that you were reading before you got here and one that Lily had recommended. A stack of cards because Sirius said he wants to beat you at Spit next time he's over.

"And the piece de resistance..." he says in his best French accent, reaching to the bottom of the bag, "these!"

In his hands are a few watercolours. A stack of them really, part of a collection you've been tempted by for weeks. They're really expensive, way out of the both of your budgets, and it looks like he's gone and bought every colour there is.

"Remus..." you say softly. He's grinning so wide that you can't even be upset. But you'll still scold him. "Remus, they're so expensive, I told you not to by those for me."

"I knew you'd say that." He kniws what you mean. You're not angry with him, he knows you don't feel like you don't deserve them. "But you've been so unhappy in here lately and I know your art makes you feel so much better."

You won't argue because you have been miserable in here and he's gone and done such a lovely thing for you. You want to cry but you won't, you've done enough of that lately.

"Thank you, so much, Remus," you say wholeheartedly, "Really, I mean it."

"It's okay." He reaches for your case that's piled on top of your sketchbook and opens it up. He gently lays them inside and tries to sneak in the graphites he bought you as well. You tut and he holds back a snort.

"Do you want to draw now?" he asks, putting your stuff away in your drawers. "Or are you tired after last night? Have you gone for a walk today?"

"I'm okay," you giggle.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Lily gave me her copy of Back To The Future if you have time to watch that on the player?" you ask and shuffle to the side.

"I always have time," he says earnestly, trying his best not to squish you as he slots himself to your side. You pull your blankets up over him and he tries to act like he's comfortable with his legs hanging over the end of the bed.

"For me? Or for Marty McFly?"

"I don't have to answer that."

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x female reader #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #marauders #marauders x reader #marauder x reader #the marauders #the maraudera drabble #the marauders fanfiction

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 10 months

Text

First Act: Episode One

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which, [Name], the one and only son of Sakamaki Richter strives to make his dearest cousin's lives a living hell. Or; In which yearns for what can never be his own and will do just about anything to yank it within his reach.

First Act | Ep. One | Ep. Two

🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇

"Father? They're Uncle Karlheinz's boys, aren't they?"

A boy with steel-grey tresses that faded into a pale silver asks his father; his soft voice catching the older man's attention.

The boy was seated at a beautifully carved, dark wood dining table; his father on the opposite side. Atop the table sat a lovely white, silken tablecloth with lace edges; and atop that sat a beautiful porcelain tea set. Said set was from France, according to what his father had told him, a gift from some noble in a futile attempt to curry favor with him some time ago.

Under the glossy varnish finish was painted a breathtakingly intricate pattern in the color of glacial blue. The rims, handles, spouts, and flat bottoms of the set were dipped in gold that shimmered whenever the light caught it. A lovely piece indeed, but certainly not the boy's favorite by any means.

The amber liquid inside the cup was telling enough, It was Darjeeling. Tasteful but boring.

Perfect.

The boy lifts his teacup to his lips; taking a quiet sip and taking in the taste as it rolls over his tongue. His large, round e/c eyes looked up at the man across from him expectantly; clawed fingers drummed gently on the table with impatience and curiosity that bubbled just under his pale skin.

"You are correct. Why do you ask, dearest [Name]?"

The charcoal-blonde-haired man answered, turning his tired eyes from the book in hand toward his beloved son.

[Name] smiled eerily, the corners of his mouth stretching so far it almost looked as if his face was split in two. He leaned forward, sitting the teacup gently onto its platter and leaning on his forearms.

"Can I play with them?"

He asks cheerily in his saccharine voice, innocent eyes wide with hidden depravity.

The man's sharp burgundy eyes narrow at the steel-grey-headed child. He really is just like her, isn't he? The joy they got in tormenting others, the twisted grins and psychotic glint that hid just behind their eyes was so similar, sometimes far too similar.

He closed his eyes; now is not the time.

"I suppose you can. Don't break them, though. Karlheinz would have my head."

The older man warns, picking up his teacup.

Ah... the tea is cold.

[Name] now sat in his favorite spot, a large tree overlooking the Sakamaki mansion. Far enough away from the structure to where he won't be noticed, yet close enough to observe. He sat on one of the thicker branches; choosing this one in particular after making sure it wouldn't snap under his body weight. The steelhead came here fairly often; every day. He would sit and wait and watch. A repeating cycle that he never grew bored of.

Out of all the ones he liked to watch, there were preferred ones by now. The eldest two's one-sided bickering was always a small threat, the triplets fighting over various objects in the residence was another endeavor, and then there was the youngest, Subaru.

The snarling, hollering, wall punching, fight-instigating youngest child of the Sakamakis. With snow-white hair, dazzling sorrow-filled scarlet eyes with thick lashes overhanging them, and pale skin. A true figment of melancholic beauty. A white rose.

Subaru was by far his favorite. Definitely.

Poor, poor Subaru. [Name] always thought that he'd gotten it the worst. Inbred, scorned and ignored. All culminating in violent outbursts to keep himself afloat. The air of suffering just radiated off of him in waves and the vampiric boy found is simply intoxicating.

It was all just so funny. His cousin's suffering was all so fun to watch. It's not [Name]'s fault that his uncle was a child-abandoning whore of a man. He just so happened to stumble upon their residence on his nightly stroll and had some intense sadistic tendencies.

Just like her... just like—

A sudden light caught his eyes. A car? No, a taxi. The vehicle pulled in front of the rundown mansion and slowed to a halt.

The back right door opened after a few seconds and out stepped a girl. The light from the car bounced off her brown hair and lit up the side of her face, displaying her prominent scowl and narrowed almond eyes.

She walked around to the trunk and pulled out a few suitcases as it began to rain. The girl groaned in annoyance and dragged her luggage into the building, seemingly before anyone answered the door.

[Name]'s e/c eyes stare into the door intensely.

Just who was that girl? Surely not another child of Karlheinz's, right? Do they get a sister now too? That's so... unfair.

The wind blew violently through the trees, and [Name] disappeared with the sway of branches; a scowl on his face.

[Name] had always been the curious type. That was something Richter had known since the boy had been birthed. But now.... he couldn't help but be concerned about his only child.

When he was young, [Name] was so gentle and meek; a quiet and impressionable boy who kept to himself most time. Though, that may have to do with the fact that Richter kept his existence from everyone. Almost everyone.

[Name] was only ten years old when Richter introduced the two, but he didn't expect his son to grow so attached. The young boy liked her so much, that he had turned to his father and asked him, "Papa, is this my mother?". And the look of utter despair when he had to tell him no. That she was already wed with her children that she had with the boy's very uncle. [Name] looked so utterly defeated. His heart completely shattered into millions of tiny pieces.

The charcoal-blonde-haired man tried his absolute best to comfort his son. He should've known not to let them meet; [Name] never had a mother figure after all. He had a mother, yes. A beautiful vampire noblewoman of the family Lucifuge whom Richter had fallen head over heels in love with. One he had made sure not to introduce to Karlheinz for fear that she would be taken by his status as the king and his promiscuous ways.

The two had a long-running fling, though it ended shortly after his love became pregnant and birthed their child. She had then informed him that she was promised to someone else, that the two would be wed the next year and he would certainly reject her if he had discovered that she had carried and bore the child of another man.

She rejected her newborn son, "If only he was never born, we could continue our forbidden union. But with pity, I shall grace him with a name.". That's what she said to him as she gathered all of the gifts of lavish gowns and glittering jewels that he had once so selflessly given her. "[Name]. That is what he shall be called." Were the last words she had ever uttered in their general direction.

Richter thought he would never love again, but he always was quite faint of heart and it continued to beat longingly as it hung on his sleeve.

There's something glittering in the trees...

A key....How interesting....

🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Return to the Cathedral?

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tilseptemberends · 3 months

Text

Post ACOSF Elucien snippet

Elain stared absently at the wall of the strange apartment. Not strange in that it looked odd, honestly most homes in Velaris had a very samey feel to them, but in that she hadn't expected to find herself coming here of all places. But where else did she have to go? There was not one place in this city that she could call her own. And going to her room in Feyre's new home was not an option. Not while the others were still there recovering from the night of Nesta's mating ceremony.

It hadn't just been the necklace... It was everything about the situation. How happy Gwyn looked as she twirled around in a corner with a veritable pack of shadows. How Azriel watched her with the smallest of smiles on his face. I'll bet he never thought that kissing her would be a mistake... Elain thought and immediately regretted it. Gwyn deserved to have someone look at her like that. It wasn't the preistess's fault. Wasn't that why Elain had refrained from commenting on the necklace till Gwyn brought it up herself? Azriel had watched them warily. Actually, warily was putting it rather mildly. He'd looked about ready to launch himself out of one of the nearby windows when Gwyn had approached her. Like he'd expected her to point out who he'd originally given the necklace to. As if she would ever be so graceless. She should have given him a good knock about the ears for thinking so little of her. Elain had simply said that the charm suited Gwyn and casually changed the subject so she wouldn't have to think about it a second longer. And then she'd found the first opportunity to excuse herself. And come here.

She'd started walking in the direction of the apartment without thinking. She just needed to get away from everyone. The inner circle. Nesta's new friends. All of them. Separately she could handle these developments in her life but they just kept coming. And before she knew it she was at his door, practically weeping that she didn't know where else to go.

"Damn, another one?" A hushed voice came from the next room and Elain lifted her head from one of the pillows. "How long did you live in Spring, and you still can't keep a house plant alive?" he spoke again and Elain blinked in surprise. Had she seen any houseplants last night? No, she'd been far too busy spiraling and kicking Lucien out of his own damn bedroom. Elain sat up and rubbed her face. She'd been so busy thinking about herself that she hadn't even considered that she might be intruding on his already sparse free time. She slowly got to her feet and paused as she caught sight of her reflection in a full-length mirror sat next to his armoire. She frowned. Not night court black but the charcoal grey was close enough. Who was she fooling with this getup? She might have shredded the dress with her bare hands if she had something else to change into. Elain shook her head and moved past the mirror to the bedroom door.

When she opened it she was struck by a few different things. The first being Lucien at the stove in his kitchen. The sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows as he cooked his breakfast. And second, the poorhouse plant he'd scolded himself about earlier. She tentatively approached and gave the pot a look. Yikes. She winced slightly at the condition of it and when she looked up she found that Lucien had turned in her direction. He stood very still, like he was scared she might bolt if he made any sudden moves. She cleared her throat lightly,

"Do you mind if I ask what your pot of mud used to be?" she asked and Lucien slowly set his plate back down on the counter.

"...it's a peace lily," he replied quietly and Elain snorted. She immediately covered her mouth and she knew her face had gone quite red. "I- Gods, I'm so sorry. That was so rude." Shit. SHIT. She was going to crawl under a rock and die. But then Lucien started laughing. His own face tinted pink. "I knew it was bad. In my defense, the flowers in Spring don't need maintaining." He pulled another mug down from the cupboard and Elain made sure she was looking at the dearly departed lily when he looked back at her. "Would you like some tea?" She folded her hands together and considered. "That won't... will it?" she couldn't bring herself ask finish the question aloud. Lucien filled the mug with hot water and set it on the counter next to her with a teabag and a spoon. "I don't think so. But just in case." Carefully, Elain slid the mug toward herself and did her best not to stare at his forearms. The bond was making maintaining a normal conversation excessively difficult this morning. But he walked back across the kitchen to grant her the space she need to think. Maybe he needed the space too. She dropped the teabag into the mug of water. "Thank you... for helping me." She tapped her spoon lightly on the counter. "It's alright. I... know what it's like to not feel like you have anywhere to go." Elain nodded to herself. How close she must have struck him last night with those words. I didn't know where else to go...

She rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily.

"I should go before Feyre sends the city guard out to search the streets for me..." Lucien considered her for a moment.

"Would you like me to walk you back?" And that offer... she swallowed and shook her head. "N-no... that's alright... I need some time to think before I see them." And I won't be able to if you're right next to me... she didn't finish. Lucien didn't insist though. If Elain wanted to walk herself back home after commandeering his bed for a night then he would let her. Something about that twisted her heart in a way she couldn't think about right here. More space. She needed some distance from him before she considered what it meant that she'd come here to escape the others.

Elain finished her tea and Lucien saw her to the door. He paused when he opened it though.

"Is something wrong?" she asked and he tapped his foot sharply. Weighing a decision apparently. He sighed and buried his hands in his pockets.

"You can come here any time you like, Elain. Even if I'm not around. There are wards on the door but... they'll let you in." He didn't look at her, instead staring hard and the ground between them. "I... thank you, Lucien." she spoke quietly and he nodded without another word. Without much else to say Elain turned and followed the Sidra back toward her sister's home.

#elucien #anti elriel #anti e/riel #elucien fic #snippet I might develop later #the only time I will ever talk about that stupid necklace

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ashisgreedy · 10 months

Text

Garreth Weasley x F!MC

“I Don’t Want To Be Parted From You.”

WC: 6,266

A|N: This is the Female!MC Version

<M!MC ver.>

Minors DNI

Find the ----- red line to jump to where the spicy stuff starts.

Oneshot

MC tapped her finger on the desk in time with her foot bouncing. It wasn’t that the class was particularly boring, it’s just… well there were far more exciting things to do outside the walls of the castle, and Divination class was the last place she wanted to be right now. More interesting things like meeting one particular redhead in Hogsmeade that she’d been trying to hang out with for weeks.

Was it a date? Was it a friendly hang-out? MC wasn’t entirely sure. If it wasn’t a date, she sure as hell would make it one, or die trying. Of course, any pushback from Garreth and she’d back off immediately. MC chalked it up to nerves making her think more aggressively inward than she’d ever actually act out publicly. She had spent months pining after Garreth Weasley, teasing him, joking with him, hell… tempting him in her own way. He’d never taken the bait.

She had no idea if Garreth was even into her like that or not. Garreth was always so friendly to her, but he was also friendly to everyone else. If he was into MC, he sure knew how to keep his cool when MC was around. It was month two of her super-mega-secret/not-so-secret crush on Garreth and everyone, including herself, was begging her to just make a damn move already.

She’d be lying if she said she was 100% okay with being the one to make the first move. She really wanted Garreth to make the first move. It would be just that much sweeter if he did. But, MC could pretend that Garreth asking her to hang out with him in Hogsmeade was the first move… She could be delusional, just for a moment.

Once the class was dismissed, MC shot from her seat and rushed to the ladder before anyone else could get to it first. She trotted down the steps of the tower and rushed through the courtyard. She got to the outside of the castle and hopped on her broom, angling herself straight toward Hogsmeade, and the ginger that awaited her.

She pushed her nervous jitters away when she spotted Garreth in the square. He was wearing just his white button-down shirt and charcoal grey slacks today. His sleeves were pushed up, exposing his forearms. Of course, his sleeves were rolled up… MC groaned internally. Garreth’s forearms were what wet dreams were made of.

She landed smoothly beside the redhead and greeted him.

“Hello, Garreth.” MC nodded in his direction, trying to sound as cool as a cucumber as if she hadn’t practically sprinted all the way here.

Garreth smiled wide at MC. “Hello! Ah, I am so glad you’ve made it. You’re just in time.”

MC’s brows rose while Garreth grabbed her arm and began to drag her toward the watermill. Her heart skipped a beat at their sudden proximity.

“What is it?” MC asked, allowing Garreth to guide them through the crowd. Hell, she’d let Garreth guide her anywhere.

“Take a look!” Garreth spoke with wonder in his voice. “They’ve been setting up a ton of fireworks! I heard they are going to set them off tonight. Pretty cool, isn’t it!”

MC nodded, “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. We should stick around to watch them.”

Garreth smiled wide. “Definitely!”

“Instead of staying in Hogsmeade, we could find a hill nearby where we can watch them comfortably,” MC suggested. She had a specific hilltop in mind, next to a partially eroded home that had long since been abandoned.

“Aw, that would be perfect!” Garreth agreed. “Though, sundown is still an hour or so away.”

“I guess we will have to enjoy each other's company until then.” MC gave him a soft smile, watching Garreth’s expression carefully.

“Alright then! Do you have anything you need to buy today? Or can we shop for pleasure?” Garreth began stepping away from the crowd and MC followed suit.

“I am happy to follow you wherever you’d like to go. I just have a few things to sell, but I can do that pretty much anywhere.” MC spoke as they dodged people on the street.

Garreth bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the Three Broomsticks. “Okay, then let's make a choice. Butterbeers first OR Honeydukes for a sweets run.”

MC looked between the two buildings, placing her hands on her hips. “How about, we stock up on sweets first, then we grab some butterbeers while we wait for the sun to set. How does that sound?”

“Brilliant. I couldn’t agree more.” Garreth chimed.

MC entered the sweets shop first, holding the door open for her crush.

Garreth entered and immediately went to the “new” items section. MC hovered just behind him and watched as Garreth took a small bean-sized treat labeled “sample”.

“Honey and milk chocolate crunch.” MC read the small sign. “That sounds delightful.”

“It does,” Garreth said excitedly. He popped the sample into his mouth and his face lit up in delight. “It is!” He said after a couple of chews.

MC smiled at him and popped a sample in her mouth as well. The texture was like biting into a honeycomb covered in chocolate. “Wow,” She said before swallowing the bite she was chewing. “I think I’ll buy a bar of those.”

“Yes! Let’s buy two then. One for me and one for you. I’ll pay! My treat.” Garreth grabbed two of the bars and went to the next section. MC had been so pleasantly surprised that she forgot to thank him for paying before Garreth was off again.

They stayed in the shop longer than MC had anticipated. There had been a lot of displays that the two interacted with. Some of them were new but others she hadn’t tried before. After a while, they both had their hands full of treats. They made their way to the counter and Garreth pulled out his galleons as promised.

“Thank you, Garreth. For paying for my treats. I mean it.”

“Of course! No big deal.” He answered.

They both watched as the clerk put all their candy into a bag.

“Butterbeer next?” MC spoke up.

“Yes, and possibly an appetizer. I just want something savory to snack on before we dig into our candy.” Garreth said as he took the full bag from the clerk.

“M-maybe we could split the appetizer,” MC suggested, not bothering to even ask exactly what appetizer it would be. She just figured it was a romantic thing to do on a date, to share food. Even if it really wasn’t a date at all, it could still have elements of a date.

Garreth nodded, leading them out of the shop. “Fine by me. I usually get the salted potato wedges and cheezy garlic dipping sauce.”

“Mmm,” MC expressed. “That sounds divine. I didn’t even know they had anything like that. I think I always just forgo the menu and grab a butterbeer.”

“Most do. Stick with me and I will be happy to show you even more cool stuff about Hogsmeade!”

“I’ll stick with you then,” MC smiled over at Garreth as they made their way to the bar.

“You won’t be disappointed.” Garreth beamed, smiling at MC.

“No, I think not.” MC responded.

They were greeted by Sirona the moment they walked in the door. She left the rag on the table she was cleaning and walked to the bar. “What can I get you two?”

“Two butterbeers, please.” MC answered. “Oh and,” she pointed at Garreth to continue.

“The potato wedges, please.”

“Coming right up. Feel free to find a table to sit at, I’ll bring out your potatoes when they are ready.” She wiped her hands on her apron and jotted their order down on a notepad.

“Where to,” MC asked him, not bothering to look around the place. Her gaze was fixed on Garreth.

“Let's sit near the fireplace, shall we?”

The bar was practically empty, only hosting around 4 other patrons. They pretty much had the whole place to themselves.

“Perfect.” MC agreed.

Garreth placed their bag of candy on the table and began to rifle through it. He pulled out a small deck-of-cards-sized box of candy.

“Okay, let's see…” Garreth turned the box over to read the label. He focused his eyes on the large paragraph of text.

“Are those the popping candies with a creamy center?” MC asked, leaning in a bit to see what Garreth was reading.

Garreth tilted the box so they both could see the words easily. “It is. I remember the sign saying not to open when it’s raining. I was just looking to see if it said why.”

The large paragraph on the back described the story of how the candy came about in excruciating detail. MC sat back in her seat halfway through, uninterested in the long-winded description.

“Here you are.” Sirona sat two butterbeers down. “You’re food will be out shortly.”

Garreth didn’t look up from the box but nodded his head and mumbled a ‘thank you.’

MC took a large sip of her drink and studied the man beside her. Garreth’s face was serious as he read the text. His serious face was… so handsome. MC licked her lips and then took another sip of her drink.

“Ah!” Garreth exclaimed. “It’s because the humidity will ruin the rest of the popping candy you’re not eating.”

“A rainy day will?”

“Yeah, it says that the popping part of the candy is very sensitive to moisture.” He tossed the box onto the table. “Well, that was anti-climactic. I thought it would be something cool like, ‘The candy will explode when exposed to rain water’ or something.”

“Always seeking explosions, huh?” MC teased, drinking another sip of her mug.

Garreth noticed how much MC had already drank compared to his untouched pint.

“Sometimes they seek me,” Garreth responded, taking a big swig of butterbeer.

“How unfortunate for you.”

“Yes, well. Makes life more interesting, don’t you think?” Garreth grinned.

MC nodded, sending Garreth a grin in return.

Sirona sat the Potato wedges between the two, taking them out of the moment.

“Thank you!” Garreth shouted as Sirona walked away. She nodded a ‘You’re welcome’ in his direction before going back to buss another table.

“Those smell incredible.” MC leaned in to take another deep inhale.

“You can have the first bite!” Garreth nudged the basked of wedges toward MC.

MC smiled, taking one of the larger wedges and popping it into her mouth. “Mmm…” she blinked rapidly to keep her eye-roll unapparent.

“Told ya,” Garreth tossed one into his mouth. “Very delicious.” His words were muffled.

MC finished chewing and stared at the basket of food. “You just can’t go wrong with potatoes, can you?”

“Nope! See, I knew you and I were alike.” Garreth teased.

They both grabbed their butterbeer at the same time and Garreth gestured for a cheers. MC clinked her half-empty mug against Garreth’s. “Cheers.”

“Cheers!” Garreth exclaimed.

Two butterbeers later and an empty basket of potato wedges, and they were ready to head out. The sun was almost set and MC reckoned they had just enough time to get to their spot on the hill before the fireworks show would begin.

“What do you think they’re celebrating?” MC inquired, pushing open a gate in one of the crop fields just outside of Hogsmeade.

Garreth hummed, “I think they are celebrating the opening of a new shop.”

“Oh?” MC slowed her steps to walk side by side with Garreth. “What shop do you think it is?” MC wondered if it would be anything useful for her adventures outside of the castle.

“I don’t know. But, I hope, whatever it is, it actually lasts this time.”

“Lasts? What happened to the previous owners?” MC wondered aloud.

“Skipped town, I think.” Garreth placed his hand under his chin as he thought. “Or was it something to do with them not paying their rent?”

“Hm, well. Whatever it is, I’m glad they are celebrating with fireworks. I haven’t seen a fireworks show since I was small.” MC reminisced.

“I saw one last year for Christmas. They had a really cool MASSIVE gingerbread man firework that burst into a thousand tiny red and green confetti pieces. It was awesome!” As he spoke, Garreth used his hands to express his words.

“Sounds incredible.” MC agreed. “By the way, we're almost there. It’s just up this path.” She pointed down the road.

Garreth looked back from where they had just come. “Oh, MC. This is going to be a perfect view!”

They both made their way down the road and up the small hill. MC sat against the eroded stone wall of the old house and Garreth joined her. He sat the bag of candy between them and rested his head back.

“Perfect timing.” Garreth sighed.

The fireworks hadn’t started yet despite the darkness that now shrouded the land. MC picked at one of her chipped fingernails.

Garreth pulled out some sweets from the bag and handed one to MC.

“Thank you.” MC took the chocolate bar and ripped off the wrapping.

“Lumos,” Garreth pointed his wand up, looking through the bag again. “Ah! Yes, I wanted to try this one first.” He showed MC the honey and milk chocolate crunch bar.

MC took a bite of her bar and chewed it quickly. “Let me know how it is. I’m curious how the honey and chocolate tastes go together in bar form.”

Garreth nodded and put out the light on his wand. The light from the moon and stars was enough to give the area a nice glow. MC didn’t offer to make a fire since it would ruin the fireworks spectacle they were soon to see. She supposed that’s why Garreth hadn’t offered either. Garreth pushed his hair out of his face and took a large bite of candy. MC watched intently, staring at the crumb of chocolate that began to melt on Garreth’s bottom lip.

BOOM

MC jerked her eyes away from Garreth to watch the first firework glitter.

“Awesome,” Garreth commented.

Another two fireworks lit up the night sky, one shimmering cobalt blue and the other a cherry red.

“It’s beautiful,” MC rewrapped her chocolate bar and sat it back into the bag.

“Stunning really.” Garreth agreed. He chomped down on another bite of his bar and noticed MC’s stare. “Oh! Do you want a bite? You can give it a taste test.”

MC nodded, taking the bar Garreth offered. She bit the untouched corner and hummed. She chewed but the chocolate and honey bar melted on her tongue rapidly. “Wow, that is quite nice.”

Garreth took the bar back and smiled playfully. “We’ll have to meet up again to finish our bag of sweets.”

“I’m already saying yes.” MC smiled.

Several more fireworks lit up the sky. MC turned her gaze to Garreth and watched them pop in the reflection of his green eyes. If Garreth noticed, he didn’t say anything.

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

MC bit her lip before she spoke. “It’s all very romantic, isn’t it?” She held her breath. MC decided she could play it off as a joke if Garreth wasn’t receptive to her advances.

Garreth pressed his lips together into a tight line. “Yeah…”

MC let the word hang in the air for a long moment. “Does that make you uncomfortable for me to say?” She needed more than just a one-word answer. She needed proof, concrete evidence that Garreth was either into her or not.

“No,” Garreth answered carefully. “I just really want to know why you said that. Why did you bring up romance?”

MC picked at her broken nail again absently. She took a deep breath, it was now or never. “I wasn’t trying to hide it…”

Garreth sat quietly, listening to MC.

MC continued “...but I definitely want to be more than friends with you, Garreth.” She couldn’t even look over at the man she was confessing to. Her eyes were glued to the fireworks still bursting in the sky. Garreth didn’t respond for a long moment and MC added, “Just say the word, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

“You like me? Like me like me? I mean, you have a romantic crush… on me?” Garreth looked deep in thought as if he were turning the concept over in his mind.

MC slid her hand into her pocket and held her wand, preparing to disapparate at a moment's notice. Her heart hammered in her chest and she wanted so desperately to be invisible.

“Yes, but…” MC began. “Please know that if you don’t want me to bring it up, I shall not. We can just be friends. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

“No! No.” He put up his hands in surrender. “I am just surprised is all.”

MC wanted to shake it out of him, lovingly of course, and yell ‘And!? How do you feel? Do you feel the same?’ Her internal monologue wrestled with her composure.

Garreth turned to look at MC. “You know… I’ve always felt different around you ever since you came to this school.”

MC perked up. “Different? How so?”

Their faces were lit intermittently with flashes of light from the celebration.

Garreth bit the inside of his cheek “It’s like, I have… what I can only describe as nerves? I’m nervous around you.”

“Nervous? In a bad way?” MC wondered if she was intimidating at all. She was shorter than him, smaller even. Could her personality be that intense? She held her tongue and waited for his reply.

Garreth shook his head. “No. It's like there are butterflies in my stomach when I’m near you, or when I know you’re close by. I get this kind of jittery energy when I hear your voice or see you walk by in the halls. Sometimes I can’t eat or get a good night's rest when I know I’m about to see you…”

MC sighed, scooting a bit closer to him. “That’s exactly how I’ve felt around you, Garreth. It’s been that way for a while now.”

Garreth laughed. “Well, if that's how it feels then…” he trailed off, resting his head in his hands. “I’m way past crushing on you.”

MC’s heart stopped. The world around them disappeared in a flash. She smiled, she couldn’t help it, she smiled so wide she thought her cheeks would hurt.

“I like you too, Garreth,” MC reassured, comforting Garreth with a squeeze to his knee.

Garreth looked over at MC, a small smile tugging at his lips. MC took in a deep breath and dug around for courage.

She cupped Garreth’s face and waited. When Garreth didn’t flinch away MC continued. “I’m going to kiss you now, Garreth Weasley.”

Garreth nodded, eyes dropping to MC’s lips.

MC suppressed the ‘Wah Hoo!’ in her mind and instead opted to pour her excitement into the kiss. Garreth tasted like honey, chocolate, and butterscotch. His lips were so so soft and everything MC had ever dreamt of.

Their kiss concluded and they both pulled away. Garreth remained close to MC, face lighting up every few seconds with the flash of a new firework. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Garreth admitted.

MC rubbed her finger along Garreth’s reddening cheek. God, he was adorable. “Well, it's very simple. You just-” and she pressed her lips to Garreth’s again. They both smiled into the kiss and Garreth let out a little laugh.

It was easy to fall into a rhythm. It felt so damn good for MC to express her feelings finally. Their tongues touched and MC slotted her head to the right to kiss Garreth deeper. MC’s hands were in the redhead's hair, rubbing his scalp and tugging lightly at his waves.

Their kisses lasted so long, they hadn’t even noticed that the fireworks show already ended.

Garreth was showing signs of getting just as worked up as MC felt. He groaned every time MC touched the back of his neck, panting a bit each time MC dared to part the kiss. They’d dive back in after a brief moment of looking at one another, kissing frantically in the dark.

Garreth tugged at MC’s shirt, releasing the top button. MC froze realizing where they were, and how anyone could walk by and spot them. They needed someplace more private for that kind of fun. An idea erupted in her mind.

“T-to much?” Garreth asked, brows pinched. He released MC’s shirt and placed his hands on his lap.

“Not at all,” MC reassured, touching his cheek lightly. “Not enough.” MC smiled getting Garreth to crack a smirk. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

He nodded. “Well, we can’t go to our dorms.” Garreth mulled the idea over. “Even if we could sneak in, we have roommates.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got the perfect place. The room of requirement.” MC reassured, pulling out her wand and teleporting them together.

The world around her disappeared and was replaced by the familiar sight of her personal room in the hidden chamber. The bag of candy appeared with them, spilling out onto the floor.

Garreth’s mouth dropped. “THE room of requirement?! I’ve never gotten it to open for me!”

MC grabbed Garreth’s hand and tugged him to the middle of the room. “Yes, I have a special room no one is privy to. I used it in my 5th year for my additional studies, I come here every now and then even still.”

Garreth looked around the mostly empty room. “It doesn’t look, uh… too cozy?”

He was right. MC looked up at the dome and began to shout. “A bedroom! bed, mattress, couch!?”

Garreth looked over at MC in confusion. “Uh… Are you alright?”

Just then the wall to the left opened up and a door appeared. Garreth stared at it with wide eyes. A few loud noises came from behind the door before everything was finalized. The door cracked open and MC grinned.

“I am just dandy!” She took Garreth’s face into her hands and gave him a quick kiss. “Come on!” They locked hands and Garreth followed with a stunned expression on his face.

“What… just happened?”

MC shut the door behind them and looked over the large bedroom. The bed was massive with overly gaudy trimmings. The windows behind the bed were floor-to-ceiling showing an underwater scene similar to the one in the Slytherin common room. The ambiance was the same as the main room, moonlit and cozy feeling. All the decorations were a mix of deep forest green and black.

“The room changes to accommodate what I want.” MC kicked off her shoes at the door and Garreth did the same.

“Anything?!”

MC laughed. “I have shouted your name before, but you never appeared.” She teased. “So maybe not anything.”

“Oh?” He took a step close to MC. “And why exactly were you shouting my name?” Garreth pulled MC into a heated kiss, smirking all the while.

“Mmph!” MC gasped at the sudden kiss. She began angling and pulling Garreth toward the bed as their lips met in a frenzy.

Garreth felt around for the mattress and was the first to sit down. MC followed suit, sitting right beside him. She pulled at Garreth’s shirt to reveal his pale freckled skin. Her hands immediately slid over his soft skin and moved to grip his hips.

“Is it..” Garreth stopped and looked down at his open shirt. “Do I look okay?”

The look on Garreth’s face was sincere and MC’s words rush out of her mouth. “What?! You-!” She eyed his chest and began pulling his shirt down over his shoulders. “You’re hot! Garreth…” MC dropped his shirt to the ground and cupped Garreth’s face. “You’re so incredibly handsome I can’t even express it.”

MC practically tackled the very smiley Garreth to the bed, laying them both down as her lips explored the man she’d been dying to taste. She kissed his adam's apple down to his clavicle, licking the dip along the way to his shoulder.

Garreth let her kiss any place she liked while sliding his hands up and down MC’s sides. MC kissed down his chest, licking her way down to Garreth’s belly button.

“I’m nervous.” Garreth blurted out.

MC popped her head up and nodded her understanding. “It’s alright. I didn’t mean to press you to do anything you aren’t ready to do.”

Garreth shook his head. “I’ve just never done this before… I want to keep going. I do.”

MC rolled to Garreth’s side, staying close to him. Garreth turned to face her and they wrapped their arms around one another.

“It’s alright.” MC took a few deep breaths to cool herself off. She didn’t want to pressure Garreth into anything. Hell, she was glad she got this far. “It’s no different than doing it by yourself… Well, it’s different, but the same concept.”

Garreth nodded like he understood.

MC continued. “We can… touch ourselves first before we touch one another. Get an idea of how each other likes to be touched. How does that sound?” Her heart pounded in her ears so loudly that she was worried she wasn’t going to be able to hear the redhead's answer.

“Okay,” Garreth smiled. “Okay, I can do that.”

MC wondered if she was having an out-of-body experience. She began undoing the buttons of her own shirt, and Garreth quickly helped her. MC’s shirt and bra were off in half the time and she allowed Garreth’s hands to roam her body. He cupped her breasts eagerly then moved his hands to her hips.

“So,” MC began, already breathless. “Let’s sit against the headboard.”

“Yeah, alright.” Garreth moved up the bed and sat on the right side. He adjusted the pillows so he was comfortable.

MC crawled up after him and sat down, hands already shaking.

“Are you ready?” MC asked, slowly undoing her belt.

Garreth watched with wide eyes before rushing to undo his own belt. “I’m ready.”

MC’s mouth went dry. She took a deep breath and pushed her trousers down a few inches. She rubbed her swollen clit for a moment before she finally sliding a finger inside. She pumped a couple of times before daring to look over at Garreth.

Garreth was a few steps behind and MC’s stomach sank. She hoped she hadn’t just ruined things by suggesting this. Despite her worry, though, Garreth eventually followed suit. He pulled out his hard cock and started stroking it slowly.

MC licked her lips. “Fuck… Garreth... You’re so perfect. I…” MC pressed a second finger inside her cunt.

“MC…” Garreth damn near moaned her name and MC felt her walls throb. “You’re perfect too…”

They both made eye contact for a moment. Garreth’s eyes dropped to her lips and MC leaned in. Their kiss was sloppy and full of breathless pants. MC didn’t stop fingering herself, opting to keep her ministrations slow and controlled. Otherwise, this would all be over way sooner than she wanted.

Garreth spread his legs a bit, readjusting his seating. MC pushed her leg against his and used her free hand to slide to the back of Garreth’s head. She wove her fingers into Garreth’s tangle of strands and held him in place for a more heated kiss.

MC kept a close watch on how Garreth was jerking himself off. She noted the way he often focused on just the tip, then would slide up and down his full length a couple of times before focusing on the tip again.

Garreth broke the kiss and pressed his forehead into MC’s “Can I touch you?” Garreth asked.

Fuck YES you can. “Of course, Garreth. I want you to touch me sooo fucking bad.” She bit her lip hard.

Garreth released his cock and slid his hand up MC’s thigh.

“Garreth…” MC’s breath hitched before Garreth had even touched her. “May I touch you as well?”

“For a moment.” Garreth agreed, slowly sliding his hand between MC’s thighs and rubbing her gently.

MC reached out and took Garreth’s cock in hand, their arms crisscrossing. “W-why only a moment.” She lost her breath every time Garreth’s soft fingertips slid over her sensitive clit.

MC stroked Garreth the way he showed him how he liked to be touched.

“Because… Oh, fuck MC… That feels good…” Garreth moaned, pushing his hips up to fuck MC’s fist. “Because I want to use my mouth. Would that be okay?”

She froze. MC’s mouth hung open, unable to speak. She managed a slight nod and watched a salacious smile wash over Garreth’s features.

Garreth pulled at MC’s hips to get her to lie down on the bed. He pulled down MC’s trousers and panties, removing them from her body.

MC was in heaven, and she made it known. “Fuck, that feels so good. Oh… shit! Garreth!” He licked every inch of her pussy, eagerly lapping at every spot that made her moan. “Oh… yes, yes, yes. Like that…”

MC watched as Garreth brought his mouth to her core, kissing her heat lightly. He kissed down the slit and licked a long stripe back up to her clit. MC tossed her head back into the pillow and squeezed her eyes shut. The pleasure humming in her body was made even stronger by the fact that it was Garreth fucking Weasely’s mouth.

MC’s hands dove into Garreth’s hair. She controlled the movements by holding Garreth down every time he made it to her clit. Her hips bucked up to meet his tongue. She didn’t want to get too aggressive for the first time, so she forced herself to let go and allow Garreth to set his own pace.

“Ohh, oh, Garreth…” MC began to squirm beneath him. “I’m literally so fucking close right now…”

She looked down and Garreth made eye contact with her. Garreth set a pattern of lapping at her clit, sucking it hard, and then diving his tongue to her opening. Garreth was working her into a frenzy the faster he went.

“Gar…” MC’s hips began to rock in time with his movements, desperately trying to use his face to seek her release. “I’m really really close…. Holy fuck…”

Garreth didn’t let up. He used his tongue to swirl around her clit before sucking hard on the throbbing nub. His spit and her desire mixed and lubricated everything. The wetness dripped all the way down to her thighs, soaking the bed. Her head lolled back into the pillows.

“I’m going to…. Garreth. I’m going to cum if you keep doing that…” MC warned him. She whimpered when he didn’t let up.

Garreth didn’t stop doing exactly what he was doing. Each time he sucked on her clit, his tongue would swirl making her body tremble.

MC began to struggle beneath him, fisting the comforter while her back arched. “Fffffuck! I’m cuming! I’m-”

Her cunt throbbed against Garreth’s mouth. Garreth kept his pace of sucking and licking while she climaxed. MC was beside herself with pleasure.

Despite her orgasm coming to a close, Garreth kept licking and sucking her clit, making MC see stars.

She took deep breaths, steadying herself. She reached down to Garreth and pushed a bit to indicate that she was feeling overstimulated.

Garreth slid up MC’s limp body and kissed her with fervor. His lips were plump and red and MC sucked lightly on the bottom one. Their tongues melted together and MC tasted the evidence of what he’d just done. She hugged Garreth’s body to hers and felt his still very hard and very leaky cock press against her hip.

“It’s only fair,” MC pushed Garreth to the side and changed their position. MC hovered overtop a very blushy Garreth and continued. “...that I return the favor.”

“MC, I’m…” Garreth looked at her apologetically. “I’m not going to last very long.” He let out a breathless chuckle.

MC sent him a brilliant smile. “Then I guess I’ll have to make the most of it.”

Both of them helped with removing Garreth’s trousers. They were discarded like all their other clothes. They rest there for a moment, completely bare in one another's presence.

“I love that every inch of your skin is absolutely covered in freckles.” MC ran her hands over Garreth’s stomach down to his thighs. MC parted Garreth’s legs so she could slot herself between them.

“That’s good,” Garreth watched with heavily lidded eyes as MC touched him all over his waist and thighs. “Because I’ve tried to scrub them off and they don’t budge. I think they’re permanent.”

MC cracked a smile. She began to leave precious kisses all along Garreth’s hipbone. “I could try licking them off?” MC teased, laving her tongue over the ginger's skin.

“Oh!” Garreth’s hips rocked. “You could try that, yeah. It’s worth a shot.” He spoke breathlessly.

MC’s lips finally met the base of Garreth’s cock. She licked and sucked lightly at the skin, making her way up slowly one side, lingering at the tip, before making her way down the other side.

“Wow, I-” Garreth took in a sharp breath as MC’s lips wrapped around his head, taking him in only an inch.

MC took her time licking Garreth’s cock, making sure every inch was wet with her saliva. She popped the head into her mouth and gave her tongue a spiral swirl.

“Wow wow wow-” Garreth tossed his arm over his face, hiding his expression.

MC remembered how he had been jerking off earlier and began doing a slow version of that. She focused her hand on the tip for a couple of pumps before sliding down to encompass the rest of the shaft. When her hand wasn’t on the tip, her mouth was, licking and sucking slowly. Based on Garreth’s growing moans, this was working him up nicely.

“Please!” Garreth whimpered his plea.

MC’s eyes darted up to see Garreth’s red face twisted in pleasure and desperation.

“Please, what?” The words just slipped out of MC’s mouth, but she refused to take them back. He always begged in her daydreams, she wanted to hear just a bit of it in real life.

Garreth groaned, sliding his hand slowly onto MC’s head. “More. Please, a bit more.” He whimpered as MC licked a long path up his hard cock.

MC obliged, taking Garreth’s cock into her mouth. There was no way MC could ever deny this man. She took him deep before sliding back up. “Like this?”

Garreth’s answer came in the form of several nods. He fixed his hand on MC’s hair and pushed down.

MC took him faster as he requested, fueled by the little moans that fell from Garreth’s lips. MC took him deeper down her throat and Garreth let out a loud whine. Again and again, MC took him deeper until her nose almost touched Garreths pubic bone.

Garreth’s hands slid along the comforter trying to find purchase as MC’s throat swallowed around his length. Once she was used to the size, and when she needed air, she slid back up to the tip.

“I can’t, I can’t-” Garreth moaned as MC took him throat-deep again. “I can’t last like this, shit…shit!”

MC picked up the pace and allowed Garreth to buck his hips, fucking her face. Garreth’s heels dug into the bed as he thrust upwards. MC held onto his hips while his cock plunged deep into her mouth over and over again.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum… Can I cum in your mouth!?” He exclaimed, keeping his rhythm.

MC mumbled an “Mmhmm” just moments before Garreth erupted in her mouth.

“Oh shiiit, oh shit, oh shit-”

MC felt Garreth throb in her mouth, tasting the ropes of cum that she tried to quickly swallow. When Garreth’s thrusting stopped, MC squeezed the base of his dick, sucking lightly to make sure he was completely spent.

“O-okay okay…” Garreth groaned. “Wow, holy shit.”

MC wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slid over to lay beside Garreth. They both caught their breath and MC took Garreth into her arms. They both lay there quietly, trying to regulate their breathing.

“That was so hot.” MC finally chirped up. “I could cum, untouched just from hearing your whimpering.”

Garreth smiled and shook his head. “I want to do that again.” He nuzzled into MC’s neck.

MC held him close, sliding her hand up and down his back. “Give me a couple of minutes to recoup and we can most definitely do that again.”

They both let out a laugh. MC pulled back and looked over Garreth’s features. He was so attractive, especially in his after-glow.

“So handsome.” MC traced the edges of his face with a light fingertip.

Garreth grinned and stole a kiss. MC faked a gasp and stole a kiss right back. It was easy to be playful with him. She cuddled close to Garreth’s warm body and let out a contented sigh.

“Let’s just sleep here for the night.” MC offered. “I don’t want to be parted from you yet…”

“I don’t want to be parted from you either.” Garreth slotted his leg between MC’s thighs. “Let’s stay like this until morning.”

“Deal.”

Thanks for reading!

I had fun with this fic so I made a female version of it too!

All my fics are tagged as "my writing"

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x F!mc #weasley wednesday #hogwarts legacy #my writing

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years

Note

hi! can we get an unwrapped update with andy, reader and their baby?

….damn you, nonnnie, you started a mini-series. i started drabbling out the update, and then it just… got away from me. for those of you who are new here, this is a direct sequel to Unwrapped.

Title: Return to Sender [1 of 7]

Pairing: Dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Andy Barber promised he would never let you go, and come hell or high water, he’s going to keep that promise.

Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Gaslighting, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation

A/N: i never actually intended to revisit this series, but… the muse strikes where she strikes, lol.

The bright sunlight makes you squint, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sudden intensity as they adjust. The air smells clean and fresh and distinctly summer; cut grass and charcoal smoke. The baby gurgles in her carrier, and you adjust her on your hip, peering down to make sure the sun-shield is properly covering her sensitive skin. She coos at you, reaching chubby hands up to grab at your fingers. Wide, blue-grey eyes peer up at you from the soft roundness of her face—her father’s eyes—and apprehension knots your stomach.

Suddenly the air around you feels thick and crowded, and you wonder if maybe you should go back inside, back to your room, and wait until next week.

I’m fine, you tell yourself, your knuckles going white as you grip the infant carrier. You know that the only reason you want to return to the comfort of your home—your prison—is because of Andy. For the last fourteen months, he had condensed your world down to a single point.

Him.

The ankle monitor you’d left on the dresser upstairs had made quite sure of that.

I just want you to be safe, sweetheart. Don’t you understand?

Dove claps her hands together and blows wet raspberries in her carrier, snapping you back to the present. If you stay any longer, you’ll miss the bus, and you know what tarrying means—

Another week of Andy and his relentless affection. The syrup-sweet praise on his tongue turning sour on yours, another week of feeling your walls crumble against the poisonous kindness he pushed on you at every turn. It would have been better if he was cruel, because then you think it might be easier to hate him. Instead, you look down at Dove and remember Andy’s hand on the swell of your belly, him whispering softly through your skin to her as she grew.

Tears gather in your eyes as you fight through the cloud of anxiety to the front gate. Most of your neighbors—Andy’s neighbors, you try to remind yourself that this isn’t your home, Andy isn’t your husband, despite the diamond on your finger—will already be gone for work now.

Less people to see us leaving.

You know Andy will be angry when he comes home and finds you missing, the monitor abandoned. But that won’t be for some time yet, not until he comes home from work.

And by then, you’ll be with Irene.

You puff a little, hefting Dove’s carrier onto your shoulder as you make your way to the bus stop. There’s only one, at the mouth of the wealthy cul-de-sac. You’d found her number scrawled in the back of a self help book at the library, one Andy had promptly made you put back.

“What do you need that for, sweetheart? I don’t hit you. Don’t scream at you. Am I really so bad?” Your throat tightens, and you hate yourself for wondering the same thing.

I can help you get out, her first email had been blunt. But you need to be ready to start from zero.

You run over the plan in your head as you wait for the bus, trying to hide behind the curtain of your hair as cars roll by. You’re supposed to take the bus into the city, where Irene would meet you. And then from there—Canada.

I can’t wait if you’re late, she’d warned you. There are other people depending on me too.

The bus arrives, lowering itself with a hiss. The doors slide open, and you press change into the driver’s hand. You can’t use your card, not anymore. You settle yourself against the window, an arm over the carrier. Dove coos as the bus rocks forward, and the old woman in front of you turns around, a wide smile on her face.

“Adorable baby.”

You force a smile, railing against Andy’s indoctrinated anxieties—no one will protect you like me, honey, the world’s a scary place—

“Thank you.” You grit out the words. She waves down at Dove, who promptly sticks her own foot into her mouth.

“How old?”

“Six months.”

“Oh how wonderful! Congratulations!” She beams another cheerful smile at you, and you have trouble returning it. Her gaze falls to the duffel bag you have shoved up against the window. “Do you have a long trip planned?” She asks, and you can tell that though she’s being polite, she’s prying. Panic rises further in your chest, bile burning in your throat. Does she know Andy? Has she been watching you? Watching you for him?

You’re being paranoid, honey. You can hear his taunting voice in your head, and with jerky movements, you lower the sun shield on Dove’s carrier, blocking her from view.

“Are you meeting your husband somewhere? It must be such a pain to travel with all these bags and the baby—” You yank on the cord, signaling to the driver that you want the bus to stop.

“No—I mean yes, I’m—I have to go,” you stammer, grabbing your bag and Dove and barreling out into the aisle as the bus slows down. This isn’t your stop—you’re a full four stops early—but you can’t be on the bus anymore, you just can’t. Not with this old woman and her questions, and—what if this is all Andy? Testing you?

And you’re failing it?

You’re panting, tears gathering in your wide eyes as you practically flee the bus, half running down the sidewalk until it passes you. You keep your head down, you don’t want to know if the old woman is still watching you.

What if she was just trying to help?

You shake your head—it doesn’t matter. Irene had told you to try and keep as low of a profile as you could, and that meant not making new friends while you were fleeing the father of your child. Finally, the adrenaline peters out and you slow to a walk, your legs cramping. You haven’t moved like that in a long time—mostly because you’re confined to the house when Andy isn’t around. “For your safety”, he says, but you know better.

He doesn’t want you getting out, going home to the parents he’s been feeding lies upon lies about your condition.

But you aren’t going back to them at all—you’re doing what Irene said you should do. You’re starting from zero.

You’re five minutes late when you finally arrive at the bus terminal, your throat tight with anxiety. What if she’d left without you? What if you’d blown your only chance at escape by being exactly what Andy said you were—

A mess. A lovable mess, but honeybee, you need me to make the pieces fit—

“You’re late.” You turn, tears brimming in your wide eyes to face the stranger behind you. Irene is short, shorter than you, but you can see she’s muscular underneath the t-shirt she’s wearing. “You’re lucky I waited, come on.” She motions for you to follow her, and after a moment you do, still juggling Dove and your bag.

“Y-you’re Irene, right?”

“Yep. Car’s this way, in the back. You said he gets off of work at five, it’s three thirty. Let’s get a move on.” You follow her to a gray Subaru behind the bus depot, with California plates. She opens the trunk, and you mumble out a thank you when she motions for you to hand her your bag. “You’re not the first person I’ve done this for, but I want to make sure you aren’t the last. He’s not put any… tracking devices on or in you, right?”

“N-no. I had an ankle monitor, but I-I left that at the house. And my phone, and credit cards too. No computer, or anything.”

“Good.”

She helps you load Dove into the car-seat, and you hesitate to get into the front.

“Is it okay if… if I sit back here?”

“Sure.”

When the engine starts, you feel both relief and apprehension—you know Andy won’t give up easily, but his reach could only extend so far, right? You were going to disappear, to vanish like smoke through his fingers.

You just had to want it bad enough.

—

Andy pulls into the driveway, leaving his briefcase on the seat as he exits the car. Jacob is in the back seat, crashing two action figures together as he makes explosion sounds with his mouth. Andy chuckles at the sight of it.

“You ready to go see your sister, bud? I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you,” Andy replies as he unbuckles him. Jacob nods vigorously.

“Yeah! And m-mom.” He’s still getting used to calling you mom, but it grows less and less noticeable each day, especially with how good you are with him. You’re a natural, just like he’d known you would be. Jacob hops down out of the car, and scrambles for the front gate. It usually gives him trouble—his little fingers can’t quite manage the latch just yet—but it’s wide open this time.

Andy narrows his eyes.

“Wait for me, bud, okay?” He says, catching his son by the arm. Something’s not right. He walks up the familiar steps, holding his keys quiet with his palm so he can listen before unlocking the door. Jacob bounds inside, dropping his action figures one by one as he goes.

“Dove!” He calls, his little voice sing-song-y. “Mommy!”

There’s no answer.

At this time of day, you’re usually feeding Dove, dinner ready on the stove for him and Jacob—but the oven is cold, and there’s nothing set out at all. Andy moves quickly up the stairs to check the baby’s room, and he grits his teeth when he finds the crib empty, and the sheets cold to the touch. The master bedroom is empty too, the dresser drawers pulled out, and—

Your fucking monitor.

Andy wants to yell, throw things—and he contemplates it as he scrubs his hands through his hair and down his face.

You’re gone. Really gone, and the baby, too.

“Daddy, where’s—”

“She went to go see some friends,” Andy replies quickly, his voice cracking just a little. “Mommy will be back soon.”

He heats up leftovers from the fridge for Jacob, and while he eats messily at the dinner table, Andy pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He can’t believe you’re really gone, that you’d really left—

That you’d dared.

Three weeks in the basement wasn’t long enough.

Andy had taken his time, soundproofing the little suite downstairs and outfitting it for your comfort. Minimal comfort, of course—he needed you to appreciate life upstairs. No contact, only your own thoughts and the drugged food Andy left for you while you’d slept. It had been hard on him, too, knowing you were down there alone and miserable, but he needed you to see things his way.

Clearly you don’t—not yet, anyway.

He knows he can’t trust his first instincts, the ones that are screaming for him to pack up the house, to smoke you out of hiding and bring you right back where you belonged. Here, with him. He’d done everything he could to make sure you were cared for, provided anything and everything you needed. And, once he’d thought you could be trusted, he’d take you on outings. To the store, to the library, anywhere you wanted to go.

You just couldn’t go alone.

“Eat up, Jake. I’ll be right back.” Andy steps out of the kitchen, standing in the living room as he holds his phone up to his ear.

“If you’re calling me, I know you’re waist deep in something terrible.” The man on the other line drawls, the voice dripping with pleased smugness. “Are you?”

“Shut up, Odinson,” Andy snaps. “You’re lucky I let you slide on that—”

“Yes, yes, I know, I owe you. Racketeering. Ugly word.”

“With worse charges.” Andy reminds him. “I need you to find someone for me.”

“Oh, interesting. Alive or dead?”

“Alive. And they had both better be so when I see them next or so help me, I will—”

“Fire and brimstone, Barber. I’ve quite got the picture.” Andy can hear Loki’s satisfied purr through the receiver, and it makes him want to hang the phone up, and try a different avenue all together. “So who did you lose?”

“My wife.” Andy grits. “She took the baby. She’s… she’s not well. I need you to find her, bring her home. I can take care of it from there.”

“Ouch. Opening up old wounds for you, eh Barber?”

“You have a week,” Andy growls. “To bring me my wife and daughter.”

“And on the off chance that I should fail?”

“Your case is just wrapping up, isn’t it?” Andy asks, enjoying the power flowing back in his direction as he tightens the reins. “I think it would be a shame if the prosecution were to discover new evidence.” He pauses to let the weight of his words sink in.

“And presumably you’ll be, what, waiting out the clock?”

“A week.” He hangs up without a further word. He doesn’t like Odinson, doesn’t trust him, but he knows people.

The kind of people who would be able to track you down, and return you to him without asking too many, if any, questions. Andy pokes his head into the kitchen to peek at Jacob making a mess of his spaghetti and meatballs, and verifies that at least some of the food is making it into his mouth before he makes another call. He needs to flush you out, spook you from your hiding place.

“Hello 911?”

Andy swallows thickly before answering, like his voice is heavy with tears he isn’t actually shedding.

“Yes, hello, police?” He says, his voice distraught. “I’d like to report a missing person.”

Hello friends! I no longer maintain a taglist, so please follow @box-of-bones-library for updates and new work, thank you!

Likes and comments are amazing, but reblogs are golden! Please consider sharing my work so that others can see it too!

#chris evans characters #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber #andy barber imagine #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfic #boxofbonesfic #Return to sender fic

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mellowsadistic · 1 year

Text

Tiffany finished putting on her business suit and hurried down the stairs. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes when she saw her boyfriend sitting in the kitchen, still in his dressing gown. But she couldn’t complain really, she knew. He worked from home, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t make good money. In fact, more than once he’d suggested she quit her job and be a stay-at-home girlfriend. Tiffany wrinkled her nose in disgust at the very thought. She was a career woman, not some dumb housewife! No matter how much she loved her boyfriend, she couldn’t stand the thought of being dependent on him like that.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and hastily drank the morning coffee he’d made for her. It tasted a little funny, but she was grateful all the same. Usually she had to stop off at Starbucks on the way to work for her caffeine fix. In fact, now that she thought about it, it was odd for her boyfriend to be up so early at all, especially since they’d been up late last night for Halloween. Most of the time he went right back to sleep after she got out of bed, after cuddling her tightly and preventing her from getting up for at least five minutes every morning. Maybe he was finally developing a proper work ethic… She drained her cup and headed over to the front door.

“Where are you going, little lady?” her boyfriend asked in a bright, syrupy voice.

“What?” Tiffany replied, bristling a little at his tone as she fumbled with her coat. Little lady? She’d have to have a word with him about his condescending attitude when she got home that night. Or at the weekend. Or whenever she had some free time. “I’m going to work, obviously.”

“Silly girl,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Halloween’s over, baby. It’s time to take off your costume.”

Tiffany turned around, looking irritated. “What are you talking about?” Then she blinked. She suddenly felt very dizzy. She looked down at her clothes, at her professional linen suit. Charcoal grey, with a white shirt beneath. That wasn’t a costume. Was it? Her head felt strange and tingly, and she had to put out a hand to balance herself against the wall. Her coat dropped to the floor. What was the matter with her?! She glanced sharply at the empty coffee mug. No. Daddy wouldn’t do that. She must just have low blood sugar or something... Then she blushed hotly. Daddy? Where had that come from?!

“What have…” she mumbled, her words coming out slurred. “What you… done?”

“It’s alright, baby,” her boyfriend sad gently, walking over and holding her steady. “I’ve got you. I think you’re a bit confused, sweetie. This is just a costume, remember?” He brushed his hands over her suit jacket. “You dressed as a big girl for Halloween. A big, smart businesswoman. But it was just a costume.”

“Nooo…” Tiffany groaned. She hadn’t even dressed up for Halloween, had she? Didn’t she think that was stupid? Her head felt so funny, but she could tell something was very wrong here. “Dat’s not… That’s not pwetend!”

“Yes it is, little one,” said her boyfriend, more firmly. “You don’t really go to work, Tiffy. You’re far too sweet and silly for that, remember? You’re just a baby.”

“Baby?” Tiffany echoed, stupidly. Why did her mind feel so foggy? “Nu… Nu-uh! Notta baby! I’m a big giwl!” She glared at her boyfriend. “You… You doing somefing to me!”

“Tiffy,” he said warningly, “Daddy says it’s time to take off your costume. No more playing pretend now. Do you need a smacked bottom, baby girl?”

Tiffany whined. She shook her head. This wasn’t right!

“Then go upstairs and change into your normal clothes,” said Daddy. “They’re in the spare bedroom. Off you go.”

He patted her on her bum to send her on her way, and Tiffany found herself heading back upstairs obediently. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she ought to put up a struggle. She ought to resist. But it was so hard to think properly, and she didn’t want to get a spanking. She walked down the hall and into the spare bedroom. When she saw what was laid out for her on the bed, her face reddened and she let out another whine. But she knew better than to disobey Daddy.

She started with her suit pants first, stripping them off and folding them neatly on the bed. Her big girl underwear went next, and she couldn’t help pouting as her panties dropped to her ankles, never to go up again. She sat her bottom on the thick nappy that lay on the bed and taped it up around herself snugly. Then she stood up, the bulky diaper crinkling noisily between her legs, slipped off her suit jacket, and started unbuttoning her grown-up shirt. Her bra followed quickly, then her shoes and socks, and soon Tiffany was nude but for her nappy. Fully dressed for the day. She felt a bit better after that. She’d done what Daddy told her to do. She smiled. What a good girl she was. The tingles in her head were growing stronger, becoming more and more powerful, and with them came a rush of pleasure inside her skull. Her nappy felt right, even if it was embarrassing. That must be what she normally wore, not the boring old grown-up costume on the bed.

Then Tiffany suddenly became aware of a pressure in her bladder and her bottom. She frowned, thinking hard for a few moments before she remembered what it meant. She had to go potty! She took half a step towards the door, towards the bathroom, before she stopped herself. Because she was being stupid. She was just a sweet, silly baby. She didn't know how to use the potty! Giggling at her own silliness, Tiffany squatted down and started doing her morning poo-poo in her pants, just like she did every day. She did a big pee-pee too, filling her oversized baby pants to the brim with tinkle.

Once she was done, she straightened up, grinning broadly, and waddled off to find her Daddy again, Pampers jiggling between her thighs. She wasn't after a diaper change of course, because she knew it was up to Daddy when she got a clean nappy. No, she’d forgotten to give him his morning blowjob! She was such a little dumb-dumb! How could she forget her only job? Then after that Daddy would feed her breakfast, and they’d have a nice, long cuddle, followed by a full day of playtime. She couldn’t wait!

#mellowsadistic

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sithbelle · 10 months

Text

Hi there. I'm going to be vulnerable for a moment. I wrote this book (working title "Synia") over the last 5 years, and finished it up back in April. Since then, I've been holding onto it, willing myself to send out queries. But the fear of rejection, and the knowledge that it's likely not a "sellable" book, has kept me back from actually sending out any letters. To force myself to do something, I'd like to share the prologue with you all. The story is about a pair of siblings who are Syniae, or creatures who have magical gifts based on synesthesia.

If you would like to know more, I'll be happy to blab on about it ad nauseam. If you know of any publishers or literary agents who are interested in such a story, please let me know. If this falls into the empty void, well...that's also feedback that I need. Thank you for reading the above, and I hope you enjoy the prologue below:

-----------------*-*-*-*-*---------------

Grey.

Everything was grey. The sky, the walls, the fog inside her head. Even her tormentor’s eyes were a piercing, unforgiving grey. It was the color that invaded her every thought from the moment she awoke until the moment she finally passed out.

Long ago, there used to be a spectrum. She vaguely recalled the melody of a forest green, the sweet sound of a tempting red, the echo of a vibrant yellow. That was an æon ago. Now, she was reduced to monochrome, the lifeless color of a rainy day.

Today, she had opted for a change of scenery. Instead of spending the entire day in bed, staring at the grey ceiling, she instead sat next to the grey-filtered transpane along one of the walls, watching the mist that enveloped the view.

Suddenly, the dreaded low, silky voice behind her called through the mental mist:

“Oh good, you’re up. I was beginning to wonder if I had finally broken you.” The disembodied tone had an air of amusement to it, as though it had told some clever inside joke.

She scowled in reply, but did not turn to search for the source of the voice. She had no words for the man. Words had color to them, and this Orb didn’t allow for that.

“I see. Just as conversational as ever,” mused her captor. “Come now, there’s no need for such reticence. We’re far beyond that. After all, we’ve both held up our ends of the bargain so far, and you can clearly see the benefits. You’re fully cooperative now and haven’t tried to escape in quite some time, and in return, your living quarters are quite generous, and I do try to make sure you’re well fed. For all intents and purposes, you are far more my guest than my prisoner at this point.”

And it was true. The sleeping room she was currently sitting in was rather large, and contained a bed, a small table, and two chairs, one of which she occupied. Attached to it was a respectable bathing room, complete with a tub. There was even a small cooking and eating room across a small, narrow hallway. She should have been comfortable. There were just two major problems: she was here against her will, and everything was that same damnable shade.

When she didn't hear the sound of her "host's" footsteps echoing away from her prison,

her curiosity and anger got the better of her. Almost subconsciously, she turned and gave the lurking man in the entryway a withering glance. To the prisoner, he was barely more than a silhouette. What little she could see was distorted into the same washed-out shade by the specially- filtered light. Slate shoes and the bottom half of a charcoal suit protruded into frame, along with a pair of ashen hands clasped in front of his sharkskin belt.

He responded to her glare by tugging slightly at the cuff of his sleeve, almost as if he were uncomfortable. It was a ruse, she knew; they had played this scenario out before. She turned back to face the table and transpane as the Grey Man strode in from the entryway behind her. His footsteps tapped a muffled rhythm on the shaggy grey carpet. In another life, she could have made a song from it. Now, it was just another sound to interrupt the monotony echoing pointlessly in her mind.

When he reached the remaining chair across from her, he paused before sitting, and instead looked down at her calculatedly for a moment. Then, he pulled her forward across the small, round table by her chin, forcing her brown eyes to meet his grey, separated only a couple centimeters. She was a bit taken aback at the action, but did not dare show it on her face. He had never been this aggressive before.

“Tell me, Synia, what makes you hate me so much? After all, you invited me. I merely gave you everything you asked for,” he purred.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then just as quickly returned to the hostile glare she had perfected in the last year. He had just given her the ability to escape, but he didn’t know it.

Yet.

She fought to keep her thoughts from showing on her face, taking care to ensure that the mask was firmly in place. Fortunately, he misunderstood the lapse.

“Ahhh, yes. The truth is rather uncomfortable, isn’t it? Just think: if your curiosity and desperation hadn’t gotten the better of you, you wouldn’t be here, and this whole mess could have been avoided. How selfish of you,” he said, almost a whisper. The man thrust her chin away, forcing her to break eye contact and instead focus on her balance. He smirked slightly as he stood up and faced the entryway.

“Still, I must be grateful. Thanks to you, I have been given the greatest gift of all. Because of your greed, I’m free to move as I wish, and every whim I could think of is catered to my specific design!” His voice rose slightly with each sentence, as if convincing himself that it was true.

He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was back to its usual silk: “Before too long now, I'll have cracked the code, and you will truly be at my mercy. I’m getting oh so close. This last experiment yielded some remarkable results that the bots are still analyzing. And when I do figure it out, I will be able to be rid of you for good. Until then..." He trailed off dramatically as he walked towards the door. She did not turn to watch him leave.

His footsteps paused behind her, and there was complete silence for several seconds. Her curiosity once again betrayed her. As she turned, she saw him standing with his back to her, the grey fob in his hand extended to unlock the door. However, he didn’t activate it. Instead, he had waited until he knew she was watching to leave his parting shot. His voice returned to the deadly not-quite-whisper:

“Well, that’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

He activated the fob, and the door clicked open. She had already turned back to face the transpane again by the time he had crossed over the threshold. There was a sound of the electomag lock bolt sliding back into place, followed by gentle footsteps that retreated back into the silence.

She closed her eyes and exhaled softly, like she had a million times before. Only this time, there was a monumental difference: he had finally made an error. He had been so careful in the last four-hundred-and-thirty-two days, sixteen hours, and twenty-two minutes to make sure that her entire life had no color except grey. Every single surface and feature had been carefully selected to prevent her from using her gift.

He had the bots shave her head every other day or so, leaving nothing but a faint, grey stubble. Her now threadbare clothes had been carefully selected to be comfortable, but monochromatic. There were no mirrors, and every surface that could have possibly held a reflection was scratched or matted down, so she could not see herself. And her tattoos…she still couldn’t think about that, even as she subconsciously touched the scars on her left forearm where one of them used to be. She was to be as much grey as the room itself. But they could not change her eyes.

Her brown eyes.

For an instant, as he held her gaze so close to his own, the filtered light was broken by his own shadow, and his wintery stare became twin mirrors. For the first time in three-hundred-and-ninety-six days, eight hours, and twenty minutes, she saw a color. And she remembered.

She remembered what brown felt like.

That tiny glimpse was all she needed. It was the spark of hope she had been waiting for, that she had almost given up on. She had a color; a good one, even. For the first time in her life, she was grateful that her eyes were the color of cesspools, as he had once described them.

Now all she had to do was focus, plan, and wait for the perfect moment. She had all the time in the Orb. After all, he stupidly thought she was beaten.

#writing #writeblr #novel #new novels #long post #I'm so scared to share this lol #thanks for reading #querying #publishing #synesthesia #Synia #Syniae

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aphroditestummyrolls · 3 months

Note

26 + wesper? 💌

Hello! Sorry this took so long— the holidays are always a more difficult time to focus on writing, and then with Covid, jetlag, and the leftover annoyance of my sprained ankle, I’ve just been off my game.

Thank you for participating, though! And being so patient. These little prompts are really helping me get back in the saddle. And I LOVED writing this one. I think I might even continue it and make it a little oneshot.

Enjoy ❤️

Jesper Fahey couldn’t sit still. This wasn’t something that he was bothered by or defensive about when people mentioned it— not most of the time, at least. It was just a fact. As much of a fact as him having charcoal grey eyes, being devilishly handsome, and being able to shoot a coat button from a half mile away and around a corner.

He had a permanently restless mind— his thoughts raced from one thing to another, and his body was constantly fidgeting. He couldn’t keep up with himself sometimes. And he’d fiddle with his guns, or chew absently at his fingers, desperate for something to occupy him whenever he was idle.

Jes didn’t do idle. And if there was one thing smaller than his attention span, it was the likelihood that he’d been listening in the first place.

It wasn’t his fault his brain was so loud. So constant.

Unless it was a target, focus was just not a Jesper talent.

That particular night, though, Jesper had never stayed still for so long. It took effort to keep his mind in check, but luckily for him, his loud, hectic brain was only thinking about one thing: Wylan Van Eck.

A fluff of half singed curls tickled at the underside of his jaw. There was a puff of a pained whimper across his collarbone. The tip of Wylan’s sooty little nose nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Thank the Saints you stopped by to walk him home, he thought, his fingers twitching restlessly over his lover’s smaller frame. He was pressed to his side, a solid, grounding weight where they laid in the workshop's grotty old bed. If it had been worse, he could have…

Well, Jesper would’ve felt terrible for all the cracks he’d made about losing fingers. That was for certain.

He stroked his thumb along the knuckles of the hand he held— one, two, three, four, and a thumb curled loosely by Jesper’s palm. They were all present and accounted for under the fraying edge of the bandage tied there. It probably wasn’t the best patch job, but he was a bit rattled at the time. It would do until Wylan had slept off the worst of the headache— then they could find Nina and beg her help.

For now, it was just them. Just Jesper, really, listening to his own loud mess of overlapping thoughts while Wylan slept, curling in impossibly closer.

He works too much. These long days are too long, and he probably forgot to eat again, and I was too busy to stop by—

It left a pit in his stomach and a twitch in his muscles— to move, to pace, to do something more, even if there was nothing more to be done.

Wylan snuffled against his chest, and Jesper felt the clench of something desperate and warm wrapped around his heart. He pressed his lips to his merchling’s forehead, getting a nose full of his smoky curls while he did.

They’d need a bath when they got back. In a big way. The stench of the chemicals was more than the ventilation shafts could handle. Still, Jesper only held him tighter, feeling a little insane.

He would never forget walking into the workshop that night— the reek of burning chemicals in the air, the thick cloud of bitter smoke that made his throat sting and his eyes water. He was blinded by the dark plume of it, blinking rapidly as he fought to adjust to the dim lamps somewhere in the chaos. Still, Jesper ran down the stairs.

When he called Wylan’s name, he got nothing but stomach-churning silence.

It took a long moment of Jesper shouting himself hoarse, covering his nose and mouth with his— probably now ruined— pocket square, before he picked up the first signs of movement in the wreckage. There was a rattling cough, and then I’m here! He croaked out the words before dissolving into coughs. I’m- I’m alright, just wait—

With a sudden gust of wind, the vents were cranked open as wide as they could go. The noxious fog thinned and, finally, there was the slim silhouette of his lover. He was hunched over with one hand braced against the workbench. The other was cradled to his chest.

Jesper was at his side faster than he knew he could move. With the reassurance of that standing, awake, alive merchling in his arms, Jes’s brain immediately filled with a hundred shouted questions— what happened? Where does it hurt? Let me see your hand—

In the end, he didn’t need to say a word. Which was a good thing, because not a single word could seem to make it from his brain to his mouth. Wylan was leaning heavily into his chest, his knees wobbly enough that Jesper had to steady him with an arm around his waist. The other was nothing more than a blur, flitting uselessly across the smaller man’s frame like he could scan him for injuries.

My… he swallowed with an audible click, a breath from Jesper’s ear, my head. I hit my head.

Sure enough, there was a bloody mat of hair at the back of his head. His fingers came away stained red. Sucking his teeth nervously, Jesper’s brain got louder, but he didn’t say anything for the moment. Wylan’s eyes were glassy, but focused, and he took that as a good sign as he stroked lightly over his wild hair, trying to assess the damage better. It was so tender that even Jes’s barely present little probe was too much. Wy hissed.

Jes, please.

Okay— okay, Love. He carefully removed his goggles from the top of his head, and plucked the plugs from his ears. I’ve got you.

By the time he shuffled him over to the bed, the smoke had cleared. Jesper sighed at the state of it all— the workshop and the mad scientist included— and let himself revel for just a moment in sheer relief.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as it seemed.

Snagging a roll of bandages and a half-assed first aid kit from a shelf near the bed, Jesper could see that the smoke was much worse than the actual explosion. There was a splintered gouge in the workbench that would need sanding— as if anything ever got sanded in the Barrel— and a sooty stain where it all happened, but other than a few broken bottles and vials, it was no worse for wear.

Wylan must’ve been right there when the blast went off. The support beam behind the workbench had a small blood stain at just about head height for his merchling. He was sooty and singed, with only two perfect circles of clean skin around his eyes— at least he’d been wearing his gear. All that was hurt were his pretty little head, and a messy looking red burn on his right hand.

Alright, Jesper nodded, trying to remember what his da did to gauge Jesper’s head injuries growing up. Head first, merchling. D’you know your name?

Wylan’s lips twitched like he might laugh. A good sign. Wylan Van Eck.

Mhm. And where d’you live, Wylan?

The Slat, with- with my boyfriend.

He never got tired of hearing that. You’ve got a boyfriend? That’s a shame. Wylan managed half a little smile when Jesper winked at him. Come here often?

Jes, he sighed, my head hurts.

He cooed sympathetically, cupping his cheek as softly as he could with one hand while he used his sacrificial pocket square to smear away a little bit of the soot with the other.

I know, Love— you gave it a good, hard smack. But you’re not slurring, you’re not disoriented. So, that’s a point in your favour. Are you nauseous? Dizzy?

Jesper had had enough concussions to at least remember how they felt. Wylan nodded. A bit— the dizziness was pretty bad at first, I… I think I’m fine now, though.

Just in case, it was best not to move him yet. And by the time he was finished dabbing a burn salve into the raw skin of his hand and was tying off the bandage, Wylan’s pretty brown eyes were halflidded. He was swaying just a little where he sat at the edge of the bed.

Jes kissed the top of the bandage.

He supposed a little nap couldn’t hurt. The clock tower was striking 8 bells, and Kaz was sure to be wondering where Jesper had gone— he’d mentioned something about a meeting? He’d never given him a time, though, so he had no right to give him his disappointed face when they got back.

At least, Jes didn’t remember a time.

Well, something more important came up.

The most important thing was Wylan’s poor beleaguered head, pillowed on his chest. His steady breaths were leaving little puffs of warm air across Jesper’s chest. And with that bandaged hand held loosely in his own, his brain finally felt a little quieter.

#six of crows #wesper #wylan van eck #jesper fahey

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henrypreppy · 11 months

Text

Not Quite Nepotism

I made it through to the final interview. I needed this job, and since there was a huge influx of accounting grads, I thought my chances were slim. The first few interviews turned out to be mostly small talk and some experience questions. All of it was simple and easy. My family was all the way back in New York, and I came to Texas for a new start and a job lead. I was new. No one knew me, so there wasn't much I could talk about locally, but the managers seemed to like my disposition at the very least. Though, I had a feeling the final interview with the owner of the bank was going to be much harder.

I showed up like every other interview dressed sharply, a neat charcoal suit, white dress shirt, black tasseled loafers, and a burnt orange tie—I knew the owner was a longhorns fan.

I walked somewhat stiffly up to the receptionist and told her I was here for the interview with Mr. Richardson. She smiled warmly, "So, you're the one he's been so excited about! Let me tell him you're here and get you a keycard for the elevator. His office is on the top floor."

I didn't think I was a hotshot or anything, but apparently word had traveled up to the head honcho.

The receptionist grabbed a card from the drawer and dialed an extension on the phone before saying “He’s here.” She handed me a keycard for the elevator with a wink and said "He's ready for you now. Top floor. Good luck!”

I got in the elevator and tapped the card to the reader. I pressed the button to take me to the fifth floor. The doors closed, and I took the brief moment to make sure my appearance was neat in the reflective metal. My black hair looked immaculate with comb lines forming a neat side part. I took a few deep breaths after checking my hair, and before I knew it. I was at the top.

The doors opened, and I realized… His office wasn't ON the top floor. It WAS the top floor. I stepped out, and was greeted immediately by the smell of a citrusy cologne as I advanced toward him. Mr. Richardson, a rather portly man in a navy three piece suit, sat before me. His grey hair was in a neat side part that looked very thick for his other aged features. He spoke in a slow emphatic drawl: “Mr. Matthews! What a pleasure it is to finally meet’cha! My cohorts have told me quite a lot about’cha, son!"

He rose from behind his mahogany desk and extended his hand for a handshake. I took it, feeling his powerful grip on my hands as my eyes locked with his. Confidently, if not overconfidently, I replied "The pleasure is all mine! This is quite an office you have here."

He chuckled softly, "Well, it took a long time to build up. Please, have a seat."

I took a seat on the rather robust office chair opposite his, resting my arms firmly on the thick, cushioned rests. "Thank you," I said politely. As he sat opposite me, I could notice a thick sheen coming from the top of his grey hair. He seemed to have no sideburns either—an odd style choice, but I wasn’t there to question style; I had a mission.

I must have been looking too long, as he almost comically eyed me up and down in an over-exaggerated manner. I let out a nervous giggle as I realized. Ceasing to over-act, his expression turned serious. "I'll cut straight to the chase, son. From everything I've heard about’cha, I think you'll do real nice here with me. I trust those underneath me. They’re a helluva team.”

I was put off slightly by the boldness of his statement, but managed another "Thank you, sir."

With a slight smile, he taunted, “But…” He licked his lips like a wolf eyeing its prey. “Let me get one last look at’cha before yer career with me really gets started.”

With a snap and a few ripped arm hairs, restraints sprang from the armrests and held my arms to the chair. One ankle, being close to one of the legs of the chair, was caught as well. I began to panic and flail my free leg as I heard swift footsteps behind me. I turned my head as much as I could and caught a glimpse of two men in black business suits rushing up from behind the chair.

Mr. Richardson smiled even wider, speaking even slower: "Don't you worry, son. Your career has just begun."

I felt a sharp pain in my neck and everything faded to black. The last thing in sight was the glare from Mr. Richardson's grey hair.

…

I awoke in a dark room, unable to move my arms, legs, or head. All I could do was look forward. There seemed to be whispers in the background, though I could not make out what they were saying. Then, there was a small sting toward the front of my head as the dark room was briefly lit by a pinkish light. It startled me at first, but the stings kept coming and eventually my head became numb from pain. The flashes came to a steady rhythm, and slowly I could make out a something in front of me. It was the silhouette of a person.

Slowly, I could make out more details, and it looked like just a head with hair, but only on the top. It was light, but not quite white. After a few minutes, the flashes stopped. My head felt warm, and the room smelled like something burning.

A bright spotlight came from overhead and illuminated what I saw in brief flashes: a grey toupee on a wooden head form. It looked like Mr. Richardson's hair. I examined it briefly.

Then, I heard a slight hissing noise, as if gas was escaping from a pipe and was instantly flooded with euphoria. All I could do was look at the toupee before me. Blood rushed from my throbbing head to my member; it felt amazing; it felt erotic; it felt wrong in some ways. Soon after, I blacked out from the rush.

…

I awoke once again, feeling exhausted, unwilling to struggle to move. The room was dark once again, and the whispers seemed louder, and I could make out a few words. "Lionel Richardson…" "Bank manager…" "Tradition…" "Junior…" The words rolled around in my head at random intervals. When I finally started to hear them clearer, the stinging on my head started again; this time it was closer to the crest of my head. This time, the flashes lasted longer and were accompanied by more intense pain.

As the flashes accompanied stinging, I saw there was something else in front of me: Two cylinders. It continued, and I could see curves in them. The bottom of each one was flared and darker, and there appeared to be a line that separated the dark underneath from the paleness above. A faint glimmer of metal and a dark stripe caught my eye above that. I struggled to focus on it. Finally, I was able to understand what I was looking at. They were legs. The stinging stopped. The smell was far more pungent than last time, and the pain on my head persisted much more.

Then, the spotlight came on once again, illuminating a pair of wooden leg forms wearing dark socks and black leather sock garters with a silver metal clip.

Once I comprehended what I saw, the hissing began again and I was sent into euphoria staring at the socks and garters. My cock grew forcibly in response and even my nipples became erect. I lasted longer before passing out, but eventually the gleam of the silver clips on the garters faded from my hazy vision.

…

I have no idea how long I was out, but when I came to, the voices around me no longer sounded like whispers. I could make them out clearly, but it sounded like I was in a crowded room. I heard full sentences. "I am Lionel Richardson." "I am the regional bank manager." "I value tradition." "My dad calls me Junior." "I love my family."

The room was still dark, and I knew what was coming: another round of stings on my scalp and flashing lights. This time, the stings felt like they were on the back of my head, past the crest. The pain was very intense, and the scent was recognizable immediately. My penis betrayed me ahead of time and swelled in expectation of the erotic rush.

At first, the flashes revealed very little, other than something broad and white. Slowly, more details emerged and I could see what looked like a white tank top and briefs in front of me. The flashing and stinging suddenly became more rapid, almost like a strobe. The pain moved from the back of my head to the front over and over. It was excruciating. Just like before, though, it stopped, but only after light tears formed in my eyes from pain. Even my cock, eager for release, shrank from the discomfort.

The spotlight came on, and the object was revealed. It was a mannequin form wearing a tight, white a-shirt tucked into a pair of high-rise white briefs. As I examined the shirt and underwear further, I saw letters on the waist of the briefs: LR. I could see small ridges in the fabric of the shirt, as I began to hear the hissing.

The voices suddenly fell silent and my privates rose once again to full attention.

Then, I heard Mr. Richardson's voice clear as a bell: "A man should always dress traditionally, Junior."

A rush came over me, as endorphins flooded my system again.

He repeated: "A man should always dress traditionally, Junior." This time, it rang in my head.

As I fought to maintain consciousness, it changed: "You're nothing without your hair, son…"

It echoed in my head, ingraining the phrase on my horny mind as my eyes closed and time passed once again.

…

When I woke up this time, there were no voices. The room was bright, illuminated by an overhead light this time. I could feel something cold and smooth around my neck, but I could move my head this time. I looked around the room and saw only a dresser in the corner, and a full length mirror in front of me. On top of the dresser sat a wooden head with the grey toupee I saw in what seemed like a dream. I saw myself in the mirror, now pudgy, slightly erect, a metal collar around my neck, and fully nude. My head was bald with only a black fringe of hair around the sides. I understood what had been done. My hair was removed. Finally, I heard his voice again. “Get up, and get dressed, Junior.”

The restrains on my arms, legs, and chest were released. I sat forward with a gasp, and felt freedom for the first time in ages. I stood up, but my legs felt weak and shaky from lack of use. I looked behind me to see a metal chair with restraints fully opened. There seemed to be no door to the room behind me either.

I felt a strong shock from the collar I was wearing and heard him repeat: "Get up and get dressed, Junior."

Caught off guard, I stumbled from the pain. I nearly fell, but caught myself on the edge of the dresser. I took a deep breath and stood straight up. I reached for the top drawer and pulled it open with a slow creak. Inside were many pairs of white briefs, monogrammed "LR," ribbed white a-shirts, black socks that had a slight sheen to them, and three pairs of sock garters.

Feeling a slight chill, I decided to cover up my manhood with the briefs first. They were crisp and starched with a rise that I was sure could pass belly button. As I pulled the briefs up, I heard the hissing of gas again. I prepared to lose consciousness again, but the hissing only lasted for a moment; it was euphoria once again, albeit briefly as the waistband grasped my midsection tightly, leaving a clear silhouette of my enlivened tool.

Next, I reached for the a-shirt. Unaccustomed to wearing them, I thought it would be uncomfortable, but I pulled my arms through, and felt warmer once again.

I reached for the socks, but felt a shock from the collar before I could grab them.

I heard him say once more "A man should always dress TRADITIONALLY, Junior."

I was confused. I WAS dressing traditionally. I reached for the socks again, confused. Another shock.

He said, "A man must always be tucked and tidy, son." I understood what he meant as I glanced at my untucked shirt. I slid the bottom of the a-shirt into the high waist of my briefs, smoothing it out all the way around. It did little to hide my erect nipples, which rubbed the ribbed garment with pleasure.

A brief hiss, and another small rush.

I reached for the socks slower this time and felt the silky fabric as I finally made contact. I knelt down to place the first one on my foot and relished the smooth knit working its way up my leg to my calf. I had never worn socks like this before. They felt very nice. I slipped the other one on and enjoyed the feeling once more. Expecting another rush, I took a deep inhale and received nothing but air. I felt strangely frustrated, but intuited that there was more.

I looked to the garters and it clicked. I took the first one, wrapping it around my calf and clipping it to my sock. I cinched it tight and pulled the sock up taut. I repeated the process again, and when the sock was properly supported, I stood up. Another hiss of gas entered the room, and I was feeling great. I wiggled my toes as one hand drifted to my nipple and the other toward my cock. I thought to myself, “Is this what luxury underwear is like? It feels amazing. It feels so—“

"Now look at yourself, son.” Mr. Richardson interrupted. “This is how a man should dress."

I moved my hands away from my body in embarrassment. I walked to the mirror and took a long look at myself. I looked old and stodgy, like I was ripped out of some old sitcom.

"Look at your hair, Junior."

I stared at my pale, bald head glistening in the light.

"You're nothing without your hair, son."

His statement seemed to elude me as I looked at myself. Then, a small shock started from the collar. Very light, but persistent. I snapped out of my disbelief, and looked to the dresser once more to see the toupee sitting on the head form.

He repeated: "You're nothing without your hair, son." The shocking became worse, more painful.

I began to make my way to the dresser as he repeated once again and the shocks became nearly debilitating. Nearly within reach, he repeated one last time before I passed out from the pain, the object of reprieve inches my fingertips.

…

I awoke again in the chair, fully restrained, lights off, and head throbbing. I felt a ringing in my ears as a screen turned on in front of me. It showed a picture of Mr. Richardson; the image flickered every few seconds or so.

A small gust of air hit me, and I was taken back in my mind to the smell of his office when I had first walked in. This must have been his cologne. It smelled of light citrus and teakwood.

Then, the hissing began, and I felt the rush again, just breathing in the scent as my body responded.

I focused on the screen while taking it all in. The flickering seemed to speed up, as the word "FATHER" slowly crept into my vision and overtook the image of Mr. Richardson. It slowly faded away, as I was hit with another puff of air—more citrus and wood. The hissing began and continued this time until I passed out in euphoria some minutes or hours later, staring at Mr. Richardson's picture, "FATHER" creeping back into it all, as I faded to black. This time, I think I understood.

…

I awoke again, the room lit like before. The collar was around my neck again, and I could look around once more. I saw myself naked again and felt embarrassed, my face flushing slightly.

On queue, I heard him say "Get up and get dressed, Junior."

I was freed from my confines once again, and felt a strong shock after getting up.

He spoke: "Please respond to me when I speak to you, son."

I let out a meek, hoarse "Sorry, sir."

Another shock. "Please address me by who I am, not just 'sir.'"

"Sorry… dad?"

Another shock, but less intense. I clear my throat and muster a normal speaking voice: "Sorry, Father."

"Apology accepted, Junior, now please get dressed." He sounded almost heartfelt, but entirely formal.

I walked to the dresser again, finding a bottle of cologne labelled "LR" next to the head form this time.

I got dressed again, not waiting for the rush that he gave me for a good performance. My cock grew as I began the process: Briefs. A-shirt. Tuck it in. Socks. Garters. Then, I reached for the toupee—another shock of moderate intensity.

"Please go take a look at yourself, Junior."

I walked to the mirror once more and took myself in.

He encouraged me, "That is how a man ought to properly dress, but you're nothing without your hair son." The persistent shock began again, as I made my way to the grey toupee.

Instead of repeating, he said, "Don't you agree, Junior?"

The shock intensified until I yelp, "Yes, Father!"

The intensity lessened only slightly as he inquired, "Yes, Father, what?"

I hesitated, and the shocking swelled once again. "Yes, Father, I'm nothing without my hair!"

The shocking went down once again as I touched my hands to the grey toupee. I slowly raised it to my head and placed it on. It slid ever-so-slightly, but the shocking completely ceased.

Instinctively, I walked to the mirror once again to adjust my toupee. I cringed slightly at the grey toupee contrasting with my remaining fringe of black hair. I began shifting around the strands of fake hair with my hands, forming a rough side part that fails to blend in with my dark hair.

Father lauded me, "Very good, Junior! Now you're wearing it like your old man! Aren't you glad to have one just like me?"

"Yes, Father.” A shock. "I'm nothing without my hair."

Father responded, "Thank you, son! Now why don't you put on some cologne and make yourself presentable." I walked back to the dresser and sprayed some cologne on my wrists, neck, and toupee. Citrus and teakwood, just like Father.

The gas finally hissed in, and I felt the similar euphoric rush I felt when I have behaved correctly. A small wet spot began to form in the briefs as I stared at myself in the mirror, smelled the cologne, and passed out in ecstasy, my unsecured toupee falling inches from my head.

…

I was roused from my stupor by the sound of muffled crashes and booms. It was coming from outside the room. I was confused. The voice continued telling me who I am as the noises came closer. The lights were off and I was restrained still. I was confused. What was going on?

I heard a faint yell from outside the room: “Hallway clear, proceeding forward!”

Sweat dripped down my neck, and I began to struggle against the restraints. I wasn’t who the voices were saying I was. I was being held. The situation began to click for me. Rescue was on the way!

A light emerged from behind me as a door behind me was opened.

“Hold!” I heard an authoritative man shout as footsteps approached me from behind.

“Hello?” I questioned in a daze.

“There’s a guy in here,” the man boomed before trodding over to my front. Several sets of footsteps followed behind him.

They were clad in S.W.A.T. body armor and riot helmets. One of them removed his helmet, revealing a young but severe face and buzzcut. “Waco PD. Sgt. Mathers. Who are you?”

A softer “The fuck is this shit?” could be heard from another man, acknowledging the situation and the voice speaking in the background.

I was flustered, unsure of what to say. “I-I’m-I… Help me,” is all I could muster.

“Are you being held captive?” He questioned directly.

“Yes… Father!” I eeked, the ‘father’ leaving my lips involuntarily.

“He’s the one. Help me get him out of here,” he commanded to the men behind him.

The men started to work on the restraints as he turned to me: “I ain’t’cher daddy, boy. Now, identify yourself!”

“Li-Lio-I’on’t know.” I slurred madly.

The man held his hand up, signaling the men to stop. He seemed exasperated: “Clearly.”

The men stopped working on the restraints and backed away, their heads shaking almost dejectedly. I was even more confused. Were they here to rescue me?

The man stood straight and broadcasted, “Assessment failed. Recommending more extreme measures.” The lights cut on as the men began to exit as the unmasked one shook his head. He turned to me and said didactically “You’ll only feel good when you accept who you are.” He took a syringe from his vest pocket, flicked it twice and pressed it into my neck with a sting before walking off.

I was betrayed, crazed, confused, and hopeless as I struggled to keep my eyes open. I listened to the voice declaring “I am Lionel Richardson Junior” as I passed out.

…

“Wakey wakey, Junior,” I heard a familiar voice say as I struggled to open my eyes. I was still fully restrained, but the overhead lights were on. My whole body was sore—especially my head and groin. I finally opened them fully and was greeted with Mr. Richardson in front of me. He was dressed in a navy pinstripe three-piece suit with a red paisley necktie. My eyes immediately drifted to his silver hairpiece. He reeked of his expensive cologne, but it seemed comforting.

“There we are,” He said with a grin as my eyes finally met his. “Do you finally understand who you are?” he patronized.

“Yes… Father,” I hesitated.

“That doesn’t sound very confident. Richardsons are nothing if not confident, Junior.”

“Yes, Father,” I repeated without delay.

“Good, Junior. What is your name?” He asked deliberately.

“Lionel Richardson Junior,” I replied weakly.

“Once more with vigor, son,” He urged.

“Lionel Richardson Junior,” I stated at a normal volume.

“Good, son. Now get dressed,” he demanded.

My penis grew automatically at his approval. He moved to the side, and the restraints were released. I could see myself already in the mirror. I had gotten even fatter—not quite to fath-uh-Mr. Richardson’s proportions, but a definitive gut now hung over my substantial thighs. I groaned as I got up and pondered whether or not to make a move for him as I stood. As the thought emerged, a striking pain rapped my head. I reeled back into the seat.

“Precautions have been taken, Junior. You’d never disobey father, would you?” He challenged.

“No, father,” I said dejectedly before standing up again. “I apologize, father,” left my lips robotically as I moved toward the dresser. I had not intended to speak, nor to obey so quickly.

“Apology accepted, Junior. Now get dressed.”

It was hard for me to think of anything but obedience to him. I pulled open the top drawer to the dresser again and took the now-larger “LR” monogrammed briefs out. As I stepped into them, I felt a tingling sensation within my genitals, as if teasing an orgasm. I pulled them up to my belly button, and the sensation felt nearer and nearer to release but never came. It drove me mad to be so close to such pleasure, and I began to paw at my crotch though the briefs.

My father delivered a swift slap to my face. “How unsightly, Junior. Please, control ya’self and get dressed.”

I shook myself, still on the edge of nirvana, and slung the a-shirt over my head, immediately tucking it in to the briefs. My spine tingled and toes curled, as release felt nearer and nearer. I knew what came next. With haste, I grabbed the dark silken socks and pulled them over my feet, eager to fasten them in place with the garters. I let out a slight moan as I clipped each sock into place.

“Good, my boy. It feels good to be a Richardson, doesn’t it?” My father cooed.

“Yes, Father,” is all I could think to say, lost in the pleasure of it all.

“Now look at’cha’self,” he rang. “What’re we missin’?”

My eyes glanced between the mirror and the toupee repeatedly. I knew what was missing. I was lost in the thought of the pleasure that would come from placing the toupee on my head before he prodded: “Answer me, Junior.” The pain in my head began again.

“I’m nothing without my hair, Father!” I declared, the pain receding.

I approached the toupee on the form with a “Very good, son,” from Father. The tingling in my groin intensified as my hands touched the toupee. I lifted it onto my head with a moan. As my head made contact with the piece, a tingle went down my spine to my groin; I thought orgasm was near, but it never came no matter how much I adjusted my hair in a craze.

“Calm down, Junior. Let’cha father help ya’. Com’ere.” He beckoned me to the seat that restrained me for so long. “Let me show ya’.”

I did not have time to think before I moved in hope of release. I sat down and stared at Father’s hair in the mirror as he came around behind me. He took the toupee off of my head and removed tape from his jacket before applying it to the inside of the toupee and rolling the piece back onto my head.

“That should hold it in place now. Let’s get’cha lookin’ right like yer ol’ dad.” He removed a brush from his jacket as well before styling the toupee. As he dragged the brush through my hair, I could feel the tape pulling at my scalp. Even that felt erotic on my denuded pate. I cooed after each pass with the brush, watching him groom me. With several more strokes through my hair, my father had it looking just like his, save the ring of black hair surrounding the piece.

He put the brush back in his pocket and placed his hands on my shoulders. His palms electrified me and pushed me closer to the precipice without allowing any release. “Lookin’ better already, son. Whaddya’ think?”

“It’s perfect, Father!” I groaned in ecstasy, reaching for my hair.

“Now, now, son. Don’t want to mess it up now, do we?”

“No, Father,” I agreed.

“Exactly,” he stated with a smirk. “Now put’cher cologne on ’n wait for me here. I have a surprise I’m sure you’ll love.”

“Of course, father,” I said formally. I walked toward the dresser as he walked to the back of the room. As I sprayed the comforting Richardson aphrodisiac on my neck and wrists, I glanced behind to see a crack form in the wall behind the chair. The crack parted farther into a doorway as my father walked toward it, and into a hallway. The door stayed open as I applied the cologne and relished the scent.

I stepped back to the mirror, admiring my appearance once again. The more I looked, the more pleasurable it felt: the high briefs, that did little to hide my engorged, leaking member; the undershirt, that coaxed my nipples to the size of dimes; the silky socks that caressed my toes and calves; the sock garters that kept them taut and gripped my legs; and especially the toupee that covered my baldness and finished the family resemblance.

Eventually, my eyes fell to the door reflected in the mirror. The vague thoughts of making a run for it were met with the pain of the harshest migraine I could have imagined. Respite only came as I focused on obedience and my appearance; the pleasure soon followed, forcing a smile onto my face as I pawed at myself in privacy.

After a moment to myself, I heard the hard clacking of Father’s footsteps approaching and stood straight up, locking eyes with myself in the mirror. He approached from behind carrying several bagged hangers and a shoe box.

“Are ya’ ready, son?” He teased.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good!” He said, placing the hanger bags down on the dresser and removing a pair of pleated, navy pinstripe trousers. “These are for you,” he said cheerily. They were a matching pair to his own.

He handed them to me with a smile and I stepped into them hungrily, pulling the wool up to my bellybutton. Next, he handed me a white dress shirt with French cuffs and watched as I pulled my arms through and buttoned the buttons. Before I could finish, he reminded me “Tucked and tidy, son!”

I tucked the shirt in as he fished out a pair of gold cufflinks. I caught a good look at the engraving on them as he handed them to me: “Jr.” I blushed and fastened them with confused erotic pride. Next came the red suspenders that he fastened to my pants personally, peeling back my waistline to button them to my pants underneath. The braces pulled my pants up even higher, leaving a bulge for each of my balls—eager for release—visible.

He then pulled out a pair of shiny black penny loafers from the box he brought. He set them out before me with an expectant smile. I stepped into them, the luxurious socks sliding smoothly against the leather of the shoes. As my heels hit the insoles, a puff of pleasure emanated from the shoes like a wave until it hit my groin. Once again, release did not come, but I was desperate for more.

Father then revealed a red paisley bow tie. The pattern was the same as his necktie. “Like father, like son,” he teased before draping the silk around my neck and buttoning my collar button. He deftly tied it on me, and I nearly felt complete.

He took the last garment from the bag, a navy pinstripe jacket, matching his. “Arms out, Junior,” he commanded. I obeyed. My arms slid through the luxurious lining, and my hands and cuffs emerged at the end. He buttoned the top button before standing back to admire his work.

I looked at him, then at my reflection as a grand smile appeared on his face. A similar smile formed on mine. My cock was throbbing, aching for release and satisfaction as I looked at the two of us. “Wow!” Was all I could manage to say.

“Wow, indeed, Junior,” he punctuated. “Wow indeed.” He approached me and leaned in for a hug. The scent of his cologne and the feel of his his body against mine sent me reeling. I would do anything for this man. I would do anything for my father.

He rubbed my back with his hand as he embraced me, and I felt secure. The sense of danger I developed over the period had faded. He pulled back with a smile and locked eyes with me.

“What’s yer name, son?” He asked.

"I am Lionel Richardson, Jr.”

“What do ya’ do for a living?” He continued.

"I am the regional bank manager."

“What’s important to ya’?”

"I value tradition,” I said, as my balls began to churn like never before.

“Do ya’ have any nicknames?”

“My dad calls me Junior." It became hard to maintain my composure as the line of questions came.

“Is there anything else I should know about you?” His smile grew.

"I love my family." Everything became clear with this statement.

His smirk evolved into a wide grin: “I know the whole interview process was a bit of a formality, Son, but thank ya’ for goin’ through the steps with me. Consider ya’self promoted officially.”

I was in ecstasy. “Thank you, Father.”

“No. Thank you, Junior. You’ve grown up quite a bit at college.”

We paused momentarily, a tear of pleasure forming in my eye. He continued: “I’m proud of ya’, son. Real proud.”

His words echoed in my head and went straight to my core. A tingling emanated from the back of my neck and from my feet. The sensations met at my groin as I convulsed in pleasure. Stream after stream erupted from my cock as I fell back into the chair that once restrained me. The pleasure continued pulse after pulse as I soaked my briefs and then my suit pants with semen. I panted heavily, focused on my father’s proud face and shiny toupee as I passed out in pleasure.

…

The alarm clock blared. I was disoriented. My eyes opened and I found myself in a luxurious bedroom. I slammed my hand onto the clock, silencing the cacophony. I groaned, rubbed my eyes, and threw the silky sheets off. I was free? It felt normal. Was it all a dream?

I rubbed my bald crown, and heard a call from outside the room: “Get up and get dressed, Junior!” It was my father. I felt a slight pain in my head before I got up. I went to my antique wooden dresser and proceeded as I always did: White monogrammed briefs pulled up to my bellybutton; a ribbed white tank tucked into them; black silk socks, fastened by garters. I went to the en suite bathroom and looked at myself. I felt good and looked good. My cock grew within my briefs—morning wood, I thought.

I placed the tape in my grey toupee and placed it on my head. There was a light contrast from my black fringe, but there was some greying; no one would notice. I spritzed myself with cologne, taking a big inhale before walking to the closet. A charcoal grey suit would do for today, and an orange bow tie, I decided.

I got dressed quickly. My father was waiting. The growth in my groin could not be taken care of this morning, unfortunately. Pleated pants, white shirt, navy suspenders, black tassel loafers, burnt orange bow, jacket, and ready to go.

I emerged from my room and was immediately greeted by my father. He wore a charcoal suit and orange necktie today. We were nearly identical again. “Junior! I was just about to pop in and check on ya’. Ready to head in? I’ve got an intern pickin’ up breakfast this mornin’.”

“Yes, Father. I’m excited for my first day in the position.” I said giddily, but automatically.

“Great! I already got that corner office on the fourth floor cleared out for ya’. Make the best of it,” he advised.

We went downstairs past our housekeeper who waved us off and into a black car. A stern looking young man in a buzz cut opened the door and ushered us in. The drive was short, and uneventful. When we arrived at the office, the receptionist greeted us, welcomed me back from college, and passed me a wink as we walked toward the elevator. I pressed my keycard to the reader with a sense of deja vu as I examined my hair in the reflective elevator door. It was good to be the owner’s son.

#toupee #traditional undergarments #loafers #suit #bow tie #sock garters #first person #brainwashing #reprogramming #office #father son

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