#google: *spits at my feet* fuck you

[diejager]

I'm back with my guilty taste (not so guilty actually) stepdad! König and dbf! Horangi....I like to swim in deep and dangerous waters. I'm sorry.

¡Sí, padrastro! König hierve crudo cuando salimos con Horangi sin él... Lo puedo adivinar. Tenemos una pijamada/fiesta con un amigo, que realmente lo es, con el consentimiento de nuestra madre. Ella conoce a nuestro amigo, confía plenamente en él, sin ningún motivo para decir que no a querer pasar la noche en su casa. Incluso admite que con nuestro regreso haríamos una linda pareja, en comparación con König y Horangi.

I leave the idea there.

(Tiemblo de sólo imaginarlo, ¡Dam! No puedo tener suficiente, ayuda)

I’m gonna be honest with you, I had to use google translate for this and the translations were uh… going left and right, but I think I understood the gist of it. cw: NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARKFIC, STEPCEST, rough sex, manhandling, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, blood kink, marking kink, wound, jealous stepdad!könig, tell me if I missed any.

König saw red when he heard that you were sleeping at a friend’s house, a boy’s house at that. Childhood friends, your mother told him, growing up together and having shared the same class until college when you went your separate ways while still keeping in touch since he lived right across the streets.

He knew the boy, he’d seen Kevin wave at your mother and you when he saw you, strutting up for a quick conversation; he’d heard Kevin talk to you on the phone and saw the smile growing on your lips and that bubbly laugh he wanted to own; and he’d seen you hang out with Kevin, waving him goodbye from your doorstep.

His blood boiled the whole night, making dinner with his wife awkward and his bedroom more heated, fucking up your mother with rough and mean sex, taking out a part of wrath on her until he had his hands on you.

He kissed his wife goodbye that morning, watching her limp out to her car and hiss as she sat down, but he didn’t feel guilty, anger still simmering under his skin. He waited for you in the living room, seating in the recliner that faced the door with his arms crossed and face scrunched up.

The moment he heard the knob turn, he surged forward, gripping you by the wrist and pulling you to your room, over the stairs and down the hall, shutting the door behind him loudly. He tore through the your clothes, ripping your panties with a shift of a hand and had you spread open for him. He was less than lenient with you, spitting on your hole and fingering you roughly, thick fingers pumping in and out of you and rolling your clit with his thumb.

He only did the minimum, stretching you out slightly so that you could feel every inch of him when he pushed in, wanting to hear whine and cry as he fucked you. He wasn’t teasing or playful like he usually was, in his haze of anger and jealousy, König was rough, domineering and mean. He split you in half on his cock, pounding into you with loud and hard thrusts, his balls slapping loudly against your slick-coated ass.

He had you folded in two, legs pressed to your chest, feet hanging off his shoulders as he towered you, his shadow looming menacingly over you. He bent forward, lips wrapping around your neck and shoulders, teeth biting into your skin, digging into your supple flesh and bleeding it, rivulets of ichor rolled down your fresh bite. He hissed and growled, spitting degrading insults, names, in your ear, relishing in the tears that fell from your lashes, sweet and salty drops that he lapped up with a bloody tongue.

He fucked you until he grew oversensitive, the leaky tip gushing ropes of cum inside you and his blood pumping through his bulging veins. He shuddered every time he came, watching your stomach bloat with his cock and cum, your pleasure painting a thick, white ring around the base of his shaft. Your room smelled of sex and sweat, your near unconscious form laying limp on the bed, fingers still grasping onto the sheets and legs spread over his elbow, eyes zoned to your heat.

“No more sleepovers, understood, Schatz?” Your stepfather growled, hand tilting your chin up to stare into his red-rimmed eyes.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

#tw: cheating #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: stepcest #stepdad!konig #Stepdad!könig #x reader #cod mw2 #yandere x reader #konig x reader #yandere #konig x reader smut #konig mw2 #konig smut #könig #könig x reader #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig x reader smut #Mw2 smut #cod mw2 smut #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 x reader #dead dove do not eat

[darlingsfandom]

Calling Steve daddy taunting him as a joke until he yanks you into the bathroom and demands you say it again as he finger fucks you so good and talks you through it

do you live in my brain??

Gif credit: whoever made it/google images .

It was a joke, really it was! You were sitting with Steve and the rest of the group was sitting with you guys at the table in the corner of the back of the bar. You may or may not have snuck a few drinks of Nancy's fruity little drink. As the night went on Robin was talking about how she was promoted at Family Video and Nancy was talking about how she's having a hard time with English class in college. You already knew what Eddie and Steve were up to since you three lived together, well you and Steve lived together Eddie was the roommate who left his dirty dishes in the sink without rinsing them.

"Wow sounds like mommy and daddy huh!" Robin snorted as she elbowed you a little while looking at Eddie who was holding his beer in his hand.

"I mean Steve is Daddy!" Your cheeks flushed red as Steve gave you a daring glance. No one said a word for about five minutes before Nancy got up to order another round of drinks. You felt bad because now everyone was a bit weirded out and as soon as everyone finished that round. Eddie slapped Steve on the shoulder and said he'd see you guys at home. Both you and Steve sat there quietly for a minute before you got up to pay the tab, upon paying and giving a nice tip , you felt your arm being pulled and your feet scrapping slightly across the floor only to realize it was Steve dragging you into the bathroom.

You back was slammed against the stall as Steve gripped his hands around your neck. You loud gasp left your lips as he kissed you hard pushing his hands deeper into your neck only to let go suddenly allowing the breathe inside of you to stabilize again. "Daddy! You really had to tell all our friends about it?" Steve looked at you sternly as you felt small beneath him.

"I'm sorry but it's true! You're daddy and you know it. You're my daddy! And I'm your good girl !" You stomped your foot at him and Steve wasn't having it. He yanked your skirt down to your ankles and grinned when he noticed the wet spot on your panties.

"Good girls don't get this wet when they're in public with their friends." Steve ran his finger tips over the wet patch before pulling your panties down and sliding one finger inside of your wet folds. "And they sure as hell don't put their daddy on display like that when it's a secret!" Steve bit your neck hard before sliding in another finger. He gave you a second to adjust before he scissored you open and plunged his thick fingers in and out of you.

"Fuck fuck! I'm sorry okay! I love you! I love that your my daddy and I just people to know! Okay ! Fuck!" You whined and squirmed around before Steve wrapped his hand around your throat again giving it a tight squeeze. Your eyes rolled back into your head at the feeling of Steve's palm rubbing against your clit, fingers working over you and his warm lips against your own.

"I know you are sweet girl, but it was our secret!" He bit your bottom lip taking no mercy on how your pussy was aching from the roughness he was giving you. Your thighs started twitching as you gripped his wrist.

"Steve Steve STEVE! I .. fuck .. DADDY! Please!" You cried out making it echo off the dirty walls. "I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna fucking cum!"

"Do it baby! Be my good little whore that you are and fucking soak the floor! I know ya can!" Steve squeezed your mouth open to spit in it while you rubbed your clit with his thumb.

"Daddy. Daddy DADDY!! IM FUCK, FUCK IM CUM... OH MY GOD!" Your orgasm hit hard as Steve pulled his fingers out to focus on the fact you were gushing all over the floor and his shoes. "I CANT,STOP!" You were shaking as your stood there squirting looking at Steve who stood there with a grin on his face.

"Good. Look what a mess you made!" He yanked your hair and pulled you down until you were in a squatting position. "I should make you lick it off my shoe for being such a brat.... but this floor is more disgusting now... so I'll just have to let you walk out of here with a soaked ousts and no panties." Steve fixed you up a little before shoving you out the door and walking down the hall and you could feel everyone's eyes on you as you walked with Steve back outside to go home.

#Steve Harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #emsblurbs

[strongheartneteyam]

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Chapter 4

Pairing: widowed!dilf!Jake Sully x younger!female!human reader

CW: jealous-in-an-unhealthy-way-Jake, Jake and y/n verbally fight because of complicated feelings, angst!!, heated make out session, possessive Jake, TRIGGER WARNING for Jake being toxic and unreasonable, Jake apologizes afterwards bc he's good after all, Daddy kink (nothing explicit but still the kink is there)

So… after this fic being on an incredibly long hiatus, I'm back with another chapter. I had this in my Google Docs for way too long but I was not sure if I wanted the story to go this way but I guess I do. I'm extremely insecure about this chapter, so, please, leave me your opinion about it. Love you guys <3

Not proofread. I'm sick n sleepy. Sorry :(

Chapter 3 𓆩♡𓆪

You know I'm good at keeping secrets, you know that you're my weakness and I'll always repeat it

If I could hold onto the feeling back before your words lost their meaning

There's no need for apologies 'cause, honestly, fuck your honesty, I'm done

Think you like the insanity

I'm the casualty of your dreams 'cause I'm not the one

casualty of your dreams (Maggie Lindemann)

𓆩♡𓆪

Rumor had it there was a human girl that worked in the lab being all lovey-dovey with an Omatikaya young guy. They had gotten it from the fact that you were just talking to and smiling at an Omatikaya male you had met in one of your walks in the woods to collect samples. You had just found out the na'vi could be as fond of gossiping as humans… Great. As the word runs fast as the wind on the Pandora planet, three days after you finally see Jake again. He had been gone for 3 whole days, not even paying a quick visit to the lab to see you for some minutes, really early in the morning, - like he always used to do - when he was already awake to do some Olo'eyktan tasks and you were up with your face buried in science books about extraterrestrial flowers and herbs, a cup of hot black coffee on the table, right next to your hand for easy access, as you survived only because of the caffeine, having to wake up so early almost every day. Sometimes being a xenobotanist truly sucked... 

"Who's that Omatikaya boy you were seen with? People are saying you were all over each other." Jake spit, rage and jealousy burning his insides, bursting like a bomb inside of the cold, filled with cold air coming from the air conditioner room you were in, sitting down, taking notes with an electronic pen in your tablet about the herb samples you were conducting a research about.

There were microscopes, high tech computers, Pandoran plants samples and xenobiology books all around. 

"What?!" You said, startled by his sudden, noisy appearance.

"Don't pretend you have no clue! You were there, y/n." Jake says, a cold smirk filled with anger adorning his face, the feeling of his heart being crashed and bruised even stronger than when he first heard the news harassing him

"What the hell, Jake?!" You say loudly, mad at him "why are you being so rude to me?!" Your heart was beating fast inside your chest cavity. You couldn't believe Jake was treating you that way. "Why did you burst into the room like that, without even knocking on the door, like you usually do?! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Won't you just answer my question already?!" Jake said, in a cutting tone

That was the last straw. You had enough.

You swiftly stood up from the high chair you were sitting on and came closer to Jake, looking up at his usually yellow bright eyes that were now tainted with a dark atmosphere, like a rainy grey cloud was around him, his 9 feet something frame towering over you, but you were so damn angry that you didn't feel a single bit of fear, even knowing he was incredibly mad and seemed out his damn mind and you knew that he could even kill you so goddamn easily if he wanted to. Not that you thought he did. You could never see Jake doing something so horrible, especially to you. It was just a fact: he was ridiculously stronger than you. His height and his muscles, plus the fact he had military training and so much experience at war, making him a dangerous adversary right now. You thanked any Higher Force that existed in the Universe that you were sure and confident Jake would never hurt you physically.

But he was hurting you in another way, a very detrimental one: he was hurting your feelings. Hurting your feelings good.

"No, Jake Sully. I won't answer you until you stop being such a goddamn jerk." You said, a serious, stern expression in your heated with anger face as you stared at his eyes

He looked you dead in the eyes and breathed heavy though his nose, supporting his back against the wall, his body inclined back, his huge toned but a little fleshy arms crossed in front of his chest. He calmed down a little and was waiting for you to talk.

"Thank you!" You spit, rolling your eyes at him "I was, yes, talking to an Omatikaya boy. But that was all. He was really nice and we were just having a good time. Nothing happened. I even told him that I had someone. Didn't say who it was, though. I don't know if he was interested in me. I'm not that good at noticing these things."

"Hah, so he was flirting with you! I knew it!!" Jake was lost in his jealousy. You didn't recognize the man in front of you

"Jake!! Are we gonna do this all over again?!" You were getting way too mad at his attitude 

Jake tilted his head to the side, furrowed his lips, eyes on yours, scorching your very soul.

"Why can't I be mad? He was messing with what's mine." He stated, fierce.

"Ahaha" You laughed sarcastically

"Unbelievable…" You thought

"So, you don't make our relationship official, you don't let your family or anyone in Pandora know, everybody thinks you just like to talk to me about sciencey stuff, Norm might be the only one that suspects of something, in my opinion , but he minds his own business and respects our friendship - with me and with you - way too much to go around gossiping to people about the fact you always come way too often to the lab and spends a lot of time alone in rooms with me, and you have the audacity of acting like a mad man when an Omatikaya guy, who has no damn clue you're dating me, seems interested in me?! Is that the way you're gonna act, Sully?! Really?!"

Jake still stared at you, angered.

"Yes." He said, in a low, calm tone. But you could feel his cold demeanor coming towards you. He was still angry and still though he was right.

You chuckled faintly, your face tainted eith disbelief "Manchild." You said, looking into his eyes.

Jake sighed heavily, spent some seconds with his head down, seeming to be thinking about something and then, he came closer to you, his eyes softer this time, that anger flying away slowly.  

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'm being childish. I'm way older than you are. I should be the mature one here."

You looked at him, eyes still distrustful, but you gave in and calmed your nerves down too.

Jake looked at you with puppy adorable eyes, the way he used to look at Neytiri when they were young. Even after so many years, he still had that cute look in his eyes when he was sorry, or pleading for something or when he just wanted to show his true feelings to someone he had romantic feelings for. He wasn't the romantic type, but he showed his love through actions, through acts of service, quality time, physical touch, and, through looking at the person he loved - in this case, "the person he liked", you thought - that way. His eyes said everything his mouth couldn't say.

"Please, forgive me, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you this much. I was foolish, I was letting my heart guide me. That's not good, sometimes." He sighed, upset with himself "it's just that... you mean so much to me. I don't wanna lose you to someone else. Someone younger, who doesn't have a whole lot of baggage like I do, someone who can make you happier than I can."

You breathed through your nose, your chest felt tight, filled with anxiety and tension

"You will never lose me, Jake. Never. Don't worry about it." You looked at his pleading amber eyes, forgiving him "My heart is yours. You're always there. Everywhere I look, you're there. I listen to love songs from Earth thinking about you. Why are you so insecure?"

"No reason... I just... You're so precious to me. I need you so much. So much."

You gazed into his eyes, started to tip toe, trying to reach his mouth. It was stupid, you knew the height difference wouldn't let that happen, but, you were following your instinct to physically show him how much you loved him. That you were his and never wished to belong to anybody else.

Jake noticed what you wanted to do and took you in his arms, sweeping you off your feet, his arms beneath your thighs and initiated the kiss himself. Jake held onto your thighs tightly and strongly. He kissed you like a starving man finally getting some food. His tongue wildly touching yours, licking it, sucking on it. His lips bruising yours, leaving your mouth reddened afterwards.

His big blue hands moved from your thighs to hold onto your butt, carefully to not let you fall from his arms, as you were up in the air and could get hurt if you fell.

"Nobody can touch you. Or kiss you. Or fuck you. Only I can. Do you understand, sweetheart?" Jake spoke, almost whispering, out of breath because of the heated kiss

"Yes, Daddy." 

"Good girl. My good girl. Only mine..." Jake praised you

𓆩♡𓆪

Taglist:

@lik0

@live-laugh-neteyam

@sweetllamaparadise

@a-blog-name-2003

@cautionworks

@behindthearcane

@yeosxxx

@anxietydrogz

@destinylburns

@thelxnelyworld

@ducks118

@snchezb135

@mashiromochi

@gosusu123

@layla2-49

@luvv4j4ybe11

@bakugouswaif

#dilf jake sully x reader #dilf! jake sully #dilf!jake sully #dilf jake sully #jake x y/n #jake sully x human!reader #jake sully fanfiction #jake sully #jake sully avatar #jake sully x reader #jake sully x human reader #human jake sully x female reader #jake sully x female human reader #jake sully x fem!reader #jake sully x you #jake sully angst #jake sully x y/n #avatar jake sully #✎ victória writes ▢✧࿐

[sherwees]

cw : trespassing, stalking, reader gets cut but not as bad as male main, sorry had to do the eyebrow slit, noncon, drugging, also very nasty ass descriptions of cutting but not in the self harm way, and implied stalking.

side note : hella unrealistic bcs how do you survive a wound that deep? I don't know. almost scrapped bcs of it.

side note ² : for my ski mask hendery queen @ne0pearl and the wall crawler 4 hendery @teasteeper

extra : why the hell did ki and angel try 2 jump me..?!

you were at a relative's house spending the night because you were on a trip, out of town. it was getting dark and you couldn't really see through the primarily rural area.

her house gave you the creeps, I mean their house wasn't even on google maps, it was just shown as trees. there would be creaks on the hardwood floors every once in a while but there was barely any service.

you could only play candy crush, but you got bored. so now, you're looking at the intricate ceiling pattern; you would switch to the wooden walls once your eyes started to hallucinate white whisps of shapes and lines.

but this time something was different, there was a hand on the side of the door.

it was sizeable, it wasn't your aunts, might be your uncles.

your eyebrows furrowed and your lips puckered in confusion, your hands headed for the edge of the blanket. you turned your body to attempt to see beyond the right side of the door but it didn't work to your avail.

it was lanky and veiny, a rough red around the knuckles; wasn't your aunts definitely but might be your uncles.

you laid back down.

but wait...? it was pale.

you froze, your eyes blew wide and darted to the slit in the door.

fuck. fuck. FUCK.

you were already at your feet, tip toeing towards the door like when tom would try to catch jerry but he'll just fall into another trap. as always. again and again.

you were a foot from the door now, your nerves jumped with every palpitation of your heart. before you knew it, your forearm jutted out and the door was shut. your shoulders bumped down with relief, see now? it wasn't that bad.. you sauntered back to your bed and plopped down, your lips blowing raspberries in exhaustion.

you don't remember when you fell asleep, but you were now awake. the white silhouette of the moon, peaking out of the blinds with every slight blow of the wind; your eyes heavy. you felt something prickle at your hips, it felt like a nail just poking at your side. you moaned in confusion and turned.

all you remember is seeing a glimpse of a man with a ski mask, his eyes were delighted as if he's been waiting. his hands attempted to travel to your hips before you fell on your ass, gasping for air; nails scurring against the hardwood floors before your back met the wall. you looked up at the male sauntering towards you, his coarse palms rubbing together like sandpaper.

“who are you..?”

“does it matter?” the baritone voice bellowed within the knocking of branches against the window.

he crouched to meet eye to eye with you. you winced at the cold of his hands against your warm cheek, tears caked between the narrow space of his palm and your warm cheek.

“whatever I did, I'm sorry..” you mumbled, you didn't realize the spit at the corners of your mouth until he swiped it away with his thumb.

“you're sorry for being beautiful, huh?” he whispered with a joking tone, slapping your cheek playfully. your lips fell agape at his tone, was this a fucking joke?

“what do you me–”

“that's what they always ask.. you just don't realize it until it's too late, huh?” the male questioned, his head tilted playfully. he hasn't blunk once at most, you thought that if you even took your eyes off of him for a second; he'll pounce.

“you walk around all naïve, stupid and just so fucking pretty, just like them-” he raved, his head bouncing around before he paused, he was looking at the ground before his pupils creepily looked back up to your dilated ones. your chest heaved, small rasp breaths falling through your agape lips; tears falling freely.

“you could blink now..”

you obliged, a small squeak eliciting as the pads of your bare feet scuffed against the ground; your spine becoming sore from the constant friction. “you saw me at your window every night, remember that a few weeks ago?” his pointer tapped at the side of your forehead. “you didn't even bother to call the police or maybe even tell your mom that was staying over that night..” his sentence trailed on, you noticed his hand reaching for something behind him; your lips formed words but the bulge in your throat wouldn't budge.

the silver edge of a pocket knife was suddenly pointed at the corner of your eye, you gulped like a caricature. “this knife–” he eyed the knife before looking back at you, one of his eyes twitched sickengly; your stomach swirled with apprehension.

“I don't even fucking need this–” you sighed in relief once the knife lowered, his thumb tugged at the bottom of the mask and yanked it off.

your eyes widened once his ebony hair fell from the confines of his mask to his nape, oddly gratifying.

his jawline was defined, face rather slender.. his eyes were big and doe, the noticeable slit on his right eyebrow. You went cross eyed because the knife was now in front of your face, it's edge poking against the bone jutting from the bridge of your nose.

“why didn't you say anything, hm?” he pauses, twirling the knife between his fingers. “I could've killed you.. maybe you both actually.” you didn't seem phased enough by his act, he glided the knife expertly horizontally against the bridge of your nose before slicing it perfectly. you gasped and blinked, your finger feeling around the cut.. your cartilage was smooth under the tip of your finger now that the thin layer of skin was cut.

“that's how fast it would've took to cut right through~” He continued the final sylabble of ‘through’ whilst trailing the knife from your face, your eyes followed until he stopped right at the left of your belly button; your stomach held in out of fear.

a warm blotch of blood slid down until it soaked into the lining of your pyjamas, he then swirled the knife around lightly as if he was scared to scar your porcelain skin any further..

“do you love me _____?” your ears rung through the silence, it was heavily unsettling and set another uncomfortable rhythm to your heart. He set the knife down beside him in a dismaying but also polite manner, his actions were so delicate but.. this is a stalker, we're talking about here. He pulled his right sleeve up his forearm, revealing a number of vertical scars; some were short, some trailed up his arm.

his unyielding eyes lock onto yours and with a sudden motion, he presses the blade against his forearm.

“wait!”

you gag profusely, covering your mouth with your cowering hands, a line of crimson quickly welling up from the splits of his skin. He doesn't falter or even flinch, he doesn't even wince either; instead, he angles the knife deeper.

you could taste the blood on the tip of your tongue, the metallic sense sending tremors throughout your body. You could only cradle yourself in the corner and you can hear the soft, sickening sound of flesh being sliced; thick and through.

as if he wants you to testify your supposed.. true love for him..

"please," you whimpered, you looked down at the blood pooling on your hardwood floor for a second then to his unforgiving eyes.

but he only continues, each drop of blood a punctuation mark in this gruesome act. he started to laugh maniacally at your terror, the knife lost track; becoming an uncoordinated lines of jagged lines with every jutter of his body with every laugh

“please, just fucking stop–! just stop it!—” a triumph smile forms on his face, his wild eyes locking with your panicked ones before his bloodied hands pull away; his hands raising in a surrender motion.

“It's not that serious..” you continued, looking down at the bleeding forearm; his flesh red and irritated.

he then raised the knife to his cheekbone with a throaty laugh, was this amusing to him?

“how about he–”

“no!” the knife skid against the ground before it hit the wall, your reflexes worked faster than your mind.

“so, do you love me?” he inched closer to you, his breath hot on your frozen skin. you nod vigorously, hoping he'll finally listen to you.

“if you do, will ya’ grab those bandages from your cabinet?” your face shrivels in confusion, “when you fell down the stairs and hurt your knee pretty bad.. a year ago..” he patted your knee with his grisly hand, the blood created a sticky trail between his palm and your skin.

your heart pounds in your chest, the beats echoing to your ears; the ambience of the home sets awfully in your soul. your breath comes in sharp gasps and hyperventilating sobs,matchung in rhythm with your scurrying feet against the floor. you're running, running to the bathroom, your mind stuck in the illusion of life or death, at least for him.

your hands are trembling, not just from the adrenaline that's coursing through your veins, but from the raw, unadulterated fear that evolved in your mind with every second.

you nearly slip on the smooth surface, your arms flailing to the counter for balance. you lunge for the cabinet, flinging it open with brute force. bottles and tubes tumble out, clattering into the sunk; but you barely register the noise, everything in your peripherals was blurry..

your fingers slick with sweat and his blood fumble desperately amongst the edges of shelves. you're simply looking for bandages, for something, anything, that can help stop his bleeding. when your hand finally closes around the familiar, rough texture of the gauze, you almost weep with relief.

clutching the bandages to your chest, you stagger to the mirror, catching a glimpse of yourself. your face is still with fear, almost ghostly, and your eyes are wide with shock. for a moment, you hardly recognize the reflection staring back at you.

you're wasting time, hurry up!

you ran back, he leaned against the headboard of the bed; his eyes on you. you don't even bother to complain about the blood on the grey bedsheets, you tear open the bandage packaging, your movements jerky and uncoordinated. you walk over to him and press the gauze against the gaping skin, looking into his eyes for some type of reassurance but he only continues to stare at you, observing your every move.

“you're prettier when you're scared.” you pause your ministrations and look up at him, your lashes dried together with your tears. his hand reaches up to stroke along the trails of tears on your cheeks, “sit on my lap honey, you're so far away, hmm?”

you scooch over with a sigh; your bottom on the heat of his crotch, your back meeting with his broad chest. trying to still keep your distance, you face away from him; you're almost there. just a few more wrap arounds, with every relaxed rise and fall of his chest, the tension between you both increased unsettlingly. this wasn't right..

just by coincidence, his chin slides onto your shoulder blade; from your peripherals you could see his inquisitive eyes looking back and forth to your focused own and his bandaged forearm. you sighed in relief once you finally finished, he snickered when he noticed the corners of your lips widen before you fully turned with a grin on your face.

“my pretty baby.. you did so well..” he praised you like a kid but you reveled in it, his tone smooth and low. “see? m’ not that scary.” he cooed, his digit moving towards the prominent outline of your labia. your plush thighs closed around his hand, your hips jutting away from him but the pad of his thumb traveled to the base of your clit.

“how bout’ you take these off for me, how does that sound?” his thumb hung loosely on your waistband, your mouth was parted, spacing out on his thumb.. “princess..?” he mumbled in your ear with a concerned tone, you nodded.. why was everything moving so fast..?

before you knew it, you were kicking off your shorts and panties.. it felt like you weren't in control anymore, your stupid mind was your only function.. but it wasn't you that was doing this..

“can't think no more hm?” he taunted, before a quick shiver of pain ran through your nerves along with something shooting out of your arm. he waved the syringe in your face with a berating cackle, your blown pupils following the metal tip as the drugs continued to take its effect.

you laid lax in his arms, his fingers pumping out of you relentlessly as his thumb abused your swollen clit. your hips rutted against his palm, that one finger hitting that same spot within your velvety walls with perfect precision. your walls clenched around him, your hands flying all over his thighs; you looked up at him and he looked at you..

“Is that you?” you mumbled, squinting at him. you knew that he seemed familiar, he was your uhm.. what was he? fuck.. your mind was blending into a fucking smoothie. his eyes went wide, his fingers pausing causing you to whine, buck your hips and wince in his hold. he muttered a quick “fuck”, his jaw clenching in the moonlight before he started to hammer his fingers in&out of you, you slowly slid out of his grip. your eyes roll back to the back of your skull, jaw unhinged.. he was trying to make you forget..

“babe, what'd I tell you about having your mouth open.. you're drooling~” he taunted you once more, his free hand moved your chin upwards.

“awe– fuck! I'm gonna cum, please!” you whimpered, your chest heaving up and down at a intense tempo; gripping his wrist whilst moving your head to the open crane of his neck.

“Come on then princess, cum for me.. you know you could do it..”

#ne0pearl deactivation party #teasteeper OUT #nct smut #nct x reader #nct hard hours #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #wayv x reader #kpop smut #nct imagines #wayv smut #hmmmm #nct 127 smut #smut #nct dream smut #HENDERRRRYYYYYEYYSUUZ #HENDERUYRYYRYEYYEYEYSYEY #I fell off my bed

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Several Shots Later (Pro!Sero x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader) 

Pairing: Pro!Sero Hanta x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader (Strangers to Lovers) 

Synopsis: In which you go on a vacation in an effort to relax and feel more confident, but find yourself falling for the sexy stranger who sends you a drink across the room and also happens to give you some firsthand dance lessons and a night you’ll never forget. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Aged Up!Sero (he’s in his late 20s); Chubby!Reader; Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Marijuana/Alcohol Use; Sero Speaking Spanish; Petnames: (Baby, Mama, Mami); Skinny Dipping; Strangers to Lovers; Drunk Sex; Exhibitionism; Public Oral; Shotgunning; Dirty Talk; Daddy/Papi Kink; Rope Play; Spanking; Spitting; Facefucking; UNPROTECTED PIV Sex; Mild Choking; Mild Degradation; Cum on Body; Aftercare 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: HAPPY B-DAY WEEK TO MY FAVORITE LATIN KING SERO!! I typed this from his bed btw. Posting it early cuz this weekend, I'm gonna be soooo busy. Anyway, I had this idea after listening to "She's Hot" (the song above) & thinking about dancing to it with Sero cuz y'all know damn well he can MOVE. Enjoy! -Jazz

P.S. If my Spanish is trash or inaccurate, please PLEASE let me know! I used Google Translate lol

Read on AO3 here!

*********

He’s been staring at you all night, ever since you sat at the bar twenty minutes ago. If he continues to do so, you’re sure to soak the stool you’re sitting on.

You’ve never been stared at in such a way before––so brazenly and intimately. Though the lust is hidden beneath the surface of his charcoal eyes, you can tell that this isn’t all that is there. You’re used to being lusted after, but this feels different. More…romantic.

And all just from one look! You know you’re probably looking too deep into it though. After all, you haven’t even spoken to the man. But fuck, do you want to, ever since you caught a glimpse of him when you stepped into the resort’s nightclub twenty minutes before with your two friends and vacay buddies. 

The man is the definition of “fine”.

Though he was sitting down when you first saw him, you’d place him at a good height over yours. He is all lean muscle, but not overly so, all of which you can see straining against his black polo shirt that he leaves unbuttoned to expose the sliver of chest and a gold chain underneath. His arms, which you’d love to feel wrapped around you, are roped in tattoos, his fingers adorned in rings and his wrist encased in a Rolex watch. The man must got money.

He sits back in his seat now, his shot of rum in his lap and his thighs open wide as if not aware that every woman (or man) could be staring at his crotch in those tight-ass jeans. 

You’d never thought you’d ever see a man make a mullet look good either. He rocks it perfectly, several strands of black hair hanging in his alluring eyes that continue to stare you down, making you feel hot all over. His eyes sparkle just as his lip ring and silver hoops along his ears do, his long lashes making you think of a doll’s. He’s so, so beautiful. 

You don’t know what he does, but judging by the watch and the Nike Air Forces on his feet, you’d guess he could be a singer. Maybe a business owner or CEO of some company? Maybe even a model? Regardless, he could have any woman in here just with one look and a smile. Why is he so entranced with you? What is it with you that he wants? 

“Girl, you’ve been staring right back at him,” Mina chuckles from beside you. “If don’t hop on that man, I will ‘cause he’s fine.”

You side-eye her from your spot between her and Uraraka, watching her sip on her second cocktail of the night in her little pink mini-dress. “Why don’t you just go over and talk to him like a normal person?” she snickers. 

You turn away from her and the beautiful stranger, staring down at your half-drunk Mojito. “You know I don’t make the first move,” you sigh. “I don’t even know how. Plus, I didn’t come here for a man. I came here to relax and find some confidence in myself.” 

“That’s what a hot guy like him is for!” Mina argues, nodding at the stranger. Though you’re sure he has looked away from you by now, your body still burns as if he is still watching you, waiting for you. “No,” you protest. “That’s what the beach, the spa, and endless drinks are for. I’m not here for sex after the last time a hookup went wrong–which was only a month ago.” 

You huff, stirring your drink around before sipping on it to calm your nerves and push those memories away. You came here to get away from all of that, after all. A month ago was the last straw when it came to dating and hooking up, especially with men online. You had been on Match for months but always seemed to run into men who either had a fetish for plus-sized women, and only that, or ghosted you as soon as they saw you outside of your pretty profile picture. 

The last hookup you had seemed to break your spirit completely. You and the guy had been talking for a couple of weeks before he asked you out for dinner. Though you were excited, you felt that nabbing feeling in your gut that something would go wrong the moment he saw you in your dress, all of your rolls and jiggly parts on display.

But surprisingly, when you met with him at the restaurant, his smile didn’t even falter. He hugged you and kissed your cheek as if nothing was wrong. You even started to believe that this would be fine...until it wasn’t.

Until you invited him back to your apartment after one too many glasses of wine and got him out of his clothes. Until he stripped you, spread your legs wide eagle, and attempted to go down on you but didn’t. “I can’t do this,” he had sighed, already moving to grab his shit to hastily put back on. “Look, you’re pretty and all, and I thought I could handle you, but I can’t. You’re just too…big.” 

To say you were hurt was an understatement. You said nothing to him as he profusely apologized; said it wasn’t your fault but just his preference; that he knew you’d find someone that would be attracted to you. If only he knew that this hasn’t been the case in years. If only he knew that most men only saw you as an object of their fetish and kinks; not their affection. 

You weren’t asking for the fucking moon here. Just some love and affection. Just some intimacy. Just some good ol’ big dick. But you always seemed to lack in those departments because of your shape and size. There are times you wished you looked like your friends–so small and socially acceptable with their flat stomachs and breasts that didn’t sag. They could wear tight-skin dresses and crop tops without getting ridiculed or laughed at. You couldn’t. 

This is why you took the offer for this trip to the beach resort on the coast of [Insert Country Name Here]. It was a short five-day trip that Mina and Uraraka had been planning to get away from your home in the US for a while and escape the sweltering heat.

When they offered you a spot and a ticket, you took that shit. You knew that this was your chance to finally gain the confidence you were missing and get away from the problems and men your city brought for a while. So far, it’s been working. Ever since you flew in this morning, you’ve been wearing all the bikinis and sundresses you want without getting side-eyed or gawked at. It feels damn good! But getting eyed down by that stranger feels even better. 

“He was just a porn-addicted asshole,” Uraraka huffs, crossing her toned legs over each other in her pretty, flowery sundress. “He wasn’t worth your time. As much as I understand your reluctance, Y/N, you’re not behind a screen this time. You’re sitting here, looking sexy as fuck in your mini skirt, and he’s eyeing you down like he wants all of you.” 

“She is right, babes,” Mina agrees. “The way that guy is staring at you is making me kinda jealous.” She smiles at the way you bashfully advert your eyes to stare down at your outfit. They forced you to put on the shimmery mini skirt that hugs your ass and the low-cut top that exposes your cleavage for tonight’s activities. 

“What’s the point of being on vacation if you don’t indulge in hookups with hot people?” she giggles, sipping suggestively on her straw. You raise your brows at her, more than happy to correct her.  “Vacations may be about that for you two, but I’m more about sleeping till the afternoon, lounging by the beach, and drinking my bottomless mimosas.” 

Though the sexy stranger makes you think differently, you know that you’re never going to find the courage to get up and talk to him, no matter how much you drank or how sexy your friends said you looked. You wanted to get away from hookup culture and just find confidence on your own without looking for it in sex with a nice-looking guy. You just want to relax! But Mina and Uraraka aren't taking no for an answer.

Mina downs the rest of her drink before staring at you pointedly. “And that’s about to change tonight.” You gawk at her, laughing in disbelief at her stubbornness. “It’s only the first day!” you laugh. 

“Exactly!” she agrees. “And we’ve got about five days left here at this resort. You know time flies extra fast while on vacation, girl.” She winks at you, encouraging you to go through with catching a body for the night. But you hum disapprovingly to yourself, stirring your straw around in your glass. “I don’t know, girls,” you sigh. “It just doesn’t seem right to use a guy just to boost my confidence and have a good time.” 

Mina dramatically scoffs, rolling her golden eyes. “Please! You’ve got men in here who would gladly give their left lung to do all of that for you and more. Probably even that hottie with the mullet.” Though her words are encouraging, you still feel that roil of fear and uncertainty in your gut. What if he refuses you? What if he says yes but then changes his mind once he gets a look at you under your clothes? 

Uraraka’s soft hand on your knee pulls you out of your head. “How can you know if you don’t at least try, Y/N?” she soothingly asks. “You deserve to have a good time, including getting some great sex if that’s what you want. And from the way you’ve been staring back at that stranger, we can tell it’s exactly what you want. So go on and get him!” 

Mina places a hand on your shoulder, the smell of her fruity perfume overtaking your senses. “What happens on vacation stays on vacation,” she giggles. 

And you realize that they’re absolutely right. You can never know what will happen if you don’t at least try. Plus, even if it goes wrong, there are plenty of other men at this resort you can try to snag, even if for the night or the remainder of this trip. You came here to not only relax, but to find confidence and let loose. Maybe you can do all of that in one night with a hot stranger with no strings attached. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, suddenly feeling a boost of confidence in your body. “Lemme just finish this first.” You reach for your Mojito and down it, already feeling the effects of the alcohol in your body. You feel warm and tingly; sexy and powerful like you could take over the whole world. You’ve got this. You’re a sexy ass bitch. 

Uraraka cheers you on when you slide out of your stool, pulling down your skirt over your stomach and thick, jiggly thighs as you do. “Go get him, girly!” Mina shouts encouragingly. “Let us know if you need us to push him into the pool.” 

You giggle, feeling nervous yet excited. You can’t believe you’re really coming out of your comfort zone like this. But as you turn in the direction of the sexy stranger, you find his seat open and him gone. “Oh,” you breathe, disappointment blooming within you. “He’s gone.” Mina and Uraraka look around in disbelief. “Where’d he go?”

Uraraka huffs, her bob as she turns her head from side to side searching for the mystery man. “He was just right there!” Mina puts a comforting hand on your arm. “Well, don’t fret, babes. There are plenty of other fine-ass men in here who would gladly give you their undivided attention.” She begins to look around, squinting into the flashing lights on the dance floor despite your disinterest. “Let’s see…what about–“ 

“Excuse me,” someone says from behind you. You turn, finding the bartender holding another delicious-looking Mojito. “This is for you, miss. It was already paid for.” You and the girls stare at the drink in shock and suspicion. “Already paid for?” you parrot, baffled. “By who?” 

“Well, it was supposed to be by your secret admirer, but I think I fucked that up comin’ over here.” A light chuckle leaves the lips of a man you already know is fine judging by his voice–it’s raspy and laced with a slight accent you can’t quite decipher; very pleasant to the ear. A real panty dropper. 

When you and your friends turn, you swear to nearly drop dead right there in the club. There, standing behind you with a smile playing on his pierced, plump lips, is the hot stranger from across the room. And he’s even sexier up close! From this angle, you can see the ink on his chest peeking from out of his collar and how clean his nails are. Not to mention his scent––so sweet yet musky. It’s intoxicating. You and the girls stand there like idiots, silently drinking in the fine-ass stranger. “Oh, shit, he’s even finer up close,” Mina whispers to Uraraka, earning a shush in response. 

The man smiles, two dimples popping on his cheeks. You love dimples. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he sheepishly says, and you catch a glint of something shiny in his mouth. A tongue piercing. ‘Oh, fuck me,’ you think. This man is trouble.

“I’m sorry if I am, but I couldn’t help myself. You just look too good tonight.” His charcoal eyes are planted firmly on you though you see them falter to trail down your form. You have to hold onto the stool behind you to avoid falling out. Your knees suddenly feel too weak to hold you up. “I thought the drink would’ve been a good icebreaker, but maybe that was kinda douchey,” he wonder aloud, rubbing the back of his neck. His bicep bulges as he does so, making you picture yourself running your fingers over it. 

“U-Uh…” You desperately try to find the words to speak, not wanting to come off as a weirdo. But your mind is completely blank, all except for some naughty images of this man’s hands on you and his cock buried deep inside of you as he bends you over the bar. “No,” you reply, finding the words to finally speak. “It was sweet of you. Thank you…for the compliment too, not just the drink.” You cringe at yourself, realizing you’re babbling.

The stranger laughs lightly, the sound like sex to you. “I’m Sero,” he says in his sexy, raspy voice. “Sero Hanta.” He sticks his hand out for yours and you take it. As soon as your hands make contact, you feel an electric current soar through you as if you’re being shocked from the inside. His hand is big and calloused as if he’s been using them for years. You’re not sure if he feels the same zing that courses through you, but his eyes do trail to your mouth. 

“I’m Y/N,” you timidly reply as your hands drop. “L/N. These are my friends; we’re on vacation.” You turn to your friends that you find leaving their posts, guilty smiles on their faces. “And we were just leaving,” Mina replies. “We’re just gonna go on the dance floor. Text us if you need anything!” 

“Very nice to meet you!” Uraraka shouts with a wave before she and Mina hurry to the dance floor. 

“Wait!” You hiss, but they’re already moving out of earshot. You watch them skid off to the dance floor with the sharpest glare you've ever given a person. If looks could kill, they would be dead. Now it’s just you and Sero the Sexy Stranger.

Though you’re not exactly alone, you may as well be the only two people standing in the room with how awkward and tense the air feels. Sero isn’t immune to it either. He stands rather rigidly, his arms behind his back and his eyes looking anywhere but at you in fear of making you feel uncomfortable. Knowing you can’t stand here all night, you clear your throat and pat the stool next to you. “Uh…did you wanna sit?” Sero shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “If you’re cool with it.” 

You nod and slide into your own seat while he hops up next to you. “So you said you ladies are here on vacation?” he asks, giving you a friendly, warm smile that eases your nerves. You nod, lacing your fingers together to give them something to do. “Yeah, for five more days. We just flew in this morning all the way from the US.” 

Sero’s charcoal eyes widen in shock. “The United States?” he gasps, making you giggle. “Shit, that’s a long way. Where are you from?”

You tell him, including the state. You may as well also tell him the capital and the population of your city with how much you’re babbling, but it’s hard to keep calm in the presence of such a sexy, sweet-smelling man. Sero is full of questions, his curiosity adorable. “What’s it like there? Is the food good? I heard they’ve got the best tour sights too!” 

You tell him everything, from the food to the museums to the entertainment there for tourists along with the weather, your neighborhood, and how you’ve been living there ever since you were young. “I met my friends back during college,” you explain as you sip on the Mojito that Sero bought you. “We decided to take this trip to get out of the city for a while.”  Sero nods, his attention firmly on you and only you. It makes you blush and you thank God that He made you a Black woman.

“Well, you ladies picked the best place for a vacay. I’ve been coming here for years ‘cause I’ve got family down here.” He waves a hand, flagging down the bartender. “Are you from here?” you curiously ask. 

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Nah; I was born in Musutafu, a city in Japan. My mother is Latina but my father is Japanese.” Your interest in him piques here as you have a big soft spot for mixed men. “So are you bilingual?” you giggle. “That’s pretty cool. I’ve been trying to learn Japanese forever ever since I started watching anime.” 

Sero turns to face you, one muscled arm slung across the bar. “You’re an anime fan, huh?” he asks, interest and the flashing strobe lights in his black eyes which you now realize aren't charcoal at all––they’re a very dark brown, almost like dark chocolate. “What’s your favorite? And if you say Naruto, I’m leaving.” 

“What’s wrong with Naruto?” you laugh, gaping at him. 

“Everyone says Naruto!” he complains, rolling his eyes dramatically. “If not DBZ! Those are the two anime shows that reached the mainstream and everyone knows about.” You decide to leave your obsession with Naruto in middle school on the back burner for now.

“Well, I’ll give you my top five,” you giggle. You give him each one, most of them being very underrated and less popular than other anime. Sero looks impressed when you finish. “Daaamn, girl!” he praises. “You’ve got taste! I didn’t think anyone knew about your fifth pick. It’s more of an underrated one.” You nod, agreeing. “Yeah, but I’m into mystery. The twists and turns make each episode so fun to watch.” 

He nods in agreement, a strange smile on his face. Though it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, it also feels…weird. You’re not used to being smiled at in such a way, like what you’re saying is so interesting and intriguing. You turn away to sip your drink, hoping more alcohol will make you feel less weird and take you out of your head. 

The bartender suddenly returns to your side with a tray of multi-colored shot glasses and tiny bowls of salt, lemon, and lime on the side. “Here you are, Mr. Hanta,” he says. "On the house.” Sero gives him a look as he lowers the tray in front of him. “I keep tellin’ you to just call me Sero,” he sighs, pulling out a twenty to tip the bartender. “I ain’t my dad.” 

When the bartender scurries off with the bill, Sero fills you in on why he got the order of rounds: “They give me free shit every time I come in here but I still tip ‘em well. Probably because I know the owner. He’s a good friend of my dad’s.” He takes one of the shot glasses and downs the contents inside with ease, not even sucking on a lemon or lime slice as a chaser. You don’t realize that you’re staring at him until he raises a questionable brow at you. “Want one?” he asks. Flushing with embarrassment, you shake your head. “You sure? They’re rum shots. Some are just plain, some are apple, and some are coconut.” 

Your eyes flick from him to the shots, slowly becoming seduced by the different flavors and the idea of letting even looser. “Just one,” you say, giving in to defeat.

Sero passes you a shot before picking up another one of his own, giving you a white-toothed smile. “To an amazing vacation,” he says, raising his shot. You do the same and clink your glass with his before downing your rum at the same time he does. Though you taste the hint of apple, the rum is incredibly strong and nearly burns your tonsils. You gag as he goes down, making Sero laugh behind his hand. “Don’t laugh!” you pout. “This shit is stronger than the stuff you find in the US.” 

Sero snickers as you take a lemon slice and vigorously suck on it, chasing away the strong taste of the rum. “Yeah, I bet,” he chuckles, nodding at the shots. “This is straight rum, mama. Definitely not to be played with. Lemme order you some water.”

He leans over the bar, raising his muscular arm, and you don’t know if it’s you or the alcohol starting to speak, but his arm looks very appealing to you right now. You picture wrapped around your waist or your tummy, maybe on your side while his cock is plunging in and out of the wet, gummy walls of your pussy over and over again, his sweet, raspy voice whispering in your ear. 

You blink, alarmed. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’ you think. The alcohol is definitely talking now. You have to try to act as normal as possible and not like you’re a horny mess when the bartender returns with a glass of cool water.

But you don't touch the water. Instead, you go for another shot, determination flooding within you that is only conjured by the alcohol. “You wanna try again?” Sero snickers. “Be my guest. It always goes down better the second time around. Don’t drink it too fast, now.” He keeps his intense eyes on you as you down your next shot. He’s right: it does go down a lot easier. While you feel the burn as he slides down your throat, it settles into your tummy nicely, making you feel warm and tingly. 

Sero downs his third shot of the night, as do you. Soon, the room is starting to get hotter and seems a little fuzzier than before. The music is sharper, Sero seems a lot sexier, and you’re having trouble focusing. You know that you are only another shot away from drunk, so you decide to take a couple of sips of your water. Unfortunately, your being tipsy means that you have zero filter. “Uh…so what do you do?” you randomly ask Sero. “Like, for work?” 

Sero stares at you, perplexed, his pink, pierced lips wrapped around a straw to his glass of water. You flush with embarrassment and go to apologize for being too personal, but his smile eases your nerves. “Relax,” he chuckles. “It ain’t like you asked me what my social security is.” You return the smile, becoming accustomed to his humor and laid-back attitude. “I’m a house renovator, so I fix up houses for people to rent, buy, or put on the market. I’ve got my own business back in Japan. I’m also a dance instructor on the side.” 

Your ears perk at his hustle. So he’s got money and he can dance? “So you’re extremely talented, basically.” It could be the trick of the lights, but you think you see Sero’s cheeks grow pink. “I try. What about you?” You tell him your job along with what you do all day while working at it five days a week. His handsome face scrunches in pain. “That’s a great job, but it sounds time-consuming. You ever get bored or have time for yourself?” 

You discard your water and sip on the rest of your Mojito, nearly forgetting it was there. “Time for myself is what the weekends are for,” you joke. “But in all seriousness, some of the time I get tired of it. That’s why my friends and I booked this trip as a way to relax and boost my confidence.” 

Your eyes widen when you realize what you just said. 'Fuck!’ you think, panicking. Goddamn, the alcohol! Why does it have to make your tongue so loose and you so dumb?

Sero’s eyes flash with interest. “Boost your confidence?” he asks, quirking a brow at you that makes him look increasingly hotter. “How so?” He leans in as if to kiss you, a secretive smile curling onto his lips. You avert your eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in them. You hope he doesn’t push this. You couldn’t bear the thought of telling a stranger all about your problems with your body and dating. 

“I’m kidding,” he finally says, probably noticing your change in demeanor. “You don’t have to tell me, but you could’ve fooled me ‘cause the outfit is certainly doin’ its job.” His eyes trail across your form in your outfit, making your body feel like it just got stuck in an oven. “Does that confidence-boosting also include dancing like your friends are?” he asks, nodding at the dance floor. There, you see Mina and Uraraka on the floor, twirling their hips and sipping on their drinks, carefree and beautiful. 

You don’t think you could be that carefree with so many eyes on you. It’s different in the comfort of your own home, but here? It’s just too harrowing of an idea. “I-I don’t dance,” you timidly admit to Sero. “Not ‘cause I can’t, but I just…don’t.” 

Sero scowls confusedly at you, his brows furrowing. “Why?” he asks, sounding absolutely baffled. “When the music is this good, it’s just too good to not move! You know how to salsa? Or bachata?” You stare at him, gobsmacked. This man can really move like that? “You teach all of that?” you ask, suddenly even hotter knowing this. You can only imagine how his hips can move in bed. 

Sero smirks proudly. “Damn right,” he chuckles. “And I’m gonna teach you. You’ve got the best in the business, baby.” He takes his hand in yours and helps you down off of your stool. But before he can lead to you the dance floor, you pull him back. “Wait!” you protest. He peers over his shoulder at you and you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies. “I-I don’t know if I’ve got dancing shoes.” 

The sexy stranger turns around to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Really?” he asks. “That’s the best you’ve got?” You stare down at your shoes, even more apprehensive. It’s bad enough that you’re afraid of how you’ll look, but you’ve never had a man ask you to dance with him on the floor before. You’ve never had a man pursue you in such a way. You’re not sure how to handle it or what you’re even doing. 

You’re aware of Sero getting closer to you until all you see is his chest in your face. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his cologne fogging your senses and self-control. “If you’re worried about what you look like, don’t. You’ve got people in here who dance worse and if you step on my toes, I’ll just act like it didn’t happen.”

At this, you smile though hesitantly. “There’s that smile,” he coos, interlacing his fingers with yours. “C’mon, before the song ends.” 

The song playing now is one you recognize from TikTok from the Spanish guitars and Latin beat pumping through the speakers that you’d roll your hips into a mirror to. The strobe lights have now brightened to a seductive red that makes the dance floor look like it’s on fire. Sero leads you to a space on the dance floor between the grinding club-goers and stands in front of you, his height blocking the others dancing behind him. 

You rigidly stand with his hand in yours a good distance away from him. You can already feel yourself wanting to run. The confidence that the alcohol provided you is starting to fade. All you want to do now is go back to your hotel room and go to sleep. ‘No,’ you think stubbornly. ‘You’re not doing that. You came here to find confidence and this man is trying to help you with that.’ 

Sero smirks jokingly at you. Unaware to you, he thinks your shyness is the cutest thing in the world. He’d fuck you right here in front of the whole club if he could. “You’ve gotta stand a little closer than that,” he chuckles. With some hesitation, you move an inch closer to him, barely toe to toe with him.

“Closer,” he teasingly repeats. Maybe it's the guitars in the song or the intensity of his gaze on you, but you find yourself moving closer to him like a moth being beckoned by a flame. Suddenly, you’re close enough to kiss him, your nose nearly brushing his chest.

“Perfecto,” he whispers, and it has your heart racing like it’s trying to win a track race. “Now you put one hand on my shoulder.” Keeping one of your hands interlocked with his, you raise your free hand and place it on his broad shoulder. 

Then his hands are on your hips, secure and…nice. This feels nice. “Is it okay if I hold you like this?” he asks, his lips at your ear. You can barely speak––your throat is dry and your mind has gone completely blank. “Give me your words, mami,” he demands though not aggressively. The pet name, along with his accent curling around the almost-forbidden word, has you blushing profusely and thanking the Lord that He made you a Black woman. 

Sero tenses as soon as the word flies, pulling away to apologize face to face. “Sorry,” he says embarrassingly, a blush coating his cheeks. “No,” you protest, shaking your head. “I-I like it. And it’s fine…you holding me like this, that is.” A beaming smile crosses his lips; one that makes you smile too and seems to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

“Now just follow me,” he instructs you. “When my foot goes back, yours goes forward, like this.” He puts one foot back and you timidly bring yours forward. “Now vice versa,” he says before bringing his foot back to the front. You pick up on things quickly and press your foot back. “Good!” he praises you. “Now let’s try it with the music. It goes 1, 2, 3…1, 2, 3…just like the beat. Listen to the beat.” 

You do as he says and listen to the music, trying to match your foot movement with the rhythm. Sero is a natural at this, as he should be since it’s his side hustle. He moves like he is the damn music, his body turning into water. His moves are loose and languid but not out-of-beat or uncontrolled. His back is straight, his shoulders are squared, and his hips? They roll like fucking waves.

You find yourself wanting to touch them; roll your tongue against them and the washboard abs you know are just up under his shirt. He never lets you go as you attempt to copy his moves and his confidence. And yes, you step on his feet a few times, but he never loses that patient, kind smile. Soon, you start to feel more comfortable and your moves grow looser than before. 

Sero feels your body relax and his eyes gleam with excitement. “There we go!” he laughs. “And you said you were worried about havin’ the wrong shoes. You’re a natural at this.” He twirls you twice, making you giddy and dizzy with joy. You are hot and sweaty, and your makeup has probably seen better days, but you don’t care. You feel good, all because of the man you're dancing with tonight. 

Suddenly, a newfound confidence blooms inside of you that could either be from the alcohol or from the closeness of this fine-ass man. One that has your hand moving from his shoulder to his chest, just briefly caressing it. “I guess it helps to have a good teacher,” you say in a tone that you’ve never heard come out of your mouth before. It is low and sensual. 

Sero notices it immediately. His kind smile turns into one that is more secretive like he is hiding something you don’t know about. He twirls you once more, causing your braids to fly around you and a laugh to burst from your mouth. Then he’s yanking you to him, emitting a surprised gasp from your lips when you find yourself chest-to-chest with him. One of his big hands moves to caress your lower back while the other still holds yours. He stares deep into your eyes as he begins to move his hips against yours, rolling and grinding his body into your own.

Suddenly, like a cliche romance trope, everyone disappears and all that is left are you and him. You only see him. You only know him. From somewhere on the floor, Mina and Uraraka shriek, hyping you up. “Yaaaasss, Y/N!” Mina screeches, much louder than Uraraka and the music. “Get it, girl!” 

Before you even realize it, you’re grinding right back onto him, rolling your hips into his. He twirls you around once more, but doesn’t allow you to face him again. Instead, he presses his front against your back and grinds against you from there. His hands grip your hips, coaxing you to wind your ass back into him. You get lost in the music and in him, feeling safe in his arms despite only knowing him for an hour or so.

“You’ve got it,” he laughs into your ear, making your inner thighs tingle. “You were so scared to do this, and now look at you. I bet every man in here is jealous that I get to be the one to dance with such a pretty thing like you.” 

Those words are what do it for you, and before you even realize it, you're looping your arms around his neck to bring him closer and turning your face to kiss him. It is a quick kiss, but it’s enough to have your heart hammering even faster and your stomach twirling. When you pull away, Sero's eyes are wide, a shocked expression on his face.

You immediately jump away and cover your mouth, horrified. “I’m so sorry!” you immediately apologize. “I-I don’t know why I…” You trail off, suddenly feeling disgusting and awful. Your confidence is gone and the effects of the alcohol are waning. "I should go,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. 

But as you turn to storm off the dance floor, Sero stops you by grabbing your wrist. “No,” he says, a silent plea in his eyes. “Don’t go.” 

Before you can even process what’s happening, one of his arms is looping around your waist while his hand gently cups your cheek. His lips are then on yours, planting one of the softest, hottest kisses you’ve ever had on you. His lips are smooth and soft, his piercings tickling your bottom lip. Your lips dance against his until you give a soft moan of longing as your arms move to wrap around him, hugging him close. Your parted lips allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of rum and mint there as his tongue gently swirls with yours. You hold each other, kissing among the sea of people. Once again, you feel as if there is no one but you, him, and the throbbing of the music above. 

Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted when the club-goers surrounding you begin to annoyingly scream and whoop over you and Sero. “Oh, shit, they 'bout to fuck on the floor!” someone obnoxiously screams over the music.

Sero pulls away from you, eyeing the faceless voice. “Let me join!” another shouts. 

“Fuck off!” Mina yells from somewhere behind you. “Leave them alone!” You’ve never been so thankful for your friends than at this moment.

Sero smirks down at you, arms still around your waist. “We’ve got ourselves an audience,” he whispers. “Not that I mind some eyes, but I’m more interested in getting you somewhere more…private.” 

His accent makes the word sound like sex to you. Even if that isn’t on the table, you’ll still go anywhere with him. “Where’d you have in mind?” you breathlessly ask.

He trails his fingers from your waist up your arms to lace through your fingers. “Well, if you want the bedroom now, I’m down for that,” he says, making your pussy quiver excitedly beneath your skirt, “but there’s also a cabana on the beach that’s screaming my name right now if you wanted a good view and some quiet.” 

‘Yes!’ your body screams. ‘Do it, bitch!’ But even you know that you can’t give it up to him that fast. All good things come to those who wait, after all. “I’d love that,” you shyly answer. “Can we finish the shots first though?”

You nod at the bar to which Sero chuckles, raising a brow at you. “If you’re dying to get beat by me at my own game, then sure.” 

********* 

The sea is by far the most especially thing you’ve ever seen. It looks even better while drunk. 

After downing two more shots and guzzling down water (and taking a trip to the bathroom beforehand), Sero swoops you away to the seashore right outside the resort where the ocean stretches out for your eyes to behold under the big, white moon that looks so much bigger in the sky tonight. It hovers over the water, making the waves crystalize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky do.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp, in awe at the beauty laid before you. “This is beautiful! Look at the moon and the stars!” 

You stand at the top of the sandy shore, pointing at the sky with your heels in your hands. The sea breeze wafts your hair and cools the sweat on your body from the club. You feel good away from the people and activity now, the serenity that the beach provides is too nice to put off. 

Sero is settled down beside you in one of the many cabanas lined up on the beach that are currently empty. He sits on the bed there with his shoes off and an almost-dazed look on his face as he stares at the ocean. “Look at the stars,” he softly sings. “Look how they shine for you…” His cheeks turn red as he stares up at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m a little drunk.” 

“Me too,” you giggle. “I need to sit down.” You put a hand to your head, feeling light and slightly dizzy from the alcohol. Sero pats the empty seat next to him, smiling up at you. “Feel free, mama. This cabana is open for two.” You flush with heat despite the coolness of the salty, sea breeze as you sit beside him, feeling flustered at being so close to him. Now you don’t have the shots or the music as buffers. There is nothing but the sea and the empty beach. 

However, the silence isn’t awkward––it’s rather peaceful and serene. You dig your toes into the sand while Sero hums to himself, digging into his pocket. He then pulls out a ziplock bag of a few pre-rolled blunts and a lighter. “Mind if I smoke?” he asks, pausing to look at you for an answer. You shake your head, giving him the green light to do his thing. You watch as he works, entranced by his veiny hands as he takes out a blunt and ignites the lighter to lit the tip of it. 

You wish his hands were working you instead. 

Still entranced by him, you watch as he wraps his lips around the blunt and takes a short tester puff before putting the lighter away. He takes a deep inhale before exhaling all of the smoke out of his mouth, a peaceful look on his face. “I love doing this on the beach,” he contently sighs. “Nothing like a view of the stars and saltwater breeze while you puff on a blunt.” He gazes at you out of the corner of his eye. “And sitting with a pretty woman.” 

“Whatever,” you tsk, gently smacking his thigh to hide the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’re just sayin’ that to make me feel good.” He takes another hit of his blunt, though short. “Well, yeah,” he admits, "but also ‘cause it’s true. You are pretty. Did you see the way the security guard was checkin’ you out when we left?” 

You retrace your mental steps to try to remember, but come up short. “Uh…no,” you respond, not sure if you believe him. He laughs at this, smoke billowing from his mouth. “Exactly, ‘cause you were oblivious to it, but not me. You had eyes on you like bees on honey.” He then holds the blunt between his thumb and forefinger out to you. “Want a hit? You smoke?” You look down at the blunt, slightly intimidated. Then, for some reason, the thrill of trying something new floods you. “Not really,” you admit. "But there’s a first time for everything.” 

You take the blunt between your thumb and forefinger before trying to imitate Sero’s actions. You wrap your lips around the end of the blunt and inhale only to nearly hack up a lung when the smoke invades your lungs. Sero laughs at you while patting you on the back, helping you out. “Take it easy, mama,” he chuckles. “Second time’s the charm as I say. Do it slower.” 

You do as he says and inhale the smoke much slower than before. It goes down easier the second time and you’re even able to hold it in your lungs for longer before exhaling. “Theeeere we go,” Sero praises with a laugh. “I love a girl who doesn’t quit.” 

He lets you puff on the blunt for a few minutes longer, gazing out at the starry sky and sea. He then glances at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Please tell me if this is too personal, but I’m curious about you coming here to boost your confidence. I’d think a woman as beautiful as you are would have plenty of confidence in herself.” 

You can already feel the weed beginning to work its magic. You feel relaxed and kind of sleepy, but not enough to pass out. All of the insecurities and uncertainty you felt before have washed away. You pass Sero the blunt and sit back on your hands, exposing your jiggly tummy a little more. “Well, the reason I’m here is after a hookup gone wrong where this dude told me I was too fat and left in the middle of sex with me. I was gutted by it, so when my girls told me about their trip, I took that chance and came here.” 

You inhale the sea breeze and exhale solemnly, catching Sero’s attention…not that you didn’t have it already. “Finding love when you look like me,” you confess, running a hand over your body. “Like the dating pool isn’t built for girls like me. I’ve tried dating so many times, online manly, but as soon as a guy gets a view of me from the waist down, they want nothing to do with me. If I’m not seen as some extra pushin’ for the cushion, I’m not seen at all.” 

You’re aware that you’re oversharing, but the alcohol, weed, and Sero’s warm personality have all made it where you’re like an open book now. “Not that I mind being perceived sexually,” you reiterate, “but I feel like that’s all guys see when they look at me. I’m a fetish; not a woman who is worthy of affection as well as desire. I deserve better, y’know? I’ve got a good job, a car, an apartment, a pretty face…like everything I have should be worthy to get me a good partner, right? But it’s not. All because of…of…this.” 

You grip the jiggly fat of your stomach, huffing frustratedly to yourself. “I don’t hate being in my body, but society does.” Instantly, like a slap in the face, you realize you’ve fucked up. “Sorry!” you immediately gasp. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I said way too much.” 

Sero is staring at you like he just realized you’re a person and you feel even worse. “Look, I don’t mean to pile this all on you, but you’re so easy to talk to and this weed is gettin’ to me and–“ You abruptly stop when Sero suddenly stands. He takes another puff on his blunt before dropping it into the sand and stubbing it out with his foot. 

He then proceeds to kick off his shoes and socks, strip himself of his shirt to reveal his beautiful body, and reach for his belt to loosen his pants. When his pants fall, you can’t help but admire how good he looks in his briefs. You stare at him, confused, hot, and bothered by the gorgeous view. “What are you doing?” you softly ask. 

“Let’s take a dip,” he says huskily. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is he serious, drunk, or just high as a kite? “But…I don’t have a bathing suit.” Sero raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who said anything about that?” Now you know that this man is gone. There’s no way he is seriously considering skinny-dipping…and there’s no way that you’re actually thinking about it! He must see you fighting with yourself because he runs a comforting, soft hand down your arm, his touch making you shiver. “I’d like to see you,” he murmurs, “if that’s okay.” 

You search his face to see if he’s joking or daring you only to laugh at you when you do so, but you find no indication that he’s playing with you. There is a molten tenderness in his gaze that has you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he has in store for you.

So you strip. You start with your top and then your skirt, biting your lip at his sharp intake of breath at the sight of your underwear. Then you’re stripping off your bra, letting your full breasts fall from the cups and against your stomach. Sero’s eyes widen at the sight of you as if you are a piece of art he is admiring in a museum. “Hermosa (beautiful),” he whispers, completely in awe at your body.

You’ve taken enough Spanish in school to know what this word means and it lights your body on fire. He then offers his hand which you take, giggling when he pulls you along to the ocean. “Come on,” he laughs. “Vamos, before the water gets too cold!” 

You want to ask him what the fuck he means because the water is like you stepped into the damn Arctic Ocean when your semi-naked body finally makes contact with it. You gasp as the water shocks your body out of its tired state from the alcohol and weed. Sero keeps his hand in yours despite the crashing waves that roll against your bodies the further you wad into the ocean. Finally, you two settle and just let the water caress you. You sigh in contentment as you tip your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above. 

“Nice, right?” Sero chuckles. You lazily nod, wanting to stay here forever––among the water, stars, and him. You don’t realize how close he’s gotten to you until you’re suddenly staring at his upper torso and the water beads that drip down his abs. “Can I hold you?” he gently asks. You peer up at him through your lashes, afraid to speak in fear of ruining the moment. 

You nod and he slowly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in them. You let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head meets the crook of his shoulder. You embrace him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. There, you two stay, bobbing in the water, linked with one another. “This feels so nice,” you drunkenly confess. “Like a fairytale.” 

“I’d hope so,” he murmurs to you. “You deserve it, mami.” And you start to believe it. After a few silent seconds, he pulls away from you, his eyes as dark as the night sky. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, his gaze hopeful. “I know I didn’t ask in the club and I feel bad about that, so I wanted to ask you now and–“ 

You don’t hear the rest of what he has to say because you’re too busy planting your lips on his. This kiss is hungrier now. Your lips move against each other’s like you both are starving for one another. You can tell Sero wants the same thing you want when his hands move below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth. He replies with his own moan and pulls away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

He wordlessly kneels before you in the water and takes both of your breasts into his hands, kneading them gently. “Shit,” he softly hisses to himself, amazed at the sight of your hanging fruit and brown, hardened nipples. 

You softly whimper at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts causing him to move on to other matters. He leans in and latches his lips onto one of your nipples where he begins to suckle on it. You throw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fall from your lips. You can’t yourself, especially when Sero begins to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process. 

Then he switches, giving your other breast the same treatment. Your hands find his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the black locks of his hair. You’re ruining his mullet, but he doesn’t seem to care. He is more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice chokes on a broken moan.

You can’t take this. All of this is going straight to your pussy which is now throbbing and begging for attention between your thick inner thighs. “Please, Sero!” you whine, gripping his hair. “I need you to touch me.” Understanding immediately, Sero stares up at you, looking uncertain. He then stands, his body dripping in water, making your pussy throb even more at the sight of his glistening muscles. “You sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and hushed. 

You practically throw yourself at him, giving him a deep, passionate kiss that nearly takes his breath away. “Yes,” you plead. “Yes, Sero, please. I don’t care, just please touch me.”

You grapple for his shoulders, gripping them in desperation. You don't care how much you come off as desperate or slutty to be sleeping with a man you just met. You need this right now. And Sero is willing to give it all to you. “Okay, baby, okay,” he shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to your waiting lips. “Let’s get us out of the water first.” He takes your hand and helps you navigate the waves as you make your way out of the water. Once you’re out and standing naked on the shore, you realize the gravity of what you just asked and initiated. Especially when Sero leads you to the cabana. Your eyes flit up to the resort yards away, realizing anyone could come out and see you two naked. “Will anyone see us?” you timidly ask.

“They may, they may not,” Sero replies, a devious smirk on his face. “If they do, they’re in for a treat watchin’ a gorgeous woman gettin’ her pussy eaten.” He then sits you down on the bed and kneels down in front of you. He gently pries your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet pussy. You watch his face change from playful to downright feral as he stares at your cunt. You flush at his expression, still feeling weird about this despite how hot and bothered you are. “But what if–“ 

He shushes you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs. “No more talkin’, mami,” he growls against your inner thighs. “I want my name on your lips if not those pretty moans I heard in the water earlier.” He continues to pepper your thighs in kisses while his hands pin your legs apart, his hold on you firm. He doesn’t want you hiding from him despite your cellulite and stretch marks, and rolls and imperfections. And it feels good. 

You don’t stop him when he dives right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he’s making out with them. You can’t believe the way this man works his mouth! Especially when he starts to flick his tongue along your clit. His tongue swirls around it and flicks it gently depending on how you respond. And shit, are you responding well! Your body can't help but react pleasantly to the sensations––your toes curl; your back arches; your eyes flutter closed; your mouth falls open into an O as moans and gasps fall from your lips. 

Sero is not only good with his tongue, but also with his hands. He reaches up and plays with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues. “H-Harder, please!” you beg to which he pinches the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the bursts of pain making you gush all over his lips. “Fuck, Sero,” you moan. “That feels so good!” 

Sero moans approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably. “Keep feelin’ good for me then, mami,” he says in between wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. “Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head. I can handle it.”

He pauses to stare up into your shocked eyes, a grin on his face and a pussy-drunk look in his eyes. You’ve never had anyone ask that of you before. Plus, your thighs really are on the thicker side. What if you suffocate him? Before you can even agree or refuse, he is already pushing you back onto the bed, emitting a squeal from you. 

He stands on his knees for a moment, taking you in. His lust-blown eyes trail up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you that you either like or dislike. Then he inhales deeply as if struggling to process the beauty in front of him. “Tu cuerpo es un país de las maravillas, mami (your body is a wonderland, mami),” he huskily says. You have no idea what to say to that. All you can do is shyly smile up at him as he smiles down at you, both of you enchanted with each other. 

Then he’s ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head. This gives him better access to your pussy so he can easily tongue-fuck you. As soon as you feel the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit, you are in heaven. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands find his hair, gripping the black locks as your hips begin to grind shamelessly into his face.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums approvingly, keeping up the pace. He doesn’t pause or slow down. He continues to work your pussy just how you want, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above. 

It doesn’t take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you. You can’t help it. His tongue just feels too good! Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risqué position turns you on more than you’d like to admit. Sero must realize you’re close because his jaw starts to move faster, accompanying his tonguefucking with porn-worthy moans of his own that nearly throw you over the edge. “Fuck, Sero!” you whine. “You gotta stop or I’m gonna cum!” 

“Mmm-hmm!” he eagerly hums into your pussy. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and proceeds to suck on your clit while his finger begins to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides. But it is enough to push you further and further down that road to orgasming all over him. His darkened eyes flick up to yours, staring you down between your thighs. “Ven por mí,” he demands. “Cum for me, baby. Don’t fuckin’ hold back a damn thing.” He grins up at you, his piercings glistening in the moonlight. “I can take it; I’m a big boy.” 

He attaches your mouth to your pussy again and runs it until you can't help but fall over that edge. “Ven por mí,” he moans into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reach higher pitches. “Ven por mí, ven por mí, ven por mí!” 

And you finally do. That tight knot in your core finally snaps and a wave of euphoria washes over you as you cum all over Sero's face and eager lips with a loud moan that would shatter glass. You see the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushes, your body shivering and shuddering. Your back arches and your hips wind into Sero’s face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally fades, you’re left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so-good. Sero eagerly cleans you up, taking extra care to not overstimulate you as he runs his tongue over your sensitive, twitching pussy. Then he lifts his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices. With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hums to himself. “You taste better than the rum,” he sighs. 

Something in that sentence and the way he looks at you brings something out of you––a passionate, raging fire that can only be tamed by him. Slowly, you bring yourself to sit up in front of him and grab his face to smash your lips against his. He moans into the kiss, surprised at the suddenness of it, but soon melts into it the more your lips move against his. Finally, you pull away and stare into his eyes. “I take it you liked it?” he breathlessly asks. 

“I loved it,” you purr, running your hands up and down his tatted chest. “Now I want to thank you in my way…if that’s okay with you.”

Your eyes trail down to the bulge in his briefs that has only gotten bigger. You also notice the visible wet spot soaking the fabric, meaning the guy was secreting precum when he was eating you out. The idea of this makes the fire inside of you grow. You may as well have told him you want to give him a million dollars with how fast he scrambles up on the bed, ready for whatever you want to do with him. You giggle, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before laying him down on his back. 

Keeping your eyes locked with his, you slither between his thick, muscular thighs and finally, finally, getting at those briefs. You gently pull them down, being careful to not scratch him with your nails, and gasping softly when his cock springs free from its trap. It pops up like a Jack-in-the-Box, hard, thick, and veiny. There is nothing but smooth skin down there, Sero’s pubic hair completely shaven. He notices you looking and blushes. “I sweat a lot down there in the summertime,” he sheepishly explains. “So I shaved…it isn't weird, is it?” 

You don’t even answer him. You just wordlessly take his dick in your hand, your pussy throbbing at how heavy it feels in your palm. You feel him tense at the feeling of your soft hand on him which coaxes you to begin stroking him, just seeing how he feels. He is soft and smooth, his skin stretching back and forth along his dick as you stroke him.

You pay attention to his body language, peering up at him every so often to see how he’s responding to your touch. He lays with his hands fisting the cushions underneath him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes closed. Deciding you’ve got him right where you want him, you spit into the palm of your hand and continue to stroke him, lubing him up.

Once his dick is shining in your spit, you attach your lips to the top half of him while your hand busies itself with the bottom half. “Fuck,” Sero sighs when your lips wrap around his shaft. “Tan apretada (so tight)…” 

You hollow your cheeks and open your throat to take him easier, realizing how big he is the moment he enters your mouth. He practically stretches your throat! How would it feel to get him inside of you? The thought makes you curious to take him deeper. After a few slow test runs where you slide your mouth up and down along his head, you begin taking him deeper. Sero’s hand moves to your head while his other arm moves behind his head, his hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Easy, mama,” he coos. “Take your time. Don’t take any more than you think you can.” You do as he says, only taking as much as your throat will allow. You gag around his cock as you begin to bob your head up and down along it, emitting orgasmic groans and swears in Spanish from his sinful lips. “Mierda! (Shit!)” he hisses, his hand tightening on your hair. “Lo estás haciendo tan bien…you’re doin’ so good for me, baby.” 

He continues to whisper praise as you gag and bob around him, using as much of your skill as you can. This includes using your free hand to stroke his balls, tugging on them when he begs you to. You ignore the ache of your knees in the sand and the tears pricking at your eyes, no doubt fucking up your eye makeup. The control he allows you makes you want to give him the best neck of his life, hopefully causing him to nut deep down your throat. You’ll gladly take all of it. 

Soon he begins to thrust into your mouth, his hips bumping against your chin as his cock fucks your throat. “Still doin’ okay?” he asks, to which you nod, emitting a moan from him when the roof of your mouth slides along his dick. “God, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he whines. Wouldn’t it be somethin’ if someone came out here and saw me fuckin’ that pretty throat of yours?” 

You tilt your head up to look up at him better, loving the view of his body as he bumps your hips against your face again and again. Spit drips from your lips the sloppier your head gets, only making him fuck your face harder. “You like that idea, don’t you?” he chuckles breathlessly. “Naughty girl. What if that someone is one of your girlfriends? What if it’s a resort worker? You wanna be seen on your knees with dick deep down your throat?” 

‘Yes,’ you think, your pussy crying beneath you. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ You want that more than anything. You don't care how slutty that makes you. You want to be his slut tonight. You want to be his everything and more, if just for one night. Before you can eagerly finish him off, he slides his wet cock out of your mouth, sighing as he does so. You look up at him, confused. Doesn’t he want to cum down your throat? 

“You can say no if you want to,” he says, his chest heaving, “but I’m gonna be real with you: I wanna fuck you. I don’t care if it’s out here or back at one of our rooms, but if I’m gonna cum, I wanna feel that pussy wrapped around me first.” His words cause your pussy to gush desperately around nothing. You’ve never wanted someone inside you more. “I want that too,” you breathlessly answer, hurriedly getting to your feet. Sero does the same, taking your hands in his. “We can go back to my room, if you want. If the girls are there, we can go to yours.” 

Sero is more than happy to agree with that judging by how his cock twitches between his thighs. 

After gathering your clothes and other items, you both hastily dress in the resort robes to avoid getting kicked out of the lobby for entering nude before hurrying to the resort and through the lobby for the elevators. You use your key card to get upstairs, giggling at Sero’s wandering hands along your hips and his lips on your neck. When you finally make it to your floor, the man carries you–carries you–to your room. When you’re finally at your door, you press a finger to your lips, signaling for his silence. You’re not sure if the girls are back yet. 

Carefully, you unlock your door with the card and open the door to find your hotel room still quiet, dark, and neatly cleaned, meaning only the floor maid was in here. You’re going to feel so bad for ruining her nice work later, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad now.

When the door finally shuts, Sero is on you instantly, his hands ripping off your robe and his lips hastily moving against yours. You’re no better. You can't stop yourself from tossing his clothes off too, revealing his naked body and hard cock in the silver moonlight that pours through the window overlooking the resort’s pool and beach in the distance. “I need to fuck you,” he huffs against your lips, his hands squeezing your ass. “Is it okay if I do that? It’s okay to say no if you don’t–“ 

You silence him with a kiss, gently sucking on his tongue and exposing yourself for your oral fixation. “Shut up and fuck me, Sero,” you purr to him. “I want you to take me to my bed and fill my pussy up the way I know you can.” You then pluck the robe tie from the floor, dangling it in his face. “And I want you to use this on me…please?” Despite feeling emboldened to talk to him in such a demanding manner, that shyness still peeks through. 

Sero looks stunned at your naughty request before a smile creeps onto his lips. “I should’ve realized how freaky you were,” he murmurs before pressing a wet, passionate kiss on your lips that makes you think of his mouth in other places. “Let’s waste no more time then.” He takes your hand and leads you to your bed which is right across from Mina and Uraraka’s. You were so happy that your room came with separate beds since you like to sleep with your panties off. 

As soon as you plop down on the bed, Sero is hovering over you, his knees on either side of your body. He holds the rope in his hands, staring down at you questionably. With a nod and a reassuring smile, you raise your wrists towards him. Take me.

He doesn’t need any other confirmation that this is what you want. He takes your wrists and wraps them in the tie before attaching them to your headboard so your wrists dangle. “Good?” he asks. You move your wrists around, testing out the new binds. Not too tight but not too loose either.

You nod and he pecks you on the lips before prying your thighs apart. You raise your hips up to meet him, gasping when his cock begins to slide against your slit. His eyes, hooded and hazy with lust, tick up to meet yours. “You still want this?” he huskily asks. You nod, whimpering with need and already yanking helplessly on your binds. 

“No,” he firmly replies. “Don’t just nod. I need your words, mami. Tell me you want me.” He slides his cock up, nudging the head against your clit. “Tell me you want all of this dick inside of this pretty lil’ pussy.” You moan in pure desperation, going crazy with need. “Yes, I want you!” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes. “Please, Sero! Please just fuck me, Papi!” 

The word slips out before you realize it, but Sero catches it immediately. You see his eyes widen an inch and then, in a flash, his entire personality shifts. As soon as he finally slides his cock head inside of you, you know that this is a different person in your bed. He is no longer the sweet, upbeat, concerned man you met earlier at the nightclub, but someone more dominant. Someone who has no problem breaking you completely and then putting you back together again. It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“Say that again,” he growls, beginning to roll his hips, sliding his cock head in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace. “Call me that again.” 

Weak moans leave your quivering lips as you struggle to stay still, afraid he’ll stop if you move. “Papi,” you whine, “please, please fuck me. I can't take much more of this. Please, please just–“ 

Your pleas are silenced when Sero slides in a little deeper, filling you up. A mutual gasp leaves your lips as your pussy walls tighten around him, keeping him nice and snug inside of you. He keeps up the slow thrusts, letting you get used to his girth. “That feel good, mami?” he huffs. “You like this?” 

As if he can’t see your eyes rolling into the back of your head and hear the moans coming out of you. “Yes, papi!” you sob. “Yes, I love it! Please go deeper!” Sero does just that, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to bump his hips against you a little faster now, never going any harder than you want him to. It is just the right speed and pressure to slide against your G-spot, causing you to cry to the ceiling. 

“Yeah,” Sero laughs, staring down at you. “You like this. You love gettin’ filled by a stranger’s dick, don’t you?” His hand finds your throat, applying a bit of pressure and emitting a gasp from you. “This was all you needed to give you that confidence boost, right? Just to get slutted out the way you need to be.” 

“Sero,” you groan, your pussy squeezing and clenching around his cock from his words. He leans down close to you, his lips nearly grazing yours as he continues to fuck you into the mattress. “But only I could’ve done this job right,” he whispers. “Only I can fuck you good like this. Right, princessa?”

His hips move faster, harder, his pelvis bumping against your throbbing clit that is close to exploding from the amount of stimulation and care it’s receiving. “Sero!” you loudly sob, gripping the tie around your wrists for dear life. Without a warning, Sero suddenly tosses your legs up to your ears so he can sink in deeper, causing you to nearly scream out as you see heaven’s light before your eyes.

“Tell me,” he grunts, his eyes posted firmly on yours. “Tell me only I can fuck you right like this. Tell me how good it feels!” Whines begin to leave his lips the more rapidly he fucks you, causing your titties to jiggle and the bed to rock. 

“So good!” you babble as your pussy squelches and clenches around him. “You’re making me feel so good, papi! I’m gonna cum soon!” You can feel your orgasm beginning to rise the more he grinds his cock into you, filling you to the brim with him. 

“Me too,” he groans. “Dios mío (my God), you just feel to fuckin’ good. And you look so pretty stretched around my dick.” He takes his hand off of your neck and strokes your cheek, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip.

“Eres tan bonita (you’re so pretty),” he murmurs, staring down at you in utter adoration. “Eres mia…you’re mine now, honey. I don’t give a fuck if it’s just for the rest of your vacation. I’ll make you mine again and again, every fuckin’ day and night, so you won’t even look at another man back at home.” 

He begins to fuck you right into the headboard where luckily you have a pillow to cushion the blows. The feeling of him hitting that spot again and again without fail is so intense that you can’t help the noises that escape you––screams, cries, and sobs of pure, molten pleasure that you know you’ll never get again. He knows it too and that’s why he begins to slow down, working his hips the way he did on that dance floor. It’s too much on your body, too much on your pussy, and you can feel yourself beginning to reach your limit. 

Sero leans down to your ear, nibbling on the flesh of your earlobe. “I want you to cum with me,” he whispers into your ear. “Cum around this dick. Cum for me, mami.” He repeats the same line in Spanish, his husky voice filling your ear as his cock kisses your G-spot and his fingers move down to rub your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of no return. 

It doesn't take long for you to finally burst around his cock the way you want to. You cum with a long, loud moan that tears out of you as your orgasm washes over you. The moment your pussy clenches around Sero’s cock is the moment he cums too. He grips your hips and swears in Spanish before he pulls out.

It doesn't take long for him. He rapidly pumps his cock in front of your face before his nut spurts all over your body. You gasp as his moans bounce off of the walls, his cum feeling warm on your skin. When you look down, you find it the creamy substance coating your breasts, thighs, and jiggly tummy. There’s even some on your ass due to how high he has your legs up. You are completely covered in him and his scent. And you love it. 

Finally, after he feebly gropes one of your breasts and presses a kiss to your foot, Sero unties your wrists and pulls his flaccid cock out of your tender, sensitive pussy, emitting a soft, weak moan from you. Then he’s rolling off of you and plopping down beside you on your bed, exhaustion overtaking him. 

The two of you lay there in silence for a moment, basking in the afterglow and processing what just happened. You just had sex with a total stranger. You let him tie you up and fuck you. You let him see your naked body. What shocks you is though you feel stunned at the whole thing, there is no ounce of shame or embarrassment anywhere inside of you. If anything, you feel satisfied with what just transpired.

You turn to Sero, realizing he’s looking at you already, his eyes shimmering in the slant of moonlight pouring through the window. “I meant what I said, you know,” he says, sounding out of breath. You blink at him, confused. “I want to be here with you, every day and night.” A blush coats his cheeks. “I’d like to spend your vacation with you…if you wouldn’t mind.” 

You blink at him again, stunned to silence. You have to be dreaming. You just have to be. There is no way this fine-ass man that you just met and gave up your pussy to is really talking about willingly spending the rest of vacation with you. He could have anyone he wants with that face, voice, and body, but yet here he is, laying in your bed, completely pussy-whipped for you and enthralled by your body.

Suddenly, for the first time tonight, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe I am that pretty. Maybe I am that sexy bitch he sees. Maybe I am beautiful.” 

“Is that okay?” Sero timidly asks, becoming nervous. Instead of verbally answering, you lean forward and press a long, passionate kiss to his lips that draws a purr of approval out of him. You pull away, staring up into his eyes. “Sero, you’re acting like you didn’t just give me the best two orgasms of my life,” you giggle. “Why wouldn’t I want that?” 

The biggest, brightest grin stretches across Sero’s lips at your answer and he leans in to bring you into another open-mouthed kiss that has you craving more. “You know what this calls for, right?” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips. Heat pools inside of your core as your mind goes to other places. ‘Please say more sex.’

“A smoke,” he answers, giving you a wink. Though that isn’t the answer you were hoping for, you also know that you have plenty of time to persuade him for another round tonight. He gets out of bed to get his jeans and retrieves his baggie of blunts from out of his back pocket.

Then he swiftly gets back into bed with you and prepares a blunt for you to share. He does the test smoke first and you watch, aroused and entranced, as the smoke billows from between his pink lips. He then passes it to you and laces an arm around your shoulder, watching you lazily as you puff on the blunt. The silence that surrounds you is serene and comfortable as you pass the blunt back and forth between one another. 

When you pass the blunt back to Sero after your turn, you flush with embarrassment as naughty thoughts run through your head. “You think we can try something?” you timidly ask. Sero raises a brow. “I’ve…never shotgun with anyone before,” you softly confess, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Sero lets out a laugh that you weren’t expecting. “And you wanna do it with me?” he asks, his smile teasing and playful, making you flush even more. “I think I’m honored and turned on.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before passing you the blunt. “Here, you inhale first.”

You do as he says and inhale the smoke, letting it fill your lungs. He slowly leans in with his lips parted as if to kiss you, silently coaxing you to blow the smoke into his mouth in one slow, steady rhythm. You feel even more relaxed now–not just because the weed is working on you, but because you realize that Sero is a man who doesn’t judge.

He accepts every single part of you, inside and out. The thought of leaving him when vacation is over almost pains you, but you’re not going to think about that right now. Tonight and the next fun-filled days here are all that matters. 

“Feel good?” he chuckles, admiring your hooded eyes. You slowly nod, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Now it’s your turn.” He takes the blunt and puffs on it pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Come here,” he murmurs, and you’re helpless to resist him. You lean in, but he takes you by surprise when he firmly places his hands on your hips and flips you onto him so you’re now straddling him. 

You slowly part your quivering lips for him and nearly moan when he blows the smoke into your mouth in an indirect kiss. It is just as addictive and as sexy as a direct one, but nothing beats Sero’s lips on yours. You lean in and devour his mouth, swirling your tongue around with his. He tastes like weed, mint, and rum. You find yourself nearly shoving your tongue down his throat which he groans at, his hands grabbing your ass and giving you a smack that has your pussy crying. 

When you pull away, a sheen line of saliva connects to your bottom lips. “Round two then?” he asks, staring up at you with hooded eyes.

Before you can say yes or even plant your pussy on his cock that you feel hardening beneath you, you hear the hotel door unlock. Your heart leaps as you immediately jump off of Sero and hide under the covers while he sits up, hiding you from the strangers behind the door. 

In walks Mina and Uraraka, drunk and hyped up on attraction judging by the two hot strangers trailing in behind them. One is tall, buff, and redheaded with a toothy grin and his hand in Mina’s while the other is shorter but just as fit and sexy with platinum-blonde hair and crimson eyes that you know have panties dropping. His hand is on Uraraka’s lower back, his fingers toying with the little strings keeping her dress together. 

“So this is our room,” Mina giggles, inviting the men inside. “We have three different beds, so we can–“ She stops when her eyes land on you and Sero, naked under the sheets and staring at the four like deers in headlights. Uraraka gasps, covering her mouth and going as red as a tomato. 

“Looks like your room is preoccupied right now,” the redhead chuckles, grinning at Sero. “See you finally got her, man!” The blonde rolls his eyes, his hand still on Uraraka’s backside. “It’s about fuckin’ time,” he grumbles. “He’s been eyein’ this woman down the entire night like an idiot.” 

Sero looks at Mina and Uraraka who look like they want to shoot themselves. “I see you met my friends, girls,” he chuckles. “You’ve got good taste.”

The redhead winks at him and wraps an arm around Mina's waist. “Y’know, why don’t we go back to our room? We’ve got a hot tub, a minibar, and a great view of the beach. We could give these two some much-needed privacy, too.” 

Mina quickly nods and practically pushes the three out of the room, winking at you on the way out. The door shuts behind them, leaving you two alone once more.

Sero turns to face you and slithers his hand up your thigh. “So,” he purrs, “we still on for round 2?” He could’ve asked for five rounds and you would’ve given it to them. 

The rest of the night is spent in bed, with kisses, touches, snuggling, and endless pleasure that make you want to miss your flight at the end of the week. 

THE END. 

#smutty smut #bnha smut #black fanfic writer #my works #my fic shit #black writers #black coded reader #chubby reader #sero x black!reader #sero x chubby!reader #sero hanta #latino sero hanta #daddy sero #latin sero hanta

[katsukikitten]

Pure smut and sad hours. Master list here.

You feel stupid, so fucking stupid. Opening the distasteful gag gift someone has given you after your break up. A knock off cock in the shape of your ex boyfriend after some fan analyzed a picture of him in gray sweats one day.

They were close, it felt right in your hands and they guessed about his tattoos on it but had them wrong, didn't have the forking veins you used to lick in the right spots and missing something you just couldn't put your finger on. Desperate in your drunken haze for intimacy that your string of other drummer fuck buddies couldn't supply. Couldn't never fucking dream to provide like he could.

Placing the suction cup base on an old candle plate as you desperately try to ride it in the shroud of night in your bedroom. Accidentally edging yourself like you would have done riding the real thing, expect he'd plant his feet into the mattress and fuck so hard up into you your tits would bounce and your eyes would roll.

Only furthering your frustrations, tears in your eyes as you try to listen to very old voice memos from when he was on the road. Lewd sounds of him spitting on his hand or cock before he fisted it, groaning to the pictures or voice memos you sent moments before. Seeking his comfort and needing it as your drunk hazy thoughts try to ruin your good buzz. Stupidly hitting the little mic icon to record a small voice message.

"Hakuji." Breathy and desperate before a small whine leaves your throat. Sticky sounds echoing back as you slide down the silicone with a pout.

"Jiji, I can't stand it. I can't cum without you either. You've ruined me." You sniff, another breathy moan, "Gave me so much princess treatment and no one can fuck me like you. Or hold me."

The end of the sentence is so quiet, phone still recording and all that can be heard are your fan, the soft sniffles of your pout and the clicking slick as you bounce.

"This is so stupid." You hiss, going to delete the recording from the message box before a fat tear falls just right onto the glass and hits send. Making you clench around the toy as you frantically Google search if an android can unsend messages and it can't. Figuring out the airplane mode trick far too late and horror paints your features as you see the message is not only delivered to your ex.

It's on read.

Frantically typing back in caps that he should just delete it that it was a mistake to send it but just as quickly as you do you receive a voice message back that opens with a growl.

"Princess, can't believe yer playin with my pretty pussy without me. Need my help? I can talk ya through it or I can show up. But first put those pretty clawed fingers on yer clit for me okay? Better right?"

The sound of his voice makes you arch and stupidly you listen to him, carefully placing the pads of your fingers on your clit and going in slow circles.

"Y-yes much better." A quick voice memo back heart beating out of your chest and you keep thinking of his offer that he'll show up.

"Good fuckin girl."

His praise makes you gasp and shake, shudder running down your spine when you play it a second time.

"Not fair. Not gonna let me hear ya moan?"

One escaped your throat before you record a small memo of you moaning loudly, part of it his name, although it's his stage name he doesn't care. He's more than happy to help you, "Akaza! Akaza!"

"Careful princess, one more time and you'll summon him."

Purposely, louder than your others on the cusp of cumming as you record your down fall, "Akazaaaaa!"

And just like that he's checking if you're home, smiling when he sees your little red dot there before he's speeding over on his bike. The roar of the engine heard from the comfort of your bedroom before you hear the tires bump against the lip of the sidewalk. Sound of the engine dying quickly before your balcony door is sliding open.

"You should really lock this princess." He almost purrs as he locks it behind him, putting in the wood to keep the door from being jimmied open.

Worst part is he isn't even winded, not from his sprint from the parking spaces nor from the way he had to scale to the third floor.

Stopping at the foot of the bed as he drinks you in. Eyes aglow in the low light commiting the sight to memory. You were in one of his old shirts, sitting so pretty as you try to bounce on some sort of silicone cock before he decides to rid you of your misery. Inked fingers digging into your ribs as he pulls you from the toy, lying you down on the bed beside it before he's picking it up.

"Hmm? This mine?" Smirk growing on his lips as he weighs the toy in a broad palm, "I've held the real thing enough times to know it's mine."

"S-stop. Don't tease Kaza." Trying to pull down the hem of his shirt to hide your body but he just smiles. Puts the toy to the side, working at pulling his gray sweats down freeing his heavy aching cock.

Pressing his palms on to your knees to make room for his imposing body, "Aw but ya get so fuckin wet when I tease ya."

"Sides I'm the only one that can fix yer problem right? Can't cum without me huh?" But there's no malice in his voice, no smugness or tease like his words suggest, if anything he sounds a little sad, maybe even relieved.

Squeezing the base of his cock as he runs it through your folds, heart racing as he debates if this is a good idea. Icy eyes flicker up to your face and how desperate you look, needy and ready.

"Girth's a bit off, that's why it's not helpin. Still want my help princess? Gotta use your words." He tries not to feel numb, tries to focus on everything that's happening between the two of you now as he comes down from the high of a fight.

"Yes, please help me Hakuji." And that's all it takes before he's sliding his cock in nice and slow. Making sure you feel it, inch by inch of him sinking into you, him making you arch off the bed to meet his hips more, him making you claw and fist the sheets.

Him making you feel this fucking good and that there was no fucking person or thing in this world that could imitate him.

"Thaaat's the stretch you needed. Feels just right doesn't it, princess?” Finally after a few more moments he's perfectly nestled into you. Feeling you clench around him making him squeeze his eyes shut.

You feel just as wonderful as he remembers, maybe even better thanks to his celibacy he's had since the two of you separated over a very big misunderstanding but Hakuji couldn't blame you. Would never.

Relishing the moment the two of you were reunited even if he knows it's temporary. That the clock is winding down yet still he forces himself still despite your whines and desperate claws digging in the sheets. Moving for his skin as you squeeze your legs around his waist making him smile. Hooking the back of your knees as he leans forward. Forcing your calves to rest on the crook of his arms so he can be closer to your face.

Pushing down into your slowly and roughly as his fangs find your throat. Nipping and sucking as he lets his cock head drag over that spongy spot that has you clawing up his shoulders and back. Already you feel close to cumming, throbbing in how he folds you, pressing you into yourself before adding his own body weight. Crowding your vision as he lets his lidded gaze hold yours not even hiding what you do to him as his eyes flutter when you clench around his cock. He leans his head down by your ear so you can hear him moan and growl.

"Such a good fuckin girl. Stayed molded to me." Your toes cramp from his praise, legs shaking as you cum the first time as he goes on, "Made for me aren't ya princess? Made for me to have and hold. To protect always til I fuckin die."

Your divine cunt always had that effect on him to get in to ramble praises and possession into your ear but it always made your vision spot when he did as you arch again, creaming around his cock that he fucks you through.

Those agonizingly slow thrusts that still somehow don't give you a chance to breathe as his pelvis grinds into your clit with each rocking motion.

Eyes rolled to the back of your head as he selfishly starts to chase his own release only after he's sure you've cum a minimum of three times, counting four when he sticks his tongue in your mouth so he can taste your sweet moans one more, or last, time.

"Cause ya love me most right? That's why ya need me. Fuck cause I love you." Hips starting to snap as he fucks into you roughly, wrapping his arms right around your middle forcing your legs that much wider from his grip as he hooks his fingers on your shoulders for leverage. Listening to your moans and feeling how you try to milk him after another body wracking orgasm makes you shake in his hold. As if his strong arms were the sole reason you hadn't completely fallen apart.

"Fuckin- God I love you I love you so much Princess." He's moaning trying to pull out in time before you look up at him with the saddest, most pleading eyes.

"Cum in me. Please, please Hakuji." And he's never been one to tell you no as he shudders. Painting your walls in his sticky hot seed as you whine from how good he makes you feel.

He tries to keep his full weight off of you, thinking he doesn't deserve to feel your comfort as he pants. Even with your nails raking over his scalp, slowly releasing your legs from his hold before he tries to pull away all together.

"Don't." A warning bite as you glare up at him, "Don't be like the others."

"They don't stay?" Growl back to his voice, how dare they, how fucking dare they use you to their content and then have the audacity to not pamper you.

"Never." Tears welling in your eyes that have Hakuji seeing red, that have him wanting to tuck away his spent cock quickly, just so he can beat the shit out of them. Hospitalize them at the very least. But first he had to take care of you.

Because you always came first.

He doesn't even ask if you want him to stay, just pulls you to him as he lies back down. Palming your skull so you'll nose his throat as inked fingers trace up and down your spine. Until he's sure you're asleep, forcing his tired eyes open despite how much comfort you bring him. Unable to miss a second of contact with you but fate had other plans.

Pulled undertow quickly, falling into a deep restful sleep for the first time in over a year. Only for him to wake up in your bed a few hours later.

Alone.

#kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛

[gaysindistress]

Sad girl - thirteen

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, the feelings, angst, Anthony being Anthony

word count: 2k

part 12 | series masterlist

taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @reader-without-a-story @unaxv  @iateall-yourcookies  @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @littlelizardlizzie @goldensunflowe-r @wh0reforbucknasty

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

The moment they arrived at Bucky’s, she had thrown open the car door before he could open it for her and brushed past him up the stairs. He had felt her anger before but this time is entirely different. There’s a budding relationship at stake now, the flower just barely peeking out of the soil and any turbulent weather would destroy it. He had to figure out a way to apologize at the very least if he wanted to save what they had, however, she isn’t going to make it easy by any means. 

“Doll, wait” he calls after her when she disappears inside. 

Steve comes out, looking back at her and then at Bucky, “Do I want to know?”

“If I’m not in my office in 15 minutes, send help,” he huffs, chasing after her inside the house. 

She hadn’t worn heels that day so there was no clicking to be heard but the heavy thuds of her boots do echo as she continues to march up to her room. Bucky’s footsteps aren’t far behind her which pisses her off even more. 

Turning on her heel now only feet away from him and catching by surprise, “Stop following me.”

“Will you just stop for a second then?”

“Why? You didn’t care at the café or in the car so what changed?” she spits with disgust. 

“You were the one who came at me first,” his nostril flared in vexation at her attitude. 

Her mocking laugh bounces off the walls, “After you pulled some shit.”

She spins away and resumes her march onward, leaving Bucky irate and fuming. He has to clench to stop himself from saying something stupid. 

“Doll this is your last warning; stop,” he demands, his voice drips with authority. 

However she doesn’t stop, throwing open her bedroom door and nearly slamming it shut but his hands stop it, rings making harsh sounds as they land on the wood. 

“I told you to stop.”

“And I told you to stop following me.”

He is on her in seconds, spinning her around so that her back meets the door. Caging her in with hands on either side of her shoulders, he stares down at her with menacing blue eyes. 

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. Me” she hisses as she tries to shove him away from her. His left-hand grips both of her hands and pins them to her chest so she can’t move. 

“I asked you politely to stop once and then I had to ask again. I don’t like to repeat myself, let alone chase angry brats up the stairs,” his hot breath fans against her face, “Now are you going to behave?”

Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, “Are you going to get off of me?” A sinister chuckle leaves his mouth as he continues to stare down at her, “No, now don’t make me repeat myself.”

A quiet ‘okay’ comes from her, soft under the harsh gaze of the mercenary. She’s never seen his menacing side up close before and it was terrifying to see the gentleman she’s come to know act this way. 

“Good girl. Before you decided to be a brat, I was trying to apologize for setting up that meeting with Anthony. I should’ve talked to you about it beforehand but as we know, you don’t like to do as I say so I had to make an executive decision.”

She tries to speak but his free hands clasp over her mouth so she can’t. 

“I’m not done speaking,” he pauses to ensure she’s listening, “I had hoped that my goodbye would’ve turned out differently but I guess we don’t get what we want sometimes. I have to leave early for Washington D.C. for an emergency meeting. I was going to surprise you with a weekend away but I don’t think you deserve it. Regardless there will be a party Friday honoring Steve, Sam, and me, and you will be joining me. Nat has all of the details and will keep an eye on you while I’m gone. Do you think you can behave until then?”

Every fiber in her body is on fire with anger and lust but mostly anger at his demeaning words. Men like him are every inch of dangerous they seem to be and it was stupid of her to assume he wouldn’t use his power over her as he is now. She wants to slap him to set him straight but she’s not in the position to make any power moves. Instead, she nods and resists the urge to spit at him when he moves his hand away. 

“Good girl, Doll. Remember if anything happens, Nat will tell me.” 

“I’m aware,” the slight challenge is enough to make him smirk but not enough for him to reassert his dominance. He releases her hands and backs away. 

“While you’re out dress shopping, make sure to get matching wedding rings. I planned for us to do it together but it looks like that won’t happen.”

“Do you want a simple one or one to match the size of your ego?”

“Whatever you pick will be just fine, Doll,” he kisses her forehead which should be a sweet gesture but is really just a callback to the first time he did it; a move to show he’s in control. 

________________________________________________________________

A week is plenty of time to plot your revenge against an asshole husband who had tried to control you and treated you like some stupid housewife, right? It seems as though it is just the right amount of time for her to plot her revenge. There are several ways she could go about this however the best option is the one he least expects. 

During her week, true to his word, Nat hadn’t left her side and was always within a three-foot radius of her. When Doll moved, Nat moved. It was a bit exhausting however she did like her so it made for a fast week. Their first outing had been to find rings which proved to be harder than they had anticipated. 

They had found her ring within half an hour, a 3-carat eternity band to match her 3-carat solitaire radiant engagement ring. Finding Bucky’s, however, took nearly an hour. 

“What about this one?” Nat had been holding up a simple black band when she’d asked Doll. 

“No, that's too simple. We need something just big enough that it’s annoying,” she’d replied as the jewelry counter person gave them both weird looks. 

“Ah, I see. What about this one?” This time she’d held up a ring that looked like it belonged to a football player who had won the Super Bowl. 

“Jesus he might actually kill me if I showed up with that,” Doll laughed as she continued to search. 

Both of their eyes went on the same ring; a silver signet ring much like the one he already wore.

“Excuse me, can this be engraved and how long will it take?” 

“Yes Madam it can be engraved and for you, we could have it ready in two days,” the French jeweler said as they took the ring and began the process of checking the women out. 

Nat rolled her eyes as Doll made sure that Bucky would feel her revenge. 

________________________________________________________________

He had tried to text, call, and even facetime her while he was away but she barely answered. His messages were met with short responses, his calls either declined or lasted less than five minutes, and she only picked up his facetime call once. Steve harassed him endlessly about how whipped he was and how he needed to get over the honeymoon phase already. He was met with legendary side eyes and one-word commands from the brooding mercenary. 

At this rate, he would be surprised if she even showed up. His only confirmation that she was alive and still planned on coming to D.C. was Nat’s updates. The latest of which had been a secretive picture of Doll trying on dresses for the gala. She was trying on a red floor-length dress that was a halter top with an open back. The caption that accompanied it said: “She hates the red. Any color suggestions?”

“The red looks the best.”

“Are you even trying to get on her good side? Pick a different color and I won’t tell her what you said.”

“Fine black is her signature color.”

“You’re the worst. Remind me to never take you shopping.”

If Nat kept sending him pictures, he might hop on a plane back to New York and beg for forgiveness on his knees.

________________________________________________________________

“I don’t know Nat. I’m not really feeling the red but I can’t go with black because that’s too obvious. What about blue? Or white?”

Nat lounges in the boutique’s chair, phone on her lap as if she wasn’t secretly sending pictures to Bucky. Doll fiddles with the sides of the dress she’s currently wearing, turning in every direction to get a better look. 

“For someone who claims to not care what he thinks, you’re sure doing a lot of worrying.”

“And you’re terrible at hiding the fact that you’re taking pictures.”

“It’s for safety reasons,” she tries while taking another picture, this time not even trying to hide it. 

“As in you’re tired of Bucky blowing up your phone, asking for updates so you’re voluntarily sending him pictures to get him to stop,” Doll says as she steps off the pedestal and heads to the dressing room. 

“He’s getting really irritated that you’re not answering his messages or calls, ya know? Ignoring him isn’t going to make him any nicer the next time you see him,” Nat calls after her. 

“Ignoring him is a welcomed side effect of planning my revenge. Black or white?”

“Bucky says black.”

“White it is.”

Nat chuckles at the other woman as she goes back to her phone. Stepping back out of the dressing room, she’s wearing another floor-length gown that’s white with feathers across the top. 

“Mmmmm,” she hums as she adjusts the top, “No. The white is too bright.”

“Isn’t that what you want though? To be the center of attention?”

“If I wanted that, I would just show up naked.”

Nat chokes on the champagne she is sipping and has to cough as she looks over at Doll, phone to her ear. Doll starts laughing at her reaction but it quickly dies off when she sees the phone in Nat’s hand and the horrified look on her face. 

“I don’t know what did you hear?” Nat says into the phone, “Hm I think you need hearing aids. We’re almost done here and then we’ll be headed back to your place to pack. Goodbye.”

“You are going to get yourself into big trouble,” she points at the other woman with a warning. 

“How was I supposed to know you were on the phone? You didn’t warn me.”

“I don’t have to tell you every time I’m on the phone. Hurry up before he shows up at the house, ready to fight someone.” 

She sticks her tongue out at Nat as she walks back to the dressing rooms once again. Neither woman say anything as she changes into the last dress. The second white dress was not her first choice but it’s looking like it might be her only choice. Sliding it up her body, the sleeveless mermaid gown had a corset top the wraparound style and central slit gave it the elegance she was looking for. The corset has horizontal draperies that gracefully accentuate her shape and to top it off, it has a small and neat train. 

“Nat,” her sing-song voice flows through the air as she waltzes back to the mirrors. 

“My my Mrs. Barnes, don’t you look dazzling?” the other woman fiends fainting at the sight of her. 

“I think this is the one.” 

“I agree,” Nat pauses to glance at her phone, “and your rings are ready so let’s get out of here.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #mob au #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky barnes x reader #sad girl - bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

[oomisluvr]

ALL THE NIGHTS WE USED TO LOVE (HOW IT USED TO WAS)

synopsis: every relationship is bound to have arguments. it doesn't mean you love each other any less. angst. hurt/comfort. swearing.

Song: Childs Play (feat. Chance the Rapper) - SZA

“You’re neglecting your responsibilities as a girlfriend.”

You slide your bluelight glasses from your face, pinching the bridge of your nose to smooth out the indents you’re sure they’ve left behind. 

“Responsibilities?” You squint up at him from your place on the couch, eyes stinging from working on an essay the past four hours, “Like what? Cuddling? Back massages? A fucking handjob?

“Precisely all three of those things.” Though his height and overall demeanor allows him to loom over you, the facemask smoothed to his skin makes him look less than threatening, “Come to bed. It’s late.”

“Kiyoomi, it's barely eleven-o-clock.”

“Exactly,” He seethes, the facemask flopping a bit around his mouth, “I’m supposed to be in bed and asleep by ten-thirty!”

“Then get in the bed and go to sleep.” You snort, brushing him off and redirecting your attention to the unfinished google doc on your laptop. It sounds harsher than you intend, but you don’t have the emotional capacity to babysit his emotions right now. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past two hours.”

“And I already said sorry, alright?” You sigh, “Everything is just… a lot right now. Can you please just give me tonight to get this done?”

“No.” Something snaps in Kiyoomi, something ugly and childish stirring in his core. He reaches to shut your laptop closed, your fingers just barely making it out before being smushed. 

Furious, you turn to him, “What the fuck!”

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you won’t even look at me.”

“What conversation? I already told you,” You fume, “What part of ‘I’m working’ don’t you understand?”

“You’re always working, though.” he spits, looming over you, “It’s like you’re not even here anymore!” 

“I don’t complain when your job makes you disappear for months at a time,” you say, “I shut the fuck up and support you like a normal girlfriend does. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

“Watch it.” he damn near growls, and something about his tone has you standing to your feet to look him in his face.

“Or what, Kiyoomi?” you challenge, “Or fucking what? Are you threatening me now?” 

“I fucking miss you!” He explodes, “Is that so bad? Is it so evil to want to spend time with my partner?”

“You think I want to do this shit? I don't! I get treated like a doormat every single day, Kiyoomi!” You’re screaming, hot emotions overwhelming you and bubbling out, “But I do it because I’m building a career for myself, a future!”

Kiyoomi goes as still as a statue, studying your expression with a cold calculation you’ve only ever seen him use on the court. Finally, he asks, “And what about us? Our future? Does that matter at all to you?” 

“Are you kidding me? Is that a fucking joke?” You humorously laugh, “Are you giving me an ultimatum right now?”

He opens mouth to speak, but you raise your hand with alarming ease, dismissing him. 

“Actually, save it.” You decide, marching to the coat rack by the door, “I don’t need this right now. I have a fucking paper to write.”

It’s only when you grab your purse does Kiyoomi understand your intention to leave.

“Y/N, please. I’m asking if this even matters to you.” His voice cracks when he speaks, watching you toss on a heavy coat, “Because it feels like I’m more invested than you sometimes.”

“That is not fair.” You whisper, hand frozen on the door handle, “That’s bullshit. After all the shit we’ve gone through? Hell, after all the shit you’ve put me through, you don’t get to stand there and say I don’t care.”

“Can you stop putting words in my mouth?” he says, “Fuck, I’m not saying that’s what’s happening, I’m saying that’s how I feel.” 

You’re breathing hard, like you just ran a marathon. When you don’t respond, he continues, throwing himself down on the couch cushions.

“I feel like I’m… losing you; like you’re slipping through my fingers and there’s nothing I can do but watch. When was the last time we went on a fucking date? When was the last time we had a normal conversation without it blowing up like this?” He sighs, and you see the exhaustion in his eyes. You’re both tired. 

“I just…” He trails off, the last of his anger fizzling into something raw and vulnerable, “I just miss you. That’s it. I miss you, Y/N. All I wanted was to fall asleep next to you. I didn’t mean to blow up on you. I’m sorry.”

His honestly stings worse than if he would have just let the argument escalate. Communication used to be such a struggle for the two of you, and sometimes those old habits come back. You’re both in the wrong, and the realization feels like a slap in the face. The words you used, your tone, your volume–that’s not how you speak to people you love. 

And you do love Kiyoomi, despite everything.

“Don’t apologize when I’m the one who should be sorry.” You whisper, shrugging off your coat and hanging up your purse. You approach him on the sofa, shame heavy in your heart, “You were only trying to look out for me. It wasn’t fair of me to go off on you. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry, Kiyoomi.”

“Are we…” He starts, staring at you with bloodshot eyes. He looks scared. Vulnerable. You wonder how many people had abandoned his younger self, what buried emotions you unearthed, “Are we going to be okay?”

The question hangs in the air, unanswered. Relationships were so much fucking work. They were exhausting, and took a real effort to keep both parties happy.

But they’re worth it. Kiyoomi was worth it.

He’s been there for you, and you for him. He’s seen all your good and all your bad, and still loves you the same. The two of you have struggled hard to create careers for yourself, fighting tooth and nail for even a shred of recognition in your respective fields. It’s been hard on the both of you. And as bills stack and debts pile, it only gets harder.

You grit your teeth. It’s been tough, but the two of you are tougher. You’ve come so far. Love bends, but it won’t break. You won’t let it. It was you two against the world. Always will be. These petty fights would never change that.

Sometimes difficult to like, but always easy to love. He’s fully, wholly, entirely yours. 

And you, his.

“Yes,” You say, and it’s not a lie, “We’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” He nods, eyes still glazed over with an emotion you don’t quite recognize, “We’ll be okay.” 

Your hands find his, pulling him up from the couch, “Let’s go to bed.”

“No, it’s fine.” He deflects with a breathless chuckle, “I know you really need to finish this. I can survive one night alone.”

“I just need to add my sources by noon tomorrow. I’ll be fine.” You say, and Kiyoomi knows you both need this, “Let’s go to bed, baby.”

He caves, following you to the bedroom. He helps you with your skincare. You two will be okay. You both apologize a dozen more times to each other. Kiyoomi laughs when he realizes he’s had a facemask on that entire time. You two will be okay. You tell him you love him, and he says it back to you. He promises to take you out for lunch tomorrow. 

You two will be okay.

#sakusa #kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #msby sakusa #sakusa x reader #msby #haikyuu #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu fic #haikyu #haikyuu!! #angst

[yeetawaylikes]

“Roses”

Originally by ABDL Story Forum user Satyr

Chapter 1: The Rules

“Here are the rules,” she said. “There will be no sex. No unnecessary touching of privates. You may undress me as part of your… play, and feel free to admire my body, but look with your eyes, not your hands or, god forbid, your dick. Got it?”

Jonathan nodded. “Of course.”

“Good. Everything will happen in private. If you want to do public play, we will renegotiate. If at any point I say the word ‘roses,’ you will immediately stop whatever you’re doing. Oh, and I take payment in advance.”

He nodded again. “Absolutely. I won’t hurt you. Quite the opposite. I want to take care of you. That’s kind of my thing.” Jonathan handed her the cash, and she put it away in her purse.

“Okay, then the formal shit is taken care of. I’m yours until tomorrow morning, unless you break our contract. Starting now.”

Jonathan beamed a wide smile at her. “Now, now. Little girls don’t use dirty words, do they?”

Eliza blushed. It was a genuine blush, too. Fuck. I’m screwing up already. “Sorry,” she said, casting her glance downward to the floor. “I’ve never catered to this particular kink before. It’ll probably take me a little while to properly get into the role.”

Eliza had been a sex worker for the past two years, after she finished college. She’d done porn for some minor producers, and a few times, she’d straight up sold sex. Eliza loved the idea of it: she was the kind of woman who in earlier times might have been referred to a psychiatrist for nymphomania, and today would be known as a slut. But why shouldn’t she have lots of sex if she wanted to? The idea of selling herself, not because anyone forced her to, but because she could and wanted to, was both liberating and, in a naughty taboo kind of way, incredibly sexy. That was the idea of it, though. In practice, having to deal with her customers so intimately—the fat and ugly and smelly ones, as well as the ones who looked like they might be carrying super-AIDS—was far from sexy. Just when she’d thought it might be best to give up the whole prostitute thing as an expression of youthful experimentation, she’d lucked into meeting a couple clients who had more particular desires. Ones that didn’t even want to fuck her. They were content to fondle her feet or tie her up and mock her, or force her to strip naked and do household chores while they watched. She was still   selling herself, but it had been eight months since she’d actually sold sex.

What do you really want? She thought, looking over at Jonathan. All her clients wanted things they couldn’t or wouldn’t express, and if she did those things, they were on the hook as regulars. The man sitting across from her on the couch was her newest client, and definitely the wealthiest. Jonathan was in his early thirties, mop of brown hair and nerdy glasses, but he wore a businessman’s suit. He was the founder of a tech startup that had been bought up by Google for an undisclosed, enormous sum, and now he lived an early retirement in a swanky suburban mansion.

“That’s okay,” Jonathan said. He was sweating, she noticed. Eliza moved to sit beside him.

“First time paying for this kind of thing?” She asked.

He squirmed on the couch, as if he were a schoolboy who hadn’t done his homework. Eliza laughed. “It’s okay. Everyone is nervous the first time. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. What I’ll usually do is, I make us a drink, and then we just get to know each other a little before the roleplaying begins in earnest. Would you like a drink?”

Jonathan blushed, then he nodded. As Eliza rose, about to ask him where he stored his liquor, she heard a cough behind her. “I…” He began. Oh, spit it out! She thought. Is he going to be one of those guys who loses the faculty of speech once he has a girl over? She’d had some clients who panicked once their biggest fantasy was about to become real. Guys who clearly had very little experience with real women, and when faced with one, one whom they’d paid to be theirs for the night, it was all too much to them. Some of them she’d ended up simply talking to all night. Fortunately, Jonathan only needed two tries before he spoke. He grabbed her hand and held her back, gently but firmly. “I have a few rules of my own, young lady.”

Eliza turned around to face him. “Yes?” She said, trying her best to sound as innocent as she believed he wanted her to be.

“First of all, only grown-ups are allowed in the liquor cabinet.” He was trying very hard to sound authoritative, and it was working about halfway into rule number one, but then his voice faltered. Eliza found it endearing. She didn’t know much about his kink, so he would have to teach her, but on the other hand, he clearly didn’t know much about being a Dom in practice, so maybe they’d have to learn together. “But, uh… I could use a drink. Wait here a minute.”

She glanced around the room while he was gone. On the walls hung posters of old 1960s rock artists, neatly framed; there was a large wall-mounted TV; on the living room table lay a couple of coffee table type art books. Jonathan appeared to be a bit of a neat freak, if the order and cleanliness of his house was any indication. He reappeared with a glass of what appeared to be whiskey in one hand, and a juice box in the other. “I thought it was more appropriate for someone your age,” he said, handing her the juice box. Eliza smiled. She was a little embarrassed, but that feeling was also turning her on a little. If this is your fix, I’ll gladly take your money and do it again some other time. She inserted the straw and began sucking on it, looking him in the eyes as she did so.

“Are you thinking dirty thoughts, little one?” He asked.

Eliza nodded. Seductively, she hoped. Jonathan appeared to be getting into the role, and this was a crucial period. If he just warmed up to the feeling of authority, and she didn’t mess up and challenge that authority until he was confident enough to put her in her place, this was going to work out very well.

“When you grow up, maybe you can do something about that, but until then, you just enjoy your juice box, sweetie,” he said.

Eliza moved closer to him, then she whispered in his ear: “May I sit on your lap?”

He pulled her in. Eliza was rather short, which no doubt played into his fantasy. There were certainly call girls out there with bigger boobs, but she had a feeling that would have been inappropriate for his particular kink.

“Now, kitten, for rule two. You are only allowed in the bathroom under the supervision of an adult. I’m very strict on that. Are we clear?”

Eliza nodded, and couldn’t help but notice a twinge in her bladder. She’d suspected something like this, but the reality of it, what it might entail, had remained a little abstract to her. “When we finish our drinks, why don’t we get you changed into something a little more appropriate?”

Shit. Fuck. “I… I didn’t bring anything,” she said.

He began stroking her hair. “Don’t worry, I’m well prepared.” She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be stroked, trying to find the calm within herself. Trying to become what he wanted her to be. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me! It’s not bedtime yet. If you fall asleep now, I’m gonna have a hell of a time getting you to go to sleep tonight, aren’t I?”

Eliza blushed. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just so calming when you stroke my hair.”

“Why don’t we go change right now,” Jonathan suggested. Eliza got up from his lap and offered him her hand. He took it and led her upstairs to his bedroom. On the king sized bed lay a denim romper with snaps in the crotch. And was that…? “Oh, that,” Jonathan said, following her gaze. “That’s not a problem for you, is it?” It was, indeed, a diaper. Or, rather, one of those pull-on absorbent training pants for older kids. She shook her head. It was covered in her fee, if that’s what got him going.

“That’s just in case,” Jonathan said. “Let’s leave it be for now. I know that some little girls have potty problems, but some are properly potty trained. Are you, kitten?” Eliza blushed and nodded. Of course she was. Well, fuck me. On second thought, maybe he wanted me to say no? “Well, then. I’ll give you a chance in panties, then. Don’t disappoint me now. I don’t want to be cleaning up any puddles on the floor. Okay. Let’s get you out of those clothes, they look silly on a little girl.” He indicated for Eliza to raise her arms, and she did. Swiftly, he hoisted her Metallica t-shirt off. Then came her jeans, which she allowed him to undo, one button at a time, and then she pulled them down and stepped out of them. Eliza felt a chill in her bones. The room was a little cold, but also, this was the moment of truth. Soon she’d be naked in front of a near-total stranger who had engaged her to fulfill his sexual fantasies. Eliza had no shame about showing off her body, but there was always the possibility that—despite what they’d agreed on—Jonathan might get handsy once she stood naked in front of him. He didn’t seem like the type, though. Jonathan seemed  like he genuinely wanted to care for her as if she were a child, and she didn’t think child molestation was part of the fantasy.

Jonathan walked behind her and unclasped her bra. “Little girls don’t need bras. You barely have any breasts to be holding up!” He laughed.

“Say what?” She couldn’t help it. She may be small, but those were still some premium grade boobs, mister.

“Good, good,” Jonathan said. He was in front of her now, admiring her naked chest. “I’m sorry, I’m just getting into character. And I want you to be a bit spunky, to resist me a little, you know? Little girls aren’t always well behaved.”

Eliza took the hint. She stamped a foot on the floor. “I do not have a flat chest. You’re just a big meanie.” She stuck her tongue out, to emphasize that her little outburst was part of the act.

“Watch your tongue,” Jonathan said. He sized her up. “No, those panties won’t do.” They were black silk, bikini style. “Don’t worry, I have something a little more appropriate for you.” He rummaged in a closet and found a pair of pink panties with a teddy bear print on them, and a t-shirt with the same motif. “Do you need any help, or can you put them on yourself, sweetie?”

“I… Maybe a little bit of help?” Eliza allowed him to lower her panties, giving him a glance of her pussy, but he only took a quick peek before sliding up her new panties. She shifted a little. The coffee with breakfast, then water on the way down, and then juice were all making their way to her bladder. After the panties came the t-shirt over her otherwise bare chest, and then the romper. Jonathan made sure everything fit snugly—and it did, surprisingly—but his hands didn’t linger too long in any sensitive areas. Eliza did a little pirouette to show off her new costume, which had shaved off at least six years of her apparent age, if not eight or ten. Although she was still clearly a young woman in immature clothing, she looked closer to sixteen than to twenty-four.

“Uh, about the bathroom,” Eliza said. “Could you show me the way? I kind of have to pee.”

“But you have to see all the fun stuff I’ve prepared for you!” Jonathan exclaimed. He took her hand and led her downstairs, and she offered no further protest. Perhaps he wants me to pee my pants. Perhaps he really wants an excuse to put me in diapers. Jonathan hadn’t been quite clear on what age he wanted her to be. A little girl, he’d said. A little girl to take care of. But did that mean six or two? Was she supposed to be a first grader or a babbling baby? Hopefully not the latter, because she’d be bored out of her mind if she wasn’t at least allowed to talk. And she didn’t think she could do baby convincingly, either. First grader was more like it. But was she a first grader with “potty problems?” Eliza tried to cross her legs, but Jonathan dragged her along to a room adjacent to the living room. It was more of a lounge, with bean bags and a few reclining chairs, and on one of the walls hung a canvas that looked like it might be part of a home cinema setup. There was a little table in a corner, and Jonathan led her to it. “I’ve got some coloring books, stickers, glue, and glitter. Why don’t you have some fun with that? I’ll be right here, reading a book.” He indicated one of the chairs.

“But I need to pee!” She protested. Her bladder was rather uncomfortable, and the desperation could be heard in her voice. It was a child’s whine. Inwardly, she smiled. He must be loving this.

“I was really looking forward to some quiet reading. The bathroom is upstairs. Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I did!”

“Hmm,” Jonathan said. “I must have missed it. Well, if it’s an emergency, I’ll take you. If it can wait, we’ll do it after.”

Does he want me to say I can hold it? And if I do, does he want me to actually hold it, or does he want me to have an accident? She was a little concerned about ruining the clothes he’d clearly bought just for this occasion. Surely he didn’t have more than one “little girl” uniform laying around, and if she peed in this one, well, she’d have to use her regular clothes, which might break the spell. She’d have to find a way to broach it in character.

“I’m a big girl!” She said, and pointed to herself. “I can hold it all day.” Then she crossed her legs, both because she really did need to pee, and for show. “But… Just in case I can’t, maybe I should go. I don’t want to ruin my new clothes.”

Jonathan hugged her. “Don’t you worry about that, dear,” he said. “Clothes can be washed. And there’s more where those came from.”

Eliza considered her options. In her occupation, intuition was king. She needed to be both a sex object and a mind-reader, sussing out what her clients really wanted, deep down. Going out of character unless absolutely necessary would kill the fantasy. Considering Jonathan had gone to the trouble of buying diapers for her, it would be a shame if he didn’t get to put her in them. Eliza had never done any pee play; hardcore watersports, like drinking pee or having someone pee in your face, rather disgusted her. But the idea of peeing her pants, while not something she’d ever done before, seemed rather harmless. She could maybe let out a tiny bit, just enough for it to show on her clothes, and then Jonathan would get to punish her for it. Eliza spread her legs a little and tried to think of dripping water, Niagara falls, but nothing came out. Guess I’m just too well trained, she thought.

“Okay, you can read your book,” she said. “But promise to take me soon?”

“All right, kitten,” Jonathan said.

Eliza sat down and looked over the supplies he’d given her. Frankly, coloring books and glitter and stickers looked boring as fuck. She tried to look for her inner child, but apparently it had gone into hiding. There was nothing redeeming about coloring books. But considering the pay, she’d bloody well put up with it. I could be getting fucked in the ass by a 300 pound cave dweller, she thought. Instead, I’m getting paid three times as much to have someone attend to my needs, look after me like a daughter, and all I need to do is play with glitter and try not to look bored. Eliza picked up a crayon and began coloring. She debated whether she should color outside the lines like a child, but settled on meticulously coloring within them. That way, she could at least devote a little bit of brain power to the task at hand. Maybe Jonathan would hang it on his fridge. The page she was working on had a castle with turrets, a drawbridge, a fairy and an adventurer carrying a sword. It reminded her of Ocarina of Time, so the swordsman had to be green.

She crossed and uncrossed her legs under the table. Maybe if she pushed a little on her bladder, that would be enough to squirt out a little bit, and then she could ask Jonathan to take her to the bathroom. She spread her legs and pushed on her abdomen. For a moment, her muscles resisted, but then Eliza felt her new panties warm to a trickle of pee. It was a strange feeling. She couldn’t remember the last time she peed herself. Probably when she was around the age she was playing at now. Eliza had a rather small bladder, but she’d learned early on to compensate with frequent trips to the toilet. She put a hand in her lap; it touched wet fabric. Satisfied that her little “accident” would be visible to Jonathan, she clamped shut. That is, she tried to clamp shut. But she had left the floodgates open too long, and now she couldn’t stop. Eliza let out a little yelp of despair as her ass began to get soaked. She twisted her legs and pushed on her crotch with both hands, but the pee kept coming, pooling between her legs and running up her lap and down her thighs.

Jonathan was there in a flash. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asked. There was genuine alarm in his voice, like he couldn’t tell if this was still pretend, or perhaps he was so deep in character that it didn’t matter.

“I…” The hiss as she peed herself was so loud in her ears, she was sure he must hear it. Perhaps he was simply too polite to say anything, or perhaps she was simply hyperaware. She waited until she was done, and then she hung her head. “I peed.”

“You peed?” Jonathan looked confused.

“It was an accident.” Eliza stood up to show him. When she did, some urine spilled over the chair and splashed on the floor. She was soaked down to her knees, and her ass was sopping wet. It was uncomfortable, perhaps mostly due to embarrassment. She had meant to pee, yes, but then she couldn’t stop and it turned into a real accident. Eliza was sure she was red as a stoplight. The embarrassment did, however, allow her to more easily slip deeper into the role. It felt natural to ask, “Can you please not be mad?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Of course I’m not mad. But I thought you said you could hold it?”

“I totally can. It was just an accident.” She looked down at the puddle she’d made. Eliza was amazed she’d managed to hold that much in the first place. “But can you please help me clean up? It’s yucky.”

Jonathan was easily a foot taller than her. Before she knew it, he’d swept her off her feet and began carrying her upstairs. “Eliza, sweetie, you should have said it was an emergency.”

“I was having too much fun playing,” she lied. Eliza buried her head in his shoulder. This was supposed to make her feel safe. Little Eliza would feel safe in Jonathan’s arms, in his shoulder. He smelled of aftershave. She closed her eyes, and again she felt the lack of proper sleep the night before catching up with her. Before she knew it, Jonathan was gently putting her down on the floor. It was a large bathroom, all in marble, with a big tub in one corner and a shower in the other. Each could fit at least two, if not three adults. Besides that there was room for a washer, drier, and toilet. She felt like she were standing in a cathedral of glass and marble. Although the downstairs rooms looked middle class, this bathroom screamed rich.

“Let’s get those icky clothes off,” Jonathan said, and began undoing her romper. His gaze lingered for a moment on her wet ass. She wiggled her bum, and he gave it a slap. “Don’t show off,” he said, although his continued staring at her told her he didn’t really mean it. “Are you proud to be going potty in your pants?”

“No, Jonathan,” she said. Is that how he wants to be addressed? Some clients preferred Sir or Master. Others had bizarre alter egos they liked to roleplay. Who was Little Eliza to him? His daughter, his niece, his student in first grade? She leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Is that what you want me to call you? Or is there something else?”

He thought for a moment. “Ideally, I’d like to be called Daddy. But I think that’s something I need to earn first. In the meantime, you can call me John or Jonathan.”

“Okay, John. Please get these icky clothes off me.” He did as asked.

“I was going to do this before bed, but I think I’m going to run you a bath. With bubbles. How does that sound?” He asked.

“I’d like that.” She was now naked, the wet clothes in a pile on the floor. Jonathan opened the faucet and began running a bath. The tub looked inviting, and she was a bit cold, so she climbed in.

“I’ll go get some dry and clean clothes. You just stay right here, pumpkin.”

Eliza leaned back and closed her eyes. Jonathan had to be the sweetest client she’d ever had, and his fantasies the most innocent. She was short, slim and just the right amount of curvy, yet her wet panties seemed to interest him more than her pussy. He clearly enjoyed looking at her, but he could be doing so much more. The roleplay seemed to be doing it for him. His comment about wanting to earn the name “Daddy” gave her a pang of guilt. Am I exploiting him? It seemed like his brand of kink required an intimate connection with another person. Although all kinky play requires a big degree of trust from both parties, many people enjoy a casual spanking. John, on the other hand, didn’t seem like the type who’d go to a BDSM party and tie someone up for the evening, then never see them again. He really just wanted a girlfriend he could cuddle at night.

Jonathan sidled up by the tub and poured something into the water, and soon enough, she was covered up by a layer of foam. “Stop me if I’m going too far,” Eliza said. “But your kink strikes me as the kind best practiced in a committed relationship.” Her eyes were still closed, and she found herself enjoying his tender touch as he began rubbing shampoo into her hair.

Jonathan sighed. “You could say that,” he said. “But there aren’t many girls out there as lovely as you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said. “But I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. Successful businessman, and probably the sweetest client I’ve had to boot.”

“I imagine you run into some brutes in your profession.”

She thought it over. No, no one had ever disrespected her boundaries. “It depends,” she said. “I’ve been careful. Maybe a little lucky. No one ever laid their hands on me—except in the ways we’d discussed beforehand. I’m not a street walker. I mean, no disrespect to those girls. I’m just saying, what they do is a lot more dangerous than what I do.” In the beginning, she relied on internet ads. Now, all her new clients were referrals. People who were recommended by someone she trusted. Jonathan had been vouched for by a business contact of hers, Jane, although she wasn’t quite clear on how they knew each other. She trusted her acquaintance, though.

“Come to think of it, how do you know Jane?” Eliza asked.

“Oh,” Jonathan said. “She’s my ex.”

“She’s your ex?” Eliza hadn’t expected that. Jane worked in the porn industry.

“Yeah. She said you might be able to, uh, fulfill the fantasies she couldn’t. I told her about my fetish. It didn’t go so well.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliza said. “Is that why you guys broke up?”

“Yes and no. It put more strain on a strained relationship. After a while we both decided it was for the best to call it quits. Well, she decided. I acquiesced.”

Eliza opened her eyes, reached over the edge of the tub and gave him a hug. Foamy water splashed all over his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind. Eliza held the hug, and then she began rubbing his back, leaving wet fingerprints on his button-down. Finally, he separated himself. His eyes were watery. He rose and attempted to straightened himself up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m getting a little emotional. I suppose emotional isn’t in the job description.”

“No, no,” Eliza said. “It was my mistake. I pushed too far.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, little one,” he said, in an apparent attempt to regain his authority. He was really such a sweetheart. “Let’s get you dried and into some clean clothes.” He offered her a hand as she stepped out of the bathtub. Then he began rubbing her dry with a huge towel. She felt very small, like she was disappearing into the towel. He rubbed her all over to get her dry, and she felt herself getting a little aroused as he worked on her breasts and between her legs. Jonathan was just drying her off—he showed no signs of being aroused himself. But she found herself wishing he’d give a little special attention to her special areas.

Satisfied that she was dry, Jonathan turned around to pick up her new clothes. A dress, with a childish floral print in yellow. He must have gone on quite a shopping spree in preparation, she mused. “Now, pumpkin, I told you I wanted to give you a bath before bed. Remind me, why did we have to do it early?”

Eliza blushed. He wants to hear me say it. He wants to humiliate me. Humiliation, as it happened, was one of her own kinks. She loved to hate it. “Because I had an accident,” she said.

“Oh?” He looked at her expectantly. What is it he wants me to say? “What kind of accident? Did you fall and scrub your knee?”

Eliza hid her face behind the towel. She was deliciously embarrassed. “Noooo,” she said. “Not that kinda accident.”

“What kind of accident did you have, then, sweetpea?”

“In my pants.” She pointed to the wet romper and panties, still on the floor. “I peed in my pants.”

“That’s right,” Jonathan said. “You said you were a big girl, but then you couldn’t make it to the bathroom. I gave you a chance at panties, but I don’t think you’re quite big enough for them. I can’t trust that you’ll be able to keep them dry.”

“I AM a big girl!” Eliza said, stomping her foot on the ground. That was a mistake. The tiles were wet, and she slipped and lost her footing. For a terrifying moment, she saw the tiles rush up toward her head, but then Jonathan was there and grabbed her before she faceplanted into the floor.

“Careful, honey, the floor is wet,” Jonathan said. “One day you’ll be a big girl. But until then…” He held up the pull-up diaper she’d seen in his bedroom earlier.

“No fair,” Eliza said. “It was only one accident.”

“Well, just in case,” Jonathan said.

There it was. She knew what she’d signed up for, but the reality of it still hit her like a brick. Eliza had let herself be degraded for money before, but she had never imagined herself ever having to wear a diaper. And not just because she was paid to do it. No, she had actually peed her pants and earned it. She blushed again at the thought. The humiliation was getting her wet in a different way. When she began peeing, it had been on purpose. But then it wasn’t on purpose anymore. She’d really tried to stop, and found she couldn’t. In a way, she did really have an accident, just like a little girl. Does he want me to protest? He did say earlier that he wanted her to disobey. “NO,” she said. “I’m a BIG GIRL and BIG GIRLS don’t wear diapers.”

Jonathan looked at her sternly. “Do you want to earn yourself a spanking, little missy?” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone said that he wasn’t kidding.

“FINE,” Eliza said, in her best petulant child voice. “But only this once. And I’m going to prove to you that I don’t need it.”

“Very well,” Jonathan said. He looked down at his watch. “It’s only 3 PM. If you can keep this one dry until seven, you can have panties for the rest of the night.” Four hours? She could do that. He helped her step into the diaper and slid it up her hips. The feeling of padding between her legs was odd, but the shape of it was more like a pair of extra-thick panties than a diaper. She gingerly took a few steps. There was a soft rustle as she walked, but it was barely audible. She could feel the fabric absorbing some moisture from between her legs.

“Now, this one isn’t very thick. It’s made for little girls who are potty training. So you need to tell me when you need to go potty, because this diaper can’t take a flood like the one you unleashed in your pants.” Touché. “And it’s very important that you tell me if you need to go number two, because this one is only designed for pee.”

Number two? Good god. The thought of it had her reeling. Peeing was one thing, she could do that. But under no circumstances would she have anything to do with poop. She had a strong anti-scat policy. “Yes, John,” she said. “I’m going to tell you when I need to go.” It occurred to her that the toilet was off limits without “adult supervision.” Did he expect her to poop while he watched? Open as she was about her body, she didn’t think she could do that. She’d just have to hold it if it came to that.

Chapter 2: Medium Rare

Jonathan helped her into the dress, and she twirled around, giving him a peek upskirt. He nodded. “You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you.” He led her hand in hand downstairs. “Are you hungry yet?” He asked. “I could go for some food right about now.” Her stomach grumbled in sympathy. She hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

“Sure,” Eliza said.

“I was thinking steak and pepper sauce,” said John. “It’s a little early for such a heavy meal, so maybe we should stretch it an hour, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so I’d like to eat soon. You know, I would take you to a nice restaurant, but we agreed not to go out in public.”

Eliza nodded. “Maybe some other time.” Seeding another appointment, she thought. It was somewhat cynical of her, but she felt it was entirely natural. She was only being honest. “You’re welcome to take me out, but we’d have to suspend the roleplay. But I don’t mind a nice home-cooked meal.”

Jonathan smiled. “I’m an excellent cook.”

“Maybe we could just cuddle and watch some TV to kill time,” Eliza suggested. “I love it when you stroke my hair.”

Jonathan seated himself on the coach and switched on some mindless reality show. The kind where there is no real goal, except for the contestants to back-stab each other as much as possible—when they’re not having sex, and solemnly swearing they never imagined they would be doing it on television, it just happened, because he or she’s the one. Eliza curled up beside him, and he obediently began stroking her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that he was her boyfriend, a trick she used whenever a client wanted romance rather than straight sex. It wasn’t hard  to see this kind, caring and wealthy bachelor as a partner in another life. Eliza had a strict policy of separating business and pleasure—it wasn’t like she were actually falling for him. But with closed eyes, she could pretend. When she lay still, she hardly even noticed the difference in her underwear, but whenever she moved, the padding pushed into her and reminded her of what a little girl she was supposed to be.

Before she knew it, she was dreaming. The imagery faded as soon as Jonathan nudged her awake, but it had been a pleasant dream. “Hey, I didn’t say you could nap,” John said.

Eliza rubbed her eyes. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t sleep much last night. I’ll be a good girl and go to sleep for bedtime, that’s a promise.”

“I think it’s time for dinner,” John said. “Would you like to continue coloring for me, or would you like to help me cook?”

She told him she wanted to cook. Eliza had had enough coloring for one day. She needed some kind of stimulation. Pleasant though it was, life as a little girl was rather boring. One downside of her more romantic appointments was that they didn’t provide the same level of excitement as a sexual session. Her clients rarely knew how to inject excitement into a date.  But as soon as she’d finished that train of thought, John was over her, pinning her down on the coach, and then he was tickling her. “Eeee!” She squeaked. It was unexpected, but she didn’t protest. She tried to contort her body so he couldn’t get to her most ticklish spots, but he was devious. One fake maneuver toward her armpits, and then he was lifting up the front of her dress, and for a moment she thought he was going to stick a hand down her diaper—but then he was blowing raspberries on her stomach, and Eliza couldn’t help but laugh. When she did, she let down her defenses up top, and he started on her armpits, the most ticklish spot on her body.

“Aaaah!” She said, laughing all the while. “Stop! Stop! I’m gonna pee!” She struggled to close her legs, but then he was tickling her under her feet, and she had to open them, and almost kicked him in the nose, barely missing his glasses. “I mean it! I’m ahhhahaaa—I’m gonna pee myself!”

He let up. “Let’s get you to the bathroom before it’s too late, then,” he said.

Eliza was red-faced and panting, exhausted from the assault of tickles. Her breath was heavy, and her chest was hurting from all the laughing, but her smile was genuine. None of her clients ever got into tickle fights with her. Hell, it was even a little bit hot. She’d experimented with forced orgasms using a vibrator and a willing, non-paid partner, and tickling was similarly painful and pleasant at the same time. But she didn’t want to pee herself. Eliza wanted to prove to John that she could last until seven. A little silly, she realized. She was an adult and had never peed her pants by accident, not since she was a toddler. Big Eliza, the sex worker, had nothing to prove. But Little Eliza certainly did, after her embarrassing accident earlier.

“I don’t really need to go,” she managed, after she regained her breath. “It’s just when you tickle me, I can’t control it.”

“Well, let’s try anyway. I can’t leave the kitchen once the plates are hot and things are cooking to take you to the bathroom, now can I? Here is a potty training lesson. When you know you won’t be able to go to the potty for a while, it’s smart to go before, just in case.” He offered a hand and led her upstairs. She followed, a light rustling of her underwear probably only audible to herself.

“Okay, down she goes,” John said, lowering her pull-up, “and up she goes!” Eliza allowed herself to  be hoisted up on the toilet. “See if you can make a little tinkle for me.”

She tried, but nothing came out. Eliza wasn’t normally pee shy, but something about the situation made her clam up. “I can’t,” she said.

“Maybe if I turn on the tap?” John offered. Eliza closed her eyes and listened to the stream of water splashing into the sink. Finally, a slight tinkle began. “Good girl!” John said. “Now, do you know how to wipe, Eliza?”

Of course she did. And they had agreed on no touching in that area. Eliza found herself aching for some touch down there. The whole evening had been a long series of humiliations, and that was the sort of stuff that got her going. She’d never imagined herself being into this stuff, and to be honest, she couldn’t ever see herself roleplaying a little girl for her own pleasure. But the roleplay did facilitate humiliation, and that had her loins all wet and slippery. No. It might set a bad precedent. We’ll have to renegotiate. On the other hand… She did say no unnecessary touching of privates, did she not? What if it were necessary? She did allow him to clean her in the bath and dry her off, all over her body.

“Uh… Maybe you could show me?” She bit her lip and looked him in the eye. For a brief moment, he blushed, a little flustered, but then he was back in control.

“Of course, baby,” John said. “It’s very important that you keep clean down there, so you don’t get any nasty infections. You don’t want that, do you, Eliza?”

She shook her head.

John ceremoniously grabbed a piece of toilet paper. It was four-ply, premium quality, soft as silk. Eliza considered expensive toilet paper to be literally throwing money down the toilet, so she always went for the cheap stuff. Apparently, she didn’t know what she was missing. When John wiped her down, it was like being wrapped in a blanket of good emotions. “Teehee, it tickles,” she said.

“Oh,” said John. “I don’t think little girls need to think about that.”

Eliza was a little disappointed. “There, all done,” John said, and helped her slide the diaper up her hips. “Now let’s go cook some dinner.”

They entered a kitchen decked out with all the newest in stainless steel and Swedish design. It looked like something out of an unusually upscale IKEA catalog. There was a double-door refrigerator, two hypermodern stoves with electronic displays and more dials and buttons than Eliza’s laptop. “I’m afraid little girls and hot stoves don’t go well together,” John said. “But you can ready the table. Plates are over there,” he indicated the top of a tall cabinet, “and cutlery over there.”

Eliza tried to reach the shelf, but even on the tips of her toes, she wasn’t tall enough. The kitchen was clearly designed for someone John’s size. “I can’t reach up there,” she said.

“Silly me,” John said. He grabbed some plates and glasses, and she decked out the table. Then he kept her busy grabbing ingredients and explaining every step of the cooking process, just as if she were in grade school. It wasn’t the world’s most complicated meal, and Eliza was sure she could’ve managed it on her own. But she allowed him to teach her.

The meal was delicious. Medium rare steak, pepper sauce and cooked potatoes. Anything would have been good at this stage; it was close to five and she hadn’t eaten since around nine in the morning. But John wasn’t lying when he said he was a good cook.

Eliza tried to imagine herself as a young child. She deliberately missed with her fork, allowing some sauce to spill onto her face. Once she was done eating, John playfully scolded her for being a messy eater, and wiped it all away. “We’ll have to teach you some table manner,” he said, and laughed.

With the weight of a full belly, her tiredness returned. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her promise of staying awake until bedtime. When was that, anyway?

John led them back into the living room. She curled up on the coach, and he handed her a blanket. Eliza yawned. “I’m gonna stay awake, promise,” she said, by way of apology. He sat down beside her.

“It wasn’t easy,” John said. “Telling my ex about this fetish.” He stroked her hair. It was auburn, flowing down to her chest in curlicues. “I always knew, kind of. I always enjoyed caring for my baby brother, but not in a sexual way, of course. And then when I hit my teens, I would see these cute girls, and the guys would be like, ‘Damn, I’d like to fuck her.’ Behind her back, of course. And I’d go, ‘Yeah, man, you got it.’ But inwardly I’d be thinking, ‘I’d love to take her home, kiss her forehead and tuck her in.’”

“So it isn’t sexual at all for you?” Eliza said.

Jonathan blushed.

“Don’t think I haven’t caught you looking at me that way,” Eliza said. “It’s no big deal. I’m hiring out my body, after all. Feel free to think any dirty thoughts you want, as long as you don’t act out anything we didn’t agree on.”

He resumed stroking her hair. “Oh, Eliza. I have to admit, you’re stunning. And I could see myself in bed with you, having some adult fun. But I’m perfectly happy caring for you without touching you inappropriately. The truth is, when I look at you right now, I see a child and a woman at the same time. I’m attracted to the woman as a woman to do man-and-woman stuff with, and to the child as a child to care for.”

Eliza sat up. She didn’t want to pry into his evidently difficult feelings toward his ex, but he was the one to bring it up. She was curious. “So I take it your ex didn’t take the news very well?”

“I was a stuttering mess. I think if I’d proudly stated my preferences like they were no big deal, maybe things would have gone over differently. But I acted like I was ashamed of it, and so she assumed it was shameful.”

Eliza nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her sleepiness somewhat slurring her words and dragging them out. “I find that people almost always adopt the attitude that you project to the world. Act confident, they will see you as confident. Act ashamed, they will assume you have good reason for it and pile on with the shaming.”

“Jane told me maybe she could help me get over it,” John said. “Maybe there was some other fantasy we could act out that would make me forget all about little girls and diapers and all that. She offered anal. She even hinted that a threesome might be on the horizon, she had some open-minded friends—Jane is in the porn biz, after all. But once it became clear that it wasn’t a phase and it wasn’t something that would ever go away, it became a constant source of conflict. She just couldn’t deal with the fact that I was fantasizing about her as a little girl—I mean, as an adult acting like one, not that I was jerking off to her childhood portraits or something.”

“I’m sorry,” said Eliza.

“But she led me to you,” Jonathan said. “Jane told me you might be open to something like this.”

“I’m all yours, until tomorrow morning.”

Suddenly, his hand was under her skirt. He pushed against the dry padding of her crotch, but then he withdrew his hand as quickly as he put it up there. “Just checking,” he said. “Don’t want you leaking on the couch.”

Eliza wiggled free of him. “I’m a big girl and I don’t need this thing,” she said, lifting her skirt to indicate the diaper. The bottom of her breasts peaked out, giving him a nice little underboob look. “I told you, I’m gonna keep dry until seven.”

“We’re almost there, kitten. Just tell me if you need to go potty.”

They sat in silence for a while on the coach. Again, Eliza’s eyes drooped, and she had to fight for them to stay open. “Hey, could you make some coffee or something? I’m almost falling asleep here,” Eliza said.

“I would, but not so close to bedtime. I don’t want my baby all hyper when she’s supposed to go to sleep.”

Eliza sank back into the couch.

“I can tell you’re bored. We’re supposed to have fun! Don’t you forget that. Little girls are allowed to be fussy if they’re understimulated. Not too fussy, of course, or I’ll have to take them over the knee,” John added. “Look, it’s almost seven o’clock. Come with me to the bathroom. If your pull-up is still dry, we can forget about your accident earlier”—a blush, at that—“and go back to panties. Come with me.”

Eliza stayed where she was. She felt as if she’d eaten a pot brownie, and now she was couchlocked. If only she had some sleep the night before. She’d been worried about finances. Her landlord had hiked up the rent, and if John had decided to cancel on her for some reason, she’d have been shit out of luck. She saw now that she needn’t have worried. His fee alone would cover a month’s rent and more, but she couldn’t have known that he wouldn’t back out. A few of her clients had done that. The idea of hiring a prostitute sounded appealing, but when it came to it, they didn’t have it in them. Society at large still frowns upon the practice, no matter how consensual it is. What she did was technically illegal, although her operation was luxurious and professional enough that, in practice, she was largely safe from law enforcement. But some of her clients, like John, were upper class with a reputation to protect. Some were so worried about being blackmailed, they demanded video footage of her conducting the transaction, themselves conveniently off screen, in order to have some dirt on her. Eliza refused such requests, of course. But no matter the validity of her concerns, they’d kept her up at night, and now she didn’t want to do anything but close her eyes and drift into sleep.

John picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. He was surprisingly strong for his lanky build. Then again, she was petite. John set her down in front of the toilet. “Okay, Eliza. Moment of truth. Did you have an accident, or are you still dry?”

“Still dry,” Eliza said, although her gaze was on the floor.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I check?” He asked.

Eliza lifted her dress in response. John slipped a finger into the side of her diaper, although his fingers never strayed toward her pussy. “Almost completely dry,” He said.

“I was turned on for a bit,” Eliza said. “That doesn’t count.”

“I suppose not,” John said. “Okay. Do you want panties for the rest of the night?”

Eliza nodded. John disappeared for a moment, although he stopped in the doorway to assure her he wasn’t leaving her alone for more than a minute, as if she were a child with separation anxiety.

Once he was back, he made her try to pee in the toilet again. This time, she managed a little trickle without the aid of a running tap. Then he slipped on her panties, and a little bit of her adulthood was restored. The used diaper went in a separate trash can, she noted. John really was prepared for everything.

Eliza’s eyes were drooping. “John, please, I really need that coffee if I’m going to stay awake,” she said. “Pretty please? Just a little cup.”

“No,” he said plainly. “And I don’t want to hear any more about it. Stop nagging.”

Eliza stopped and resisted his attempt to lead her onwards. “Please,” she said again. “I’m so tired. Don’t you want me to stay awake and play with you?”

“Enough,” John said.

She tried one last time. “Please?”

John turned around. His demeanor had changed. His size advantage had made him feel like a big, strong protector, but now it felt like a threat. Eliza took a step back. His face was red, his mouth contorted into a frown. “Enough is enough. You will go stand in the corner for twenty minutes, and if I hear as much as a peep from you, you’re going over the knee. Is that clear?”

Eliza gave an uncertain nod. She had awakened the beast. Eliza hadn’t seen this side of John before. One part of her was terrified; the other, secretly excited. He was finally warming up to the role of the Dominant in their scene. “But what if I need to go to the bathroom?” Eliza asked. “May I speak then?”

“You just went,” he said curtly. “You can hold it for twenty minutes. You were so eager to prove that you belong in panties, so here’s your chance. Come to think of it, I don’t want you to get dehydrated. I’ll bring you a bottle of water, and I expect you to finish it by the time your timeout’s up.”

Time passed glacially in the corner. She stared at the off-white wall and tried to distract herself with happy thoughts, occasionally taking a sip of water. It was no use. Her punishment was boredom, and she deserved it. Little Eliza had pushed it too far. Although her eyes drooped, standing up kept her awake. She attempted to sit down, thinking perhaps she could sneak in a powernap while John wasn’t watching, but he told her to stand up immediately.

Eliza was frustrated, tired, and now her stomach was starting to hurt, too. What do babies do when they’re sick and tired and want to get their will? They cry. Eliza wasn’t much of an actor—well, that wasn’t true. She was very good at inhabiting the roles her clients wanted her to play, but that was the extent of her abilities. Eliza couldn’t cry on command. But right now, she felt very much the fussy baby, and focusing on her tired and frustrated state made her all the more upset. Once she added in the mental image of her true love dumping her—that was long ago, before she stopped believing there was one and only one person out there for her—she managed a little sniffle, and soon tears were rolling down her cheeks. Quickly, John was beside her.

“Baby, don’t cry. What is it?” He said. His tone had changed from stern to paternal concern.

“I’m tired. My tummy hurts. I don’t want to stand in this stupid corner anymore,” she said, between sniffles. All of which was true. That part wasn’t an act.

John looked her over. She was standing there in a juvenile summer dress, the one he had put her in after she peed in her first outfit of the day (second, really, since he had removed the one she came in). She had puffy eyes and drying tears down her cheeks. The sight of her so miserable seemed to break through his defenses. John squatted down beside her and gave her a hug. “Now, now, don’t cry, sweet child. I think you’ve learned your lesson about disobeying me. Haven’t you, kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Eliza said.

Chapter 3: Sub Drop

Eliza didn’t know why she said it, but it seemed natural. John wanted to earn the title “daddy,” and in her eyes, he’d done so. His punishment and his compassion tipped the scales. John had shown all the qualities of a good Dom, and he’d picked them up quickly and naturally. Although she had never called a partner “daddy,” before—her preferred nomenclature in a BDSM scene being Sir or Master—if that was what, to him, represented the same as those names represented to her previous partners, then Daddy it was.

John separated himself from her for a moment. “Oh, baby,” he said. “Come on out of the corner. I think we can call an early bedtime soon, since you’re already tired and fussy. But there’s one more thing I want to do before bed. I’d like to read you a bedtime story. How does that sound?”

“I’d love that,” she said, and added, “Daddy.”

He led her upstairs to the bedroom. Then he bent down and rummaged under the bed. When he emerged, he held a large adult diaper, with a yellow stripe going up the crotch. “Now, you’ve been very good at going potty today, but you did have an accident earlier,” John said. “I know some little girls have trouble at night, so I think it’s best if we take our precautions. Do you know what the word ‘precautions’ means, sweetie?”

Eliza shook her head. “No, daddy.”

“It means we think about what might happen in the future, and then we do something to mitigate—to limit the damage if that thing were to happen. You’re so tired, I’m afraid you’ll fall asleep while I read you a story. Will you be a good girl and let me put it on you for bed?”

Eliza nodded. He laid out a towel on the bed, and she laid down. John slipped off her panties, and then he set to work on the diaper. He’d procured a white powder from somewhere, and proceeded to put some over her crotch, “to prevent rashes,” he said. Then he carefully taped her up and slipped off her dress. “This one’s designed to take anything you can throw at it and more. I have a washable mattress pad, too, so don’t worry about having an accident. You won’t ruin anything.”

Now she was sitting naked apart from a bulging adult diaper between her legs, in front of a man she met less than twenty-four hours ago. “I have some pajamas for you,” John said.

“I prefer to sleep in the nude,” Eliza said.

“Okay, pumpkin.”

Eliza looked down at the padding between her legs. This diaper was bulkier than the previous one, and its size made it impossible for her to ignore. Every movement, even lying completely still, it was there to remind her of how little Eliza was. “This one is boring,” Eliza said, pointing to the diaper. “Can we put stickers on it?”

“Excellent idea,” John said. “Let me just—”

But before he could do anything, Eliza had slipped off the bed and began running downstairs to grab the glittery stickers she’d been so reluctant to play with earlier. The diaper gave her a slight waddle, but she managed all right. On the way up, she met John in the stairwell.

“I don’t like it when you run off like that,” he said.

“I brought the stickers!” Eliza shoved them in his face. John grabbed them, then her, and carried both back into the bedroom. Eliza nuzzled into his neck and allowed her mind to drift, her consciousness to whittle down, and she was all but sleeping when he put her back into bed. John nudged her, and she woke up enough to grab a handful of stickers, placing them haphazardly on her diaper. It looked ridiculous. Very appropriate for Little Eliza.

John began reading her a fairy tale. Little Red Riding hood, with sound effects when the terrible wolf showed up. He rubbed her tummy as he read, and soon her eyes were closed, and then she was asleep.

It must be early morning when she woke. Jonathan was sleeping by her side. The room was too dark to see anything but rough outlines. Her crotch was hot and sweaty. But what woke her up was her stomach. The pain was back in force. There was no denying it. Eliza needed to poop.

She had a dilemma. Jonathan had laid down the rules: she wasn’t allowed to use the bathroom without his supervision. But she couldn’t see herself pooping in front of him. She just couldn’t. Eliza’s mind was locked and set. It was a mental block, but those are often harder than the physical ones. She didn’t think she could bear him looking at her, hearing her, smelling her go number two. On the other hand, she was hired to obey the rules. Bathroom control was within the limits of their agreement. Eliza was a professional. She had yet to break a contract and disobey the rules she’d agreed to obey, unless the other party broke their end of the deal first. This was a special case. Maybe she could sneak off and go while Jonathan was asleep. But then there was the issue of the diaper. She would have to remove it, of course. Eliza knew nothing about how adult diapers work, but as a general rule, tapes don’t stick as well once you untape them, if they stick at all. Maybe she could snag another diaper from the pack—surely there was a pack with more where this one came from—and hide the used one deep in a trashcan somewhere. He’d never notice.

Her stomach rumbled. She felt a pressure down there, had to squirm a bit to contain it. Eliza wasn’t sure if she could last until morning. The contract was twenty-four hours, do whatever you want to me and make me do anything you want, as long as it’s within the rules we agreed to. She’d arrived at eleven. Although there was a clock in the room, Eliza estimated that it couldn’t be much more than five in the morning, if that. Six more hours of this? It hurt, it was uncomfortable, it made her squirm. Eliza had to do something.

Silently, she slipped out of bed. Only a slight rustle between her legs betrayed her, but a snore from John confirmed that he didn’t notice a thing. Eliza got on her knees and rummaged around under the bed until she found her prize: a big pack of adult diapers. She snagged one out of the pack and pushed it back under the bed. Then there were the stickers. She must not forget them. John would be sure to check her in the morning. He seemed very fond of the checks. They afforded a legitimate reason to touch her between the legs, and even if he never strayed too far, she could tell he enjoyed it.

Silent as a mouse—a diaper-rustling mouse—Eliza tip-toed out of the bedroom, heading for the bathroom. When she reached the right door, a cramp hit her, and she had to bend down, diapered rump in the air, and clutch her abdomen. The cramp subsided, and she was able to stand up again.Why, oh why didn’t I add a “no poop” clause? The truth was, she hadn’t given the idea of actually using the diapers much thought beforehand, and it hadn’t occurred to her that she might need to go number two.

Eliza reached for the door. Locked. Fucking cock-sucking ass-licking satanic bullshit fuck fuck fuck. Her train of thought descended into a series of profanities and violent images. She banged on the door, knowing, of course, that no one was there. If anything, it would wake John up and her plan would fall to pieces. Defeated, she slid down onto the floor, clutching her stomach. Although she was in pain, she was also sleep deprived, still. Her eyes began to droop, and soon she was floating in and out of terrible dreams. Monsters were out to get her. Even worse, there were rows of toilet stalls, but every single one of them was empty. Not even a sign of plumbing, just empty toilet stalls, mocking her.

“Baby, what are you doing out here?”

Eliza was confused. It took her a minute to reorient herself. She was flat out on her stomach, on the carpet in front of the locked bathroom. Her padded butt was sticking up, and her joints hurt from lying in such an uncomfortable position. Her tummy hurt. Through sleepy eyes, she resolved the image of John, a shadowy figure that became clearer as he hoisted her to her feet. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He repeated.

Eliza didn’t even realize it, but she must have been crying. John held her in his arms, and she leaned in. Then another cramp hit, and she pushed away from him, arching her back and clenching with all her might. “My tummy hurts,” she said.

“Oh, sweetie, do you need to go to the toilet? Why didn’t you say so?”

“I don’t,” Eliza said. Her posture and potty dance belied her statement.

“Then why is your hand on your butt?” He said.

She had no answer to that.

“Come on, I’ll unlock the toilet and then you can go. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Nonsense! It’s no trouble.”

Eliza shook her head. “It was just a bad dream. I sleepwalked. The tummy pain went away.” She was so close to relief, yet so far.

“What’s this, then?” John picked up the fresh diaper from the floor.

“I sleepwalked,” Eliza whispered again.

“Okay.” John had a look of gentle concern. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to go to the bathroom?”

She shook her head.

“All right, baby. It’s only six, and a Sunday. I want to sleep in, at least until half past seven. That hardly qualifies as sleeping in, I guess, but you’re already awake. If you can manage it, I’d like to go back and slumber in bed for a while. I promise, I’ll protect you from bad dreams.” But will you protect me from pooping my pants? Five hours. Just five hours.

When she nodded in assent, he scooped her from the floor and carried her back to bed. Eliza tried to close her eyes and sleep, but the pressure in her abdomen and further down was too much. John seemed to be a deep sleeper, quick to fall asleep and sleep well. Before she knew it, he was snoring again. Eliza rubbed her stomach and wiggled around. No position was any good. No matter what she did, it hurt. She could only think of the toilet. The money. Yes. She could think about that instead. Her rent paid, with some extra spending money on top. All she had to do was not fuck up on the home stretch. Money. Toilet. Poop. Roses. No. Rent. Rules. Professional. Obey. Roses. Poop. Toilet. Obey. OBEY!

Eliza didn’t know how long she’d been lying there, fighting a desperate fight against her body and its natural needs. She wiggled, grabbed herself, clenched and fought. Her eyes were droopy, but every time she was about to slip into sleep, another cramp woke her up. The cramps were getting more frequent, and harder to fight. Then there was an enormous pressure, starting in her tummy, a painful push that stung like a bee, then fastened around her midsection as if there were a fist squeezing her from the inside. Tears were forming in her eyes, and the pain continued. Eliza arched her back and lifted her butt to alleviate the pressure, and now it was spreading, downwards, pushing towards her colon. The pressure was now localized, and the pain was unbearable. Her poor muscles. Roses. No. OBEY!

Eliza lost the fight. With her diapered ass raised, her body pushed, whether she wanted it to or not. The mess began slipping out her back, pushing against the padding and spreading outward, then drooping down. The pain lessened with each push, and she was so tired of it, so out of it, she willed herself to push harder, anything to make the pain stop. As she continued emptying herself out back, her bladder gave out as well, and a warmth spread in her front, further lessening the pressure. The pee spread up her crack, soaking into the thirsty material, and pushed back to meet up with the mess in the back. Utterly devastated and defeated, Eliza sank down and felt the mush squish further out into her back. Then the smell hit her. An awful stink, impossibly to ignore. A hundred farts in one. Eliza almost gagged. The pain was gone, but now it was replaced by shame.

What she’d just done was on the top three list of her hard NO’s. There was no way in hell she was ever incorporating poop into anything sexual. Two of her clients had asked, and she’d taken to handing out a sheet with a list of what she would very much like to do, what she was open to, and at the bottom, the things she would under no circumstances do, whether the price was a penny or the Tower of London. Never. It was her own stupid fault, too. Her stupid block about pooping in front of someone—even in public bathrooms, alone in a stall, she couldn’t do it, she’d rather be in pain until she was home—and her stupid professional pride. ROSES. That was all she’d have to say, and Jonathan would suspend the play and allow her to go do her business in peace. There was no doubt in Eliza’s mind that he’d comply instantly. Everything she’d seen from him indicated that he was one of the good guys. Eliza lay there, silent, not wanting to deal with what she’d inevitably have to deal with. Maybe if she ignored it, it would all go away.No. That’s Little Eliza talking. Your problems don’t disappear if you hide your face behind a stuffed animal.

Eliza didn’t know if it was the smell or her whimpers, but John woke up, and instantly, he knew.

“Oh no,” was the first thing he said. “Oh, Eliza, sweetie.”

He took her in his arms and held her, for a long time. Eliza attempted to mumble “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so stupid,” into his chest, but he shushed her and pacified her with little whispers and strokes of her hair. She didn’t have to think of anything sad to bring tears to her eyes. John wiped her tears away, and then he got out of bed. The smell filled the room like a cloud of shame.

“Let’s get you cleaned up right away,” John said. Quickly, he had his supplies ready, and then her butt was on a towel. He set about removing the tapes. The front was soaked, a blue stripe pointing to her belly button where a yellow one had been. John had her lift her butt into the air, and then he carefully slid the soiled diaper out from under her. Eliza didn’t dare to look at the mess. She closed her eyes as he used the front of the diaper to wipe away some of the dirtiness smeared all over her butt, and then he set about cleaning her with a bunch of wet wipes. The cold wipes gave her goosebumps. But the way he was cleaning her, the careful motions around her holes… Stupid brain. It was turning her on. Behind the shame was a layer of excitement. Eliza loved to be humiliated, but only on her own terms. Now that the acute phase of the shame was fading, she could see how this was the ultimate humiliation. An adult woman, pooping and peeing in her diaper and helplessly crying for Daddy to clean her up. No. This is stupid. It’s shameful. It’s no fun. It’s a hard limit, for fuck’s sake. And yet his motions were making her wet. It’s just mechanical stimulation. That’s it. Just like forced orgasms with a vibrator. Just like some rape victims get wet, and yet they hate it. Not that this is anything like rape—John isn’t doing anything he isn’t allowed to. He could be doing so much more to me right now. No. That was crazy talk. Bad precedent. Fucked up.

“I’m so sorry it came to this,” John said. “This isn’t acting, is it? You’re genuinely upset.”

Eliza nodded. His tone was soothing, like a real father talking to his infant daughter, although the words coming out of his mouth were those of one adult talking to another. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“No, it’s my stupid fault,” she said. “I could have said the safeword. I could have, but I didn’t. It’s just… I can’t do that in front of others. But then I ended up…” Her voice broke and she trailed off.

“I’m so sorry.” He was still cleaning her. Was she really that dirty? Eliza didn’t dare look. If she looked down and saw the mess with her own eyes, she might break down and cry again. Her back was arching a little more than it needed to. Willing or not, the stimulation was working.

“In the future, we’ll have to make a clause about situations like this.”

“In the future?” Eliza was surprised. She’d have thought he’d be too disgusted—that he was just being kind because he felt guilty, hiding his true feelings.

“I’m having the time of my life—I mean, I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt like this. I just mean, yesterday in general. You and me. I’d love to meet up again in the future. Hell, I’ll double the price, if that’s what it takes.”

Eliza opened her eyes. A peek downstairs: she was clean, and the dirty diaper was gone, hidden somewhere she wouldn’t see it. She certainly wasn’t about to go looking. He was still cleaning her, still tickling her in all the right places, but it seemed like he was doing it absentmindedly. John wasn’t turning her on on purpose, not for her pleasure or his. He was simply moving the wet wipe around as he was talking to her. Eliza thought for a moment. “Let’s say a 50 percent price hike,” she said. “That is, if you’re really not disgusted and just saying that to make me feel better. I can tell you’re a good guy.” A little moan escaped, and she reflexively covered her mouth. John didn’t seem to notice.

“Disgusted? Little one, how could I ever be disgusted by you? You’re the cutest girl in the universe.” Eliza blushed. Am I really lying here, enjoying this? Some of her clients were handsome businessmen—workouts five days a week, muscular chests, abs, pecs, biceps—probably too busy with their sixty hour work weeks to go out on the town and pick up a hot chick, although they certainly would be able to. She wasn’t foreign to the idea that paid sex could be good sex, for her too. Eliza had gotten into the business because she was a sexual creature, constantly craving stimulation. But to be so utterly degraded and yet to feel so good at the same time…

“You’re adorable,” John said. He was finally finished wiping, and taped her up in a new diaper as a matter of course. Eliza didn’t protest. Of course she should be diapered. She’d just emptied her bowels and bladder in her underwear. “You know what, I think we deserve breakfast in bed. How about some bacon and eggs?”

Eliza didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. “Daddy,” she said. “Daddy, please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, sweetie.” He climbed into bed beside her. As he did, she noticed for the first time that he was hard. It was impossible to hide in his tight-fitting boxers. Oh, well. What did she expect? Wasn’t she here to turn him on and fulfill his fantasies? “I think you should sleep a little more, kitten. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, and then I’ll make breakfast and wake you up when it’s ready. Okay?”

She nodded. He put her head on his chest and she closed her eyes. Soon, she was drifting into sleep. She didn’t wake up when he slid out of bed, and he had to shake her gently to return her to the world of the waking. John had set two wooden trays on the covers, and on them, plates with bacon and eggs and white bread, and a glass of orange juice on the side. Eliza dug in. The smell of her mess was gone, replaced with a mix of something flowery—she suspected John had sprayed something in the air—and the delicious smell of warm, crispy bacon. Eliza wasn’t a vegetarian, exactly, but she mostly ate vegetables and fruit, rice and whole-grain bread. It helped her figure. Now she’d have two big meaty meals in one night and morning. Perhaps the steak was what had upset her stomach; or perhaps it was just the natural need to void after a certain time had passed. The bacon and the steak the night before reminded Eliza of how delicious meat could be.

“So,” said John. “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it? I can’t believe you’ve taken to the role so well. I was afraid, well… I’ll admit, I’ve tried to get other partners to get into it. Never admitted the full extent of my fetish until, well, until Jane. But I’ve done, like, schoolgirl roleplay with previous exes. None of them managed to get really into it. You could always tell they were a bit uncomfortable with it. But you…” He stroked her hair. It felt so, so good when he did it. Almost better than some orgasms she’d had. Warm affection trumped cold hedonism, sometimes. “You,” John continued, “despite the unfortunate mishap earlier, you’ve almost convinced me you’re really my little girl.”

“That’s what you pay for,” Eliza said, munching on a strip of bacon.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth. It’s rude.”

Instantly, she was back to Little Eliza. “Sorry, Daddy.” She felt as if she’d swam to the surface, up to herself, her real self, only for someone to yank her back underwater.

“As I was saying,” John continued, brushing some strands of hair from her face, “you really know what you’re doing.”

Yes, she did. She also knew her limits well, and not to push too far past them. Certainly not with a client. A regular partner, perhaps, but to a client, she must always be in control. This was no time to expand your horizons.

“Rmphoses,” she mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Roses,” Eliza said, bacon and eggs clear of her mouth. There was no panic in her voice: she said it as if she were chatting about the weather.

John recoiled. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no,” Eliza said. “It’s just, I’m exhausted. I think the humiliation earlier was a little much. It wasn’t supposed to be part of the scene. I’m a little…” She sunk down into the pillows, almost toppling the glass of juice in the process. “Have you heard of sub drop?”

John shook his head.

“When a submissive has a particularly overwhelming emotional or physical experience during a scene, the release is like getting high. Like shooting heroin, almost. Not that I’ve ever done that, I just mean, it’s a feeling of infinite pleasure. But then there’s the comedown. You’re exhausted, spent, and suddenly all the negative thinking, all the prejudice and condemnation of society hits you like a brick. The terrible things you’ve been made to do or had done to you are just terrible, and no fun anymore. The submissive may get depressed, scared, anxious. That’s when you need to stop the scene and move on to aftercare. I think the breakfast in bed was a nice touch, it helps normalize things. You’re a natural.” Her throat was getting dry. She was used to delivering monologues—she had a whole spiel about safe, sane and consensual that she presented to most clients, unless her intuition told her it was unnecessary. She hadn’t delivered it to John. But now she was tired, and it was hard to focus. Usually, the words flowed out of her, but this time, she had to struggle to find them and arrange them in the correct order. “But it’s time to drop the roleplay. Let’s just be adults for the rest of our morning together, okay? I’m really sorry I couldn’t keep it up for the whole twenty-four hours. If not for my… my… the accident, it would have been no problem.”

Jonathan nodded. “Of course. Of course. Don’t think I’m gonna dock you in pay or anything. Let’s get you out of that diaper. I mean, sorry. You’re a grown woman, Eliza. Of course you can change out of your own diaper.”

She blushed. Eliza had almost forgotten about the bulk between her legs. At first, the dry and clean padding had felt heavenly, but then she’d gotten caught up in bacon and eggs. “I’m not quite done,” she said. Eliza imagined a waterfall and pushed. A little warm trickle seeped out into her diaper. It wasn’t much, but she could feel the wetness. Jonathan watched intently, although the diaper was hidden under the covers. “I’m wet,” Eliza announced. “I’d appreciate it if you’d clean me up before I change back into panties.”

It wasn’t a hard ask. He was quickly back with the wipes. Away went the damp diaper, and back came the good, warm feelings. “We’re renegotiating right now,” Eliza announced. “You’re allowed to rub a little extra down there. In fact, I must insist.”

“I thought you were spent?” Jonathan said.

“Not quite.” She had endured too much and been too worked up not to get the climax—and she was sure Jonathan would enjoy it.

He began to rub rhythmically. Soon, all the delicious humiliation found its release. Eliza shuddered as the pleasure began between her legs and traveled upwards. Now she was really spent.

They whiled away the last few hours in bed. Eliza, back in the panties she arrived in, taught Jonathan to praise her and tell her the things she needed to hear. Tell her how good she was, how much he appreciated her performance and presence, how well she had handled the challenges thrown at her, and to stroke her hair all the while. He was a quick learner. The dark clouds which had begun to form in her mind were preemptively dispersed. She asked him questions about his company, what it was like to make it big; he countered with questions of his own, about what she’d studied in college and why, and what it was like to be your own boss. She found the last bit amusing, coming from a multimillionaire entrepreneur, but she answered him truthfully, if at times a little generally (always cautious, never too personal). It was past 11:30 when she finally rose from bed. By now, Little Eliza was a distant memory. She was back in control. The professional.

Jonathan escorted her to the door. “I’d love to see you again same time next week,” he said. “And then we could renegotiate the thing about going out in public, if you don’t mind. It’s probably my ultimate fantasy. It would be totally discreet. No one but you and me would know.”

Eliza smiled. “I’m sure we can work something out,” she said. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then she was out the door. Jonathan watched the Metallica shirt walk down the porch to her car.

Eliza waved, and then she was off. Back to the real world. Back to roses.

Epilogue

“She’s the worst. She can’t do anything without making it look cute. I knew you’d love her,” Eliza said, sipping at her coffee.

“I don’t know about love,” said Jonathan, clearly a bit uncomfortable to be talking about his new crush. “She’s very sweet, I’ll give you that.”

“Sweet isn’t even the beginning of it. And I know for a fact she’s into the same thing you are. Did you bring it up with her yet?”

“No, it didn’t seem appropriate for a second date,” Jonathan answered.

“I knew you wouldn’t, which is why I might have mentioned something to her.”

“You did what?” Jonathan furrowed his brow. “You didn’t tell her… about us?”

“Of course not. Client-whore privilege. What happens in diapers, stays in diapers,” Eliza said and chuckled. She became suddenly aware that they were sitting in a crowded café, and any eavesdroppers could hear them discussing their fetish adventures. She glanced around, but no one seemed to pay them any heed. There was a murmur of conversation in indoor voices, drowning out their own if you were farther away than their table.

“I don’t like that you did that,” Jonathan said, although his demeanor was once again calm. Eliza couldn’t help but reflect on how much more confident he seemed than when they’d first met, six months ago. Now, he was sitting up straight, and when he spoke—and she didn’t throw him off balance like she’d just done—there was a quiet authority to his voice. Jonathan was now a man who was more accustomed to getting what he wanted, and if not, asking for it.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help. Now you can’t help but bring it up to her soon, because she knows and you know she knows.”

“Shhh, she’s approaching,” Jonathan said.

Eliza heard a rustle of clothes behind her, and then a coated figure appeared at their table. Jenny wasn’t much taller than Eliza, golden hair tied in a braid behind her head and red lipstick. “Eliza!” She exclaimed, and stepped up to hug her. She held the hug a long time, shaking Eliza every which way. Jenny was clearly excited.

“What are you two lovebirds up to tonight?” Eliza asked.

“I was thinking the classic, dinner then a movie,” Jonathan said.

“I hope it’s not a long one,” Jenny said. “I always have to run to the bathroom when I’m watching a long movie. But then I can’t help but have popcorn, and you can’t have popcorn without a cold drink.”

“I know just the solution for that,” Eliza mused.

Jenny blushed, but you could tell she was thinking naughty thoughts already. “Oh, don’t get me started,” Jenny said. “What do you think, Jonathan?”

Jonathan was a bit flustered, but he quickly composed himself. “Who, me? About what?”

“Should we maybe go for a short movie?”

“I think you can handle yourself, sweetheart,” Jonathan said, putting his hand over hers.

“Oooh,” Jenny cooed. “I love it when he calls me stuff like that. Little nicknames and stuff. Where did you find this stud, Eliza? Why didn’t you snag him for yourself?”

Jonathan was frantically trying to signal to Eliza behind Jenny’s back. Please don’t say anything. Of course, Eliza had no intentions of doing so. “John and I met in a cooking class. He’s an excellent cook. You should totally cook for her at home, John, I know she’d love it.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” Jonathan said, clearly relieved.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” Eliza said. “Jenny, would you come with me?”

Jenny took the hint, and together they began making their way through the throng of Saturday café dwellers, taking a break from shopping and daily life. Eliza turned and winked at Jonathan, who blushed and began his hand signals again, but by that time Eliza had already turned around, and they’d made their way into the ladies’ room. None of the stalls were occupied, so they were free to converse. “So,” said Eliza, “did you do it yet?”

“No. But we did have some wonderful kisses. I was thinking tonight was going to be the night. I put on some sexy lingerie, but then I also packed some protection in my purse. I wasn’t sure if I was going to use it…” Jenny said. She surreptitiously gave Eliza a peek into her purse, where a small, pink disposable lay.

Eliza took her hand. “Honey, go into a stall right now and change. I promise you, you won’t regret it. He’ll love it.”

“How can you be so sure? How can you know so much about his kinks? Did you two…?”

Well, shit. Had she accidentally revealed her and Jonathan’s little secret? Come to think of it, Eliza would have suspected a fling if one of her girlfriends started telling her about what this cute guy she was trying to set her up with liked in bed. “No, nothing like that,” Eliza said. When she began the sentence, she didn’t know how to follow up, but she trudged on. If she hesitated, her cover would be blown. “John and I are good friends. He knows what I do for a living. He knows I’ve seen some weird shit, and don’t judge anyone for it. I’m the only one he could possibly talk about this stuff with. He was pretty down because he told a previous girlfriend about it, and it didn’t go so well. He wouldn’t go into detail at first, but I managed to coax it out of him. But never tell him I told you that.”

Jenny appeared satisfied with that answer. “Now, baby girl,” Eliza said, “get your cute butt in that stall and change before you have an accident.” She smiled and stuck her tongue out, and Jenny laughed, if a little nervously. But Jenny was, if anything, more submissive than Eliza even, and she did as she was told.

Eliza had met her a few months back at a fetish event. Jenny had been dressed in a schoolgirl uniform, with her hair in pigtails, and there was something unbelievably innocent about her. Of course, many people liked schoolgirl play without being into the full regression experience. But Jenny had seemed rather unsure of herself—it soon became clear this was her first live kink event—and Eliza, much more assured in her preferences, liked to gently introduce newcomers to the world of kink. She’d come to see herself as more than just a girl who enjoyed lots of steamy, kinky sex; more than just a prostitute who catered to unusual interests. Eliza wanted to help people achieve peace with themselves and gain confidence in their sexual proclivities, whatever those might be. It was especially important to help fellow women, since they were more susceptible to creeps. Even if no one outright assaulted them, Eliza didn’t want anyone to come away from their first kinky experience with a bad taste in their mouth. That might just lead them to denial of their true selves, which was a surefire recipe for mental issues and relationship troubles down the road.

She had guided Jenny to a sofa in a somewhat secluded room, sat her down and told her that she knew how overwhelming it must be to be thrust headfirst into the world of kink. “I’m rather experienced in these things,” Eliza had said. “I’m actually a sex worker who caters to various fetishes.” At that, Jenny’s eyes had gone wide. “Oh, does that offend you?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Jenny said, shrinking her body. Eliza put a hand on her shoulder.

“Relax, I’m joking. A lot of people react like that. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, but I know kink, and I could help ease you into this. Help a sister out.”

Slowly, prodding carefully and most of all, engaging her ears rather than her mouth, encouraging at times but mostly sitting back to listen, Jenny’s story had come to light. How she had always been interested in childish things, how it turned her on to play at being a little girl, and how she wished for a strong, kind man to help her fulfill those desires. A light bulb had gone on in Eliza’s head instantly. She’d be perfect for John. But she had mentioned this to neither of them, instead continuing to nurture her relationship and build trust with each separately. Although no longer weekly, John had engaged her services sporadically ever since their first meeting. Eliza had quickly come to realize that rules are made to be broken, and she couldn’t keep up the facade that John was just a client. In another life, he might have been a great boyfriend, but Eliza’s interest in him lay more in the realm of friendship. He was so supportive and kind to her, taking such good care of her when they were together, but she, too, had to support and build him up, help him learn to fully accept who he was. To accept that his desires were legitimate, and to nurture the hope in him that there really was a girl out there for him who would participate enthusiastically in his interests, with no money on the table.

The first time Eliza had invited John out for coffee, “to talk as adults, as friends,” he had balked at her offer. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” he’d said.

Eliza was a bit taken aback, almost offended. Had she totally misread him? But she could see his misgivings. She, herself, had lots of misgivings about fraternizing with clients outside of work. It broke all her rules. Perhaps John thought he pitied her? Or that she was angling for more money with less work? “John,” she’d said on the phone, “coffee’s on me. Because I really like you and want to get to know you outside our professional relationship. We can never be together, you know, but I think we can be friends. I’d miss you if we didn’t see each other anymore, and I’m not talking about your money.”

At that, he had broken down. He couldn’t refuse her. Eliza enjoyed having that effect on people, although she worried she might be manipulative if she used her charm on friends outside work. “The way we each support and care for each other, at times one being the caregiver and moral support, at other times, the other, isn’t that what friendship is?” He had agreed. Since then, they’d have coffee or lunch once a week, whether they had an appointment or not. And two weeks ago, she had set up a blind date between Jenny and John. Even their names seemed perfect together, like those couples whose names roll so well off the tongue together that it feels weird to mention one without the other.

Jenny exited the cubicle while Eliza washed off her face with cold water. She knew that John preferred her without makeup, and frankly, that was fine by her. Having to get all dolled up could be a bitch sometimes, and it was refreshing to know that there was someone who found her sexier without it. “So, did you do it?” Eliza asked. “Did you put on your protection for me, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” Jenny said, and bit her lip.

“Show me.”

Jenny lifted her sweater, then lowered her tights slightly, giving Eliza a peek at her pink waistband. At that moment, a woman entered the restroom, and Jenny scrambled to cover up her diaper, blushing madly.

Eliza put her arm around her. “I’m so proud of you, baby. Come on, let’s not leave your date hanging.”

“There you ladies are,” Jonathan said when they returned. “Tell me, did you stay in there gossiping?”

“None of your business,” Eliza said, smiling. Jenny sat down beside Jonathan and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Well, you two better get going,” Eliza said. “I expect to hear from each of you how it went.” She rose to leave, giving each of them a warm hug, and Jenny a secret little pat on her padded bum.

The next afternoon, Eliza received two phone calls in short succession. The first was from Jenny. “Oh my god,” was the first thing Jenny said.

“Baby, I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.”

“He was so sweet and we had such a nice dinner with some wine, and then we went to see a movie and, ooh, he picked the longest one there was! We didn’t even get through the credits before I started to feel like I had to pee. And then by the middle of the movie I was desperate! I looked for the exit sign, but then I just kind of gave up and tinkled a little in my… protection. And then it wouldn’t stop! I was soaked by the end of the movie!”

“Oh, I bet that felt good,” said Eliza. “You didn’t leak, did you?”

“No, it held up! But then he invited me home to his place, and I was super nervous because I really wanted to sleep with him, but what was he going to say when he found me in a wet diaper? I was so afraid he’d throw me to the curb.”

“I take it he didn’t,” Eliza said. “If he did, I’m going over there right now and kicking his ass.”

“No, no, he didn’t. We began making out on the couch, and then his hands started to wander down below, and I really wanted to feel him touch me there, so I let him. When he found the wet padding, his eyes went wide, and for a moment my heart stopped and I was thinking, my god, my life is over… But you know what he did? He asked me if I had a little accident!”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Well, obviously,” Jenny said. “But I couldn’t admit to that. I was just blushing and denying it, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He led me by the hand upstairs, and you won’t believe it… He changed my diaper! He had, like, a collection of different types!”

This is so sweet, Eliza thought. Sounds like it went exactly as planned. I’m so proud of John. He’s come so far. “That’s wonderful, sweetie.”

“It was amazing! We ended up having sex, and I don’t think anyone’s ever made me feel so good about myself! I’m so grateful you didn’t snag him up while he was on the market, because now he’s mine and you can’t have him!”

“I’m so happy for you two,” Eliza said. “I don’t want him like that. But if you don’t want us to be friends, you’ll have to fight me for him.” They continued chatting for a little while, but then Eliza received another call, this time from John. “Jenny babe, we’ll have to talk later. I have another friend clamoring for my attention,” Eliza said.

“Oh my god,” was the first thing John said.

“You too? Are you two psychically linked already? I just spoke with Jenny, and she said the same thing,” Eliza said.

There was a tone of worry in John’s voice. “Oh god, what did she tell you?” He asked.

“Relax. She had a wonderful time. She’s claiming you—I couldn’t have you if you wanted to, she says. Watch out or she’ll pee on you to mark her territory.”

The line went quiet for a few seconds. “… Jonathan?”

“No, it’s just funny you should say that,” John said.

Eliza rolled her eyes, although she was smiling. “You two already got your kink on, I see.”

“You could say that. Yesterday, at the café, when you two were in the bathroom. You made her wear that diaper, didn’t you?”

“It was her idea. I just gave her the confidence to go through with it.”

“Well, I don’t know how to thank you,” John said.

“You can thank me by not becoming one of those couples who never have time for anyone but themselves. I expect we have a coffee date next week as usual, or I’ll have to come round to your house, tie you up and throw you in the trunk, because I’m not letting go of you that easily.”

“You’d do it, too, that’s the crazy part,” John said.

“Take good care of Jenny, and I’ll make sure she takes good care of you. You two are quickly becoming two of my favorite people, and I’m so happy you found each other.”

“With a little help from you.”

“Hey,” Eliza said, “I live to please.”

After she hung up, Eliza walked over to her bed stand. On it sat a stuffed animal John had given her, which—loathe as she was to admit it—had come in handy on cold autumn nights when she was alone in bed. Beside it was a flower vase. She leaned in and smelled the fresh red roses she had received that morning. The note only said, “Thank you,” with no name. Eliza didn’t know from whom, but she could take one good guess.

#stories I adore

[decks-writing-blog]

Couldn't Leave You Behind

Summary: Eli and Kleiner are chased by a pack of houndeyes and a bullsquid.

[A/N] I had the idea to write about Eli losing his lower leg and making it have an Elisaac vibe because if I want content for this ship, I gotta do it myself, then I figured I should probably google it to see if there was a canon explanation for how it happened that I could adapt to what I wanted to write. And turns out he lost his lower leg because he got attacked by a bullsquid when helping Kleiner get over a barrier and into City 17 which actually feeds me shipping them, dude lost part of a limb to help Kleiner, that's true love right there. (Seriously, how is this a rare pair when that's a canon event between them? Where are all the old man fuckers in the Half Life fandom?) So here is my take on that event.

Content Warning: blood and gore, Eli's foot gets hit by bullsquid acid and is somewhat graphically described.

~

Breath burned in Isaac’s chest, his heart beating faster than it probably ever had before. His legs and sides ached, sharp and insistent, begging him to slow down or stop before he collapsed. Ahead of him, Eli’s lead was growing bigger and bigger; that jogging phase he’d had back before the Black Mesa incident, coming in to help him once more. Behind Isaac though, the lead he’d had on the pack of houndeyes and single bullsquid chasing them was shrinking. Their barking, gurgling, and thumping of their feet on the decaying road, growing louder as they gained on him.

A hiss that he now recognized as the bullsquid preparing to spit came from uncomfortably close behind him. He sped up… or tried to; he didn’t have much left to give. With a splatter and a hiss of an entirely different sort, acid spit splattered onto the ground just to his left, prompting him to hop to the right with a small yelp. The bullsquid’s aim was worse when it was in motion. A rather interesting data point in that it was currently the main reason he was still alive.

Up ahead, Eli reached the barrier. He’d be justified in jumping up and hoisting himself over it, leaving Isaac to make it or not entirely on his own. Like the sentimental fool he was though, he didn’t. Instead he skidded to a halt and turned back. “Hurry Izzy!”

Isaac would’ve loved to shout back that he was running as fast as he possibly could but didn’t have the breath to spare for even a single syllable. If he survived this he was going to have a jogging phase too, get himself in some kind of better running shape lest he ever find himself in such a situation again. That was looking more and more like a rather big ‘if’ though as he didn’t have much left in him.

Another hiss and splash of acid, this time just to his right would’ve had him yelping again if he hadn’t lacked the breath to make such a sound. It gave him another incentive to keep going though despite feeling like he might collapse at any moment.

Just a little bit further and… he almost crashed into the barrier next to Eli. How the fuck was he going to get over it? Its top was just in reach – the reason they’d chosen this as their entrance point into the city, it was the least secure barricade their scouts had spotted. He reached up for it anyway, scrambling to pull himself up it despite having spent all his strength on the run over. He was doomed; he’d run all this way just to…

Instead of hoisting himself up too as expected, Eli put himself under Isaac and pushed him, giving the exact boost he needed to get over the barrier. He tumbled over it with an undignified yelp, landing hard on his shoulder on the other side but alive. Ignoring the pain, he pushed himself up to his feet as fast as he could force himself to help Eli in whatever way he could.

He was just in the time to catch Eli as he toppled over the wall with his own yelp, more a scream really. Naturally catching him sent Isaac right back to the ground with Eli on top of him this time, knocking whatever little breath he’d had left out of him. Painful but he was alive. They’d made into City 17.

Eli groaned and rolled off of him, blessedly making it easier to breathe. Isaac would’ve gladly just lain there next to him while they caught their breath but… Eli’s face was scrunched up with pain. He’d been hurt somewhere. Damn it.

Isaac sat up, ready to get to work searching for which bone had been broken but there was no need as the injury was impossible to miss. Eli’s foot had been hit with acid spit. It had eaten through his shoe and lower pant leg, melting into his flesh and revealing bone. It was hissing, steaming and bubbling as the acid continued to eat through it.

Still desperately trying to catch his breath, Isaac quickly pulled his pack off and dug through for one of the spare water bottles. Carefully as he could while still being quick about it, he poured it out over Eli’s foot, moving it back and forth over the whole injury. Eli hissed and tried to jerk away, forcing Isaac to move after him. Before resuming pouring the water, he used his other hand to grab Eli’s knee, holding it still.

By the time the bottle was empty, the acid seemed to have mostly been washed out of the wound. But just to be sure, he pulled out another one and poured the whole of that one out too.

“How bad is it?” Eli asked, his voice strained with pain.

“Uh… pretty bad.” The acid had eaten through the entire shoe and most of the flesh surrounding the foot, leaving bone and tendon exposed, much of it burned away as well. Further up wasn’t as bad but there was still a sickening amount of bone exposed with varying degrees of acid damage. “I don’t think you’re likely to keep this foot.” Isaac wasn’t a medical doctor but one didn’t need to be to see that there was no saving it. “I imagine once we get you to a medical professional, they’ll want to amputate it.” Especially considering the potential infections having alien spit splattered in one’s wound was bound to cause.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yes.” Isaac pulled off his lab coat and using the pair of scissors from the pack set to cutting it up so he could bandage Eli’s foot as best he could with his limited medical experience. It wasn’t clean but the foot wasn’t likely to be saved anyway. He started with his best attempt at a tourniquet around the upper thigh. “Why’d you wait for me?”

“Couldn’t leave you behind, had to make sure you made it.”

Isaac couldn’t complain about that, especially since he wasn’t sure he could’ve gotten over the barrier in time without Eli’s help. But if the bullsquid’s aim had been a bit more true, if the acid had hit Eli’s back, even with the backpack and the supplies inside, it likely would’ve had a far worse outcome than just him losing a foot and part of his lower leg. “What about Alyx? If you’d died because of me, she’d have no one.”

“Not true, she’d have you, Dog, and Barney. I couldn’t leave you behind, Izzy, don’t say I should’ve. I’ve lost enough people already. Besides, I lived, didn’t I? So it’s fine.”

It had come far too close though. But they had both blessedly lived and such luck wasn’t something Isaac wanted to question lest it not remain for long. So, in silence, he finished doing what he could for Eli’s injury before helping him stand. He had to lean heavily into Isaac, his arm around his shoulder as Isaac returned the gesture, helping him hop along on one foot.

It would’ve been preferable to have a medical professional come to him and carry him in a stretcher or wheel chair. But they didn’t have that luxury. They had to get to the safe house before the sun rose in a few hours and then they had work to do. Most of which Isaac would be doing alone now as Eli rested and got much needed proper medical attention. Being the heads of the resistance efforts really sucked sometimes but it was certainly better than many of the alternatives.

#half life #half life 2 #elisaac #eli vance #isaac kleiner

[because-she-goes]

bare boned

warnings: swearing, enemies to lovers, banter. Enjoy!

The coffeeshop quietly buzzed as she sipped her iced peppermint tea. Servers collecting delicate plates, people typing in their computers, teenagers whispering over their oatmilk-chai cold foam lattes about who was going out with who, and ofcourse the various hipsters who were simply looking at pages of Ralph Waldo Emerson as opposed to actually ingesting the beautiful literature.

Rooney exhaled, blowing her auburn bangs out of her face, and checked her watch sharply. 15 minutes late and counting. Typical rockstar fucking asshole. Some golden-rust leaves blew in from the breeze of someone entering the coffeehouse.

“Sorry, love. Couldn’t decide what outfit made me look more pretentious - figured if I am going to be interviewed for NME to may as well look the part, yeah?” Gray curls and cigarette smoke was the first thing she noticed. Then the deep, Manchester soaked voice, then came the eyes. Fuck, his eyes - chocolate brown and ocean deep.

She cleared her throat and reached out a manicured hand, “Matty, is it?” Voice silky smooth, an equally Northern accent noticeable by anyone within feet of her.

“Yes, and you’d be Rooney Atkinson if I’m not mistaken.” He shook her hand, eyes piercing her blue ones.

“In the flesh. Now, take a seat I don’t have all day, Rockstar.”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not my mother. Just call me Ms. Atkinson.”

“Deal!” His hands flew up in surrender. She looked at her yellow legal pad filled with pre-set questions… all ones he’s been asked millions of times and answerable with a google. Luckily, she’s a good reporter and had watched everything there was about him.

“So, can you enlighten me as to how you landed yourself in America, specifically New York, for this album? Jack Antanoff can travel to any studio in the world and produce the album from Zoom. You guys have made records in the UK and LA before so why New York?”

“Well, for my own self I wanted to make something unique - outside of where we had gone before. We went to the english countryside for our previous album Notes on a Con-“

“Yes, I’ve listened to it. And I’ve heard this answer before I believe, so please… an original answer, not something you’ve recycled and said hundreds of times. I’ll give you the time to think further.”

A silence falls. He takes a drag of his cigarette and leans back into his chair, wiping a hand over his face in thought. Gold cartier love bracelet, rumpled gray trench coat slung over the back of his chair, dark green button up with a hole in the collar, pressed black striped slacks she lists off in her head - fashionable and casual she internally compliments. She adjusts her posture, back straightening and shoulders squaring. Her black sweater, cream scarf and adorning necklaces complimenting the color of her not-quite-maroon hair wonderfully. He takes a quick once over at her and mentally notes how her chest rises and falls with each breath. A sideways smirk falls on his lips, she clocks the cocky “bet i could shag her” attitude a mile off.

“I thought you were in a hurry… Rooney” He dares, dark eyes piercing her - she shivers in her seat and shakes her head to knock herself back into reality. “And if you must know, I was going to move to the city after the pandemic… I looked at apartments with a girl. Fell even more in love with the city after that broke apart so figured if I was already there - why not have George join me for a bit. Adam and Ross could fly there to record their bits when the lyrical shit was done.” She jots the answer down and takes a sip of the tea that had left a pool of condensation on the table near her. This was gonna be a long day, she texted her assistant and asked to cancel her appointments for the afternoon.

“Not anymore, hot shot. Keep talking.” She practically spit back at him.

“About myself? I’d love nothing more.” He fucking winks. Fuck him.

Matty was running late, he pulled a hand anxiously through his hair. Fuck, where was this coffee spot? There were a million in London that all looked identical. He stumbles upon a sign that reads “Rise Up” with a little sunrise cartoon and mug of coffee. Finally, he yanks the heavy door open, golden leaves spin around his ankles. Autumn in London is something unlike anything else in the world. His favorite season: the season of socks with sandals, scented candles and knit sweaters. He breezes in and the smell of roasted coffee beans hits his nose like a tidal wave, looking around like a lost puppy for the redhead Jamie had mentioned. What magazine was this for again? Rolling Stone? Pitchfork? No, it was NME wasn’t it? And her name fuck what was her name… “Rooney Atkinson” he remembers reading on an email.

Like he manifests her into existence at the mere thought of her name, he sees the ginger checking a watch. Oh he’s fucked, he thinks. Both for being late and because she is simply ethereal looking. It was as Persephone herself had come down and landed on Earth to inspect her mother’s harvest. God, he runs another hand through his curls.

He walks up to her and quickly apologizes for the tardiness - like a schoolboy walking in late to homeroom. He feels her eyes rake over him, he smirks. They exchange introductions and remarks - she makes a comment about not being her mother.

He hears her equally northern accent ask him a question he knows he has answered at least 1000 times in this promotional cycle. He offers the staple answer in response, but hears her voice interrupt him halfway through his shpeel. He lights a cigarette and makes a point of looking extra handsome while taking a drag of it. He, once again, notices her eyes glazing over him and admiring his outfit. Matty takes the opportunity of her eyes being averted to scan over her - the sweater and scarf combination contrasting against her burgundy hair. He smiles at her fashion sense and how she looks so comfortable and warm in the tad-bit oversized long sleeve .

Remembering the interruption, he gives the real answer to the question - the answer he’s been hiding from the press for ages out of respect to his ex-girlfriend. Once he’s finished he recalls her saying she had other places to be… he double checks and the point is shot down immediately.

As if he was imagining her saying that, she brushes it off without giving him a minute to deny her earlier plans. The singer is asked to keep talking… he thinks of a comment that might fit will in her article and in with his whole Truman Black persona and throws in a dashing wink. He sees her visibly shudder. Fuck him, he’s a goner, but he knew that the minute he layed his eyes on her.

#the lakes #drew’s writing :) #matty healy #the 1975 #matty x rooney #AND SHES HERE! #hope everyone has a good day <3 #happy reading besties!

[saturn7162]

The Gemlings

Another fucking SU thing I wont stop unless someone asks me to write abt smth else

I love SU so much so here is a 7 page google doc on my 2 favorite gals and an oc

I could totally add more on this btw

The Crystal Gems walked over to the barn in the dead of night after hearing what sounded like a fight. As they stepped closer, the sheer smell of hormones flooded their senses. Along with the sound of hissing, chirping, growling, grunting and spitting. 

“Guys?” Steven said, grabbing Garnet’s arm and looking up at her and Pearl. 

“What’s going on? Is everything okay there?” He asked, worry filling his gaze. 

“I’m sure it is. I recognize this type of environment. I think Lapis and Peridot are going to have geodes soon!” Pearl squealed, happily jogging up to the barn. As she came closer, she heard the sound of a deep snarl. 

“Peridot? Lapis? Chrysolite?” Pearl called out to the trio that lived in the barn. She used her gem to cast light into the room, illuminating the large nest in the middle. The gems looked at each other as they saw Chrysolite, the male, being batted at by Lapis and Peridot. They hissed at him loudly, hitting his large muzzle as he tried to help with the nest. 

“Chrysolite, you know you can’t be in here while your mates are nesting.” Pearl chastised, crossing her arms as she glared at him. He let out a creaky roar, sitting down with his legs out and his hands on the floor in front of him. As he reached a paw out, Lapis reached hers out, smacking it away with a growl. He gruffed and tried again, only to be hit by Peridot. He groaned and flopped onto his back, presenting his belly as a show of trust. Again, only to be met with the glares and growls of his mates. 

“Come on Chrysolite, you’re spooking them.” Pearl stepped closer, only to be hissed at by all three of them and batted at by Chrysolite, who reluctantly got to his feet and left the barn, making sure to scent everything he came across. Once he was out, he closed the barn door and sat in front of it, staring at the doors as he slouched angrily.

“It’s going to be my nest too!” He shouted, crossing his arms as the two gems inside hissed at him. 

“Why won’t they let me stay? They’re going to be my gemlings!” He grumbled, falling onto his stomach as he asked Pearl.

“You know why Chrysolite, it’s because they’re hormonal. You’re the sire, and sires’ hormones make them incredibly quick to violence, they just think you’re too aggressive to be around.” Pearl said, helping him up.

“But it’s my den too! I should at least get to stay!” He pouted, crossing his large arms across his chest. He bared his teeth and lashed his tail, clear signs he was not to be agitated.

“Look, you’re about to be a father and your body language is showing it too, you’re upset and until Peridot and Lapis allow you in there, you can’t be in there!” Pearl responded, looking up at the gruff looking male.

“So you’ll just have to stay with us! It’ll be like a sleepover!!” Steven shouted happily, hugging him tightly.

“Yeah, yeah I guess it will.” Chrysolite smiled and hugged him back, now walking back a little more willingly. When they got back to the temple, Chrysolite leapt into Steven’s room, snatching blankets, sheets, and pillows off the bed. 

“Chrysolite?!” Pearl shouted, shocked at his actions as he threw the bedding onto the floor below. He grunted in response, taking the mattress in between his teeth and tossing down as well. He leapt off of the loft and spread the materials out, his instincts taking over as he began to build a new nest. He took the cushions and pillows off the couch as well, carefully arranging them in his new nest in the middle of the living room. He purred and walked around it on all fours, admiring his work.

“Ohhh…” Pearl exclaimed, understanding what just happened.

“You’re just nesting!” Pearl smiled and rummaged through the cabinet next to the couch, fishing out more soft textile things for Chrysolite to use. He happily took them and sprawled them out in his nest, before softly clambering inside and turning in circles, soon stretching and flopping down into it. 

“U-uhm? Chrysolite?” Steven said, walking up awkwardly. Chrysolite grunted and opened one eye, peering up at him.

“Could I, y’know… Come in? I-I need to sleep too..” Steven said before Chrysolite snatched him by the front of his pajamas and softly tossed him into the nest before curling around him, giving him just enough room to breath as he fell asleep. Steven giggled and soon fell asleep as well. 

In the morning, Chrysolite yawned, nudging Steven awake. As Steven crawled out of the nest, Chrysolite stretched out like a cat and trotted out of the nest. He looked around, checking if Garnet, Amethyst, or Pearl was there before he quickly walked out the door. He ran down the stairs and ran down the beach, kicking up sand as he ran to the barn. 

“Chrysolite!!” Pearl shouted, causing him to glance back at her in shock before running quicker. He panted, quickly trotting over to the barn, speeding through Beach City. 

“Chrysolite! Get back here! You’re going to scare them and end up most likely causing problems to their clutch!!” Pearl shouted, having Garnet and Amethyst chase after him as well. He ran through the streets, almost running into people as he ran to the barn. He hopped over the fence and scrambled over to the door, the gems right on his heels. He dashed through the open doors and skidded to a halt in front of his mates. He purred loudly, chirping as well as he rolled onto his side, presenting his soft belly, the most vulnerable part of his body. He flicked his ears and shook out his fur, emitting pheromones to soothe his mates’ nerves. He knew not to get too close to the nests, but he did scent the room, covering it in his scent so when the gemlings arrived, they could get used to it. Once he was finished, he purred and rolled around, taking in the attention that his mates gave him before they sent him out. 

“What are we going to do with you?” Garnet said as Chrysolite was sent out, purring as he scented his mates briefly before they swatted him away. He smiled as he trotted out, scenting the outside as they left. 

“You’re going to scare them if you lose your temper around them, your fuse is shorter than normal..” Pearl said, causing him to snarl. He sighed and stepped on the warp pad, activating it and going home. 

After months of this, going over, scenting, being chased out, and repeating, Chrysolite grew tired. He lay in his nest, snuggling Steven close to him. However, they both were jolted awake at the sound of wails, and bright blue and green lights coming from the barn. Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst quickly bolted into the living room to see Chrysolite shaking Steven off of his leg and bolting out the door. 

“Pearrrrrl!!!” Steven yelled, falling back into the nest.

“Where is he going!?” He shouted, quickly dashing in and out of the bathroom in a new change of clothes. 

“Peridot and Lapis are getting ready to lay, and Chrysolite’s sire instincts are going haywire! We need to stop him before he gets himself hurt, Peridot or Lapis hurt, or the clutches hurt!” Pearl explained, bolting after him.

“Chrysolite! Stop!! You’re going to scare them!” Pearl yelled as she sprinted after him, trying to catch up and stop him from interrupting. He dove onto all fours and ran faster, running down the empty dark streets to get to the barn. He panted as he ran on, leaping over the fence and diving into the barn, being met with the wails of his mates as they laid their clutches in the nest. He instantly began producing calming pheromones, purring and chirping to soothe the nerves in the room. He quickly trotted over to them, licking their skin to calm them. He rubbed their back, enjoying the time they had before they got angry at him being there. Pearl’s squeals filled the barn as she laid her eyes on their clutches, counting nine whole geodes in total. 

Chrysolite purred loudly, rubbing his scent glands onto each geode. They laid together for a few minutes, tending to their young. Once the geodes’ safety was ensured, Lapis let out a growl, signaling for Chrysolite to leave. He grumbled as he got to his feet, rubbing against the clutch one last time, earning a slash and a hiss from Lapis. He retreated from the nest with a chirp and gazed at his offspring. He trilled and flicked his ears and throat fur, presenting a show of green-blue color. He purred loudly and pranced for them, giving into his needs as a sire. Lapis and Peridot giggled to themselves and sent him off. He trilled and jogged out after giving them a kiss, purring wildly. He closed the barn doors and turned to face the other gems, Pearl and Garnet looked at him, slightly disappointed in him going to see the two carriers, despite Pearl’s warnings about what might happen. However, he just gave them a smug look and pranced off. 

Around two weeks later, Chrysolite was woken up by someone leaving the house. He yawned, stretched, and turned over, going back to sleep. Twenty minutes later though, he was jolted awake by the loud and angry cries of his mates in the barn. He was up in an instant, the instincts of a sire needing to tend to their family flowing through him. Garnet and Pearl ran in, causing Steven to wake up as well. Chrysolite grew angry quickly, fangs growing in his mouth as he snarled and spat, his eyes glowed as he bolted out the door, sprinting towards the barn once more. Pearl groaned, having to chase after him again with Garnet. He leapt onto all fours, running faster to get to his new family. He ran through the fence, smashing it to pieces as he tried to get to Lapis and Peridot. He slammed open the doors and panted roughly, observing the geode in Amethyst’s hands. Pearl and Garnet stormed in behind him, and saw what Chrysolite was upset at. Amethyst laughed awkwardly, placing the geode down just as Chrysolite leapt on her. 

To him, Amethyst was not a friend. All he saw through his instinct clouded mind was someone trying to take away his baby. He roared and was on her in a millisecond, holding her down and slamming his clawed hands into her. He bit, tore, slashed, punched, beat, and screamed. At the moment, he was not Chrysolite, he was only a hormonal sire protecting his young. He attacked her so violently, she poofed and even then he was still angry. He raised a hand, getting ready to slam it down on Amethyst’s gem and shatter her. Though, just before he could, Steven ran over and grabbed it, running out of his reach before he too could get hit. As Pearl, Garnet, and Steven ran, Chrysolite ran after them. He growled and hissed, chasing them away from the barn and back into Beach City. He let out a deep roar, completely intent on viciously attacking them if they came back too soon. He spat as they ran back to the house, keeping Steven safe. 

He grunted and stalked back, still on all fours. His teeth and other sharp assets shrunk back to normal. As he walked, he scented the area around the barn, marking trees and rocks by slashing into them. He did this for at least an hour before he heard the calling chirps of Lapis and Peridot. He eagerly ran back, before slowing down and carefully entering the barn. He heard their soft purrs as he padded in, his puffed up fur laying flat back on his body. He purred back, much louder and deeper as he smiled at them. They smiled back and started shuffling around, making room for his large body to fit in. He trilled happily and softly slipped in. He purred louder, his breathing syncing with theirs as he snuggled in, tucking them both closer along with their clutches. They laid like this for hours, falling asleep together. They lay like this for weeks, never moving from their spots. 

“Hey Chrysolite?” Lapis said, shaking him awake.

“Yes, Lappy?” He smiled and gazed up at her, licking her cheek softly, causing her to giggle. 

“Me and Peri were wondering if you could watch the clutches for us? We want to go out together but we can’t leave them..” Lapis said, stroking his hair softly.

“Of course! I’d love to watch them, I haven't seen them in so long.” He cooed and leaned into her touch. 

“Thank you!” She purred and hugged him tightly. 

“Peri! He said he’d watch them!” She shook Peridot awake, who chirped happily, getting up from the clutch. 

“Here, lay on your side Chrysolite.” Peridot instructed.

“Okay, what now?” He asked softly, gazing up at her. 

“Alright, here we go.” Peridot carefully gathered up the geodes and slid them closer to him, slipping their sturdy forms under him. 

“The outsides are incredibly durable, so they won’t crack if someone of your size helps with brooding.” Peridot explained, covering him with a blanket. 

“Alright, thank you Peri.. Now you two go have fun. They’ll be safe, all nine of them.” He purred, shifting to make himself more comfortable. The two nodded and stroked him softly before leaving the barn, closing the doors and leaving it pitch black inside. He smiled as he curled around them, making sure every last one of them was safe and accounted for. 

“Hi there babies.” He cooed, chirping and trilling happily. 

“I’m your carrier's sire, so I’ll protect you and your mamas. We’ll all be so safe together, me, Lapis, Peridot, and all nine of you. Oh!!” He squealed, his incredibly loud purrs shaking the walls. He laid on them for hours, using his body heat to keep them warm and using his insane amount of fur to keep them safe. He had his back towards the barn doors as he snored, his chest rising and falling. He let out a snarl as he heard the barn doors open, his ears turning towards it. He turned himself over, crouching over his nest and geodes as he growled. 

“Chrysolite?” Came Pearl’s soft voice. He opened eyes to look at her, snarling as his eyes fell upon Amethyst. He hissed loudly, his lips curling to show his gums and sharp teeth. He growled and puffed up his fur, making him look impossibly larger. 

“Where’s Peridot and Lapis?” Pearl asked, stepping closer slowly. 

“Out.” He responded coldly, pinning his ears back against his mane. Though still softening up around her. 

“And you’re covering for them? How much longer do the geodes have?” Pearl asked, sitting in front of him with her legs folded under her. 

“Yes, I’m taking over until they return. And I would say around a week or so.” He answered, starting to purr quietly. They talked for a while, Pearl calming him down and chatting about the clutch. 

“Ow!” He yelped and raised his body up, watching one of the geodes begin to crack.

“Or today! Or they could erupt today!” He panicked, letting out a loud deep Sire Call, calling out to his mates for help. He carefully set all the geodes out in front of him, watching them as he called to Peridot and Lapis. Pearl walked him through the process of the erupting of gemlings, explaining how she used to be a midgem, the gem version of a midwife. He squealed as he saw a small furry blue hand poke out of the blue and teal geode, its tiny claws swatting around at nothing. He carefully took the top of it between his teeth, slowly removing it for the small gemling to poke out of. Its gem was on its chest, and was shaped like Lapis’s. 

As soon as he helped it out of its geode, it started crying. Its small naked fluffy body wiggling around. He held it in his paws, licking it clean and cradling it on his bare chest, yelping as it clawed him unconsciously. Its cries lessened and it sniffled before it began chirping. It peeped as loud as it could, grasping onto the soft warm fur of Chrysolite’s chest. Pearl clapped her hands wildly, congratulating him on his first gemling’s eruption. Minutes later, Peridot and Lapis came rushing into the barn just in time to see Chrysolite licking two others clean. Both were blue, looking the exact same. Same green hair, same shade of blue on their fur, same cries, and both of their gems were on their left shoulder they were practically the exact same gem. 

“Chrysolite!” Lapis shouted, quickly running over with Peridot to help calm their cries. He purred and set both of them on his chest with the first one. They purred loudly, helping the others erupt from their geodes and giving them to Chrysolite to clean and soothe. They sighed as the very last one erupted and Chrysolite took its small spotted body to clean it. 

“She’s so small!” Chrysolite cooed, softly setting her with her siblings. 

“Alright, Pearl, Garnet, Amethyst? Leave please.” Chrysolite said tiredly, shooing them away as best he could as he stroked the gemlings' backs. Pearl nodded and quickly herded the gems out of the barn, making sure to shut the doors. Chrysolite sighed, purring loudly as Peridot and Lapis curled up next to him. 

“You’re so lucky we agreed to this. This entire process hurt.” Lapis jokes, softly stroking the sleeping gemlings. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around them, rubbing their bellies softly. 

“OW!” He yelped, curling his toes as one of the small gems bit at one of the small pinkish bumps on his belly, sinking its sharp tiny teeth into it. Lapis laughed, carefully picking up the small baby and bringing it to her chest, helping it feed from her instead of trying to feed from a male. The baby chirped and took one in its mouth, feeding itself as it squeaked. The other babies raised their heads, chirping and squealing. Lapis and Peridot smiled, reaching out for their babies and having them latch onto them. They purred in sync together, slowly falling asleep with their babies. 

A few weeks passed and the gemlings grew bigger. Their eyes have opened and almost all of them have Chrysolite’s yellow eyes. Some of them have Lapis’ wings but they can't control them and all parents have to keep an eye on them to make sure their wings don’t dissipate in the air. Whenever the gems came over, the gemlings, sometimes labeled ‘cubs’ by Chrysolite, loved to climb on Garnet. Whenever they clambered onto her, she’d have the goofiest smile on her face, sitting extremely still. Sometimes, they’d go outside, but only ever with Chrysolite, if he wasn’t there, they don’t go outside. When they were outside he never took his eyes off of any of them, even if he couldn’t see them, he knew EXACTLY where they were. They also really liked being picked up by Chrysolite. Since they didn’t know how to speak, they would waddle up to him, raise up their arms, and chirp wildly until he noticed them and picked them up. With the help of Steven, he taught them how to speak, even if it was only around 10 words a baby.

#steven universe #fanfic #oc #fanfiction #writing #steven universe oc #garnet #monster reader #original character #lapis lazuli #lapis x peridot #lapis steven universe #lapis su #peridot #peridot steven universe #peridot su #peridot x lapis #steven universe fanart #su lapis #lapidot #pearl steven universe #garnet steven universe #amethyst steven universe

[sgkophie]

Man's World - Chapter 22 Sneak Peak

Hi fellow readers! Below is your little sneak peak of Man's World Chapter 22 - the penultimate chapter! I'll admit its late because I was feeling emotional about the ending ;-)

Want to be added to my tag list for Man's World or the upcoming spin off? Add yourself using the google form or leave a comment below! Tag list link is HERE.

Also - I posted a little Charles Leclerc enemies to lovers one-shot two days ago in case anyone wants to get their feet wet for the Lily fic coming up! You can find that HERE. :)

*********************

“Anthony, why the fuck are you here?” Anthony ignored my statement, instead stepping closer to me. 

“I see you and Carlos even keep the charade up when no one is around, good for you guys. I guess you don’t know when an unsuspecting bystander could come through.” 

“Judging by how much I’ve seen of you recently, I’d say you’re more of a stalker than a bystander.” He scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. 

“I have better things to do then follow around a cheater,” Anthony quipped. He was dangerously close to me and I looked around the paddock, hoping someone I knew would come up and notice the two of us. 

“Clearly not since you’re here.” 

“You think you’re so special don’t you,” he spit out, his voice venomous. “We both know you slept your way into this. Although I’m not sure what Carlos is getting out of it, you’re pretty lousy in bed.” 

Anthony put his hand on my arm and grabbed me, pulling me closer to him. I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong – to harsh. 

“Let go, asshole!” I gritted out as I continued to pull away from his grasp.

“I’m going to get a seat in F1 and then I’m going to crucify you since apparently the press aren’t doing a good enough job at it.” 

Before I could respond, I heard a deep voice behind me – the Spanish accent undeniable. “I believe the lady said to let go.” Carlos grabbed Anthony by the collar and pulled him in, forcing my ex-boyfriend to let me go. 

“Touch her again and I’ll ruin that face of yours,” Carlos spit out. 

A small crowd was starting to form around us now, and I tapped Carlos on the shoulder before standing straighter to whisper in his ears. “He’s not worth it.” 

I could see Carlos deciding what to do, the wheels in his head turning. Every ounce of him wanted to punch Anthony, but with the crowd getting bigger Carlos put the Indy Car driver down and backed away. 

“Lando, take this piece of trash back to McLaren, eh?” Lando let our a snicker at Carlos’ comment and motioned for Anthony to follow him, not even looking back. As Anthony walked by, Carlos leaned over and whispered to him, “Woman aren’t lousy in bed if a man knows how to make them scream - and oh boy, does Georgia know how to scream.” 

#Carlos Sainz x reader #Carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #sneak peak #man's world #Carlos Sainz jr #Carlos Sainz x ofc

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

You couldn't open your eyes.

Not yet.

But you could feel your body bounce around, and the low rumble of an engine.

From the muffled voices breaking through the ringing in your ears, you were able to determine that you were being moved from Alejandro's base. 

You tried to move, only to find that your hands were bound behind your back, and your feet were bound too. With heavy breathing, you burst your eyes open, looking around rapidly. The medic that had chloroformed you was sat to your left, and you were leaning up against the window of the car. Graves was in front, and another Shadow drove.

"Sir, she's awake."

"Now, now..." Graves said, turning around to face you, "Stop panicking. You're safe...for now."

"W-what the fuck are you doing, Graves?!" you screeched, trying to control your heart beat.

"I told ya, baby. You're mine. Sorry about your...well, new team."

"Where the hell are they?" your nostrils flared.

"Not so scary without the mask, huh?" he chuckled. "Settle down, I don't wanna have to put you out again."

"Fuck you!"

You jerked forward, and despite your legs being bound, you were still able to get some pretty good strength into your kick, thrashing around to try and break free. 

"You really ought to behave, princess." Graves said, nodding to the medic.

You felt a sharp pinch in your arm, looking down in horror as a tiny vial of chemical was pushed into your bloodstream. Before you could even react, sight and sound faded into black.

When you came to, you were in a dark room, small, the only way out cut off by steel bars leading into a...mess hall? You were in a prison.

Abandoned years ago, by the looks of it.

You tried to move, but found yourself tied to the chair you'd been sat in. Your vest, tactical gear, and mask were long gone, none of it in the room with you. 

"Rise and shine, beautiful." the sickening voice came.

You didn't say a word as he entered, squatting down in front of you. If looks could kill, he'd be non-existent.

"Got no words for me, Reaper?"

Your mouth was dry, and your head pounded, but you mustered up enough saliva to spit at him, hitting him right on the cut you gave him.

He laughed, pulling a cloth from his pocket to wipe it away, "you got some spirit in you now, huh, darlin'? Where was that four months ago?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why?! Because you left me, (Y/N). You just up and left like our three years didn't even matter."

You laughed, rolling your eyes, "You cheated, Graves. You were unfaithful during the time I needed you most."

"It was insufferable! A man has needs, you know."

"You knew what you were doing when you shot that missile, didn't you?"

Graves looked at you, but not in your eyes. That's something he could never do if he was lying. Despite everything he did, he was never able to look you in the eyes as he lied.

"No."

"Liar." your voice cracked, tears welling in your eyes.

"FUCK!" he yelled, standing, making you jump. "You can't ever leave things alone, can you? You just can't let things go."

"You killed them...you almost killed me-"

"No. Never you. You were never meant to get hurt in that. I specifically requested it."

"Wow, thank you so much for sparing me. My fucking hero."

"You ungrateful bitch! Everything I did, I did for you! For us!"

"How was killing my squad for the good of us?" you yelled back.

"Stevens was getting too close, he knew something was up. He had to be neutralised."

"Neutralised..." you scoffed. "He wasn't a stray fucking dog, he was one of my brothers!"

Your tears were pouring out of your eyes now.

But who could blame you?

You'd been taken captive by a man you used to trust with your entire being, you'd been drugged for the second time, the slice in your arm was agonising.

"That was always your problem, (Y/N)...you feel too much, for everyone. Always doing the most for people you don't give a fuck about you. You think your team cared more than me? You think Alejandro and the 141 care about you more than me?"

"You don't care. You don't love me, you love controlling me. It kills you that you can't get in my head anymore."

"Can't I?"

His tone was menacing, and the way he smirked at you made your blood run cold, and your body shake with fear. He stooped down again, placing his hand on your cheek.

You flinched away, but that only made him angrier, squeezing your chin to force your face in his direction.

"You think your Ghost is coming for you?"

"He is."

"You think I don't know what you two got up to after that mission? You think I don't remember what you look like after you've been fucked? I made you look like that enough to recognise it. You think I didn't fucking see the marks on you that night in the kitchen?"

He got louder with every word, squeezing your face harder and harder.

"You let him fuck you in the woods, like the little whore I knew you were. Should have let you die with your team."

"Fuck you. You'll burn in hell for this. You and Shepherd." you spat.

"Oh," he laughed, "this is a sight. You love him."

"No." Yes.

"You fucking do. You're in love with the heartless, masked killer."

"He's not heartless."

"You think he cares about you, huh? You really think he could love you at all?"

You looked away, embarrassed at how you couldn't answer that with sincerity.

You didn't know if he felt the same.

But you hoped.

"Well, I got some news for you. He ain't having you, sweetheart. You belong to me."

He opened the gate, allowing the same medic to walk in, opening up a small bag and preparing a syringe next to you.

"P-please, Phillip don't...don't do this." you begged as the medic tied the tourniquet around your arm.

"Sorry, baby. But I know if I don't, you're gonna lunge for me as soon as I untie you. I could never doubt that you certainly are the Reaper." 

You cried as the pain of the needle hit, its effects making your limbs tingle until you couldn't feel them at all. Your head rolling back, muscles completely weak.

As you were untied and lifted up, being carried across the room, you heard Graves speak once more.

"Oh, and don't worry. When I find your little boyfriend, I'll bring you his head."

In the security office, Rudy and Soap watched in horror.

Rudy had been scouring the computer for eyes on Alejandro when he came across the file with your name on it. Soap had been giving directions to Ghost on the other, only to become distracted by the sound of your voice.

They watched as your limp body was carried to solitary, Alejandro being held back as they tossed you in there with him.

"This must have been recent, she's still down." Rudy said, motioning to the live footage of Alejandro knelt on the floor, holding you in his lap.

"Bloody fucking hell."

"Should we show Ghost?" Rudy said, and Soap shook his head furiously.

"Show me what?" Ghost said.

"Uh, we got Alejandro and (Y/N), they're in solitary. Two Shadows on guard."

Rudy quickly made a copy of the video, transferring it onto his phone before wiping the computer. He didn't want them to have this footage of you in such a vulnerable state. With that, they took off, meeting up with Ghost and fighting their way into the cell block.

Alejandro had heard the commotion, pulling you to rest at the back of the cell, keeping you as far out of harm's way as he could.

When the door burst open, he grabbed onto the first through it, slamming him against the wall.

"Alejandro! Al- it's me hermano!" Soap said.

"Soap! Rudy! Ghost!" he yelled happily, "What the fuck took you so long, pendejos?"

Ghost ignored the pleasantries, his eyes landing on you, laying so perfectly still in the dim light. His mind reeled.

Were you dead?

No, you couldn't be dead.

He completely shut down.

"Place is crawling with Shadows, there'll be hell ahead." he said, turning from you.

"(Y/N)?" Rudy said, stooping down next to you. "C'mon carino, wake up for me."

He shook you, but your body fell limply to his every movement. He started to worry, pulling your eyelids up to check your pupils; blown. You had a faint pulse, but you were alive.

"Is she okay?" Soap asked, his voice breaking as he worried for you.

"Yes. But she's been drugged, by some seriously heavy tranquiliser. She won't be able to walk out of here. Someone will need to carry her."

The boys all turned to Ghost, then, who was refusing to even look at you. He looked back at them, feigning confusion.

"Ghost." Soap warned. "Don't pull away, not now."

"Hermano, we know you care for her, it's too late to try acting like you don't." Alejandro urged.

"L.T., please. Don't let her down now. She needs you."

Ghost looked at his team, all of them with pleading eyes.

When did they get so close?

When did they start to know him so well?

In his silence, Soap shook his head, disappointed, "I'll do it." he said, moving toward you.

"Don't touch her."

The tone of his voice made Soap stop in his tracks.

Ghost moved Soap out of the way, stroking your face with shaky hands before effortlessly lifting you, tossing you over his shoulder.

"You'll 'ave to cover me."

"Of course, hermano."

More determined than ever before to get you to safety, the four men broke out the rest of Los Vaqueros, and fought their way through the prison. They figured out that by then, Graves had gone back to the compound. 

Some of the Vaqueros boys had offered to take you so Ghost could shoot better, but he was quick to threaten them with their own deaths if any of them dared try to take you from him.

A helo flew overhead, shooting bullets in your direction, Ghost covering your body with his own. That was, until the helo blew up.

"It's Price!" Soap yelled.

Sure enough, Captain Price and Gaz stood atop the wall, RPG in hand.

Tossing you back over his shoulder, Ghost set off running, the rest of the team hot on his heels and shooting down any soldier that appeared.

At the top of the wall, Price's face fell, the way you were so slack shooting pain through his heart.

"(Y/N)? H-hey no...is she dead?" he said, watching as Ghost moved you from his shoulder to his arms.

"She's been drugged. Heavily. Graves kidnapped her." Soap said, while Ghost remained silent.

Price nodded, knowing now was not the time to get into his emotions. He stepped forward, wanting to hold you, but Ghost stepped back hesitantly, willing Price not to take you away just yet.

He didn't get to say much more, as Shadows broke through, flooding the yard.

The team took them out expertly, and everyone was able to extract without more incident. In the car, your head rested in Ghost's lap, the rest of your body across Soap.

"Where's Alex?" Soap asked, looking at your unconscious self with concern.

"He stayed behind with Farah. They should be joining us soon, when it's safe."

"She won't like that." he laughed sadly.

"What do ya mean, safe?" Ghost said, eyes only leaving your face for a second to address Price.

Price told them about what Laswell had found, proof that Graves had killed your team on purpose, proof that the Russians were more involved, and Soap mentioned the tape that Rudy made a copy of. He handed the phone to Price, and the three of them watched.

They watched you cry for them.

They watched you admit your feelings for Ghost.

And they watched Graves admit killing your team.

"S-Simon?" your voice muttered, making the vehicle fall silent, all eyes on the two of you.

"(Y/N)?"

You were barely conscious, still not able to control any part of your body, laying in his arms like jelly. But your eyes were fighting to open, words slurring.

"I t-told you not to trust Sh-Shepherd-d." you said, trying to force a smile.

He let out a self-loathing laugh, blinking back tears, "Yeah, sweet'eart. Ya did."

"M'sorry I made you save m-me ag-gain."

He closed his eyes, placing a hand over your mouth to shush you, "I'll always come for ya."

You fell into darkness once again, completely missing his last words to you. The only thing in your head being your conversation with Graves, and how you truly didn't know whether he cared. 

Maybe he didn't, just like Graves said.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost fanart #call of duty #cod mw oc #cod mw2 #cod mwf2 #callofduty #gaming #cod mw19 #captain price #john mactavish

[missvelvetsstuff]

Fridays Place

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Chapter 15

Warnings: swearing, angst

Bucky was up half of the night with Steve, Sam and Clint brainstorming how to get Bucky back on Fridays good side.

Sam spoke up "I think taking Becca to work with her horse would be a good idea. Don't try to get up in Fridays space just take Becca and be encouraging. Maybe learn what she's doing and make sure she knows you will be supportive. Women love a man being a good dad. Remember all the women that tried to talk to you when you would take Becca to the playground when she was little?"

Bucky nodded "Yeah. Fuck. I need to talk to Becca. She's been at my moms for 2 days and blowing up my phone with texts. She's worried that Hilde will forget her. She's probably pissed as hell at me."

Sam smiled "When you go be friendly to Friday but don't try to get too close. Give her some space. Play it cool"

Steve shook his head "No. first and foremost you need to apologize. In person. Sincerely. If you show up with Becca and act like nothing happened it will be worse. If Friday wants space she'll let you know but you have to tell her you're sorry. And not just for going off on her but also for your shit attempt to buy her forgiveness.

Think of the most ridiculous, sappy, romantic thing that you ever heard of and swore you would never do. Then do it."

Bucky shook his head "I don't know how to do romance. I haven't even tried since, you know, since she left me because I lost my arm."

"So Google it." Sam advised.

Bucky did google it, going down the rabbit hole of romantic apologies for hours before finding something that he hoped would convey how he felt. He spent a little time getting it all set up for the morning and tried to settle down to sleep but was too nervous and worked up.

Bucky couldn't understand what was going on with him. Love and feelings weren't something he did anymore. His first love, before Sharon, promised to be there when he came home from Afghanistan but sent him a Dear John letter while he was in the hospital after losing his arm. He couldn't even say her name anymore. It took him a very long time to get over her and he decided he wouldn't ever let that happen again. He was following in his father's footsteps, being prepped to take over the family business and didn't have time for relationships anyways, or so he told himself. Casual sex was better and easier in his position. Even with his prosthetic women wanted to fuck a rich, handsome mobster. They were attracted to his power and money so were willing to overlook his arm.

Getting involved with Sharon wasn't the plan when he spent the night with her. They both went on their merry ways until she showed up 2 months later with a positive pregnancy test. Bucky tried to do the right thing, moved Sharon in and stopped seeing other women. He didn't know what happened to the sweet and fun girl he slept with because Sharon was awful. Some women love pregnancy once the morning sickness passes but Sharon was miserable the entire time, bitching about how none of her expensive clothes fit, about her feet swelling, about her stretch marks and about having to take care of a 'crying little brat' when Becca was born. As soon as the doctor cleared her for sex, she was out drinking and ended up in Brocks bed.

Bucky fell in love with Becca the first time he felt her move and kick while Sharon was pregnant. The first time he held her, she already had him wrapped around her baby fingers. He knew Sharon wasn't interested in being a mom so he promised Becca he would always be there for her and protect her from her mother's careless lifestyle.

Sharon came home 3 days later, wearing Brocks clothes. She looked at Bucky who hadn't slept and was covered in spit up, singing off key to settle Becca down and laughed "You look ridiculous. Where's the nanny? She should be taking care of the little puke and shit factory."

Bucky looked up at her, trying not to lose it. "The nanny, her name is Jenny, has days off. Maybe you should pay attention to your daughter once in awhile."

Sharon shook her head "Nope, I told you I didn't want this. I was going to have an abortion but you begged me to try, to make a life together. You were and still are so fucking pathetic. Mr Mom. Anyways, I just came to get my stuff. I'm moving in with Brock."

Buckys jaw dropped "Brock? You mean Brock Rumlow? My business rival? You know he has no problem taking out innocents and will fuck anything with a hole, right?"

Sharon shrugged "Some lives, some people, matter more than others, like me and Brock. Besides I won't be involved in any of that. Thanks to the facility you were so generous to have built for me I'll be busy training the next generation of Olympic equestrians, while you're busy changing diapers and cleaning spit up off of your designer suits."

Bucky grimaced remembering when Sharon's mom convinced her to get shared custody and take Becca every other weekend, because what would everyone think. Sharon's mom promised Bucky that she would make sure Becca was taken care of when Sharon had her but one weekend Sharon's parents went out of town. Bucky was supposed to pick 2 year old Becca up Sunday nite but Sharon called at 2am Sunday morning and told him to "come get this fucking brat because she won't stop crying".

When Bucky picked Becca up she was in a full diaper, filthy and trying to suck on an empty bottle, with red welts on her back and legs. Brock and his friends were smoking and laughing at her.

Sharon tried to say she had just woken up but Bucky knew his daughter too well and could tell she hadn't been put to bed, fed or changed in hours. He took pictures and went home to take care of her.

Once Becca was clean, fed and asleep he contacted his attorney and had the custody changed so he had full custody and Sharon could only have supervised visits as long as Brock wasn't there. Sharon was relieved and only saw Becca in passing from then on.

Bucky smiled thinking of how much better Friday was for Becca. So patient and kind, always ready to answer questions or teach her more about horses. His stomach dropped and he hoped he hadn't ruined everything.

Friday had a rough night, tossing and turning. Even when she did sleep she was back in that room with Brock and Sharon leering over her. She gave up on sleep before the sun came up and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. She sat on the porch and watched the sun rise, chatted with Peter and MJ when they came in to get the day started and tensed up when she saw Lynne's truck pull up.

Friday was scheduled for another session with Lynne this morning and wasn't looking forward to it, considering the outcome of the last one. Bucky yelling at her, refusing to let her finish or explain, kept running through her mind. She couldn't decide if she wanted to see him again and explain or wanted to find another stable where Becca could take her horse and train with someone else.

Then she felt guilty for even thinking of brushing Becca off. Poor kid already had one of the worst mothers possible and Friday felt like she had a real bond with the girl. She didn't want to desert her like Sharon did.

Friday sighed and took her empty mug inside to put it in the sink then headed out to the arena to talk to Lynne.

Once Destry was let loose in the arena and settled next to Friday, Lynne started "How are you doing today?"

Friday shrugged "Alright I guess. Haven't slept much."

"So. Did you speak with Mr Barnes?"

Friday felt her emotions welling up and her eyes watering "Yeah" she choked out, then took a drink of water "He responded, poorly. Called me selfish and ungrateful, then stormed off before he said something he would regret. His words. I tried to explain that I knew it wasn't rational but he wouldn't let me." Destry pushed up against her and Friday held onto his mane.

Lynne tried to console her "Sometimes our loved ones don't understand the healing process and take it personally. I'm sure he will come around. Some people have egos that prevent them from apologizing, even when they know they are wrong."

Friday shook her head "Seems unlikely, he hasn't even brought Becca over to see her horse since. I'm sure she's been pestering him to come over."

They talked for another hour, Lynne encouraging Friday to keep working on her recovery. "If a relationship with Mr Barnes is meant to be you will find each other again"

Friday stopped her "No, no, no, wait. I'm not looking for a relationship with anyone. I just want to be able to live my life without shutting down or being afraid to do my job. It's not like that with Barnes. He's a player and I'm not cut out to be a mistress. He only came into my house that day because of Becca."

Lynne smiled softly "Then why does he keep coming back?"

Friday shook her head "Beats me, he probably hasn't found a new nanny for Becca. When they come here it's easy to keep Becca occupied without much supervision. If he were interested he would have tried something by now."

When they finished up it was lunch time and Friday went inside to eat. Right after she sat down she heard a knock on the door. With a sigh she got up to answer it, surprised to see a delivery person with a package for her.

Friday thanked them and took the medium sized box to the table to open it. She pulled out a teddy bear and her brow furrowed. He had a sleeve over his left arm that looked like Bucky's prosthesis and a t shirt with the left sleeve torn off. The writing on the front of the shirt said "I'm sorry I'm an asshole. Please forgive me."

Friday couldn't help but laugh and was surprised to feel tears on her face. She was trying to figure out how she felt about this apology attempt. She definitely liked it more than jewels.

Before she could decipher her feelings the doorbell rang and she heard music outside. She sighed and went to open the door only to see Bucky, dressed like Lloyd Dobler, holding hands above his head his phone in one hand and a speaker in the other. Friday heard the music clearly now ' In Your Eyes' by Peter Gabriel.

Chapter 16

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #friday's place #mob!au

[squidyyy23]

Hi squidy!🥰

I got some Head canon questions I’d love to hear what you think!

Do you you think Ian and mickey have regular date nights?

Does Ian ever teach mickey to swim?

When they buy their own house, is it on the West or south side?

Who cooks better ? Who cooks more often?

Have a great day ✨

-anon xx

hey there anon! been loving the head canon ramblings your sweet self has been sparking! (even if i did sit on this far too long)

so alright, here are my additions (that are subject to change with my whims)

date nights: yes! BUT…it’s already been established these two don’t have a big social circle (and that’s okay!). so they do most everything together anyways. but, ian still insists on date nights. especially as the year go on. fuck, the first time a couple their age gets divorces, ian's going to be allll about the date nights. which mickey doesn’t understand because their date nights aren’t all that different than any normal night. but he goes along with it because it makes his husband happy (and always gets his railed after).

swimming: i think i’m gonna go with no on this one. because it just never really comes up slash neither of them really care? the apartment has a pool, yeah, but mickey can touch the bottom in most of it. he’s a grown adult. i’m sure he’ll manage to learn how to doggy paddle his way to an edge in those last few feet he can’t reach. and ian’s not going to embarrass him by making a big deal out of it. maybe a quick, subtle pointer here or there. but he’s not hosting weekly swimming lessons.

where’s the house: ya know, i kind of want to say they aren’t the home owning type. yeah, yeah, yeah, american dream and all that. but houses are work. i think if/when they become more well off, they’d want the ease of letting leaky pipes or a busted furnace be someone else’s problem. they had to deal with enough of that shit taking care of their family homes as kids. now let them be lazy and call a landlord and make them fix it. and i don’t see them being the type to want to “make a house their own”. the cosmetic stuff isn’t a big deal to them. give them something practical and they’ll be happy enough.

but as to the local, i think it depends on where the rest of the gallaghers end up. if we believe canon, south side was changing anyways. i don't think it's going to feel like the place they grew up for much longer. so where live will probably be a practical decision. close to the nieces and nephews. easy commutes for work. i think the time spent in the westside will make them (mickey) realize it's really not that big of a deal where they live (so long as they're together. cue awws)

cooking: well, i’m quite partial to ian the baker agenda. 😉 but i do think ian is more likely to be the one in the kitchen. mickey’s never been one for healthy eating habits. he’d probably be more than happy to live off frozen food forever. but ian will embrace their new home as the time to pick up new skills. and of course, mickey’s going to pick things up along the way as his husband forces him to help. BUT BUT BUT as they start to age, the first sign of any sort of health problem with ian and mickey is going to be ALL about the healthy food. shoving every superfood google spits at him down his husband’s throat. which ian will gladly accept because it’s cute to watch his husband worry.

#wow. that got out of hand. #maybe this is why i don't head canon too hard. #it's a slippery slope. 😂 #a fun one at least though!